Empty Cradle by Ren
Summary: Tragic events part Tom from Chakotay.
Categories: Chakotay/Paris Fanfiction Characters: None
Genres: A/U
Warnings: MPREG
Challenges: None
Series: None
Chapters: 1 Completed: Yes Word count: 2297 Read: 3788 Published: 29/12/03 Updated: 29/12/03

1. none by Ren

none by Ren
Title:-Empty Cradle
Author:-Ren
Pairing:-C/P
Rating:-R
Warnings: - major character death and mpreg.
Disclaimer:-Paramount TPTB own all the rights to Star Trek Voyager, and Chak and Tom, I just wanna play with them for a bit, I promise I will put them back in a little while.

This is my first ever fic, so be gentle with me.
This is for Jean who encouraged me to write, for being my beta reader and keeping the fics of Tom Paris alive and kicking. *hugs*

Empty Cradle.

The paramedic at the scene had seen many victims of accidents, and had thought she had been hardened. But when she knelt down near the body of this latest victim, she felt her heart soften. As she touched the still warm skin of the blonde haired man, her eyes travelled down his body with her well trained eyes, and stopped at the obvious curve of his abdomen. She gave a gasp and tears fell down her cheeks. Today they had lost two innocent lives in this wreakage.
Her eyes blurred, she gently brushed the now bloodied blond hair away from his face, and closed his beautiful blue eyes that once were bright with laughter and happiness, but now held a vacant and unseeing stare. Stepping away from the body, she knew that she would not sleep easy tonight.

In a little town on Dorvan V everybody went about doing their normal everyday routines. For one resident of that small quiet town however, life had changed, and not for the better.

Chakotay opened the front door of the cabin he shared with his beloved husband Tom; the darkness that greeted him reflected his feelings at that moment. Only a few hours earlier Chakotay had left the house immediately after receiving a visit from the local police regarding Tom, and an accident on earth.






Chakotay ignored the light switch, preferring to face the darkness rather than the glare of light; he was in no mood to set his eyes on a sight that would open wounds in his already fragile and abused heart.
Groping in the bleakness for a chair, he sat for what seemed like hours desperately trying to think about absolutely nothing. He feared that if he thought about what had happened earlier in the day, everything else would then be too terrifying to bear. But the face of Tom haunted him, scenes of their first meeting in Marseilles, where Chakotay hired the drunk, drug abused, thin, unkempt blond as a pilot for the Liberty, taking perverse pleasure in the fact that Admiral Owen Paris’s son was now working for the Marquis. Scenes of a pale long limbed body stretched in sexual satisfaction, a face of an angel thrown back in sheer ecstasy. A hand offered to him saving him from certain death in the Ocampa caves, despite his samaritan being on the end of his verbal abuse aboard Voyager.

His mind released images of the past seven years, seven wondrous years, spent in the arms and company of one Thomas Paris. Episodes of joy and passions that they shared, new planets that they investigated, near death experiences that Tom was prone to, all forming in Chakotays personal album of memories, continuing to this last year. Finally making it home, making a new life on Dorvan V, resigning from Star Fleet, and culminating in a marriage ceremony.

Despite his pain, Chakotay relived that wonderful day when he and Tom had pledged their lives together in front of dear friends and families. Well at least Chakotay’s family had turned up, Tom didn’t expect any of the Paris’s to attend, and therefore was not disappointed when he was proven true. The sun had been shining, as the service began on top of a hill overlooking an ocean of a blue so similar to the colour of Tom’s eyes, eyes that had been bright with unshed tears of sheer happiness on that spectacular day.

Chakotay remembered being dressed simply in an outfit consisting of a white silk shirt, black form fitting trousers and red waist coat. Feeling nervous, he had found his arm being held by his *best man* B’Elanna, who looked beautiful in a short beige strapless dress, it was she who had broke his nervousness with a remark about whether Tom and Harry as *bride* and *maid of honour* respectively, would be going traditional and wearing dresses.





The thought of his future spouse well experienced in sexual techniques, wearing a white virginal wedding dress, followed meekly by Harry Kim dressed in pink frilled satin set him of, and a roar of laughter left his bulky frame. Thankfully neither Tom nor Harry were wearing what Chakotay had envisioned, both chose similar outfits to the *groom* except Tom’s waist coat was sapphire blue, bringing out his wide eyes. Harry, whose waist coat was green, matched his skin tone at that moment, after binging excessively on Tom’s home brew alcohol the evening before.

Both men had stood before the local minister, both looking incredible in their contrasting beauty, like Day and Night.
Kathryn Janeway wept tears of joy, at the same time remembering her lost chance with Chakotay on New Earth all those years ago, coming back to the present when Tuvok gently squeezed her hand in comfort.
Everyone had been overcome with emotion as Chakotay and Tom recited their vows to each other and after Naomi Wildman as ring bearer took her place next to the couple, they exchanged rings, and then kissed, finally ending that part of the ceremony. The remainder of that day seemingly flashed by, in Chakotay’s mind, and settled on the memory of him holding Tom closely as they danced a slow number, under the clear night sky of Dorvan V. Whispering words of love that newly married couples always do as they awaited the moment that they would finally be alone, and then their own private marriage ceremony would begin, with the coming together of not only their bodies, but also their souls.

As that memory faded Chakotay found himself back in his cabin. Inevitably the scene that finally greeted him after he had finally found the courage to turn on the lights; only re-ignited the pain that he had left behind at the hospital. His eyes were drawn to a cradle that he took upon himself to make with his bare hands, one that he had been finishing before his plummet into hell.
“Now there is no reason to finish it”, he whispered, the cradle would never be filled with the joy of a coming newborn, instead it would lay empty, a mockery to his recent loss.

Advancing slowly into the bedroom he noticed on the still unmade bed that only that morning was witness to the scene of his and Tom’s love making, the silk shirt that Tom had worn. Gathering it to his face, breathing in the scent of his lover he remembered the joyous connection of two bonded souls whose love was encapsulated in the form of Tom’s pregnancy. He remembered the day that Tom told him that they were to become parents, the joy on Chakotay’s face when the Holo Doc’s experiment had succeeded.
The immense pleasures at watching Tom’s stomach swell with the growing child, and the contentment and radiance on the former pilots face.

He remembered the last time he had seen Tom alive, the bloom of pregnancy giving him an almost ethereal look, as he saw Tom reach for his hands and gently brush his fingers across his swollen stomach, feeling the child move beneath his lover’s skin for the first time.

Tom had only been going to see Harry and B’Elanna after they had settled into their new apartment back on Earth.
He was starting to get claustrophobia, having been stuck in the cabin for nearly a week after being grounded by an overly cautious doc. Tom had lost his balance in the local town square and fallen, thankfully not injuring the child, only a bruised ego. Since the experiment was relatively new, the Doc was taking no chances with his patient, especially one that was as accident prone as Lieutenant Tom Paris. So once given a clean bill of health and a list of do’s and don’ts, Tom was determined to escape even if only for the day.


So it was even more tragic that Tom and his unborn child would be so viciously taken away by the erratic and drug filled mind of a young teenager and his equally drunken sidekicks joyriding in an stolen shuttle; en- route to San Francisco.
Two lives been sniffed out. One whose life had been on the road to hope after years of terrifying nightmares, self doubts and low self esteem, and another who would never have the chance to breathe the clean air of Dorvan V.


Chakotay had gone to mourn the body of his husband. Tom had been taken care of, so Chakotay was spared the vision of Tom’s crushed body. The numerous cuts and bruises that Tom had received after his shuttle had taken the full impact of the crash, the beautiful blond hair that had been stained red had been cleaned and removed, leaving Chakotay with the image of a peaceful sleeping spouse.

Chakotay believed at any minute Tom would wake up and inform his brave Native Indian that it was all a joke, a typical Tom thing. “How could he die like that after surviving so many close shaves in the past?” Chakotay tearfully spoke to the doctor, who didn’t reply, not that Chakotay noticed. “Especially on Voyager, he was always injured or something when we were on Voyager” Chakotay’s voice broke on the last word. But Tom didn’t wake up, nor ever would. Chakotay stood while the doctor gave him all the information, barely hearing that Tom died on impact, feeling no pain, and the baby a girl had died shortly after her *mother* had taken his last breath. As if that was any consolation to Chakotay.

A lone figure sat under an apple blossom tree, cradling a swollen stomach that betrayed an advanced pregnancy. The figure dressed in ivory, with a head of golden curls brushing the nape of his neck was murmuring sweet songs to the child within his body, Tom smiled to himself, soon his baby would be with him and they would be together for eternity. “We will wait for daddy, he will be with us soon enough my darling”. And then Tom sat back against the tree to wait patiently for the other half of his soul.


The funeral was possibly the worst event in Chakotay’s life, even his father’s death and his fight with the Cardassians, didn’t compare to this horror. Blindly standing on the hill top which had been the location of his wedding months before. Not noticing, nor feeling his companions’ words of sympathy or touches of comfort. He stood staring down at a hole in the ground that would embrace his husband and child within its dark earth, away from him forever. Trying desperately to fight the urge to fall into the dark depths and join them.

Tom had loved the ocean, so Chakotay had ensured that Tom would be near to it for eternity. Standing on the hill top that had once joined two souls, and now separating them again. He watched Voyagers ex crew all in shock and many weeping; feeling a slight resentment that their grief was nothing compared to his that once over, everyone else could carry on with their lives.

He sat alone, the silence of the house mocking him, he hadn’t noticed that everyone had left, leaving him with his misery; he had been on autopilot most of the day, recalling nothing of the miserable sequence of events. And now here he was, sitting in the darkness again, very much like another day that seemed now so very far away.

Looking back, everyone who had known Chakotay would never have believed what motivated him to take his own life. They would remember him as strong, The ex Marquis Captain, whom his crew believed nothing would deter him from fighting for their rights and causes, others remembered him as a fine Star Fleet Commander, who was a fair but firm gentle man.

Kathryn Janeway however would also remember him as a tired, lonely, broken man, who had lost his reason to live.

She would never forget the sight that met her eyes so very shortly after Tom’s funeral; she could still see it clearly every time she closed her eyes. The sightless brown eyes, the coldness of his body, surrounded by blood, which had been seeping from his severed wrist veins. She would always blame her self for not seeing how desperate he had become, or how lost his soul was without its partner. The thought *if only* came to her mind. *If only* she had been to see him sooner, *If only* she had spent time with him. Those two simple words would always plague her for many more years.

Always a case of *If Only*.

An half finished cradle sat in a room that not so long ago held sounds of laughter and happiness, now only silence and memories remain.


Above in the heavens two souls sit together. One a blond haired angelic vision nursing an infant at his chest. And another, in complete contrast so dark against the other golden being, but no less angelic in his glory, holding the blond and the infant in his arms in protection, a family forever together in eternity.

The End.
This story archived at http://www.tomparisdorm.com/viewstory.php?sid=3064