*********
Janeway started awake, hearing a noise on the lower level. She didn't think she'd fallen asleep, but she must have, as the pool of moonlight she'd been lying in had shifted to her left. Judging from the distance the moon had traveled, she must have been out close to an hour. So where was Miller? How long did it take to find some wine in an old winery?
The sound came again. "Miller?" she called out in a loud whisper. When he didn't answer, Janeway opted for pulling the pistol out of her pocket, aiming at the square cut-out in the floor. She heard some more shuffling, then the sound of someone starting to climb the ladder. Janeway adjusted the grip on her gun, ready to fire if she didn't see Chakotay's head pop through the opening. Just then his dark head appeared, noticing the gun Janeway had trained on him.
"Katrine! It's me!" he called out, tossing his acquisitions to the floor.
"Christ, you scared the shit out of me," Janeway said, lowering the pistol. Noting the look of shock on his face, she smiled. "I don't suppose the girls back home talk like that either," she said.
"Not that I've heard," he confessed. "But I wouldn't be surprised."
"So what did you find?" Janeway asked, changing the subject.
"Some wine, not a lot though. I think this building's been looted quite a bit. I really had to dig for this. Literally. It was half-buried beneath some broken shelving. And I scouted some more of the area. I found a bakery that still had a couple of loaves of bread. They're a little dirty, but I think they're okay."
"No wonder you've been gone so long. What did you see out there? Any chance we can move out of here?"
Miller cut one of the pockets off his jacket and soaked it with the wine he'd found, gently applying it to her wound. Janeway jumped as the alcohol met her raw skin, but said nothing. She didn't even realize she'd clenched her hands on his arm, griping the fabric of his jacket as if it were her salvation.
"I know," Miller crooned. "It hurts like hell, but it'll help keep it from getting infected. Although, with as dirty as is around here, I think it's a losing battle. He brushed his hand over her forehead and face. She thought his hand lingered longer than necessary to check for a fever, but she didn't mind. It felt good to have someone touch her. Reassuring. To know there was someone else sharing this nightmare with her.
"You're warm," he said. "And don't tell me it's because you've been running."
Janeway smiled at his humor. Once more she was struck that it was more a statement Chakotay would make than Miller. Was Miller a composite of a holo-program and her first officer? Sometimes he seemed like a man she just met and the next moment he'd be the man she'd known for four years. She was beginning to get confused as to who was who; maybe she*was* starting to develop a fever.
"So you didn't answer my question," Janeway said. "Any chance we can move out of here?"
"When I was leaving the bakery, I spotted some more soldiers. Not a lot, but it might be an indication that there's more troops arriving."
"Damn! We should move now, we might not have a chance later." Janeway struggled to get to her feet, but Miller stopped her.
"Katrine, you're in no condition to be roaming the streets! Even if you weren't shot, how far do you think you'd make it? A couple of blocks? A half a mile maybe? Your restaurant is on the other side of town! Over a mile away! You'll never make it!"
Well, Janeway thought, at least she had her answer. The *Coeur de Lion* was further away than she thought. But how could she just sit there, trapped like a rat in a cage?
"You'll have to go, Miller. At least get word to my people. You can give them information on the Nazis' location throughout the city."
"I won't leave you, Katrine, especially when it's likely this would be a suicide mission!" Miller practically shouted at her.
"I didn't realize you were afraid, " Janeway taunted, angry that he wouldn't at least try. His people were there too!
"I'm not afraid," he said in a low voice, turning from her. "I would have thought you would have known that much about me." Turning to face her again he spoke louder. "I just know when something doesn't feel right, and a lone man traversing the streets of an unfamiliar town, crawling with Krauts isn't right! Sometimes, holding your position is a better strategy!"
Janeway was about to argue when she heard shouting in the street. She couldn't make out the words, but the pleading tone of the man sounded desperate. Moving to the window, she and Miller looked out to see three people caught in the glare of headlights as a young Nazi held a man, woman and child at gun point. The man had his hands in the air, obviously begging for the lives of the woman and boy by his side. Tears were streaming down the woman's face as she clung to the man, the child wrapped around both their legs, crying also. Suddenly the Nazi fired, killing the man instantly. Janeway flinched at the crack of the rifle and again as the woman's shrill cry filled the air. Crazed, the woman flung herself at the soldier, heedless of the consequences. Janeway was certain he was going to shoot the woman as well, but instead he herded the two up the street, past where she could see them. Janeway waited for the next shot, but thankfully, it never came.
"Oh, God, Chakotay," she sobbed, burying her face into his jacket, wrapping her arms around his waist. If Miller caught her use of another name as she clung to him, he didn't show it, returning her embrace, holding her tightly to him. He didn't say anything for a long while, simply holding her, stroking her hair, comforting her.
"You see why it would be foolish to try to leave?" he asked gently. Janeway simply nodded, face still buried against his chest, soaking his shirt with her tears. She knew they were only holo-characters, but they could have just as easily been members of her crew. This wasn't like her, to lose control this way. Maybe it was the hopelessness of their current situation. She had no clue how to fight the simulation or the Hirogen by herself. Seven knew what was going on, but she had no way to contact her. The key to it all was Harry being able to disengage the neural implants; she hoped she hadn't misplaced her faith in him.
"You all right?" Miller asked, pulling away from her.
"Yes," she said, sniffling, wiping her eyes. "Sorry, I don't usually get so emotional."
"These aren't exactly usual circumstances," he said, looking out the window once more. More soldiers had converged on the street, no doubt in response to the gun shot. They heard the men chuckling as they nudged the dead body in the street with the toes of their boots; some joke at the poor man's expense. One of their leaders showed up, ordering a new search. This part of town was supposed to have been evacuated, he said. Where there were three, there could be more.
Janeway and Miller backed away from the window. Where were they going to hide? The floor they occupied was empty except for rubbish and the cistern. Did they hide in the water tank? Janeway looked to see if there were anyway to hide behind it. The space was small, but she thought they could fit, if she sat on Miller's lap. It was dark in the corner, and so long as the soldiers didn't shine a light directly on them, they'd probably stay hidden.
"Here, behind the cistern," she said, holding out her hand to him.
Miller looked at the cramped space. "You really think we'll both fit back there?"
"Do you have any other ideas?" Janeway challenged. Miller simply shook his head and proceeded to fold himself in half, pulling his knees up.
"Okay, now you," he said. Janeway swallowed. There was no way to do this but actually sit on his lap. She was grateful for the dark, because she was sure he would have seen her blushing. Just then she heard the downstairs door open and she practically leapt onto Miller. There wasn't anywhere for him to put his arms except for around her, so he enfolded her in his embrace.
"Sorry," he said. "I don't have any room at my sides."
"It's okay," she whispered, wondering why moments ago his hug had been comforting when now it seemed extremely awkward.
The noise below them became louder as they heard conversing then laughter. "There's nothing here, " one voice said, disgusted, as if it were beneath him to be conducting searches.
"We should look upstairs," a second voice said. "The Commandant said *all* buildings were to be thoroughly searched."
"You go ahead, little soldier. I'm going to have a smoke."
Janeway heard the creaking of the ladder, holding her breath, feeling Miller's arms tighten around her, as if he could protect her with just his strength. She couldn't view the entrance to the second level, but she could see the sweeping arc of the Nazi's search lamp. Instinctively she and Miller drew themselves into a tighter ball to avoid the path of the light.
"Come on, Rolfe, let's go. There's nothing here but some rats and spiders," the first voice complained.
"It looks as though someone's been up here recently," he called back down the hole. The light flashed on the backpack, lying on the floor. "There's a pack here. It looks American." he said, crossing over to it's location.
"American? You must be mistaken. The Americans just arrived. How would one of their packs be up there?"
"I don't know, but it is!" the man called Rolfe shouted.
Janeway swore to herself as she listened to the conversation between the soldiers. She'd completely forgotten about the pack in her haste to find a hiding spot.
"It's empty," Rolfe called down to his partner. "Maybe it was part of a Red Cross package, or something. Probably belonged to that poor bastard in the street; I don't see anything else up here."
"Good. Then let's go." Janeway heard the sound of a boot twisting in the debris downstairs. No doubt the man was putting out his cigarette. "Are you coming?"
"Just one more look," Rolfe said, more to himself than to the impatient man waiting for him. The light swung over the cistern, causing Janeway and Miller to sink down even further. "Okay," he called. "Let's go."
Janeway still didn't want to breathe, even once she heard the heavy door close. "God, that was close," she said, exhaling.
"We're lucky, that's for sure," Miller agreed as Janeway started to get up.
"Give me a push, will you? My good leg seems to have fallen asleep." Janeway felt Miller's hands on her hips, helping to propel her upwards. Again, his hands seemed to stay on her longer than necessary. The trouble was, she was starting to like the feel of them on her.
She'd always admired Chakotay's hands. Strong and sensitive at the same time, there'd been more than one time she'd idly wondered what they would feel like touching her. Janeway shook her head as if to dislodge the thoughts. This was not the time, nor the place to be thinking about him in that way. Especially when he *wasn't* Chakotay, but Miller. The only trouble was, Miller had Chakotay's body, Chakotay's smile and every once in a while, Chakotay's mannerisms. On one level it was comforting, knowing Chakotay was with her, and on another it was disturbing, as if someone else had taken over his body. She didn't realize she'd been staring at him until he questioned,
"Katrine? Is something wrong?"
"Uh, no," she said, blushing at her prolonged scrutiny. "You just remind me of someone."
"Who's that?"
"A friend of mine. A very good friend," she confessed.
Miller crossed to the window to check if the soldiers had moved on. "Is he dead? This friend of yours?" he asked delicately, not wanting to up set her.
Janeway's mouth quirked up into a wry smile. "Not yet, but I can't say he's out of danger."
"I'm sorry to hear that, but I suppose no one in Ste. Claire is safe. Or isn't he in the village?"
"Oh, he's here, I'm just not sure where at the moment. Are they gone?" She asked, indicating the soldiers with a twist of her head towards the window.
"Not completely. They've stationed guards on most of the street corners."
"Damn. Now there's no getting out of here," she sighed, sitting down where she'd stood. Rubbing her forehead, she noticed her skin felt hotter, but the rest of her felt decidedly colder. She had a fever starting, she realized, just what they both had been hoping wouldn't happen.
"Katrine? Are you all right?" Miller asked, crossing back over to her.
"I'll be all right, you don't have to worry about me, Miller," she said, her voice a little testier than she'd intended. Seeing the hurt look cross his face, she immediately regretted her words. "I'm sorry, Miller, I'm not feeling very hospitable right now. Some hostess, huh?"
"You have to be off-duty sometime," he said, placing his hand on her forehead. His skin was warm, but compared to hers, his touch felt almost cool.
"Jesus! You're burning up!" he cried, forcing her to lie back. Using the pack for a pillow, he removed his jacket, covering her up. Janeway was shivering, Miller's jacket doing nothing to dissipate the cold she felt permeating her body. "Why didn't you tell me you felt so lousy?"
"I wasn't until after the soldier left, I suppose I was too scared we'd be found to think about it," she said, teeth chattering.
"Come here," Miller said, reaching for her.
"Miller! What do you think you're doing?" she cried indignantly as he gathered her close to him.
"I'm trying to keep you warm," he said, drawing her to his chest.
She struggled against him. "If I were one of you men would you be doing this?"
"Probably, if it were necessary, but I wouldn't enjoy it as much! Now lie still! You'll only make things worse!" As Janeway ceased her battle against him she wondered what exactly he meant by "worse": her injury and fever, or his reaction to her?
*********
Miller looked down at the woman in his arms. She'd finally fallen into a fitful sleep, but at least she was resting. A smile came to his face as he remembered her question of whether he'd perform the same service for one of his men. When he tried to envision Lieutenant Davis in his arms as Katrine was now, he almost laughed. He'd told her he'd do the same for his men, and, if push came to shove, he probably would. But he had to admit part of him was holding her for selfish reasons. He knew he wasn't supposed to be afraid. He was supposed to view the events of the war with detachment, but what he was supposed to do, and what he could actually accomplish were often at odds. He wanted to hold her, to reassure himself, as much as her, that they had each other, if nothing else.
He didn't know how long they could stay in the abandoned winery. Katrine's leg had to be looked at, and soon, otherwise she could lose it. The thought of her forever using a crutch was almost more than he could bear. She had such a vitality, such a gutsy attitude that he had willingly followed her; there weren't many he would. Would she be the same if she became disabled? There was something about her, about her commanding presence that he trusted immediately from the moment she'd scrutinized him in her club. But now, she lay in his arms, face flushed, mumbling incoherent phrases. Mostly something about a ship and saving it.
Miller brushed the damp hair back from Katrine's forehead, causing her eyes to open, but they were unfocused, only half-seeing.
"Chakotay? she asked, reaching up to touch his face. "I'm so glad you're here." She closed her eyes again, then re-opened them, still not seeing clearly. Chakotay. That was the name she'd called him when she'd turned to him after witnessing the shooting in the street. Was that the name of her "friend?" It didn't sound French. He wasn't sure what it sounded like, only that it was slightly familiar, somehow. How good of "friends" were he and Katrine? For a moment he felt a surge of jealousy at the way she spoke the man's name, but he knew he had no right to the feeling. Not only had he just met Katrine, he had a girl back home. Not officially, but he knew once the war was over he'd probably seek Betty out, if she hadn't married someone else.
"The ship," she mumbled again. "Got to get out of here. . .save. . ." Katrine's eyes closed once more as Miller shifted his hold on her, alleviating the pressure on his left arm. She was mostly lying on top of him now. He hadn't meant to maneuver her into such a provocative position, but when he tried to sit up further, to prop himself up against the wall, Katrine clung to him.
"Don't leave me," she said. Miller tightened his arms around her, reassuring her he wasn't going anywhere. "Hirogen. . .got to get control. . . .get word to Harry. . ."
He tried to decipher her words. Hirogen? Another foreign word that didn't sound French. And who was Harry? Harry Chakotay? No, she didn't sound the same when she said the name Harry. He must be one of her operatives.
Miller felt something wet on his chest. She was crying. not sobbing, just quiet tears of regret, which her words confirmed.
"Didn't do it. . .never got home. Don't want to die. . .not on holodeck. . ."
Hollow-deck? Was she thinking of ships again? "It's all right, Katrine," Miller soothed, stroking her hair. "We'll get through this." His words sounded braver than he felt. He knew it was only a matter of time before they would be forced to reveal themselves. True, they had a meager portion of food and water, but Katrine was getting worse. If she didn't get medical treatment soon, she could die. Maybe as a prisoner she'd at least receive some medical treatment; if they stayed here, it was a sure bet she wouldn't get any.
He really wasn't afraid for himself as much as for her. If the Germans were to discover her role in the resistance, they'd torture her for sure. Just thinking of it made him pull her closer still, rubbing his hands across her back. The thought of them trying to break her sent a chill through him, for he knew she would tell them nothing willingly, preferring to die rather than give up her comrades.
Miller felt Katrine stirring; another disturbing dream plaguing her. "Chakotay!" she called out in her delirium, obviously convinced that her missing companion was in some sort of danger. Miller thought for a moment. She'd seemed to confuse him with this friend of hers almost from the beginning, so there must be a strong physical resemblance between them. Maybe even the reason he caught her staring at him as if she knew him. He had a choice, give her one last night with the man she thought he was, or try to convince her he of his true identity. Some how, the latter seemed heartless. Cruel of him to deny her the chance to tell this man good-bye, maybe even how she truly felt, for the tone of Katrine's voice left no doubt in Miller's mind: she was in love with him.
"Shhhh," he whispered, placing his lips near her ear, kissing the top of it. "It's all right. I'm here."
"Chakotay?" she questioned, sitting up straighter to look at him, as if confirming he'd been transformed into the man she'd been calling for. It was obvious she was still feverish, her eyes not quite focusing on him. "I'm so glad you're here," she mumbled, laying back down on his chest.
Miller continued his caress up and down her back, moving his hands beneath his jacket that covered her.
"That feels good," she sighed. Miller leaned down and kissed the top of her head. She smelled of smoke and gunpowder, but at the moment it was heady perfume. He hadn't realized how much he wanted to kiss her until she started responding to his touches. He'd convinced himself that he only wanted to do this for her, make what might be her final hours ones of joy. But he'd been lying to himself. He'd been drawn to her from the moment she took charge in the restaurant, issuing orders as if she were born to command. Suddenly he was more than jealous of this Chakotay whom she thought he was. He wanted to be him. Wanted to be the man who made love to her, wanted it to be his name she sighed in ecstasy. Thoughts of home were vanishing. All that mattered now was her, and surprisingly, he'd never wanted anything so much in his life.
*********