Enemy of My Enemy -
...Choose Your Enemies Better

by  Katherine Tate, Vicki James, and Sheena McDonald

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
Bridging Faith
Choose Your Friends Well...
...Choose Your Enemies Better

Here it is!  Please note that meonidrite is pure fiction and does not come from anything ressembling canon.  Please do not distribute without Kath's, Vicki's, or Sheena's permission. Thanks.  Many thanks as always to Jen for her editorial input!

*****

Kurt drew back the tarpaulin side of the hut and entered the crude shelter without making a sound. He did not wish to awaken Suzie, whom he could see was already asleep on the small cot. She had left the light which sat on the crate serving as a bedside table slightly illuminated, no doubt so he could see where he was going upon his return to their quarters. The hastily constructed huts, erected to form a base camp on this unmapped planet in the Badlands, were far from luxurious accommodations, but at least they afforded some privacy.

It was an effort for Kurt to divest himself of his torn and bloodied shirt. He knew he should probably go and clean up as he no doubt smelled horribly and was filthy from the hard won battle. As he pulled off his shirt he noted his chest was caked with blood. He wasn't entirely certain if it was his own blood. The fucking Cardie had managed to nick him a couple of times with a knife. But then he'd made sure the Cardie's fighting days were over forever. He suddenly felt as thought his last vestiges of strength had drained from his body and it was all he could do to make it over to the cot and tumble in beside Suzie, boots and all. He didn't appear to be bleeding to death so he figured he'd make it until morning. Morning was no longer that far away. He reached an arm out to draw Suzie's warm body into his and she flinched.

"Sorry, love. I didn't mean to wake you," he whispered.

"You didn't," she said. She lay motionless on her back with her arms crossed over her chest and did not make a move to touch him or return his offered embrace.

"Did you want me to go wash up before I go to sleep?" he asked her. "I'm probably pretty grim."

"I don't care," Suzie said flatly.

The tone in which Suzie spoke those few words told Kurt something was definitely bothering her. He reached out a hand to gently brush several stray tendrils of dark hair from her cheek. Suzie stiffened at his touch.

"What's wrong, Suz?" he asked quietly.

She sighed and turned her head to look at him through troubled eyes. "I saw you today," she began, her tone matching his in its softness. "I saw you at the site of the raid."

"What?!" Kurt shrieked. His voice did not rise yet his tone conveyed his surprise. "You were on the planet? What were you doing on the planet?!"

"The Commander sent me down to pick up part of the raiding party. Larson had been caught by disruptor fire and had barely made it back with his ship to the rendezvous point. Someone had to go back to get the rest of the party."

"Chakotay promised me he'd keep you out of the action!" Kurt was obviously angered to discover that Suzie had been sent into the thick of things.

"There was no one else, Kurt! Someone had to go in to get Larson's team and there was no one else! I had to go!"

Kurt looked at her suddenly. "Larson?"

Suzie shook her head wordlessly. Kurt swore softly.

"I saw you killing that Cardassian, Kurt. You were enjoying it," Suzie accused.

"I don't enjoy killing. You know that!"

"But you did," she said. "I could see it in your eyes. You were hurting him. You didn't just kill him, you hurt him first. I never thought you could be so brutal. It terrified me." Suzie shuddered at the memory of what she had witnessed.

"Suzie..." Kurt began. He reached out for her hand and she let him grasp it.

"I don't like to have to kill and I don't enjoy the act of doing so. But I will admit that it's not uncommon for a sort of adrenaline rush to grab you in the midst of a battle, especially one being fought hand to hand. I've felt that battle rush before and I felt it again today. But I'm not proud of it." Kurt had to look away from her searching gaze.

The shelter was silent, save for the sound of Kurt's quickened breathing, until Suzie squeezed his hand in a wordless entreaty to continue.

"You know how my family died. What they did to my wife and our baby." Kurt stared into the nothingness beyond Suzie and she knew he relived that memory every time he spoke of it.

"Sometimes when I'm fighting a Cardie who's mocking me and daring me to try and off him I feel a thirst for vengeance come over me. I'm ashamed of it because I've never thought of myself as a killer. But there it is." His grip on her hand tightened as he turned his head to meet her gaze once more. He found her eyes wet with unshed tears.

"I've never told anyone about it before," he whispered.

"I think I understand," she said gently, moving closer into his embrace. "It's not something I can relate to, but I think I understand. I understand enough."

"Thank God," Kurt sighed. He unclenched the hand he didn't even realize he had balled into a fist.

"It looked like it was pretty awful today," Suzie said a bit timorously as she did not know if Kurt would want to dwell any more on the past day's fighting.

"It was. I wish you hadn't needed to see it."

"I'll be okay."

"Are you sure?" Kurt asked, searching her expression. "I know I warned you what it would be like, but if you're having second thoughts I know a couple safe places I could send you to."

"No!" Suzie cried. "I'm not leaving you. Don't you want me here anymore?!"

"Of course I want you," Kurt quickly replied. "God Suzie, you're the one bit of sanity I have in this insane life. If I didn't have you to come back to each day I don't know what I'd do. I want you, and I need you, but I love you enough to let you go if you can't stand it here anymore."

Suzie felt a hot tear trace a path down her cheek but a smile lit her face as she gazed upon her lover. "I couldn't leave you," she told him, shaking her head. "As bad as it might get here, as brutal as the fighting might be, I'm much happier here with you, where I can hold you and know you're still safe."

"I can't wait for this all to be over," Kurt said. He paused to kiss her thoroughly and then continued in a hushed tone, "I can't wait until we can go away somewhere truly safe and just live out the rest of our days in peace." Suzie's eyes closed briefly as she took a moment to consider that thought.

"Together and at peace. Imagine." A smile graced her lips and she opened her eyes to look at Kurt again. "Oh, and I love you too, by the way," she said softly. Then she laughed. "You've probably already figured that out, though."

"I had an idea," Kurt replied, giving her one of his grins that always made her go weak in the knees.

She settled down more comfortably in his arms and rested her cheek on his bare chest. She could hear his heart pounding strongly and feel the warmth radiating from his body. Despite the fact that she was living in a terrorist encampment under primitive conditions and was no doubt now considered an enemy of the Federation herself, she felt enormously content.

"He never told me, you know. That he loved me," she said sleepily.

Kurt reached under her shirt to pull out the silver locket she always wore close to her heart. While he himself had not given it to her, he had first told her to keep it, and then later, when they had discovered that feelings really could transcend universes, he had asked her to wear it for him. He rubbed the metal oval with his thumb.

"He did love you," he assured her softly.

"It doesn't matter anymore," Suzie professed, "because you do."

*****

Tom ran a finger under the collar of his dress uniform, trying unsuccessfully to alleviate the uncomfortable feeling the clothing always gave him. It wasn’t as though he’d had many opportunities to wear the formal attire. He stared glumly out the window as he waited for Harry, who’d had even less of a chance to dress for formal Starfleet affairs than Tom. Harry was fiddling with his shirt.

From his vantage point near the window Tom could see the security officer who’d been his everpresent companion since he’d been released from questioning by Starfleet headquarters last week. The young, serious man hadn’t even attempted to hide the fact that he was watching Tom. If Tom hadn’t been feeling so much like bolting from San Francisco, he might have found the situation amusing.

"How does this look, Tom?" Harry asked, still concerned about his uniform.

Sighing, Tom turned away from the window. Let security watch. There was nothing worth seeing.

"Harry, it’s just a stupid banquet! Just an opportunity for the big brass to show off some shiny new heroes. Now that they’ve decided we’re not all terrorists, that is." Tom saw his friend’s grin turn to a crestfallen expression. "You look fine," he added, grudgingly, regretting his harsh tone.

"It’s a party, Tom, not an execution. Why must you insist on being so negative all the time?" Harry grumbled.

"What do you know?" snapped Tom. "You’ve never been happier!"

Harry’s face darkened with anger.

"That’s right! I’m happy that we’re home. And you can’t stand that, can you? Well, I’m sorry that Captain Janeway hasn’t been able to convince Necheyev to drop the charges against the Maquis. I’m sorry that you’re missing B’Elanna. I’m sorry that you can’t go to her. But I’m not sorry that we’re home, Tom and I’m sick and tired of you making me feel guilty for being happy!"

Having vented his anger more than he’d intended, Harry turned back to pinning his ensign’s pips to his collar. Tom said nothing, half turning back to the window. He was surprised by Harry’s outburst, but otherwise not affected. Their circumstances had been grating on his nerves ever since the Maquis had disappeared.

"I’m glad you’re happy," Tom said softly. "But I’m not. I’m miserable. I’m being followed everywhere I go and being interrogated about every aspect of the whole godforsaken experience every second day. I’m being made to feel a criminal for simply caring about someone. And I don’t see an end to this. Home!" Tom snorted the word. "I was more at home at the helm of Voyager lost in the middle of nowhere."

"Things will get better," Harry said, gripping his friend’s shoulder.

"They certainly can’t get much worse," Tom muttered as they left the room.

*****

On their way over to the banquet Harry considered Tom’s complaints. It was true that Starfleet was tailing Paris; Harry had seen the barely concealed security officers on more than one occasion. And Harry had to concede that Tom was right about the interrogation as well. Harry had been on the hot seat more than once since their return, while Starfleet headquarters tried to sort out exactly how their ship had ended up collaborating with the very criminals they’d been sent to capture.

"What was the nature of the relationship between Captain Janeway and Commander Chakotay?"

"I think at first they were wary of each other," Harry answered slowly. "And they often disagreed on matters of policy and procedure. Commander Chakotay didn’t always follow Starfleet protocol." He’d paused then, hoping that was enough. It was not.

"But they eventually were able to work together in ... harmony?"

"They were able to get the two crews to work together. To do so, they had to at least appear to be getting along." Harry had begun to sweat. He wasn’t sure how much of this he could do without lying. Janeway had never told him to lie, had never once suggested that he conceal anything he knew. But somehow Harry sensed that telling the whole truth would not be a good idea.

"Were they friends?"

"Yes, I think became friends over time. It’s lonely at the top, after all, and they were the only two..."

"How lonely?" interrupted the security officer.

"What I meant was that we were alone out there and Commander Chakotay was the only other captain around. It must be hard for a Captain not to have ... to have peers to ... talk to." Harry felt he was fumbling this badly.

"You say that Commander Chakotay didn’t always follow Starfleet protocol. What about Captain Janeway?"

"Always!" said Harry, with fierce loyalty.

"So you’re saying that even though Captain Janeway and Commander Chakotay, a wanted criminal, became friendly towards each other, she always conducted herself professionally?"

"Yes, always," reaffirmed Harry.

"Hmmm," his interrogator made a noncommittal sound of disbelief. "Do you remember the incident where Voyager was attacked by two Kazon warships, well outside known Kazon space?"

"Yes," answered Harry.

"Did Captain Janeway conduct herself within Starfleet protocols during that time?"

‘Bastard!’ thought Harry. ‘He knows full well that Janeway wasn’t on board.’

After a moment’s thought Harry said, "I wasn’t able to witness her conduct personally."

Thinking on it now, as they entered the building, Harry could only imagine what it had been like for Tom. It must have been worse, much worse.

*****

Janeway sipped her wine, taking a slow cool look around the room. On the surface, it appeared to be a very cheerful, charming affair. People were dancing, drinking, chatting. People were even smiling, laughing, sometimes hugging. But a closer inspection revealed an undercurrent of uncertainty, a sort of caution and wariness, as her crew mingled with the officers from Starfleet headquarters. It was hardly surprising, considering the treatment they’d received since their return. No mere party was going to make up for the feeling of being accused of committing a crime.

Janeway was enormously proud of her crew. They’d rallied around her with determined loyalty, forcing Starfleet to abandon any plot to censure her behaviour. Not once had she heard of anyone bad mouthing their Maquis, even though they’d been given more than enough justification. And she hadn’t heard of anyone making any indiscrete comments about her relationship with Chakotay. Even Tuvok, whom she knew to strongly disapprove, had not voiced this opinion when asked.

Now that the worst was over, she had to concentrate on her efforts to get the members of Chakotay’s Maquis cell pardoned. Admiral Necheyev had thus far not shown any inclination to be lenient, despite the evidence of all the aid that Fides gave to Voyager. She was a stubborn woman, and a proud one. Chakotay was a particular thorn in Necheyev’s side; in her eyes he had defected from Starfleet to the enemy. What Necheyev didn’t know was that Janeway was equally stubborn and proud.

Her glance around the room came to rest on Tom. Poor Tom. He was trying so hard to be strong but he looked about ready to crack. His homecoming hadn’t been a particularly happy one. His father was a difficult man to please and not one overly demonstrative of his affection. In addition to this, Starfleet hadn’t been prepared to accept Tom’s field commission and insisted on treating him as a paroled ex convict. Janeway had stuck to her guns on this matter, however, and managed to persuade Admiral Talara to grant Tom’s commission. Janeway suspected that Tom would like nothing better than to ditch Starfleet and head for the DMZ to find B’Elanna. She figured the only reason he hadn’t already done so was because he knew he was being watched. She made a mental note to have a word with him.

Not far from Tom, Harry Kim stood with an excited Bolian ensign. Harry’s expression was of polite interest. He appeared to have weathered the storm well. His delight at being home and his inherent youthful optimism had not diminished despite the treatment from Starfleet. Janeway hoped he could rub some of his positive attitude off on Tom, who seemed headed down a path of self destruction.

Janeway sighed and took another sip. ‘Brave face, Kathryn,’ she told herself.

*****

"It’s really quite extraordinary!" Chuo was exclaiming to Harry.

"Uh-huh," agreed Harry, absently. He still couldn’t get over the idea that Chuo was an intelligence officer. The Bolian was about as discrete as a supernova. Harry suddenly got an image of Chuoie on a case where he sidled up to someone whispering, "Hey, I work for Starfleet Intelligence, you know, what can you tell me?"

Harry stifled his urge to laugh by taking a mouthful from his glass. Listening to his old friend, it was becoming more and more obvious that Chuo’s boast about working for Intel was more bluster than fact. He was more or less a glorified gofer in the headquarters building.

"All this talk about a possible war with the Dominion," Chuo was saying, shaking his head.

"It doesn’t worry you?" asked Harry. He was still getting up to date on the current affairs of the Federation.

"Nah," Chuo said casually, swatting away an imaginary Dominion with his hand. "They’re powerful, but they have one great limitation."

"What’s that?" inquired Harry, with some amusement.

Chuo dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "They come from the Gamma Quadrant," he told Harry, as though imparting some secret information.

"Yeah," said Harry, not fully understanding where Chuo was going with this. Having just spent some time in another quadrant, Harry didn’t think that was much of a limiting factor. He had a healthy respect for the races they’d met in the Delta Quadrant.

"They only have one way of getting here," Chuo explained with exaggerated patience. "So if worse comes to worst, ZAP!" He clapped his hands suddenly in Harry’s face. "We just destroy the wormhole and they’re cut off from their supplies."

"That doesn’t help us much if they all come at once," pointed out Harry.

"Harry! You are out of the loop, I keep forgetting." Chuo patted Harry’s shoulder with a patronizing air. Harry was starting to get annoyed. As if sensing this, Chuo shifted the subject. "Nah, the Dominion don’t worry me. If I were in charge, I’d spend more time worrying about the Cardassians."

"I thought we had a treaty with the Cardassians," Harry said, racking his brains for any news on that front.

"Sure, we’ve got a treaty. That doesn’t mean they aren’t a threat!" Chuo proclaimed. "Compare them to the Dominion, for example. Unlike the Dominion, who have to rely on the wormhole for access to the Alpha Quadrant, the Cardies have two major planets, Cardassia Prime and Cardassia II, plus numerous outposts and colonies in and around the DMZ. They have far more places to train warriors, to stockpile supplies, and to manufacture weapons than we could cover at once. If they ever mobilized we’d be toast!" Chuo snapped his fingers.

"But they’re not in a position to mobilize against us," protested Harry.

Chuo seemed to concede this point with the slightest tilt of his head.

"Oh sure, not now, but I still think it bears watching. But you know us at Intel." Chuo winked. "Always on the borderline of paranoia."

"I’ll remember that," Harry said solemnly.

"We should just consider ourselves lucky the Dominion haven’t allied themselves with some race like the Cardassians," Chuo added. Then he pointed across the room. "Say, there’s my boss, Commander Bell. I’d better go talk with him. It never hurts to rub up to the brass, eh Harry?" Chuo chuckled as he made his way through the crowd.

Harry breathed a sigh of relief and turned to find Tom looking after Chuo with amusement.

"Who was that?" Tom asked.

"A friend from the Academy. More of an acquaintance really," Harry added swiftly. "He was just regaling me with his conspiracy theory about the Cardassians."

"What’s his theory?" asked Tom, not sounding terribly interested. He reached out to grab a crystal glass off the tray of a passing server.

"Oh something about how they’re a bigger threat than the Dominion because they have so many bases from which to attack. He seems to be completely discounting the fact that the Cardassians haven’t the resources to mount any kind of offensive against the Federation." Harry spoke with the confident authority of one who believed himself on the side of the right and the most powerful.

"Well, then, we’d better just hope they never ally themselves with an enemy who does have some resources," commented Tom dryly, completely unaware that he’d echoed Chuoie’s idea.

Harry frowned, his brow furled in thought.

*****

"How are you enjoying the party, Ensign?" Janeway asked. Harry was staring sadly after Tom, who'd gone in search of another drink.

"What? Oh! Hello Captain," Harry replied. "Yes, it's a good party. Isn't it?" He sounded distracted and unsure.

"And how is Mr. Paris this evening? I haven't had a chance to talk with him yet."

"Tom's ... uh ... " Harry didn't know what to tell her. Somehow 'Tom's miserable, obnoxious, and drunk' didn't seem an appropriate report to give to your captain. "Tom's hurting," Harry finally admitted. Janeway didn't look surprised, for which Harry was very much relieved.

Eager to change the subject Harry blurted out a question of his own.

"Captain, what do you know about the Dominion?"

Janeway took a slow sip of wine while she considered his question.

"I know that Starfleet considers them a very serious threat to the Alpha Quadrant," she began slowly.

"Have you heard of them having any dealings with the Cardassians?" Harry interrupted.

"No," Janeway answered honestly. "Have you?" If he had, then Janeway felt sure Starfleet Intelligence must have this information.

"Well, no," admitted Harry. "But something someone just said to me made me wonder."

Janeway tilted her head slightly while she listened to the theory.

*****

Tom was beginning to slur his words, but he didn't notice. He continued to recount a tale to a completely bored bartender who had the appearance, at least in Tom's eyes, of being utterly fascinated. Suddenly a sharp voice stopped him in mid slur.

"Mr. Paris!"

Tom turned on his stool and nearly slipped off only to find the comforting strong arm of Harry, offering support.

"Thanks Harry. Yer a real pal, y' know that?" he gushed, trying to pat his friend's back but missing him entirely, which threw Tom off balance again.

"Mr. Paris! You are drunk!"

Tom blinked at Harry stupidly, wondering why his friend sounded so much like Captain Janeway. Was he having some kind of hallucination?

Janeway sighed.

"Harry, get him some coffee. In fact, get a lot of coffee. It's going to be a long night."

*****

Discouraged, Tom slammed his palm against his console and pushed back from the computer. He rubbed his bloodshot eyes and groaned softly. He couldn't ever remember a hangover feeling quite this ... well, bad. Harry glanced nervously in his direction with a look of concern that annoyed Tom.

Janeway appeared oblivious as her eyes scanned the data on her screen.

"This is stupid!" Tom blasted, breaking the silence. "We've been at this for..." He broke off to look at the chronometer and was momentarily stunned by the time of day. "...for too long!" he concluded. "We're not going to find anything!"

"Keep looking, Lieutenant," was Janeway's quiet response. Her eyes never left her screen.

"Captain!" protested Tom. "What makes you so sure there is anything to find? What makes you think Starfleet Intelligence hasn't already analyzed this possibility to death?"

Now Janeway did turn slowly to look at Tom.

"Think of the devastating consequences of an alliance between the Cardassians and the Dominion. Think what it would mean for the Federation. For the Alpha Quadrant."

'For the Maquis,' Tom nearly added but thought the better of it.

"It is a bit like looking for a servo switcher in a warp conduit," Harry quipped, trying to add some levity.

"Needle in a haystack!" snapped Tom. "The expression is 'like looking for a needle in a haystack'!"

Janeway appeared unperturbed by this outburst.

"Harry, why don't you go and find us something to eat. We've all been working a long time at this."

"Yes, Captain," Harry said, glad to leave the room.

Janeway took a swig of coffee from her mug and grimaced when she realized it was cold. Tom had his head in his hands.

"Mr. Paris," she said, with the barest trace of camaraderie. "If there is any evidence of a collaboration between the Dominion and the Cardassians then we have to find it."

"But Captain," protested Tom feebly. All the fight had drained out of him. For a brief moment Tom felt Janeway was going to reveal some of her own grief at their situation. However, she merely turned back to her console.

*****

Harry had just returned from another food run when Tom leapt into the air.

"I've got it!"

Harry nearly dropped the tray he'd been carrying. He set it down, not even noticing he'd spilled the coffee.

"What have you got?" Janeway was all business.

"Take a look at this," Tom directed, sitting back down. His fingers tapped rapidly on the console. "The warrior faction of the Dominion have a serious Achilles heel."

"What's that?" asked Harry, curiously.

"The Jem’Hadar are a fierce lot, I agree. But the Dominion bred the Jemmies with a huge defect. They are all addicted to some drug called Ketracel White. Without the drug, they turn self-destructive and no longer be a threat to us."

"It sounds like a huge vulnerability," mused Janeway. "All an enemy would have to do is somehow cut off the supply and they'd destroy themselves."

"According to what we know, which isn't a great deal," continued Paris, "the substance is derived from meonidrite which is mined on several Gamma Quadrant planets. But meonidrite is very rare in the Alpha Quadrant. In fact, according to the latest Federation Geological Survey, there are only four planets which contain potential sources for meonidrite. Two of them are in a sector on the outer reaches of the Quadrant."

"Not very practical locations," commented Janeway. "They'd have to come right through us to get there."

"Right," agreed Paris. "But the other two are ..." Tom traced the location on the star map now displayed.

"Well. That's convenient," Janeway whispered.

"They're both in the Demilitarized Zone," Harry said. "Which means ..."

"Which means they'd have a very good reason to be friendly with the Cardassians," finished Tom.

*****

Janeway walked out of the Starfleet office in which she had spent the last six hours and into the sunlight. She walked into warm Terran sunlight, soft grass underfoot and the sights and smells of the planet she had longed for since the moment her ship and its crew had been ripped into the Delta Quadrant. And yet she longed to be somewhere else, with someone else.

The park was far enough from Starfleet headquarters to give Janeway the chance to breathe without observation. And she hoped her walk would give her enough time to sort out what she wanted and needed to do. In the whole time she, they, had been in the Delta Quadrant she had never felt this angry and divided. She knew what needed to be done but had know idea how to go about making it happen. She walked along a shaded path until she came to a small rock fountain. The water created a rainbow across the surface and Janeway stared absently at it, struggling with the answer she was sure would be given to Starfleet's question.

It was Chakotay's nature to be fair and he expected the same in the people with whom he dealt, and with whom he allied himself. What Starfleet was offering was far, far removed from fair. In an effort to calm her frazzled nerves Janeway tried to recall the memory of a quiet stream on an abandoned world where the supplies had been plentiful and no one had wanted or demanded anything. She and Chakotay had held hands and walked in complete silence along the stream bed.

Tom Paris crossed the quad quickly, his feet sinking in to the slightly wet grass. His shadow waited for him across the quad and Tom hoped that by walking on the grass instead of the path he could at least slightly deter the man who seemed to be making no effort to keep his presence a secret. It was annoying. He found everything annoying about this situation and if he allowed himself he would become so much more than annoyed. The Captain was perched on the edge of a water fountain looking as if she was having a lovely time in the park.

'What the hell was her problem?' Paris said to himself as he approached. The look on her face was almost peaceful, happy. 'How could she be like this? Doesn't she miss him?' Paris could feel his annoyance developing into a full-blown rage.

"Captain!" he said his voice tearing through the fond memory that Janeway had summoned from sheer force of will. She looked over at Paris and the reality of the horrible situation rushed back over her.

"Lieutenant," she said pulling herself together mentally and physically.

"Well?" His tone was insolent. She let it go.

"We have good news and bad news. Starfleet is talking about our revelations of the possible connection between the Dominion, the Cardassians and the Ketracel White. They have had some evidence of this possibility but had not been able to make the connections that we did. A fresh set of eyes looking at a old problem." Janeway looked at Tom to see if he had heard her. She had known him for a long time she had seen him in many situations but she had never seen him like this before. He was boiling. She watched him, puzzled. That was the good news. "Lieutenant? Tom?"

He stepped closer to her. "What's the bad news?" he barked at Janeway.

"They have an offer for the Maquis and it isn't a very good one."

"An offer? What is it? When do we get more details?" Paris snapped. Now he was standing uncomfortably close to her, almost threateningly so.

"Lieutenant!" she repeated and pulled herself to her full height. He stepped back trying to calm himself down somewhat. They locked eyes for a few seconds before he looked away. He looked at the ground, his voice a whisper.

"Why aren't you more upset about this?"

"What did you say?" Janeway snapped at him. He looked up at her tone. "How dare you Mr. Paris! I AM upset about this. I am more upset than you could possibly imagine!"

She should have stopped right there and taken a breath, considering his experiences since they had been home. She should have thought about his loss of B'Elanna and about the constant interrogations and the stress he was under from his family. But she didn't.

"Tom, you miss B'Elanna, and you're sick of your friend over there but don't you for one instant presume that your pain is any more than mine. I have been interrogated until I can't tell what is true and what isn't. They want to know every detail of my time in the Delta Quadrant. Every detail!"

Once started Janeway showed no signs of stopping.

"They are looking for a way out of this situation and they would dearly love to pin it on one of MY crew and I will not let them. They are about to walk into a war that could destroy most of this quadrant and they will only give a possible solution a half-assed consideration. And I have every reason to believe that I will never see the man I love again."

She turned away. Her relationship with Chakotay had been known on board Voyager but they had tried to keep the depth of their feelings to themselves. Allowing Paris to know how she felt made the loss harder, more immediate.

From the viewpoint of the Starfleet observer assigned to Tom, Paris and Captain Janeway were having a fight, and she was winning. Pairs backed away when she turned her back on him and waited.

"I'm sorry Captain." He felt like a child apologizing for some huge mistake that he knew he could never fix.

"I was just thinking about Punaleli. Do you remember that planet? The one where Harry and Kurt Bendera arranged the treasure hunt for Naomi Wildman's birthday? It is amazing what lengths we went to indulge that wonderful little girl."

Janeway turned back to face Paris.

"Here’s the deal. If the Maquis help to find and destroy the meonidrite mining operation then Starfleet command will grant a full pardon to the Maquis who were in the Delta Quadrant with us."

Tom was elated.

"What's wrong with that? A full pardon sounds pretty good to me."

"A full pardon only for the Maquis who were in the Delta Quadrant," she repeated. "And based on the information we have so far, it's going to take more than just those people to carry out this mission."

Tom’s shoulders slumped as he immediately understood her concern.

*****

Even from behind his closed eyelids Chakotay could see B'Elanna pacing in front of him. He tried not to notice that she was punctuating her agitation by pounding a fist into her hand every time she changed direction. He hoped that by appearing to be dozing she wouldn't subject him to the grumbling speculation he'd heard from her all morning.

"This is a trick. It's got to be," she muttered. Chakotay said nothing. "Paris may be reckless, on occasion, but he's not stupid and he's got a healthy sense of self preservation."

Chakotay noticed that she'd gone back to referring to Tom by his last name, a sure sign that she had worked herself up again.

"I wouldn't put it past O'Malley to be setting us up for some kind of trap."

Chakotay opened one eye at this to watch her carefully. It wasn't as though he hadn't considered this possibility. He was just a little surprised that B'Elanna had reached that conclusion.

"I mean, you have to admit Ch'kotay, that O'Malley's been itching for a fight ever since we returned. And who can blame him really? With Eddington dead and Ro imprisoned, you and he are the last of the great Starfleet defectors."

"Hardly," murmured Chakotay, closing his eye again.

"Yeah, and is it any wonder he's got a big chip on his shoulder? Eddington had Sisko after him, Ro had Picard, you have Necheyev for crying out loud! And who cares about Sean O'Malley? No one!" She paused. "Except maybe Sean O'Malley."

Chakotay sighed and gave up the pretense of napping. B'Elanna stood defiantly before him with her arms crossed and a worried frown on her features.

"That's not precisely true," Chakotay said calmly. "There is also a warrant for arrest from Necheyev for O'Malley and all his cell members."

"Did he have a Starfleet spy infiltrate his ranks? Did he have a starship assigned to find him in the Badlands?" she demanded.

"I don't think that inviting a spy into your cell is necessarily a sign of importance!" Chakotay snapped. "Or intelligence, for that matter," he added softly.

He, of all people, did not feel inclined to defend O'Malley. The man had been a thorn in Chakotay's side from the moment of their return. Sean was distrustful of Chakotay's crew and spread rumours that they were Starfleet collaborators. He tried to sabotage morale for the sake of power. He resented Chakotay's leadership. More than once Chakotay had been reminded by Sean that it had been O'Malley holding the fort while Fides had been in the Delta Quadrant.

Chakotay was sick of dealing with this internal bickering.

Now O'Malley had come to them with a tale about how two Starfleet officers were travelling in the DMZ looking for the Maquis. Based on the descriptions of them, Chakotay figured it was Janeway and Paris. He couldn't imagine any good reason for that pair to be here in the middle of this war. It seemed more likely that Sean was setting them up in some kind of ambush.

His suspicions were so strong that Chakotay had only brought B'Elanna to check it out. He would have come alone, but Torres insisted. As soon as she'd heard that Paris might be involved there was no keeping her away.

"Tom wouldn't come here," B'Elanna said quietly, more to herself than to Chakotay. "He knows how the Maquis feel about him. He knows it's not safe. He's too fond of living..."

"If it is Janeway, then it wouldn't surprise me a bit that Paris is with her," Chakotay interrupted shortly. He was tired of the argument. B'Elanna was torn between wanting to see Tom desperately, and hoping that he wasn't in any danger.

"What's taking him so long?" complained B'Elanna. "I'm going to look for O'Malley. I can't stand all this waiting."

Chakotay let her go. It was much easier than to have to watch her pace some more. She hadn't been gone a minute and Sean appeared from the opposite direction. He was grinning.

Chakotay had to grudgingly admit that O'Malley was a likeable enough fellow. Until you disagreed with him, that is. And under other circumstances they might have even been friends. Goodness knows Chakotay had made many unlikely friends in his life.

"Just as I thought," Sean said, smugly. "It's your old friend Captain Janeway."

Chakotay showed no emotion at this news. He'd believe it when he saw her. Sean jerked a thumb over his right shoulder.

"She's in that building over there."

Chakotay stood.

"Thanks. Why don't I go and see what she wants."

"Good idea," Sean said. "Good idea."

*****

Though he couldn't have been aware of it, Tom's opinion of Sean O'Malley mirrored Chakotay's. Neither trusted the Maquis cell leader and Tom had a lot more to fear from that distrust than did the Maquis' compatriot.

O'Malley had left Tom and Janeway in a small, empty room in one of the tiny buildings off the main thoroughfare of the town. After waiting, impatiently, for three quarters of an hour Tom decided to go outside and scout around. Janeway gave him her blessing to do so.

Tom exited the one-story building onto the dusty street. Though he had never been to Ystnndda before, the alien world's reputation had preceded his visit to it. Ystnndda was an unforgiving world and the town, Sitadar, was an unfriendly place. People didn't ask names in Sitadar. It wasn't unusual to never hear the names again of those who travelled to Ystnndda.

He didn't plan on venturing far, but Tom did want to take a good look around the area in which O'Malley had them holed up in. As he rounded a corner into a narrow alley, the larger buildings on either side cast the walkway into shadow, Tom surreptitiously reached under his civilian vest to where he had holstered his phaser. He made certain the weapon was charged.

His hand had just dropped back to rest casually at his side when he heard the footstep behind him. He felt the deadly sharpness of the knife at this throat before he could react.

"Go ahead, reach for the weapon, Paris," a familiar voice rasped into his ear. "I don't mind testing my reflexes today."

Tom froze. He recognized the voice as that of Sean O'Malley's second-in-command, a hostile human named Broda. Tom knew from the vicious looks that Broda had shot him while O'Malley and his band were 'escorting' him and Janeway to Sitadar that Broda would have no compunction in following through with his threat.

"We're here under your leader's protection, Broda." Tom said calmly.

Broda laughed. "This is Ystnndda. There is no such thing as protection. And nobody is going to wonder much at a Maquis traitor and Starfleet spy named Paris turning up dead in Sitadar. Or have you turned your back on the Federation again and I caught you running from your captain?"

"I'm not that person anymore," was Tom's soft reply. "And Janeway wouldn't let the murder of any one of her crew go quietly. We've got friends here."

"Your friends are too late," Broda intoned ominously.

Tom shut his eyes and waited for Broda to draw the knife across his throat. He wondered if he'd feel his life's blood drain from him, or if it would be over quickly. He wished he could have seen B'Elanna one more time.

Suddenly, instead of the sensation of cold metal cutting into him, he felt Broda shift around. The man still held him firmly with the blade against his skin, but he felt a new tension in his adversary.

"Today really isn't a good day to die."

Tom heard the words and the fury behind the chillingly soft tone. He opened his eyes to see his guardian angel standing in front of him. Although she looked more so like an avenging angel, with a compression phaser rifle pointed neatly at Broda's head and her lips drawn back in a fierce snarl.

He thought she'd never looked so beautiful.

Broda laughed at her. "You're just in time to watch, Torres. I'm going to put your sorry Starfleet lover out of his misery."

"I don't think so, Broda," B'Elanna growled, taking a step closer to them. "You touch him and I push the trigger."

Tom had to school himself not to shiver at the sound that came out of Broda's mouth. His laughter was not that of a sane man.

"Fine Torres, you're on," he chuckled crazily. "We'll see who's faster."

"Tom..." B'Elanna began, momentarily shifting her eyes from Broda. Tom braced himself and B'Elanna's gaze snapped back to Broda. "NOW!"

As B'Elanna pressed the trigger on the rifle, Tom pushed at the arm that held the knife and dove away from Broda at the same time. The blade clattered to the ground seconds before Broda's big body hit it.

Tom took a deep breath and gingerly felt at his throat for blood. "Did you kill him?" he asked B'Elanna.

B'Elanna was nudging Broda's body with the toe of her boot. "I'm surprised I even stunned him. The charge in this rifle is almost gone."

"You came and rescued me with a dead rifle?!" Tom gasped.

"Well I wasn't exactly expecting to have to rescue you, Tom," B'Elanna said, a wry grin crossing her lips. "But you're welcome."

"Sorry," Tom relented. "Thank you for coming to my rescue. God B'Elanna," he reached out to grasp her arm. "I'm so happy to see you."

"I missed you," B'Elanna admitted, taking a step closer and placing her hand on his chest.

She was so close that Tom's breath stirred her hair. "Do you think I should get back to Janeway?" he asked.

"No," B'Elanna whispered into his ear as her arms twined about him. "Chakotay will have found her by now. She doesn't need you anymore. It's my turn, now."

*****

Chakotay wasn't sure what he felt when he saw her standing there. Any joy he might have at seeing her again seemed overpowered by fear, worry, and anger. What the hell was she playing at by coming here?

He stayed in the shadows watching for several minutes. She was alone and looked troubled. And tired. And beautiful.

Janeway was waiting for Paris to return. She was feeling greatly discouraged. So far they hadn't come close to finding Chakotay, or any other member of his cell. For all she knew they weren't even still alive. Her burden was all the greater for feeling like their mission was doomed even if they did find Fides.

"Captain Janeway, this is a surprise."

Janeway turned quickly to see Chakotay observing her. She felt an overwhelming sense of relief that he was alive. But his voice had been cold. It occurred to her that the man she'd come to know and love in the Delta Quadrant might not be the same one who lived and fought in the DMZ. They had both been out of their elements so far away from home. Things had been different. Perhaps she didn't really know him after all.

"Chakotay," she whispered. "I wasn't sure if..." Her voice trailed off.

"You've lost weight," she commented.

"So have you," was his short reply.

"It's been a rough couple of months," she admitted and tried a small smile.

"What are you doing here?" he asked harshly.

"I came to find you," she answered. Her response sounded lame, even to her. She rushed on, hoping to make him understand. "I have a proposal for you from Starfleet Command."

"You shouldn't have come here," he said sadly, shaking his head. "Do you know how dangerous it is for you? Do you know what kind of a position you've put me in?"

This stopped Janeway short.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"I mean that I've spent a lot of energy trying to convince the Maquis that we're not working with Starfleet. Just by coming to talk to you I'm going to be opening up the question of our loyalties again."

"I'm sorry," she finally said. "I didn't realize."

The small space between them seemed larger than the separation of the last few months. Chakotay stepped forward slowly, not trusting himself fully. He wanted nothing more than to sweep her into his arms. What would O'Malley make of that?

Janeway reached out to take his hand. She looked up into his worried expression and realized that he wasn't angry with her. His rage was at their situation.

"Starfleet Command has reason to believe that the Cardassians are allying themselves with the Dominion," she told him. She let that sink in for a moment, knowing that Chakotay didn't need to be told the devastating consequences of such an alliance. "They further believe that the Cardassians are mining meonidrite for the purpose of manufacturing Ketracel White which the Dominion use to keep the Jem'Hadar in line."

"It just goes from bad to worse, doesn't it?" Chakotay asked rhetorically. "What's the proposal then?"

"A successful mission to locate and destroy the mining operation would have two results. One, it would cut off the Alpha Quadrant supply of the White to the Jem'Hadar. And two, it would create uncertainty within the Cardassian/Dominion alliance."

There was a pause.

"That's the mission," he said. "What's the proposal?"

"Starfleet is willing to grant a full pardon to your crew if the Maquis cooperate in a joint effort."

Chakotay's eyes narrowed. There was something she wasn't telling him.

"What's the catch?"

"We've narrowed the possible target down to two locations, both inside the DMZ. Starfleet is unable to openly enter the Zone without risking an armed conflict with the Cardassians. So what they are offering, for the pardon, is to provide supplies and intelligence."

While on their journey to the DMZ Janeway had tried to imagine every possible reaction Chakotay might have to the plan. The one he gave her was one she hadn't considered. He laughed.

"Oh my, you're not joking," he finally said and laughed again. Wiping tears from his eyes he took a deep breath and tried to focus. "So what you're suggesting is that the Maquis risk their lives in order to destroy a potential threat to the Federation. For this Starfleet gives the magnanimous gesture of pardoning only a fraction of the forces."

"Essentially yes," Janeway reluctantly agreed.

"You do see why I find that so amusing?" he asked somberly. She didn't reply. Chakotay broke away from her then, no longer laughing. "Tell them...." he hesitated. "Tell them to go to hell!"

Janeway opened her mouth to protest but he held up a hand to cut her off.

"Tell them to forget it. Tell them that they can take care of their own problems. Tell them they can shove their pardon up their asses!"

"Before you reject it outright please listen to me," Janeway spoke firmly and with more confidence. The worst was over now that she'd had his reaction. "If the Cardassians and the Dominion are allied to each other and if they have a reliable source for the White in the Alpha Quadrant then we all have a problem, Commander. Not just the Federation will suffer if we go to war with such an alliance. In fact, being on the front lines, the Maquis would be the first to feel the brunt of the Dominion war machine."

Chakotay walked away from her a few paces and stared at the ground. He remembered how difficult it had been, and to some extent it had remained, to get his crew to cooperate with Voyager. Was he prepared to try that again? He could just imagine Sean O'Malley's response to this proposal.

He felt an incredible surge of helpless rage build within him. She was right and he knew it. A war between a Cardassian/Dominion alliance and the Federation would sound the death knell of the Maquis. Never mind that they'd be fighting on the same side as their would-be captors; they'd be dead.

Janeway stepped close to him and rested a gentle hand on his back.

"Chakotay, I know this is unfair and I'm sorry to bring you this dilemma. If it were up to me I'd offer a pardon to any member of the Maquis who went on this mission. But it's not up to me. Starfleet is only willing to forgive you because of your assistance to Voyager in the Delta Quadrant."

"I don't know how this is going to fly," he said, his voice low. "I don't think I'm a good enough salesman to pitch this deal. I'd be asking people to risk their lives for people who are trying to incarcerate them. That's the very kind of oppression that we fight against here."

"You risked your lives for Voyager, even knowing that we were trying to catch you," she pointed out. "You pitched that deal to a hostile crew and you made them see that it was to their advantage to cooperate with the enemy."

"That was different," he protested, turning to face her.

"Not so different," she told him. "You told me once that the Maquis were a reactive bunch who didn't necessarily see the big picture. But you do. I know you do. We made an unlikely alliance work, and work well. If we did it once we can do it again."

"I did it with a handshake and a promise...."

"So what do you say, Commander? Are you ready to save the Alpha Quadrant?" She was trying for some levity and it got a small smile from him. Slowly, he held out his hand.

Taking it, she asked, "How will you get them to go along with it?"

"They will cooperate because I ask them to," he replied simply, with more confidence than he felt.

"That's your assurance?" she asked, with a grin.

He tilted his head and returned her grin.

"Isn't it yours, Captain?"

The End!

As you may have noticed, we've come to the end of the EOME series.  What started as just a "What if" game in IRC developed into 18 stories.  It has been a wonderful experience to collaborate with Vicki and Sheena and I want to thank them sincerely for not only writing their own stories, but for helping me enormously with mine.   I also want to thank Jen for offering her editorial eye to the stories.  Her input was greatly appreciated by all of us.  And finally I want to thank everyone who wrote to us with their feedback.  EOME was great fun to write and share with you.   Please feel free to send us all your thoughts!

Thanks for your support and encouragement.

Kath
=)

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