Enemy of My Enemy -
To the Victor Go the Spoils

by  Kath Tate

Disclaimer: Star Trek Voyager and its characters are the property of Paramount. This story does not mean to infringe upon the trademarks or copyrights of Paramount.

EOME is a series of Voyager stories which are based on the premise that the Maquis ship was not destroyed in "Caretaker." Given that there is no name in canon for the Maquis ship, this series calls it "Fides," which is Latin for "Faith."

The order of the EOME series:
Confederation
Follow the Leader
Casualty and Confession
Food for Thought
Change of Command
Cracks in Time's Mirror
Fides Violare
Fletcher Christian Was in Starfleet
Far From My Home
Judas Kiss Part One
Judas Kiss Part Two
Wi-na-de-ya-ho (A New Day)
A Matter of a Moment
Rumours and Remedies
And Faith Shines Equal
Divide and Conquer (PG) or Divide and Conquer (R)
To the Victor Go the Spoils

Please do not distribute without Kath's permission. Thanks.  Much gratitude as always to Vicki, Sheena and Jen for their editorial input! =)

*****

The dimly lit tavern was filled with bodies as it had been on the two nights previous when the Maquis had crowded around with their newfound friends and trading partners the Keth'l. Fides had been sent on ahead to procure supplies and had landed on the planet's surface to facilitate the loading of their new food stores.

In their midst was Tom Paris, who in a cross training program that Tuvok had proposed was spending some time aboard the Maquis ship. His presence hadn't yet been accepted by the majority of the Maquis crew, who only paid him grudging respect because of the unexpected friendship that had developed between him and Kurt Bendera. Right now he sat at a table with Kurt and Jonas and watched the crowd around him with some amusement.

Kurt had been greatly enjoying their time on the planet. Much as he loved space there was nothing quite like putting one's feet on solid ground and looking up to see a sky above. It was a shame that they did not get more of a chance to spend time off the ship. However, Kurt found the hospitality of the Keth'l to be a little over enthusiastic, which put him immediately on edge.

Someone else who was on edge, he knew, was the Maquis leader, who sat by himself with his back to the wall on a stool at the far end of the bar. Chakotay wasn't drinking, but rather observing his crew interacting with the Keth'l and pondering his own troubles.

Kurt sighed. He didn't know what was bothering Chakotay but ever since the Kazon attack and Seska's return his friend had been glum and uncommunicative. Kurt was aware that Chakotay wasn't spending as much time on Voyager as he had been previously, and Kurt was sorry for that because he felt Chakotay could really use a friend to lean on right now. Since Kurt knew his shoulders weren't being occupied with the task he'd somehow hoped that Captain Janeway would oblige. However, the two captains had been distant towards each other, their communication civil, professional, and utterly cold. It had almost been a relief to split the ships apart even if only briefly.

In another corner, two of the Keth'l were also sitting quietly watching the crowd.

"They will not help us," said Makew.

"We don't know that," replied his companion. "They have weapons of enormous power! And the ship they have here is only a fraction the size of the warship with which they are allied. You heard them talk the other night, Makew. Back in their own home territory they were freedom fighters. They know what it is like."

"They will not help us," repeated Makew, pessimistically.

His companion's expression grew grim.

"They will if it is for their own survival."

Jonas hadn't been very impressed with Kurt's bragging about the Maquis's exploits the night before with their newfound friends. Tom Paris had been showing a little too much interest in the tales. Jonas had tried to remind Kurt that Paris was Starfleet and not one of them, when Kurt rebuked bitingly, that Paris certainly knew what the Maquis were all about, having gone to prison on charges of terrorism. Jonas had sulked for the rest of the evening and his sullen demeanor continued.

For all that he was enjoying the easy camaraderie and loose discipline of the Maquis ship structure, Paris found himself missing Voyager. Certainly, he was missing his own quarters. The cramped living space on Fides didn't allow for guests and so he'd been placed in B'Elanna's cabin. Normally this would have been greatly pleasurable had it been occupied by her at the time. Unfortunately, B'Elanna had been left on Voyager to help Carey with some engineering problem. It seemed to Paris, who was missing her terribly, some cruel jest of the gods to have to go back to her cabin at the end of the day and have her presence surround him so completely and yet not have her be there with him.

Still, it had been quite an adventure to fly along with the Maquis again, and to experience Chakotay's different command structure and his blunt diplomacy when it came to the trade mission. He had a completely different style than Captain Janeway. Chakotay was not as tightly bound by the strictures of Starfleet which dictated what kind of first contact was appropriate. Not that Chakotay would have dreamed of approaching a pre-warp society for trade, but his definition of technologically advanced was quite loose compared to what Tom knew.

In fact, the Keth'l did not appear to be very advanced in a lot of areas, despite their obvious ability with satellite communications. Tom had the distinct feeling that they had been awed by Kurt Bendera's tales from the Alpha Quadrant. Paris suspected that Bendera's motivation for telling the stories had been to impress them. For some reason, Kurt did not fully trust the Keth'l and was therefore letting them know of Fides's abilities in battle as a not so subtle hint of superiority. Not that Kurt ever described weapons per se, and he evaded direct questions regarding firepower, but it was still beyond what Tom considered proper procedure for first contact.

Jonas, weary of the conversation, got up and moved away. Ayala was quick to take his seat, turning it around so he could lean on the back with his arms. Gerron, who had been sent to the bar, returned with a round of drinks. After distributing them he gave a puzzled glance around the room. Jonas had disappeared.

"I'll take that," offered Ayala. "No need for the drink to go to waste!"

Gerron wasn't keen on facing the wrath of Jonas, but decided that Ayala could deal with any fallout.

As the evening grew late Tom marvelled at the easy atmosphere. Even in off hours, even in downtime, even on the holodeck or in the mess hall, you just didn't have this on a Starfleet ship. These men fought together for loyalty and love, not for protocol and procedure. Tom envied them.

"Hey," Chakotay's voice cut into their conversation. "Time to go."

Tom looked around and saw to his surprise that they were the only Maquis left in the tavern. Chakotay had obviously stuck around for the sole purpose of making sure everyone made it back to the ship, since he hadn't been sitting with anyone. Gerron yawned while Ayala drank the last of his drink. It was getting late.

"Commander," spoke up Makew. "I wonder if I could prevail on a moment of your time. Your coming here has been most rewarding for us and I'd hate to take advantage of your generosity, but there is a matter of great urgency with which you might be able to help us."

"What is it?" asked Chakotay, not wanting to sound rude but not wanting to encourage the Keth'l either. He did not have a lot of resources with which to be generous.

Makew hesitated.

"It would be easier to show you."

Chakotay shrugged and followed the man out of the tavern. Kurt quickly leapt up to accompany him and blatantly ignored Chakotay's growl for the rest of them to return to the ship. Tom had to tag along; his sense of adventure was still running high.

The four Maquis, plus Tom, followed the swift-moving Keth'l through the darkness of night beyond the edge of the village and to a small hill. Without a word of direction Makew continued upwards, only glancing back briefly to ensure he was not alone.

Halfway up the hill, Chakotay stopped. His patience had just run out.

"Makew!" he bellowed. "Can't you just tell me what it is?"

"Please, Commander," begged Makew. "My words could not begin to do justice to the situation."

"I have a very bad feeling about this," muttered Kurt, so low that Tom was the only one who heard him.

Down the other side of the hill and through a small line of trees the group came to another village. This one was in a state of such disrepair and darkness that Tom at first assumed it was abandoned. But there were figures that could be seen moving about in the shadows which indicated occupancy.

For the first time since they'd left the tavern Makew slowed his pace. Now that they had arrived, he seemed reluctant to continue.

"Well?" asked Chakotay, not bothering to conceal his impatience.

"Why is he wearing a mask?" whispered Gerron to Ayala. He did not want to break the stillness by speaking. Ayala, as confused as Gerron, shrugged by way of reply.

Chakotay, hearing Gerron's question, turned to Makew to again demand an explanation and saw to his astonishment that the Keth'l had indeed donned a small mask that covered his nose and mouth, but left the rest of his face exposed.

"Is there some kind of contaminant here?" Chakotay asked.

Before Makew could answer the sky lit up with streaks of pale blue light as an aircraft roared above their heads. Even though it was obviously too high to hit them, the members of Chakotay's team ducked with the sudden sound. The pale light revealed the inhabitants of the derelict village running for cover.

Chakotay's first instinct was to retreat to the hill and make their way back, but the shelter of a building was closer to them and that's where the group headed. Tom's stride was checked by the sound of a small child. Turning to one side he caught sight of a little girl huddled in misery against a pathetic looking bush that was woefully inadequate protection.

Not pausing to consider his actions, Tom bent down and scooped her into his arms and followed his companions. He reached the shelter at the same time as a huge explosion erupted on the far side of the building. The ground shook and Tom lost his footing, falling with the girl still in his arms.

*****

Chakotay blinked his eyes against a harsh white light. Peering down at him was the worried frown of Kurt Bendera. Chakotay sat up, feeling a wave of dizziness assault him as he did so.

"Wha-" he mumbled, shaking his head to clear it.

"It's about time, old man. You were beginning to worry me," Kurt said, with an attempt at a grin. It failed; he still looked anxious.

"What the hell happened?" demanded Chakotay, finding his voice at last.

"We were bombed," Kurt told him.

Chakotay looked around to the others. Gerron was tending to Tom Paris, who was still unconscious, and Ayala was sitting propped up against a wall looking dazed.

"Bombed? What do you mean bombed?" Chakotay asked Kurt.

"The Keth'l are at war," Kurt informed him. "We got caught in the crossfire."

Hearing it, Chakotay was not so surprised. Hadn't the Keth'l reminded him of the Maquis? They had the atmosphere of a rebel camp. He just couldn't believe they had kept it a secret from their new trading partners.

Paris was finally coming around. He groaned as Gerron helped him to a sitting position.

"What happened to the little girl?" he asked, rubbing the back of his neck. No one responded.

"She was killed," came a new voice.

Chakotay whipped around to face a stranger, a Keth'l, coming towards them.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"My name is Jagres," the newcomer said mildly. "I would imagine you have many questions. Makew sent me here to answer them for you."

"I don't feel very well," Paris whispered, closing his eyes. His face was frighteningly pale. Chakotay suspected that it was more than the shock of discovering the girl had died.

"That's to be expected," said Jagres. "You've been exposed to Adzun. It will make you sick. It will kill you."

Chakotay closed the gap between him and the Keth'l. His size was accentuated by the other man's slight build.

"Damn right I want answers! Now!"

"Years ago, realizing that they could not win the war with conventional weapons, our enemies the Shas developed a kind of chemical warfare. They've been contaminating us with Adzun which causes disease and death. It is highly contagious. I think they hoped that it would kill us all off in one go."

"Why didn't it?" asked Kurt.

Jagres shrugged.

"We developed defenses. Some of us are immune; we don't know why. And we keep destroying their production laboratories. They can only produce Adzun in very small amounts. It disperses quickly and is only dangerous when carried by another host. As long as we isolate those infected, we can protect the greater population."

"How do you treat it?" asked Gerron.

"We don't," Jagres stated coldly. "Those who are infected die."

"We're going to die?" Gerron directed this question at Chakotay, as though he couldn't quite believe it.

"That girl, she was infected?" Chakotay asked. "And she passed it on to us?"

Jagres didn't respond. He seemed embarrassed by the question. Kurt stepped forward to grab his shirt with shaking fists.

"You let us become infected on purpose?! Why?"

"We are hoping that you'll help us with a raid on the laboratory. If we can isolate the compounds used in Adzun then we can develop a cure. It is possible that they have a store of some kind of treatment already prepared! We intend to steal it. Your energy weapons would be a great of help to us."

Chakotay paced a short trail to the end of the room and back again. He felt a headache forming. Was this a symptom? Or merely stress?

"Was that girl a Shas?" asked Ayala, suddenly, from his position on the floor.

"Yes," admitted Jagres.

"Why would the Shas infect one of their own children?" asked Chakotay.

"It's part of our defense," Jagres told him.

It took a moment for this to sink in. Chakotay was beginning to feel queasy and he knew it had nothing to do with his illness. Kurt shook his head with disgust and then with his characteristic anger he lashed out, punching Jagres with enough force to knock him to the ground.

"You're using children as a defensive line against this chemical weapon?" Chakotay asked. "Children?"

Jagres came slowly to his feet.

"You have no idea how terrible this disease is..."

"But I guess we're going to find out," murmured Paris, his eyes still closed.

"It affects our children as well."

"I need to communicate with my ship," Chakotay said abruptly.

Jagres led him over to a communications panel in the wall. Chakotay hesitated a fraction of a second before hailing Fides.

"Dalby here," came the sound of a sleepy watchman.

"Dalby, scan the ship. If all is normal, take off and rendezvous with Captain Janeway."

"What am I looking for?" asked Dalby, all sleepiness gone from his voice.

"Some kind of chemical agent, or a virus."

"And what do I tell Janeway?" Dalby asked, after a pause.

Chakotay sighed.

"Tell her that Paris, Ayala, Kurt and I have been infected with a highly contagious, fatal disease and that under no circumstances is she to allow anyone else on the surface of this planet."

"Chakotay?" Dalby sound uneasy.

"Tell her that we've been caught in the middle of two warring factions, each one using despicable methods to try to kill the other. If she is not able to secure a treatment from a people called the Shas then she is to take Fides with Voyager and continue on the way home."

"What about you?"

"Didn't you hear me, Dalby?" asked Chakotay with a harsh tone. "What part didn't you understand?"

"But..." Dalby tried to protest.

"Isn't that scan done yet?" Chakotay interrupted.

"Scan shows nothing unusual," Dalby reported.

"Then get going. Oh, and transport us a medkit. Paris isn't feeling so hot."

Chakotay signed off and turned back to face the others. Jagres looked very sad.

"You're not going to help us," he said, shaking his head

"You didn't even ask!" snapped Chakotay. "You manipulated us into this position so that we would help you."

"If we'd asked, would you have offered assistance?" asked Jagres, with a shrug.

Chakotay stared at him for a long moment, his expression revealing nothing about what he might have done.

"Well, we're never going to know now, are we?" His voice was bitter. "Since you didn't even try."

"You'll die," Jagres said, matter-of-factly, hoping to scare them. He received withering looks as a response. Chakotay crossed his arms.

"So be it."

Jagres left them alone.

*****

B'Elanna hurried to the conference room, trying not to show her impatience. Perhaps it was because she was used to a smaller ship, but she found the grapevine on Voyager to be woefully uninformed. She'd heard that Fides was back but she didn't know why they'd returned early. She'd been called to the staff meeting, but she didn't know the agenda.

Torres took in the scene quickly as she entered, noting immediately that Tom was not among the senior officers assembled. She felt a tremendous letdown, although she hadn't consciously been aware of how much she'd looked forward to seeing him there. She also noticed that Chakotay was missing, which was even more peculiar. Her disappointment quickly turned to confusion as she approached the captain, who was standing with Dalby.

The captain's expression was a severe frown, one which would have no doubt chilled one of her staff into strict adherence to protocol. But Dalby didn't give two figs for protocol, or Starfleet, or Captain Janeway. And he was riled about something. That was plain by the tone of his voice as he berated the captain to do something.

"Where's Chakotay?" B'Elanna asked, interrupting Dalby's torrent of abuse. Dalby whipped around to face her. "Where is he?" she asked more sharply.

"We had to leave him behind," Dalby explained. "They were exposed to some kind of manufactured virus. Contagious, deadly..." Dalby spread his arms wide in a helpless motion as his voice trailed off.

"They?" questioned B'Elanna, stepping closer. Dalby moved back involuntarily.

"Chakotay, Kurt, Ayala, Gerron and Paris," he told her reluctantly.

B'Elanna felt her stomach drop.

"You just left them there?" she hissed.

"Hey! Chakotay told me to get off the planet and return to Voyager," Dalby protested, his anger resurfacing.

"Was Commander Chakotay aware of the armed conflict when he initiated trade?" asked Tuvok. Dalby twisted around to face the Vulcan. He blinked with incomprehension, wondering what the hell that had to do with anything.

"No! We didn't know anything about it. The first I heard of it was when Chakotay hailed me this morning to tell me to leave."

"Indeed," was Tuvok's dry comment.

"What are you suggesting?" demanded Torres. "That he purposely went into a war zone?"

"It would not be the first time for Commander Chakotay to involve himself in civil disruptions that were not his concern," Tuvok replied.

"We were getting food supplies!" burst out Dalby. "Food supplies for you I might add!"

"Enough, gentlemen," Janeway said, calmly, raising a hand to ward off any further verbal attacks.

"What are you going to do?" asked Torres.

"We've laid in a course to Catqal," Janeway told her. "Once there, we'll contact the proper authorities and explain the situation. I'm sure that we can come to some agreement. After all, Chakotay's team was not engaged in anything other than harmless trade. Right, Mr. Dalby?"

Dalby scowled at Janeway's words.

"Food," he said, bitterly. "That's all we were doing. Trying to get some food."

*****

Janeway paced on her bridge, with her hands on her hips. She had long ago stopped trying to hide her worry for the infected team.

"Captain, we're being hailed from the surface. Audio only," Harry informed her.

Janeway was halfway towards the door to her ready room.

"Thank you, Ensign," she called back. She activated the communications panel from her desk.

"Chak...tay to Voy...er," came the hail, sounding slightly garbled.

"Janeway here. Can you hear me, Commander?" she asked.

"Loud and clear, Captain," was his response, clearer now but still with static.

"Mr. Dalby relayed your message. What's the situation?" Janeway asked, easing herself into her chair.

He paused for so long that she wondered if their connection had been cut.

"Not great," he finally said. "We're sick. Jagres told me he's never seen it progress so fast. I guess human physiology reacts differently than Keth'l."

"I won't help them," Chakotay rushed on, as if fearing she might suggest this. "They kidnap children from their enemies to use as a front line for their defense. The war crimes here are beyond anything I've ever seen."

"I have spoken with the Minister of War for the Shas," Janeway told him. "While not exactly encouraging, he didn't dismiss my request outright. I think I can persuade him to give us the cure."

"Turn on some of the Starfleet charm?" Chakotay asked. She thought she detected the hint of a smile in his voice. It had been a long time since he'd teased her about anything.

"Something like that."

Janeway recalled their last conversation. It had been a face to face one right here in her ready room.

"Dammit why does it always come back to this?" she had said to Chakotay. "Supplies, supplies, and more supplies. If we're not running out of energy we're running out of food. You have no idea how I long for the Alpha Quadrant where we didn't have to worry about starving to death!"

Chakotay, standing impatiently with his hands on his hips, had frowned.

"I used to run food supplies to colonies who'd had their crops stripped by Cardassians. Starvation is very real even in the Alpha Quadrant, Captain!"

'Oh yes, we were very charming to one another during that meeting,' thought Janeway.

Still, she'd rather have Chakotay snapping at her in her ready room than talking to her through a poor communications link because he was stuck on a hostile planet. She'd rather have him standing healthy before her than made prisoner of an incurable illness, even if he never agreed with her again.

"Captain?" Chakotay asked and Janeway realized she'd been quiet for several moments. His voice sounded very far away to her.

"We're going to get that treatment, Commander," she promised, with as much optimism as she could muster.

"I know you'll do your best, Kathryn," he said, quietly. "But if your Starfleet charm isn't good enough, I want you to take my ship and crew away from here. I...I trust you to keep them safe and see them home. And I'll talk to them about..." His voice trailed off. What could he say? That he would talk to them about serving under a Starfleet officer?

Chakotay looked down at his hands, suddenly grateful that there was no visual link. The first symptom of the illness, a painful skin rash, had formed in the crevices between his fingers. Tom had it the worst, on the tender skin of his eyelids and along his cheeks. Chakotay was glad that Janeway couldn't see how sick they really were. She was offering him hope; he did not want to dampen it.

"Let's deal with that later, if we need to," Janeway said firmly, understanding immediately the difficulties of taking the Maquis under her protection. She was acutely aware of the gift of his trust.

"Thank you, Captain," Chakotay said, before signing off.

Janeway sat in her chair for a long time, pondering the distance between them and wondering how it had become so great.

*****

Chakotay found himself walking amongst the ruins of the Catqal community. A faint ripple of thunder rumbled behind him. He shuffled slowly down the street, wondering what had happened to his friends, what had happened to the other infected Keth'l?

The sound of a small child crying drew his attention to one of the make shift shelters. A small girl, dirty and ill, was propped up against the wall. He stooped to pick her up, thinking only to ease her fear.

It was contagious. Her fear swept through him like the wind whipping around the deserted buildings. The thunder was louder. Chakotay ran, with the girl in his arms, feeling the need to get away even if he knew not why or to where.

Coming around the corner at the end of the street he drew up short. Hundreds of children milled about, some crying, some sick, some laughing, some playing. They were not all Keth'l children; he could see human little girls and boys amid the chaos. Slowly, he put down the girl in his arms, confused by the appearance of so many youngsters.

Laughter made him whip around with alarm. Chakotay stared with disbelief, feeling the fear return and with it came anger and pain.

Gul Evek stood just a few feet away, laughing at Chakotay, mocking him, and causing the sharp stabs of pain that now went shooting through his chest. Chakotay wanted to get away, but all the children blocked him. He noticed, now, there were many Cardassian girls and boys in the group as well.

He had to get away! He had to get away from the pain this madman was inflicting on him.

The thunder was ever closer and he thought he could hear someone calling his name in the distance, but he was distracted by two children, sitting outside the group. A human girl and a Cardassian boy.

"Tell me something, Chakotay," said Gul Evek. "Given the choice to save only one, which one would you choose?"

Chakotay saw, to his horror, that Evek held up a weapon towards the pair. It was not a Cardassian weapon; it looked more like the projectile guns used by the Keth'l.

"I choose both," he said boldly, trying to ignore the pain, and knowing he could probably be of no use to either of them.

Gul Evek laughed at him again.

"You would save the life of a Cardassian boy, just so he could grow to be a man and warrior and shoot you dead? I don't believe you."

"Chakotay!" There was that voice calling him again.

"NO!" screamed Chakotay, lunging as the Gul fired his weapon at the children. He knew he was too late.

*****

Chakotay awoke to a terrific bang that set the flimsy walls of their shelter shaking. It was not thunder he could hear, but the sound of bombs being dropped on the community. He coughed as dust and debris floated down from the ceiling.

"What's going on?" he asked Kurt, who was peering out the door with a worried frown.

"It looks like we're being raided by the Shas."

"Why would they do that?" asked Gerron, nervously. "We're already going to die!"

"Maybe we're not dying fast enough for them," Paris commented dryly.

Another blast shook the walls and a great chunk of the ceiling collapsed, landing a few feet from where Paris was sitting.

"We have to get out of here," Chakotay said, stirring himself finally out of sleep. Ayala tugged on Tom to help him to his feet, and Gerron scrambled up looking dizzy but mobile.

"It's not safe out there," Kurt warned.

More debris crashed down from above, causing the group to duck instinctively, covering their heads with their arms.

"It's not safe in here!" Chakotay snapped. "At least out there we don't have to worry about the roof coming down on our heads."

Warning them to stay low and out of the way, as unnecessary an order as he'd ever given, Chakotay led the small group outside and into the battle.

Shas troopers were indeed raiding the streets, protected from the disease they'd inflicted by the same kind of masks Chakotay had seen on the rebels. They wore dark clothing to blend into the night and they moved swiftly, shooting indiscriminately at anything that moved, not lingering to see if their mark had hit home.

A projectile whizzed past Chakotay's face, stinging his jaw before implanting itself in the wooden post behind him. He reached up to feel blood trickling down towards his chin. A huge blast erupted to his right, deafening that ear, and he threw himself to the ground to avoid being sprayed by the shrapnel now raining upon them.

Chakotay rolled over to find himself staring up at a Shas soldier, with a weapon pointed at his chest. Chakotay thought he could see, behind the mask, the other man's sneer of disgust combined inexplicably with the glory of battle.

"Wait!" Chakotay called out, holding out his hands. "I'm not armed. I'm not your enemy!"

"You are here, are you not?" the soldier asked coldly. He raised his gun and fired.

Chakotay waited for the expected pain to spread out across his body. Instead he felt nothing, and then the soldier was falling on top of him, blood pouring out of his mouth. Standing unsteadily behind where the soldier had been was Tom Paris, a weapon in his hands.

With great effort, Chakotay rolled the dead soldier off of him and came to his feet. He was covered in blood and felt queasy. Tom looked pale in the dim light coming from a building on fire.

"Where did you get that?" Chakotay asked, still stunned by this turn of events.

"Dead guy around the corner." Tom jerked his head back towards the shelter from which they'd escaped. "I figured he didn't really need it anymore."

"This isn't our fight," Chakotay muttered, turning back to his would-be assassin and roughly pulling the soldier's weapon from his grasp.

"Yeah? Well, somebody ought to tell them that!" Paris declared. He leaned over in a coughing fit only to have Chakotay push him to the ground.

Chakotay had never fired a projectile weapon before. But he had killed in hand to hand combat. Killing is much the same in one quadrant as another as long as you have a weapon in your hands. Still, he was surprised by the kick of the weapon, which threw itself cruelly back into his body, bruising him. He was amazed that Paris had still been able to stand after firing.

"Guess that makes us even, eh Commander?" rasped Paris from the ground.

Chakotay did not respond, he merely reached down a hand to pull Paris up and they crouched together by a wall, seeking to remain undetected. Sadly Chakotay could see the other members of his team had also armed themselves. He felt angry that they were being forced into this fight. He felt helpless that they were caught on this planet. But more than anything he felt the strong pull of the survival instinct which made him defend himself and his friends so that they would live, even if it was for just one more day.

*****

Gerron had been hit in the chest with one of the projectiles. He lay gasping, in pain, while Paris tried vainly to stop the flow of blood. Their medkit had been lost in the wreckage of their shelter.

Ayala held Gerron's head in his lap, murmuring meaningless words of comfort. The sound of the young man's breathing was loud in the stillness of the aftermath. Death, destruction and hate. They were all around them now in the cold dawn.

Chakotay glanced up to see a party of Keth'l, outfitted against infection with their precious masks, moving through the rubble. Looking for weapons, or survivors, or goodness know what, Chakotay didn't much care. He and Kurt walked towards them.

Their unmasked appearance was proof enough that they were infected, even if it wasn't already well known that the small group of humans had been left behind because of the illness. Still, the crew felt secure in their masks and were unconcerned by Chakotay's approach.

He reached out to the nearest Keth'l and roughly grabbed him by the back of his shirt.

"We need a doctor," Chakotay said, giving the man a shake. Behind the mask the expression was disbelief and a bit of scorn.

"Sure you do," the Keth'l agreed, and tried to turn back to his task.

"I don't think you understood me," Chakotay hissed, throwing the man to the ground. He leaned heavily on the man's chest with his knee. "I said, we NEED a DOCTOR!"

Before the others could react he grabbed the man's mask. Kurt stood beside them, his weapon raised. He had no ammunition left, but the Keth'l didn't know that.

The rest of the crew now seeing the altercation was serious pulled out their own weapons.

"You move any closer and his mask is off!" Chakotay called to them. They froze. "One of our team was hit in the chest. He needs a doctor."

"He's dying," a woman in the crew called out. "No doctor will come here to help him."

"Oh yeah?" questioned Chakotay. "Well, then there's going to be one more death." He roughly pulled his hostage to his feet, without letting go of the other man's mask.

There was some muttering amongst the crew. Finally, faced with the prospect of losing one of their own needlessly, they agreed to get a doctor for Gerron. Chakotay would not let the man go until the doctor returned with the group.

*****

Janeway slept poorly, waking early with an unsettled feeling that came from dreams she could not remember. Deciding that activity was better than fretting she got up, dressed, and made her way to the mess hall. She hadn't even had a chance to investigate Neelix's breakfast menu before Tuvok hailed her to the bridge. The Minister of War was demanding to speak with her.

Even Tuvok's choice of words, which should have set off warning bells in her mind, couldn't persuade her that this wasn't good news. She had done it! She had convinced them to release some of the treatment to her and she would be able to bring Chakotay, Tom, and the others back.

Janeway allowed herself a brief moment of pride during the turbolift ride to the bridge. Showing off her Starfleet diplomacy indeed! She'd smiled and spoke in a gentle, but firm tone. She'd explained their situation and assured the Minister that had they known the state of war then they never would have attempted a trade mission. She'd painted a picture of their lonely journey in as sympathetic a light as she could, just touching on their desperation for the supplies enough to evoke compassion. Oh but she was good!

So sure was Janeway of her success that she took the Minister's message while standing on the bridge, just behind Ensign Lavoie at the helm.

"Good morning, Minister. I..." Janeway didn't get her full greeting out before she was interrupted.

"It is not a good morning for you, Captain Janeway. I must inform you that your request has been denied."

Janeway was stunned. This wasn't at all what she'd expected. The Minister's tone was not the friendly one she'd fostered, nor even the guarded cautious one she'd first met. It was hostile. He didn't even sound sorry that he was condemning five innocent people to death.

"Minister," Janeway said slowly, trying to recover her poise. "I'm disappointed beyond words. Surely there must be some room for compromise?"

"My government does not compromise with criminals of the state, Captain!" the Minister blasted.

Janeway stared at him with amazement, only too aware of the silence on the bridge. She was beginning to wish she'd taken this meeting into her ready room.

"I don't know what you mean. My allies have done nothing against your state. I explained about their trade mission, but I thought I made it clear that..."

"Your allies," the Minister spat out the word, "have taken up arms against the rightful government of Catqal. Their deaths are no more than they deserve."

Janeway began to feel more confident. This was just impossible.

"Minister, there must be some mistake. I assure you, Commander Chakotay and the others would not get involved in your conflict in any way," she said firmly.

"Oh no?" the Minister questioned mockingly. "Well, here's your evidence. You can decide for yourself. Good day, Captain."

"File received, Captain," murmured Harry from behind her.

"Good day, Minister," echoed a bewildered Janeway, but the communication line had already been cut.

"Harry," Janeway said, turning and coming up the short stairs to approach his station. "What is this evidence he sent?"

"Images," Harry said, slowly. "They are images."

Janeway peered over his shoulder, at once understanding the shocked sound in his voice. The first image was as ghastly as she could imagine. It was dark but very clearly Tom Paris, standing in a street with a gun in his hands. Janeway could see the tell-tale signs of his illness by patches of a rash under his eyes and down his pale cheeks.

"We're sick," Chakotay had said. 'Well, I guess so,' thought Janeway, faced with visual evidence of the illness for the first time.

Janeway closed her eyes as Harry brought up the next image. It was Chakotay, his dark clothing obviously smeared in blood. So much blood, that she feared he'd been injured somehow, yet he seemed able enough to be firing a weapon similar to the one Tom held. Chakotay's face was clear of the rash, but there was blood on his right cheek along the jawline.

One by one Harry produced images of the five team members which explained the Minister's cold attitude.

"Is it possible that these images were manufactured somehow?" Janeway finally asked.

"To what end?" asked Tuvok, who had come to look at the evidence for himself.

"So that they don't have to give us the treatment," suggested Harry.

"They could have simply refused and been within their rights to do so," pointed out Tuvok. "The government has nothing to gain from an elaborate scheme of misinformation."

"Take a look at them anyway, Harry," Janeway said, moving away. "Just in case there is something going on here besides the obvious. And send them to the sickbay to see if the doctor can determine the extent of their illness based on what he can see. I'd like to know what our timeline is here. Try hailing Chakotay."

"Communications are jammed," Harry informed her.

"Keep trying, Ensign. I'll be in my ready room."

She did not look back.

*****

The Keth'l doctor was a slight man, disapproving of this fool's errand to save a condemned patient, and he looked at Chakotay with some distaste. Still, he came fully equipped to remove the projectile from Gerron's chest, and provide the young man with a pain killer.

Chakotay had let his hostage go as soon as the doctor appeared, and he and the rest of the crew scrambled away from the humans quickly.

"Is he going to be alright?" Kurt asked, as the doctor packed away his tools. For a moment there was no response. Then the doctor stood up to face Kurt and Chakotay.

"He's going to die," he said, harshly. "And so are you."

"Isn't there anything you can do?" Chakotay asked, gently. He felt his capacity for rage at the situation was completely sapped.

The doctor appeared disinterested in their plight, but something about the courage of the youth had struck him. He didn't know many who could withstand such a wound so well. And these people were made prisoners of a war in which they had no vested interest. He pulled a container from his kit and tossed it to Chakotay.

"Here. It'll help with the skin rash. Take away some of the pain."

Chakotay looked at him with an expression that made the doctor feel more helpless than he'd ever been when faced with this horror.

"I'm sorry, that's the best I can do."

*****

By the time Harry was able to establish a communications link down to the team, Janeway had worked herself up into a frustrated rage. She'd paced the length of her ready room. She'd viewed the images till she could see the pictures in her mind with her eyes closed. She'd read all that they knew of the illness. She'd paced some more. And she'd cursed Chakotay with language that might have shocked him had he been there to hear it.

"News, Captain?" Chakotay asked, his voice sounding tired and discouraged. Janeway was unmoving from her righteous anger.

"Rough night, Commander?" she asked, coldly.

Silence. Janeway wondered if he was considering not telling her.

"As a matter of fact, it was," was all he said finally.

"I received a message from the Minister of War this morning," she told him. She continued walking back and forth across the floor. Somehow she felt if she kept moving she wouldn't have to picture him with his clothes covered in blood, the blood of a government soldier.

"Spare me the soft touch, Captain," he said sarcastically. "You weren't able to get anything from them, were you?"

"It was very hard to persuade him that you are innocent bystanders to begin with, Commander. The fact that you decided to join in the fighting didn't help matters AT ALL!"

"We didn't decide to do anything, Captain," Chakotay snapped. "Unless you consider self-defense to be a conscious decision."

"What the hell were you thinking?" she demanded. "I thought you told me that you weren't going to do anything to help those rebels? Do you have any idea how awkward a position this puts me in? You just threw our chances of getting their help away. You just threw them away!"

"What was I thinking?" he repeated, sounding incredulous. "Well, for starters I was thinking 'I am going to die.' Does that help you understand it at all? We didn't pick up arms in order to pass the time, Kathryn. They attacked us! It had nothing to do with helping the rebels. If we hadn't defended ourselves we'd be dead right now. As it is, Gerron was hurt badly and..."

Janeway leaned with her palms flat on her desktop.

"And?"

"...and the disease is progressing steadily. Tom's not doing very well."

"Why the hell did you pick this place to land anyway? Couldn't you see that it was a war torn society? Whatever possessed you to attempt a trade mission with a band of rebels? Didn't it occur to you to do some reconnaissance before going in there? HOW COULD YOU BE SO STUPID?!" Janeway punctuated her agitation by pounding a fist on her desk.

Throughout the tirade Chakotay remained silent. He took a deep breath, trying to get his own anger under control. They would help no one by fighting each other.

"We can't correct our mistakes by looking backward, Kathryn. We can only go forwards and hope not to repeat them." There wasn't much time left for him to be making mistakes.

"I don't know what else to do," whispered Janeway fiercely, hating this helpless feeling.

"This is what you do. You break orbit and set course for the Alpha Quadrant," he told her, sternly. "You get Voyager and Fides as far away from this hellhole as possible. It's dangerous, it's deadly, it's...unforgiving."

"I can't leave you behind," Janeway said.

"You would put the rest of the crew's lives at risk for us?" he asked her harshly. "For us? Four fugitives and a man on parole? No. Get away before more people get involved."

"I'll contact you again," she told him, after a pause. He seemed relieved as he signed off, thinking that he'd convinced her to leave.

Janeway, all her anger spent, stared out her portal without seeing. Exactly what was she willing to risk? And for whom? And when it was all over and done with would she be able to live with the consequences? Never before had the burden of command chafed so heavily on her shoulders. She didn't even have the support of her fellow captain, as he was too closely involved in the problem.

When she finally made her decision it seemed easy enough. But that didn't mean she had to like it.

*****

Torres paced in front of the door to the conference room. The other senior staff had seated themselves in preparation for the captain's arrival. Harry glanced at B'Elanna nervously and Tuvok fixed her with a stare of disapproval. She noticed neither of them.

As soon as Janeway entered the room, B'Elanna pounced.

"Captain, I think you should know that the Maquis have no intention of abandoning Chakotay and the others," Torres stated boldly.

Janeway barely broke her stride to the head of the table.

"Please take a seat, Ms. Torres." She gestured to an empty chair. Torres remained standing defiantly.

"Captain!" she began again, fully prepared to launch into a passionate speech on behalf of her friends.

"I have no intention of abandoning anyone, Ms. Torres," Janeway informed the table, as she sat down.

"You may not understand the kind of loyalty we have towards Chakotay but let me tell you something..." Torres suddenly stopped as Janeway's words registered with her. "You're not?" She was amazed.

"No, I'm not." Janeway shook her head to emphasize the point. She began listing off the facts. "We have five people infected with a highly contagious disease that is rapidly progressing. Our medical knowledge is not able to develop a cure fast enough to have any effect. We cannot bring them back on board for risk of infecting the others. The creators of the disease will not cooperate in treating our people because they believe we are aiding the rebels. The rebels wish us to use our superior weapons to help them defeat the government, in exchange for which they will share the treatment with our infected team. These rebels deliberately exposed our team to the disease to manipulate us into giving aid. Does that pretty much sum up the situation?"

There were nods of assent around the somber table. Janeway nodded too. She stood and rested her hands on the back of her chair.

"There may come a time when I have to send people into situations knowing that their chances of survival are not good. I accept that as does every captain. But this is not one of those times. This time we can do something to help our people."

"What can we do?" asked Harry.

"We can raid the laboratory ourselves for the cure to the disease. If we're successful, we treat only our own victims. That way we won't affect the balance of power in this war. Considering their methods of defense, I'm not inclined to give the Keth'l any help." Janeway's tone was disgusted.

"Captain, I must object," started Tuvok with a frown.

"Noted," Janeway said, sharply, cutting him off. "But we're going in anyway. Tuvok, you will lead the team. I recommend you recruit some Maquis into your group. They have...experience with this sort of thing. We don't have much time. It must be quick, efficient and without loss of life. I want a full mission plan by 16:00 hours. Any questions? Good. Dismissed."

B'Elanna waited until the others had left the conference room until she approached the captain. Janeway was standing with her back to the table, staring out the portal.

"Captain?"

"Yes, Ms. Torres?" Janeway turned around.

B'Elanna still stood defiantly before the captain, her arms crossed and her chin high. Janeway remember her first impression of B'Elanna Torres, just after the engineer had broken Lieutenant Carey's nose. Disdainful, cocky, insolent, disrespectful...all of these words had come to mind. Now that she knew B'Elanna better, Janeway knew that none of them were appropriate. Proud, that was the word to describe her.

"Thank you."

"Don't thank me now, Ms. Torres. Let's wait until after the mission is a success."

*****

**First Officer's Away Mission Report: Before commencing my report I wish to state for the record that I believe this mission to be in direct violation of Starfleet directives. I stated my objections to the captain at the time of planning and she noted them.

Taking into account their expertise in the matters of subversive raiding, I chose three Maquis crewmembers to accompany my security team. They proved to be extraordinarily useful and were able to work without immediate direction.

We infiltrated the laboratory easily as the Shas do not have sophisticated enough technology to block our transporter beam. As an aside, it strikes me as highly illogical that a society with such capabilities in communications would not have developed more advanced weaponry than the crude projectile missiles they continue to use. That they would turn to chemical warfare before exploring the avenue of directed energy seems to be backward thinking.

Once inside the laboratory, we neutralized six workers to gain access to the central computer. The decryption process of the data took approximately 14.7 minutes. I should note that this is 5.3 minutes shorter than my estimate in the pre-mission planning. The credit for the speed at which the data was accessed must be given to Maquis crewmember Henley, whose high aptitude with alien computers is worth noting.

Because communications were being jammed, we were forced to exit the laboratory and travel some distance from the building before being able to signal our recall. All members of the team returned safely to Voyager and there were no casualties amongst the lab workers.

The disorganization of the workers suggests to me that defense of a direct assault on that building has never been considered by them. Based on our knowledge of the rebel Keth'l, they could easily infiltrate the lab themselves, if they were given the opportunity. My recommendation would be that we not share this information with them.**

*****

Janeway had allowed herself to be convinced that she shouldn't accompany Tuvok's team in the raid. It was bad enough that one of the captains was infected; they couldn't risk losing the other one. But nothing was going to stop her from being part of the party that beamed down to deliver the cure to the sick team.

They hadn't been able to raise Chakotay, or any other member of his group, to be able to let them know what was happening. Janeway told herself that this was because the communications had been cut. She would not contemplate any other possibility.

The EMH had immunized the away team and sent Kes along with a medkit containing several hyposprays of the precious treatment. Janeway took along three security officers, as a precaution against the rebels. Torres, in a moment of humbling pride, had asked Janeway for permission to join them.

The six member team landed a short distance from the rubble that was once the shelters for the sick. Janeway was appalled at the conditions. Not having any visual contact had spared them the details of this horror until now. Kes looked shocked; B'Elanna sad. How used to bloodless death they were! A phaser, whose settings ranged from stun to burn to kill, would never leave this path of destruction in its wake.

"This way," Janeway directed, feeling there were no words to express at the sight of the war torn village.

Not far from their landing position, they came across Kurt Bendera. In his arms he held Gerron, holding the young man fiercely as though he expected someone to try to take him away. Janeway crouched next to Kurt, who looked at her without surprise, not fully comprehending who she was or the significance of her appearance beside him.

"Mr. Bendera," Janeway said, gently, touching her fingers to Gerron's neck. There was no pulse.

"What chance did he have when they shot him? They shot him!" Kurt said. Janeway could see he was crying. "He was just a kid really. Oh God!" And Kurt crumpled inward, hugging Gerron's body tighter.

Kes administered a hypospray to Kurt. She looked around for the others, and saw Ayala not far away. B'Elanna gave a cry from across the tiny courtyard, where she'd found Tom.

"Mr. Bendera, where is Chakotay?" asked Janeway, trying not to fear the worst.

Kurt just shook his head listlessly. Janeway stood to get a better view but could see no sign of the Maquis leader.

"He left after Gerron died," Kurt finally offered. "I don't know where he went."

Kes was making arrangements to beam up the patients, but communications were poor. It would be a few minutes before Harry could get a proper lock on them. Aside from Gerron, who'd been severely weakened by his wound, Tom was in the worst shape. Kes assured B'Elanna that he would be fine once under the doctor's care and Torres, in a rare display of gentleness, cradled Tom's head in her lap. Janeway watched, feeling superfluous and helpless, and worried about where Chakotay had gone.

*****

She found him propped up against a wall, some kind of gun lying loosely in his hands. A bright sheen of sweat covered his pale face, showing evidence of fever. In the opening of his shirt, she could see the telltale sores of the skin rash. His eyes were open and unseeing and for the briefest of seconds she thought she was too late and he was already gone. Then his head rolled slightly and he coughed, his breathing raspy and audible even to her ears as she stood across the room.

He mumbled words she didn't understand and then said something like, "Forgive me, Father," before coughing again.

"Chakotay," she called softly, stepping forward.

She was startled at how quickly he snapped to attention. Seeing him in this state she would not have thought it possible. His hands tightened on the gun and he squinted in her direction.

"Who's there?" he asked hoarsely, sounding a lot more menacing than he looked.

"Chakotay, it's me," she said, stepping closer. "It's Kathryn. Do you know who I am?"

"Kathryn?" he gasped. Then he shocked her by pointing his weapon in her direction. "Don't come any closer!"

"Chakotay, you must let me help you," she began.

Using the wall for support Chakotay came unsteadily to his feet. His gaze was still towards her but she could tell he wasn't focusing.

"No! Stay away!" he ordered her gruffly.

"Please, let me help you. I have the treatment." She took another step.

"I'll make you sick! Stay away!"

He was becoming more and more agitated, backing into the corner to get away from her. When she continued to advance towards him slowly, he turned the gun on himself, resting the barrel on his chest. His trembling fingers lightly gripped the firing mechanism. Janeway stopped her advance.

"Please don't hurt yourself, Chakotay," she said, fighting back her fear. He didn't know what he was doing and his hands were not steady. A discharge to his chest at that range would kill him; she knew this without knowing anything about these weapons.

"I won't let you contaminate yourself with this illness. Stay back or I'll fire!" He gave a little chuckle and almost smiled at her. It was an expression of sadness. "I'm dead anyway."

"No! No you're not!" Her tone was authoritative. "Listen to me! I have the treatment. I came to help you. Now put down the weapon. Please."

"Death," he rasped, as though he hadn't heard her. "Death isn't something to fear. My spirit will walk with my ancestors. It is...a release."

Janeway didn't like the turn of this conversation.

"Will I be able to find them? I am so far from home. And I have strayed far from my father's teaching."

"Please, Chakotay, let me help you. Please. You don't have to die today."

"Where did you come from?" he wondered. "Did you walk from my vision quest? You bring me peace. Peace to my spirit. The gods are not without irony. You, who would have put me in chains, have set my spirit free from anger and despair. I wish...I wish I had told you that."

"Put down the gun," Janeway whispered, and to her relief the weapon clattered to the floor. His body slid down the wall and crumpled on his side. In two strides she was by his side, pressing the hypospray against his neck. His eyes were closed.

"Don't you even think of leaving me now, Mister!" she said sternly. She brushed her hand over his face, wiping away the sweat and ran her fingers into his hair. "Oh Chakotay. Stay with me. Stay with me," she whispered. She hadn't realized she was crying until her tears fell onto his cheek.

*****

**Captain's Log: We have continued our course to the Alpha Quadrant. I cannot express the great feeling of relief at leaving behind Catqal and the terrible war there. I thought that I had seen all manner of cruelty and yet the brutalness of their conflict shocked and disturbed me. Our last communication with the rebels who had supplied Fides with food was to beg me for the cure that was destroying their people. Having seen the treatment of children first hand, it was not difficult for me to refuse their request.

The Doctor has informed me that all surviving members of Chakotay's team have made a complete recovery, but he has recommended light duty for a couple of days.

Aside from a brief conversation in sickbay, I have not spoken to Commander Chakotay about the experience. We are long overdue for a meeting.**

*****

Janeway walked purposefully to the galley on Fides, having determined from a Maquis crewmember that Chakotay was eating dinner. The small mess hall was almost empty when she arrived, save for a few who were leaving, Kurt Bendera in his role as chef, and the Maquis leader. Kurt had just finished putting away his cleaned dishes and had been contemplating going over to sit with his friend. Chakotay had his back to the room, a clear indication that he'd rather be left alone, but Kurt had never shirked from what he considered his duty with Chakotay. This included butting in when Chakotay withdrew.

The arrival of Captain Janeway changed Kurt's plans. He jerked his head in Chakotay's direction.

"There he is, Capt'n. Good luck." And with those gruff words he left her alone. Janeway recognized this to be an acknowledgement of sorts, if given grudgingly, that she was more suited to ease Chakotay's burdens than his old friend.

Chakotay was eating listlessly, his expression displaying his distaste at consuming the food of the Keth'l. Still, no one needed to explain to him that beggars cannot be choosers; even if he didn't like it, he ate it.

Janeway approached him and laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. Though he'd been aware of her approach, her touch startled him so that he dropped his fork which clattered down on the plate.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you," she said.

"I guess I'm still feeling a bit...shell shocked," he mumbled. She gave his shoulder a comforting squeeze.

Chakotay stared down at the half-eaten food.

"Starfleet Command is going to have a few words to say to you about this little escapade," he said.

"Yes, I suppose they are," she agreed, vaguely. The whole idea of reporting to Starfleet Command seemed so far in the future as to be almost a non-issue.

"You gave away one of your most sacred principles, Captain," he said, his tone slightly mocking. "And for what? Four fugitives and a man on parole?"

"I stuck to my own set of principles," she said harshly, a little hurt by his words. "I stuck by my people...our people," she added. Janeway stared over at the wall. "Starfleet Command has the support of the United Federation of Planets to draw from for allies. I don't have that luxury. I only have you. I couldn't just give you up without at least trying to get you back."

"You had Fides, you had the Maquis crew..." he began. She turned to look down on him with an amused smile.

"The Maquis weren't going to follow me anywhere. Particularly if I left you behind to die."

"Well, that seems like a pretty good reason to abandon the Prime Directive. And after all, who I am to complain? You saved my life." His flippant tone became serious. "I've never been a big supporter of blindly following Starfleet principles anyway."

Janeway moved her hand from his shoulder to lightly touch his cheek. Before she could withdraw, he lifted his own hand to clasp her fingers. Their hands hung suspended between them, fingers entwined.

"I had another reason," Janeway said softly, staring at their hands.

"And what was that?" he asked, trying to catch her eyes.

"You...you spoke of the irony that I could bring you peace. Here's another irony: you make me feel safe. You make me feel like anything is possible if only we try hard enough. You make me feel as though any obstacle can be overcome, no matter what the odds. You make me feel safe," she repeated, finally looking at him.

He returned her gaze with an unreadable expression and then looked away.

"What about the risk of failing in our responsibilities to the crew?"

"I was wrong," she said abruptly. He glanced up at her sharply, surprised by this blunt admission. "I was wrong to think that we couldn't balance responsibility and. . ." She broke off, not knowing what to call it. "And affection," she finished lamely.

"Responsibility and...affection," he repeated, thoughtfully. His expression turned sad. "You know, Seska once told me that..."

She grabbed him by the chin, tilting his head up to hers and gave him a little shake. It was as much to let loose her frustration about Seska as to chide him for continuing to dwell on the traitorous spy.

"Nevermind what Seska said. She is gone. She is the past. She is of no importance now."

Janeway leaned over to kiss Chakotay, holding his face with both her hands. His arms moved around her waist to pull her into him. She broke away slightly to look at him. Chakotay's eyes opened slowly to look into hers with a question.

"I don't ever want to feel as afraid of losing you as I've felt in the last few days," she told him. "I don't ever want to feel as though I'd lost time that I should have spent with you."

"Keeping in mind that I'm a little slow, what is it you're trying to tell me, Captain?" he asked in a whisper.

She came closer to him, their foreheads and noses pressing together, their lips lightly touching.

"I guess I'm telling you that you're not going to get rid of me easily," she whispered back.

"Well then," he said, moving to kiss her, and laughing as she leaned away which forced him to pull her towards him once more. "Knowing how stubborn you are, I guess I won't even bother trying."

She held him tightly, his head against her chest, feeling how solidly there he was, and how healthy and how alive. If she never held him again she would remember his touch, his warmth, his passion.

Janeway had spent so long living for a future moment that might never happen that it was hard for her to suddenly switch to embracing the present. Yet it was not so sudden. She'd spent too much time lately regretting the mangling of her relationship with Chakotay. The future would come, with or without them. The present was what needed them, together. 

Go to the seventeenth EOME story Bridging Faith

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