BROKEN LINKS, NEW BONDS

Title: Broken Links, New Bonds 1/1
Author: Jaye (Copyright July 2003)
Codes: VOY C/Tu NC-17

Disclaimer: Star Trek and all related characters and concepts are the property 
of Paramount. No infringement is intended or profit made. PG for adult themes.

Archive: Drop me a note first so I know where it's going. Please keep the text 
(especially the disclaimer) intact.

Feedback: Sure but be kind, or at least constructive. E-mail is 
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Summary: Tuvok seeks counsel after being assimilated by the Borg.

Note: Set after the conclusion of "Unimatrix Zero".

***************

PART ONE

I moved as silently as possible through Voyager's Sickbay, years of adult 
experience blending with half-remembered lessons from childhood to add lightness 
to my steps. My eyes adjusted to the dim glow of the monitors, artificial 
sentinels watching over the room's occupants.

I never know why I bother to sneak. The Doc's awareness is tied into the ship's 
sensors, so he probably registered my presence the second the door panel opened.

Besides, he has served with me long enough to know my routines and become 
socialized to the point where he accommodates my need for privacy in this 
personal duty. For my part, I did fidget my way through a two-day wait until the 
Doc declared the trio successfully de-Borged and on the road to recovery.

It's an unspoken agreement between us: I visit Voyager's wounded at odd hours 
but don't disturb them, and he ignores the fact that I occasionally haunt his 
Sickbay like some tribal Florence Nightingale.

I've had this...habit, I suppose, far longer than my stint as a Maquis captain. 
Ever since I attained a Starfleet rank that made me responsible for other 
people's lives, I've felt the need to see for myself that the wounded are on the 
mend. That my decisions didn't cause them irrevocable harm.

When my orders do prove fatal, I visit the morgue.

Living or dead, the sacrifices of those who give me their trust should never be 
forgotten.

It's something my father taught me. And unlike so many other beliefs he held 
dear, I never churlishly abandoned this one during my teenage escape from the 
planet of my birth.

So here I am, in the still of ship's night, honoring my comrades-in-arms.

Kinship, if not blood, pulls me first to B'Elanna's side. The wash of relief 
makes my knees weak at the sight of her once more looking herself. Her skin is 
again golden and alive, her restored hair tousled about her sleeping face. On 
her forehead and cheek shiny patches of skin still bear the imprint of the Borg 
implants so recently removed, but the Doc reassures me that the marks will fade 
soon enough.

I can't resist the temptation to touch, to gain some tactile confirmation that 
B'Elanna is all right. A single finger stroke does it, just enough to follow the 
contours of her ridges. Like the rub of a talisman, almost. I know how very 
lucky I was in finding her so many years ago, this sister of my heart.

Sleep eluded me when the away team was aboard the Borg ship, trying to save the 
inhabitants of Unimatrix Zero. I hid my distress well enough on duty, but I felt 
as though I couldn't breathe, tensed for another blow, another loss, this time 
from among members of my Voyager family.

With the whisper of a blessing I remember from my village's shaman, I leaned 
down and pressed a quick kiss to B'Elanna's forehead, then left her to her 
dreams.

I hope they're peaceful ones.

***************

Kathryn was my next stop. A gasp escaped me at the sight of her, so frail, her 
form a slight swell beneath the Sickbay blanket.

I know she would not be pleased to know I glimpsed her this far from her best. 
Weakness is something Captain Kathryn Janeway admits rarely, even in the face of 
overwhelming evidence. I'm sure tomorrow she will be glossing over her aches and 
pains and snapping at the Doc that she's ready to go back on duty.

Whether she truly is or not.

I hovered, hesitating, wanting to reach out but not knowing if I should. Our 
rapport is the strongest it's been since the halcyon days before Species 8472, 
before Equinox. I didn't want to do anything to jeopardize our slowly returning 
camaraderie.

My reaction to this woman is, as always, complex. A tangled skein of respect and 
trust, worry and protectiveness, tenderness and affection, frustration and 
resentment. So knotted and gnarled by this time I know I'll never be able to 
separate the strands.

At one time I believed my heart was wrapped up in those threads, bound to 
Kathryn with ties of love as well as honor and duty. I sigh with the echo of 
pain fleeting memories of New Earth bring.

We had taken our time learning each other then, believing that we had the rest 
of our lives. Day by day, we revealed more of our inner selves, settling into a 
new dynamic as man and woman, rather than crewmates in a command structure.

But those feelings are long in the past; they helped form who I have become, but 
they are no longer really part of who I am.

I lost my chance with Kathryn Janeway the moment she learned Voyager was coming 
back for us. She immediately began to struggle against our newfound connection, 
as if she were trapped in a net solely of my making, rather than a joint weaving 
of our lives.

Her pulling away hurt me, but did not surprise me. Kathryn had always held firm 
to her belief that, as captain, she should exist on a separate plane of 
existence from her subordinates. When we returned to the ship she desperately 
wanted to clamber back upon her pedestal, even if she was the only one who 
believed she should reside there.

So I let her stretch the ties between us until they were no longer binding; and 
maintained my own distance until I could once again view her as only a friend.

That attitude was proved beyond the shadow of a doubt when I didn't try to stop 
Kathryn from implementing her plan to be assimilated by the Borg.

I simply supported her decision by making sure she had the proper back-up for 
such a risky scheme.

The way any good officer would.

And I worried for Kathryn, the way I did for B'Elanna, for Tuvok.

But our separation, and her danger, didn't bring the heart-wrenching devastation 
it might have, once upon a time.

With a sigh I rubbed my thumb along the frown lines pinching her eyebrows 
together, massaging gently. When they smoothed out under my touch I dropped my 
hand and moved away.

***************

When I reached Tuvok, I deliberately laid my hands on the very edge of the 
biobed to remind myself Vulcans don't appreciate casual contact. I've seen Tuvok 
tense underneath Kathryn's hand often enough to make a point of never laying a 
finger on him.

Especially considering how much more unwelcome my imposition would be. After 
all, Tuvok and I aren't exactly friends.

I understood why he betrayed my Maquis cell, but it kept me from trusting him 
for a long time. And from his willingness to leave me behind---with Seska and 
the Kazon, in the plans to catch Jonas, on New Earth---I gathered he didn't 
trust me, either.

Or, frankly, think very much of me. At least, that's always been my impression. 
I don't know how much of that is me projecting deeper meaning onto his Vulcan 
stoicism, and how much I am genuinely picking up his unspoken opinion.

It hardly matters. We've managed to establish a good working relationship and 
can socialize without the friction of the early days. And when we hit the Void 
Tuvok backed me in my plan to keep Kathryn from stranding herself there in some 
melodramatic expression of self-loathing.

It was a good feeling, to know Tuvok had my back. Reassuring, but fleeting. When 
Kathryn was back in command he retreated to our usual indifference.

He's...hard to know. Even after years of service together I still get the 
impression he deliberately holds himself aloof from me. A definite distance 
exists between us that I have no clue how to overcome. Or, at this point, if he 
would even want me to try.

Ah, well. The nebulous nature of our personal situation doesn't mitigate my 
regret for his current condition. The Sickbay blanket twists in my grip as I 
catalog the signs of Tuvok's continuing struggle to recover from assimilation. 
His non-scars are stark against the darkness of his skin, the patches along his 
face like some horrible rash.

Worse, he seems uncomfortable, even in his drug-induced slumber. His fists are 
tightly clenched and crossed over his chest. Curled up on his side in fetal 
position, Tuvok looks like some artist's rendition of pain and suffering.

His face, so tense and strained, will haunt me for some time.

I just stood and stared, helpless to offer comfort or succor to the most wounded 
member of our away team. But I wished I could, to somehow atone for my decision 
not to pull them off the Borg ship when we first had the chance. I knew every 
moment past the deadline increased the likelihood of the Doc's neural inhibitor 
failing. But I believed the mission was worth the risk. In hindsight, I still 
do.

But I am sorry Tuvok paid the price.

Even more than Tuvok's physical condition, his mental state concerns me. He's a 
Vulcan, used to absolute, intrinsic control of his body and mind. How much 
worse, then, did the incredible helplessness of assimilation feel?

Yes, feel. I know his planet's culture well enough to understand the intensity 
of Vulcans' emotions are matched only by their determination not to express 
them. Their mental gifts are formidable indeed.

I can only hope the Borg violation of his mind left his soul intact.

My language is archaic and imprecise, and I'm sure Tuvok does not think this 
way, but I do.

I'm worried for him, this man who has never been my friend.

With a last sigh I released Tuvok's blanket and sought my own bed.

************************************************************
************************************************************

PART TWO

Three weeks after the destruction of Unimatrix Zero, things appeared to have 
returned to normal aboard Voyager. B'Elanna was back to eating her engineering 
ensigns for breakfast; Kathryn has reclaimed her role of benevolent dictator at 
large.

Even Tuvok has resumed his post on the bridge, his familiar arched eyebrow and 
withering ripostes keeping Tom and Harry in line.

I can't help thinking, though, that not all is at it seems. I set aside the 
reports I'm supposed to be reading and stare at my office walls, exploring my 
unease.

For one thing, Tuvok's been keeping to himself more than usual. No games of Kal-
toh with Seven or Harry; no time spent in "illogical" holodeck gatherings or 
mess hall diversions. He does his job and disappears, day after day.

And, as irrational as I know it sounds, I think Tuvok is blaming me for his 
trauma with the Borg. I've noticed that he avoids being anywhere near me, even 
to the point of pretending to miss the turbolift if I'm the only one on it.

I don't know what to do. He received a clean bill of health from the Doctor; 
Kathryn, as well as Tuvok's own staff, don't seem to think anything is amiss. 
And I am hardly the most qualified person to judge whether Tuvok is acting out 
of character off-duty.

I wish Kes were still with us. Though Tuvok was her mentor, he seemed able to 
confide in her. She was an old soul, and full of a gentle wisdom that could have 
smoothed so many rough patches we've experienced over the years.

My thoughts are interrupted by the chime. I quickly checked my calendar; no one 
is scheduled for a conference this evening. "Enter," I called, welcoming the 
distraction.

Shock *must* have registered on my face when Tuvok walked through the door. I 
was taken aback at him seeking me out after pointedly avoiding my company for so 
many days. I would have expected Kathryn to receive this visit, or perhaps 
Seven. But I never imagined Tuvok coming to me for help in any form. I hastily 
rose and called for a privacy lock, gesturing for him to take one of the chairs 
in front of my desk as I walked around to hover in front of the other.

I studied Tuvok as he moved to sit. He was dressed in an ankle-length blue silk 
tunic over loose trousers. Without his command mask, the lines and shadows on 
his face seemed to have eased not at all since I saw him in Sickbay.

"Would you like something to drink, Tuvok?" I asked quickly to cover my rude 
stare. My scrutiny probably did not go unnoticed, along with my dismay.

"No, thank you, Comm---Chakotay." My eyes narrowed. Tuvok's careful tone was a 
clue; his choices in this meeting some kind of message for me.

I considered: Tuvok has arrived after shift, dressed in civilian clothes, 
addressing me by my name rather than my rank. Yet he chose my office for the 
meeting---did that mean he wished to retain some professional decorum, or simply 
that he was not comfortable approaching me anywhere else? With what I hoped was 
an imperceptible sigh at my own frustration, I sat and asked, "What can I do for 
you?"

Tuvok's gaze seemed to reflect confusion a moment, bewilderment, as though he 
was himself uncertain of the answer. His fingers, long and elegant, twitched a 
moment as if he wanted to twist them together.

My vague unease focused sharply. I leaned forward, careful to keep my own hands 
hanging loosely over my knees, resisting the urge to clasp Tuvok's in a show of 
support. I waited as patiently as I could; Tuvok had closed the distance between 
us to seek my counsel, and I was determined to do my best for him.

Tuvok finally broke the silence. "You experienced assimilation with Doctor Riley 
Frazer and her cohorts, is that correct?"

I sat back slightly and kept my arms from crossing in front of me in automatic 
defense. I nodded slowly, surprised at the question. "Yes, I believe so. It 
wasn't quite the same of course---physically I was unchanged---but my will was 
submerged by the group mind."

My embarrassed eyes sought to alight anywhere but on Tuvok. Next to his 
experience, my own seemed a trivial thing. But my reaction to the Borg was quite 
real. In a half-hearted attempt to justify my still-lingering fear of the 
creatures I offered, "I also retain some sense of Seven's life experience from 
my temporary link with her when she was severed from the collective."

"Yes, I believed that to be the case." Tuvok seemed to debate within himself for 
a time, then looked at me once more, his eyes full of shadows. "Did 
you...afterward...still hear the voices?"

Horror dried my mouth. I knew all too well what Tuvok meant, being adrift on a 
sea of whispers that never ended. No compass, no destination, drowning in 
jumbled words in languages you shouldn't know.

Unavoidable, inescapable. For far too long a time.

I swallowed. "Yes." I managed not to strangle the word, focusing on Tuvok's 
troubles rather than the adrenaline surge at the brief reminder of my own past. 
"Are you having some problems?" I asked as gently as I could.

"I..." One of Tuvok's hands strayed to rub at his temple, the tremors in his 
fingers betraying the depth of his distress. "Yes. I've had some success in 
ignoring the memories. But then I have a flashback. I find myself returned to 
the moment when the neutralizer failed and my consciousness was...when I was..."

"Lost," I whispered.

"Yes." Tuvok abruptly stood, his agitated pacing adding a surreal quality to 
this most unexpected conversation.

I followed him with my eyes. "Have you told the EMH about this? Perhaps he could 
offer you---"

"No." The uncharacteristic sharpness of Tuvok's response silenced me 
immediately. I waited for him to explain.

"The Doctor's only remedy is to use a cortical suppressor, to shut down certain 
brain functions entirely. Hardly a miracle cure." The brief flash of wryness was 
vintage Tuvok and somehow reassured me.

"You believe you have a better remedy?" I was further relieved when Tuvok 
returned to his seat.

"Perhaps." Tuvok seemed to deliberately still his restless fingers, frowning 
down at them as if annoyed by their unruly behavior. "Vulcans aid the repair of 
physical and mental damage by focusing the mind. By meditation." His grim 
expression deepened; he still hadn't looked at me. "I have been unable to 
perform any healing rituals since my return."

I didn't want to offend Tuvok with unwelcome sympathy or sorrow, so I focused on 
what I now believed was the reason he was here. "And you'd like me to guide you 
in a meditation?"

"No. I would---I ask for permission to mind-meld with you." Finally Tuvok raised 
his eyes to mine, and I could see how much it had cost him to make such a 
personal request.

So I was a little ashamed of my reaction as I instinctively leapt to my feet and 
moved away, putting distance between us as if I were afraid Tuvok would reach 
across the gap and forcibly drag me into his nightmare. "I don't understand, 
Tuvok. Why would you want to mind-meld with me?"

I gained control of myself and cautiously settled back into my seat. "Vorik is a 
fellow Vulcan, Kathryn and B'Elanna shared your experiences on the Borg ship, 
and Seven has a much greater understanding of assimilation. You're closer to all 
of them than to me. Why come here?"

Tuvok's eyebrows drew together; I could see the tension in his jaw, in every 
line of him. But he did answer me. "Vorik does not possess the awareness 
necessary to understand events and their consequences. Seven was captured by the 
Borg as a child; she does not comprehend the depth of the...violation." His eyes 
dropped to his hands and I followed, surprised to see they had escaped his 
control and wrapped themselves around each other. I wondered if the gesture was 
an expression of comfort sought or a reflection of distress.

He cleared his throat and continued. "B'Elanna and the captain did not...lose 
themselves. They share the surface but not the substance of the experience." 
This time Tuvok leaned forward, his intense gaze almost startling me into flight 
once more. But I held my ground. "There is one other reason."

I waited to hear it, our quickened breaths the only sounds in the room.

"You know what it is like to be part of the Borg group-mind, but your time with 
them is unique. The report was somewhat vague---" one eyebrow raised in Tuvok's 
traditional prelude to understatement "---but I was under the impression that 
the joining of minds at one point was not entirely...repugnant."

"Vague" was an interesting way of describing that particular example of non-
information, and both of us knew it. Tuvok must have quite a talent for reading 
between the lines.

"Perhaps," I admitted, "but those moments didn't compensate for what came 
afterward." Confusion pulled my face into a frown. "You want to explore my 
personal relationship with Riley? What do you hope to gain from it?"

Tuvok looked away. "I cannot meditate because my assimilation---the Borg---
destroyed my link to T'Pel." His voice was rough with emotions I'm sure he'd 
never admit in front of me. "Our bond was fragile at best, eroded by time and 
distance, but it was my...anchor, if you will. Now she is gone."

My eyes burned and my throat tightened at the realization of the extent of his 
loss. What could I say in the face of such devastation? Nothing would, could 
make amends. Any apologies or expressions of sympathy I offered would be merely 
sops to my own pained conscience and added burdens to him.

I retreated into formal Vulcan. "I grieve with thee," I said quietly.

Tuvok turned back to me, startled I think. His nod was accompanied by an odd 
expression, perhaps awareness of or appreciation for my restraint.

I shifted in my seat, a little uncomfortable with the next question. "Kathryn 
doesn't know, does she?"

"No, she does not." Tuvok held my gaze, his own insistent. "And she must not."

I simply nodded. Of course he would not want to add to the store of guilt 
Kathryn had already gathered in our journey home.

After a moment he relaxed somewhat, his hands uncurling as if offering me his 
logic. "For Vulcans who can mind-meld, the ability is at the core of their 
personality, a necessary component of their emotional control. But I am 
now...afraid...of the idea of joining with another mind. Of being, as you have 
said, lost to another's will."

He looked at me once more. "So I *must* regain my confidence in the act, if I am 
to regain myself. I believe your encounter with Riley Frazer is close to the 
experience of a Vulcan mating bond. If I can sense once more the benefits of 
such a joining, perhaps I can recover my own willingness to form such 
connections. And of course, lose my distrust of the mind-meld itself."

"You seek the sense of communion that came before the compulsion," I deduced. I 
continued to draw out the parallels. "You think that living my experience with 
Riley through a mind-meld will enable you to re-establish your bond with T'Pel?"

"No, Chakotay, your assumption is incorrect." Tuvok's expression was once more 
intent, but filled with a heat I had never seen before. "The ability to form a 
new bond is what I seek, not the return of the old one. I am content with the 
dissolution of my marriage."

"What?!?" *That* was news to me. I had thought Tuvok's love for T'Pel a constant 
of the universe, one of the beacons guiding Voyager home. I was stunned to hear 
otherwise. "You no longer want to be married?"

"I *am* no longer married." For some reason, this topic seemed to have a calming 
effect on Tuvok. He patiently explained, "The end of the link is the end of the 
relationship. It will be formalized, I have no doubt, with a private decree of 
separation in the next packet from Starfleet."

He sighed. "We were bonded when we were mere children. In part because our 
parents suspected that we shared a particular...tendency."

"I don't understand." I'm sure my confusion was disappointing, but I was still 
reeling from Tuvok's original announcement. He was going to have to be more 
specific.

"Vulcans consider pon farr and procreation the main purposes for marriage; that 
the bonds are heterosexual is simply a matter of logic. When it seems likely 
that a person...would be more satisfied in another kind of joining, he or she is 
sometimes paired with a counterpart who shares the same...aberration." His voice 
was matter-of-fact. "It brings a certain balance to the resulting relationship."

"Are you saying that you---that you're bisexual?" I hadn't thought I could be 
more surprised this evening. Clearly I was wrong. "You never showed any signs of 
it."

Tuvok gave a graceful but uncharacteristic shrug. "I was mated. The life-bond 
suppresses other appetites in favor of one's partner." He looked at me again 
with an intensity that was like a physical touch. "And I have always been 
careful to avoid temptation."

My eyes widened at his inference. Tuvok didn't want anything to do with me 
because he wanted me? I could feel my face heat under his relentless stare. "Um-
--does that mean---are you saying---?" II sputtered to a stop and just sat, 
trying to wrap my mind around this revelation. I had been so wrong in my reading 
of his reasons for avoiding me all this time.

"Yes. Your present surmises are indeed correct." Tuvok leaned forward with a 
hiss of silk. "Chakotay. I have admired your ability to fit yourself into 
whatever role circumstances require. I respect your determination to retain your 
personal integrity despite the turmoil of your life. You have intelligence and 
insight tempered with compassion and warmth. Your personality is complex and 
contrary, simply fascinating." He shrugged again. "And now that I am no longer 
held to my marriage vows, I can admit I find you aesthetically and sexually 
compelling."

"So what is this---really?" I stood to confront him. "Was your request for help 
just a means to get inside my head? A lead-in to some kind of proposition? A 
highly original pick-up line?" I didn't think so, given Tuvok's obvious signs of 
fatigue, but I'd been manipulated before. By him.

"No, Chakotay." With new awareness I could hear the thrum 
of...something...underneath his simple saying of my name. I suspected I was 
going to be reviewing our contact of the last few years in a different light 
some time in the future. But for the present, I focused on Tuvok's words. "I did 
not come to you under false pretenses. I *do* simply wish to cure myself of the 
debilitating effects of Borg assimilation. And I believe I need your help to do 
so." His mouth quirked. "As for the more personal admissions...it seemed a 
logical moment to make my interest known."

I shook my head ruefully and perched on the arm of my chair. "Your sense of 
timing is...interesting, Tuvok." I looked at him as he sat quietly waiting for 
my decision.

And then I really *looked* at him.

It's always been a quirk of my personality that I'm simply not attracted to 
married people. I'm not sure why; maybe my upbringing. But for some reason the 
moment I know vows have been spoken my interest vanishes as though it never 
existed. No matter how alluring the person may have seemed a moment before.

If nothing else, it helped me survive faculty parties at the Academy. I had no 
problem turning down bored fellow professors---or their spouses---looking for a 
thrill.

I've always known Tuvok was married. Ergo, he was off-limits and it never 
crossed my mind to wonder whether I considered him attractive.

Do I?

I've never been particularly susceptible to a person's appearance. I tend to be 
drawn to a certain kind of character, the spirit within rather than the outward 
package. An average-looking person with an interesting personality always wins 
my attention over the raving beauty with less going on upstairs.

And I find strength irresistibly sexy---the sense of internal certitude, though 
it's often backed by physical prowess. In men or women, a confident air is 
simply the most potent aphrodisiac I know.

Tuvok certainly has that in spades, despite his current troubles. Besides, I 
find his vulnerability endearing rather than off-putting.

Physically? His looks suit him. Lean and elegant, blending shades of dark, 
austere and forbidding to the uninitiated. But there are chinks in his armor 
that allow glimpses of humor and passion, and when he truly relaxes there is 
something about Tuvok that lets you know there is so much more to him than 
logic.

My own uncertainties regarding his true opinion of me had been banished by his 
words tonight. Tuvok's honesty, and his willingness to trust me with his 
secrets, removed the other impediment to my attraction. I simply can't love 
where I can't trust---it's partly why both Seska and Kathryn eventually lost my 
affections.

Not that I'm in love, mind you. Just...attracted.

"I'll be honest with you, Tuvok. You've given me a hell of a lot to absorb in a 
short time." I rubbed the back of my neck out of habit. "I don't know how to 
take your sudden interest in me, especially when we know so little about each 
other."

I sensed him tensing once more and quickly spoke to reassure him. "But I *will* 
allow the mind-meld. If you think that accessing my memories will help you throw 
off the Borg influence, then I'd be glad to help."

He sank back into his chair and nodded. I noticed that much of the stiffness 
drained from his body. He asked me, "When do you wish to proceed?"

"Well, I'd like to grab some food and a shower before we begin," I said, "but 
where is a little more of a question. I was thinking of neutral territory---
maybe the Hydroponics Bay?"

The softness in Tuvok's dark eyes told me he also was remembering Kes. "Most 
appropriate," he murmured as we stood. "If you are agreeable, we will meet there 
in ninety minutes' time."

I nodded, and was surprised one last time when Tuvok reached out to lay a hand 
on my forearm.

"Thank you," he said, then without another word or look left the room in a 
whisper of silk.

I sighed and looked at the time. It had taken less than an hour to radically 
alter my entire universe.

************************************************************

PART THREE (CONCLUSION)

I felt awkward in my new silk outfit. It's such a luxurious, decadent fabric, 
and I've had little reason to wear such garments these last few years.

Still, it felt incredibly sensual as it glided along my skin. I wondered if 
Tuvok had the same reaction.

I also thought about how often I'd seen him wear silk. Interesting.

The sound of Tuvok calling for a privacy lock brought me up from the bench where 
I'd been idly contemplating the greenery.

We met in the middle of the racks of plants. He appeared the same as before, his 
remote expression falling away as he appraised my appearance. He bowed, and I 
echoed his gesture.

Silence underlaid by the susurrations of the machinery accompanied Tuvok's 
opening and spreading of the thick blanket he brought. When he was satisfied 
with its positioning we sank down across from each other, sitting cross-legged, 
our knees touching.

I was surprised to feel the heat of him through the dual layers of cloth. I knew 
his metabolism was different than mine, but the information had never really 
translated to physical terms.

When our gazes met, his face was still tired but his expression was serene. 
"Thank you, Chakotay," he said again.

I knew it was a last check of my willingness to go through with his plan. I 
nodded, offering a small, uncertain smile.

He nodded as well, and lifted my hand in both of his. He shifted my fingers 
against his face, placing them in the traditional position for a mind-meld. When 
he felt I was ready, he dropped one hand and used the other to mirror mine.

My fingertips rested against his skin, absorbing his warmth. His touch upon me 
was precisely marked by points of heat and pressure.

He looked at me as he began the ritual chant.

I could feel my perspective shifting, my eyes closing upon this world to open 
again to a vision of the past. I sensed Tuvok with me, a presence at my back and 
somehow also within.

Suddenly I was floating in the gestalt, the chants of the former Borg cradling 
me, healing me, their presence soothing and protective. I hadn't remembered how 
peaceful it felt.

Then the others faded and I was with Riley alone. We were exploring each other, 
sharing the sensations: sight and sound, touch and scent and taste. We dwelled 
in both bodies, both sexes, knowing what it felt like to be both giver and 
recipient at once.

Together. On a level I couldn't put into words. It had been the most profound 
sex of my life.

I had forgotten the sheer wonder of it.

Then something seemed to move through me, within me. When I blinked I was 
shocked to find Riley gone. In her place Tuvok lay beneath me. His heat 
surrounded me as I sank into him, his long legs clasped high around my back.

I leaned forward, swiping my tongue across his lips, bringing my hands up to 
cradle his head and caress his springy short hair.

He opened to me and our mouths mated, tongues matching the strain and twist of 
our bodies seeking release.

I could have forced him out, pushed us back into my true memory and him back to 
the role of observer. But what flowed between us felt so natural. Strength and 
desire, tenderness and passion melding into something even more special than 
what I had with Riley.

Because this was honest. There was no agenda beyond our sharing the pleasure of 
the moment.

My focus was divided between my thrusts into Tuvok and his acceptance of me. 
When he yearned toward me I answered him. What I asked of him I received without 
hesitation.

I rose up a little, breaking our kiss, staring into his eyes as we continued to 
move together. I read heat, and desire, and fear, and joy, a million different 
emotions that flowed beneath his serene face and through our connection.

And somewhere in the joining of our minds I made the choice to not take things 
slowly, as I had with Kathryn. Not to hesitate and withhold myself, as I had 
with so many others.

I fumbled for Tuvok's hand, twining our fingers together. The other I placed in 
the position I guessed we were still holding in the waking world. "My mind to 
your mind, my thoughts to your thoughts," I whispered before I kissed him once 
more.

I opened up a door and invited him inside...myself. Who I had been in the course 
of becoming who I was at this moment. Deeper and deeper, even as I was moving 
into Tuvok's body I granted him access to my mind.

My soul.

And then Tuvok offered himself in return.

One moment we were in my memories, the next in his. He was looming above me, 
panting into my face with heated breaths, his eyes wild and the scents of sweat 
and musk heavy on his skin.

This was pon farr, and I had taken T'Pel's place in Tuvok's bed. His grip on my 
shoulders would have been painful if I hadn't also been caught up in the heat. 
The need, feral and primitive and completely out of control.

His body slammed against mine, into mine. I felt his cock like a rod of heated 
steel parting my flesh. Yet his mind opened to mine with the same abandon, 
taking me into childhood memories and youthful rebellions, the dreams discarded 
or fulfilled in adulthood.

The sorrows and defeats, triumphs and joys that formed the person who wore the 
name Tuvok of Vulcan.

The passion between us grew, we were fusing together on levels I had never known 
existed.

It was glorious.

With a shout I flipped us over on the bed, the desert air of Vulcan no match for 
the heat rising from our bodies. I plunged downward, seating him more deeply as 
he thrust upward, driving toward release.

Then he grabbed my head and our mouths returned to devour each other as our 
bodies pounded out a rhythm of their own making.

In the middle of our frenzy I felt an icy blast of awareness, of a secret laid 
bare. I loved him. Somewhere in that revealing of his soul he'd struck a chord, 
forged a bond with my own. An unspoken pledge I had never made to another. I 
knew then that the distance we had held between us could never return. I 
wouldn't survive the separation.

I panicked. It was too much, and I didn't know what would happen to me, to us, 
after this moment. My strokes faltered as I clutched at Tuvok's biceps, 
trembling, staring down into his blazing eyes.

In that instant I felt Tuvok return my love with his own. His trust, his caring, 
his respect, his passion. The affirmation of our feelings brought a sense of 
completeness, an exultation---it was all and everything.

*He* became my future, and his past and present as much mine as the experiences 
I had lived through myself. And I felt him claiming me, as deeply and surely, 
joining us, two yet one.

We were floating in a sea of silence, entangled and entwined.

Our tension eased, bodies quieted. My eyes fluttered closed. I felt him drawing 
us away from the vision and into the real world.

***************

I returned to myself and was immediately overwhelmed by the heat of Tuvok's body 
pressed to my own. We had shifted position and were now kneeling together. My 
thighs straddled his lap, our mouths fused, our hands still maintaining the 
meld.

We broke our lip-lock and stared at each other. I could still sense Tuvok's 
presence, a warm glow at the back of my mind. And I knew how...happy...he was at 
the turn of events, from our mental connection and from the light in his eyes.

His fingers wandered slowly over my face, making me shiver under his touch. His 
expression softened as he brushed my eyebrows, traced my tattoo. When his 
tactile exploration reached my lips I kissed his fingertips.

Tuvok made a soft sound at the back of his throat and leaned in for a kiss. I 
felt his hand circle my neck, stroking my nape.

When we parted I lifted my own hands to trace the delicate upsweep of his ears, 
following the curves and lines. His cheeks were smooth under my fingers, and his 
sharply-angled eyebrows a delight. I cupped the corners of his jaw, tracing the 
outline of his wide mouth with my thumbs.

Without words we slowly began to undress each other, silk yielding to skin. He 
was lean and hard, wiry and male. I ran my fingers down the center of his chest 
and up again to cup his shoulders. His collarbone was a perfect target for quick 
strokes of my tongue.

Tuvok pushed my shirt off and skimmed my chest, his fingertips teasing my 
nipples into stiff attention. He spread his hands over my ribs and maneuvered us 
to lie down on our sides.

We resumed kissing and stroking, as slow and tender now as we had been frenzied 
in the meld. I slid my hands under Tuvok's waistband, pushing his trousers down 
to reveal the sweep of his legs.

He was carved in ebony, all long clean lines and lithe muscles. I felt his hands 
sink into my hair as I explored him, my hands sweeping his hips and sides as I 
continued to taste his skin.

I acquiesced when he drew me once more into his kiss. His hands swept down my 
back in trails of fire, cupping my buttocks and rubbing his naked cock against 
my still-clothed erection.

The slide of silk and his skin made me moan, startling us both in the breathy 
silence.

It also seemed to trip something within us both. He wrenched my pants off and 
suddenly we were grinding into each other, his arousal like a brand against my 
belly, mine slickly sliding against his skin, brushing the thatch of hair at his 
groin.

We kissed, breathing together, open mouths sliding and panting over each other's 
faces only to return to suck at each other's lips and tongues.

Thrust and counterthrust, moving as one, we drove toward fulfillment. My body 
and mind thrummed with awareness of him, and his awareness of me. Passion 
building, burning, and finally releasing in a flood of heat across our skins.

***************

My pulse gradually slowed, and I felt Tuvok's breaths change from heaves to 
pants to sighs. I stroked one hand down his arm and felt him capture my hand.

I opened my eyes to find him staring at me. I shuddered in reaction as he lifted 
my hand to his lips and kissed it. I cupped his cheek. "How are you?" I asked 
softly, a world of concerns condensed to that single question.

"I am well," he answered, a ghost of a smile hovering about his lips. "I am 
myself, again, and content with my life---and my life-mate."

I chuckled at the wave of satisfaction he sent me through our link. If he didn't 
have such good control he'd be grinning ear to ear. "I'm glad your plan worked, 
though I admit I'm a little shocked that 'intent to marry' somehow got mixed in 
with my 'intent to help'."

"But you have no regrets?" he asked carefully.

The tinge of unease he projected was unacceptable. I laid my palm on his heart 
and said, "None. I didn't know I was missing a part of myself until I found it 
in you."

I felt the press of Tuvok's hand against my chest, a mirror to my own. Then he 
smiled at me, and he was beautiful.

With a last kiss, we wrapped ourselves in the blanket and our arms around each 
other. Holding each other close, so very close, we settled down to sleep.

THE END