A/N: I apologize for the sporadic updating and chapter length. Life is messy and I don't practice writing nearly as often as I ought to. That said, I'm asking all of you to help me direct where this story goes. Thus far, relationships have remained platonic, but I'm considering changing that. Harry is a given half of this equation, but I'm open to ideas on the other half of it. Leave suggestions (or things you desperately hope I avoid) in comments and I'll do my best to work within those confines.

The air of the tunnel surprises Chakotay with its coolness now that he isn't surrounded by the holo-image. He shivers despite his uniform and marvels again at the simple fact that Harry is conscious.

"We're clear," he says after taking stock of the passage. "Stay beside me, Harry. If we run into any Gravatti, I'm your prisoner, understood?" Harry nods after a moment. He is having trouble staying upright and sways minutely before Chakotay gently grips his hand and places it on his shoulder. "Lean on me, Harry. It will be easier to feign capture if you've already got ahold of me." The fingers that clasp his shoulder are surprisingly tight. There will probably be some bruising later.

They make it all the way through the domed cavern and into the tunnel to the outside before they encounter another Gravatti. It is taller than Chakotay, taller even than the disguise worn by Harry, and makes an impressive figure before them. It cocks its head.

"What is this one for?" it asks Harry, gesturing to the "prisoner."

"The other is broken," he manages to rasp in response. Chakotay feigns a struggle against the hand on his shoulder while filing away Harry's statement for later.

"Like hell," he spits at them. "You won't break Harry, and you won't break me."

The Gravatti blocking the exit bends forward to look into Chakotay's eyes. The mouth twitches at the corner, almost a smirk, and Chakotay reels at the images flying through his mind. He is no longer in the tunnel, but back on his ship, his Maquis ship, and dead bodies fill the view screen. The Val Jean is chasing down a vessel, firing, destroying it. Then his father is shaking his head in disappointment, and Chakotay looks down to see Janeway's lifeless body in his arms. Somewhere outside his vision, B'elanna is screaming. And then it stops. Bewildered and nauseous, Chakotay looks up to see he is back in the tunnel, slumped against the wall. A Gravatti stands over him with a phaser, hand shaking, offering his free hand to him. Chakotay realizes belatedly that Harry has stolen his phaser and shot the other creature. He reaches for the hand offered to him, but before they make contact, Harry's eyes lose focus and he slumps to the ground, unconscious.

It is slow progress to carry Harry with him the rest of the way out, but Chakotay can't afford to wait for either of them to recover. He has deactivated the mobile-emitter to better navigate the narrow passage, and it takes more of his strength not to look down at the wreckage of Harry Kim than it does to press forward. He stumbles gratefully into the open air, sighing in relief as he feels the transporter dissolve them.

The first thing Harry notices when he regains consciousness is the beeping. He fleetingly realizes that he must be in sick bay before the wave of pain overtakes him and he gasps at the force of it, arching slightly off the bed.

"Easy, Mr. Kim," says a soft voice beside him. His eyes flutter open, unfocussed, but he recognizes the doctor all the same. "You've had a pretty rough ride of it the last two days."

Understatement of the century, he thinks.

"You've experienced some pretty significant nerve damage and strain to your vocal cords, but your external injuries are healing nicely." Harry is only vaguely aware of what's being said to him. He is so tired, so cold, and his exhaustion has settled into his bones so deeply that he thinks it may never leave. "I've been keeping out visitors since you arrived back, but if you're feeling up to it, a certain pilot has been threatening to dismantle my program if I don't let him in soon."

Harry wants to laugh at that, but he can't make his body respond. His face aches, and his throat aches, and his fucking soul is aching. He nods anyway.

"Excellent," the doctor replies in his professional tone of voice. "Computer, deactivate forcefield and unseal doors to sick bay." The computer chirps in response, and instantly the doors hiss open.

"Harry!" Tom is by his side quicker than ought to be possible, and it's all Tom can do to not gather his best friend into his arms right there in sick bay and sob in relief. "Jesus, Harry, I thought we might lose you." His blue eyes are too bright, too close, and Harry is flooded with memories brought forward and twisted by his captors. He grimaces and looks away, missing the hurt on Tom's face as he does so. "Harry?"

The Doctor cuts in. "Mr. Paris, I know very well that you read my initial reports on his condition. I will thank you to not press him into conversation before his throat is healed." Chastised, Tom settles for placing a hand on Harry's shoulder. Harry goes rigid at the contact. The mistake is obvious the second Harry begins convulsing.

Chakotay finds Tom in Sandrine's, staring blankly into the glass of synthehol in front of him.

"He knows you didn't mean to hurt him, Tom." Chakotay's voice is like bourbon, earthy and rich and rasping. He sounds exhausted, and Tom spares a thought of gratitude for the person who rescued his best friend from below.

"Good intentions get you nowhere," he replies.

The stool beside his scrapes against the floor and the familiar weight of Chakotay settles beside him.

"I haven't had a chance to speak with Harry about everything that happened before I arrived, but I was unfortunate enough to get some first-hand experience of the telepathy Seven warned us about." He pauses to motion for a drink from the bartender. "Memory is a powerful thing, Tom, and a being with the power to manipulate that has an opportunity for unimaginable cruelty." He is silent, thoughtful, as he sips his drink. "Harry will need more than the Doctor to get his life back on track." You will not protect him by leaving him, goes unsaid but Tom hears it nonetheless.

Tom accepts this advice with a nod, throwing back the rest of his drink. He sits for a moment before turning to his commander. There is a question in his eyes, and he opens and closes his mouth a few times as he searches for the right words.

Chakotay thinks that Tom will ask for details of the escape, or perhaps a more full account of what he knows happened down there. But instead, Tom asks him what he was made to remember.

It would be easy to ignore the question, nearly as easy to give a monotonous account of the memories he relived, but something in Tom's expression makes him think hard about what he experienced.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked," Tom interjects, interpreting Chakotay's silence for anger. He stands to leave and is a few steps away when Chakotay's voice reaches him.

"Shame, Tom." Tom turns around to regard his CO curiously. "They made me remember my failures, my cruelties, and my shame."

Tom is still standing, facing the bar, in shocked silence when the doors to the holosuite hiss shut behind Chakotay.