Kathryn Janeway nodded to her first officer, Commander Eamon Daley, indicating that she was ready to go off duty for a few well-deserved hours of rest. Eamon gave her a tight smile, then seated himself in the command chair. Seeing his expression and the way his eyes became dark, Kathryn paused and bent down to squeeze his shoulder. Sighing, she straightened up and when he didn't respond she proceeded to the turbolift.

She was in a hurry to get to her quarters and walked briskly down the corridor when she exited the lift on deck 2. Thoughts of Eamon Daley made her frown again. She felt sorry for him. His sister Siobhan was one of three officers killed in the shipboard accident at Caldik Prime. She had still been at home at the time, but news of the accident had come through to Starfleet via Admiral Paris. Kathryn shook her head. She didn't want to think of it now. All events were still so fresh and with Tom now in New Zealand's Penal Colony, it wasn't easy to discuss it with his father or her own mother. Tom's mother, Elizabeth Paris, had changed overnight into a tired, dispirited physician whose son had disgraced his family. It was not so much the disgrace that they felt keenly and could deal with; it was Tom's continued refusal to see his parents.

Eamon Daley had been bitter at first. Siobhan was his sister, the youngest of their family and serving at Caldik Prime on the USS Bavaria as an Ensign. Her death came as a shock to his family and more than that, the way in which Tom Paris first lied his way through something which to her mind was an accident due to pilot error, then coming out afterwards to tell the truth, left a sour taste in the mouth. Tom could hardly have impressed the Judge Advocate General as a reliable witness, giving an account of what happened at Caldik Prime. Tom was young, brash and rebellious; at the inquest he had not behaved well, his attitude more than anything else giving the Advocate General the leverage they needed to cashier him out of Starfleet. Tom had made a mistake and joining the Maquis could most likely have been a reaction to the manner in which he was booted out of Starfleet. He was angry, getting deeper into trouble that led to his incarceration in March. In the last month since she resumed her command of the Crimond, her first officer had been quiet.

"She was so young, Captain," he said at dinner in her private dining room the first day on duty. "But, my family have accepted that it was an accident. We miss her, naturally. My - my mother has forgiven Tom Paris, you know."

"I understand your brother has not been as forgiving," she told him, remembering the angry rail of Joshua Daley when he faced Tom's father, and Owen Paris's shame at being attacked in public.

"I know, Captain. He has a hard time dealing with Siobhan's death. After our father died, he presented that figure in our home."

"Eamon, I can tell you that Tom had a difficult time of it, as well as his parents. He hasn't gone unpunished. He's in prison and refuses to see his parents."

Eamon had nodded and they continued their dinner in silence. Her first officer did not pursue the matter; she was inclined to think that any mention of Tom being in prison would naturally lead the conversation to her own husband being a fugitive, a freedom fighter in the Maquis. She had not wanted to talk about that aspect of her private life with anyone.

When the doors of her quarters opened, Kathryn all but ran to her office and quickly initiated a message to Earth. She would be home in two days' time, and she couldn't wait for the month that she'd be at home. She had been away in deep space for a month, and time appeared to crawl, making her more and more impatient. Her heart thundered as she waited for the connection and seconds later, a face appeared on the screen.

"Mom! Where's Hannah?" Kathryn asked, sounding very out of breath.

"And a very good day to you too, Kathryn," Gretchen chided gently, a smile forming at the same time as Kathryn mumbled through a quick apology. Kathryn watched with bated breath as Gretchen moved momentarily out of sight and a few seconds later she returned, holding baby Hannah in her arms.

Kathryn's eyes softened, then misted over as Hannah stared directly at her, waving an arm excitedly.

"Oh, Mom...I miss her so..." Kathryn murmured as she rested her chin on the palm of her hand and touched the screen with the other. Hannah started making little gurgling sounds, dribbling all over her bib and Gretchen's fingers. At almost five months old Hannah was already sporting one tooth.

Gretchen held the wriggling baby who leaned forward and tried to touch the screen. Kathryn's eyes were tender as they rested on the baby. When Hannah looked directly at Kathryn again, her face broke into a smile and two dimples formed in her cheeks. There was silence for a few moments as Kathryn wiped a tear from her eye and drank in the image of her child smiling at her. She hadn't seen Hannah in a month and couldn't take her eyes off her baby.

"I wonder if she's fascinated by the screen," Kathryn mused.

"Honey, she recognises you. We've shown her enough pictures and holo-vids of you..."

"That makes me feel a whole lot better."

"And we're showing her as much as we can of Chakotay, Kathryn," Gretchen said quietly. Kathryn's eyes closed as she touched the screen again and smiled. She had insisted that they show Hannah pictures and holo-vids of her father so that one day... Kathryn gave a deep sigh, then opened her eyes again and looked gratefully at her mother.

"Thanks, Mom. Has Hannah been fractious lately?"

"Well, besides the fact that she missed you the first few days, she's also teething, Kate..."

"I can see that! I missed her first tooth," Kathryn complained.

"Don't worry," Gretchen said. "You'll be home in two days then you can take your baby off my hands and pyjama drill her yourself - "

"Mother! Shame on you. Goodness, her hair seems to have grown too."

Kathryn looked so longingly at Hannah that Gretchen laughed. She kissed Hannah's cheek and pointed to the screen.

"Say hello to Mommy, Hannah. Say 'Hi, Mommy'."

Hannah responded by blowing a few more bubbles and this time Kathryn laughed out loud at her baby's antics. Hannah was beautiful with her shiny pitch black hair, the dimples that formed when her face broke in a smile and her eyes that were like Kathryn's own eyes. They were bluer than hers, a real baby brilliant blue, Kathryn thought as she looked at Hannah. She wanted to cry again as an image of Chakotay suddenly flitted before her. It had been so hard since Hannah was born, so hard to live without him. Kathryn blinked back the tears as Hannah made baby sounds that Kathryn felt her heart wanting to burst.

"He'll be back one day, Kathryn. He promised, remember?"

It was as if Gretchen had read her thoughts.

"I still miss him, Mom. You know that - "

"I know, Kathryn. Kathryn..."

"Something up, Mom?" Kathryn asked distractedly as she touched the monitor to join her fingers with Hannah's pudgy little baby fingers..

"The reception may be a little cool on the side of certain admirals, Kathryn. Thought I'd warn you."

"Mom, I can handle Hays and Nechayev. They've got nothing on me, and Chakotay - "

"He protected you by separating from you, honey."

"I'm still tied to him in all the ways husband and wife are tied. Even if he divorced me, I'm still under scrutiny by Starfleet Security. Chakotay wouldn't put us in danger, Mom. I'm convinced of that."

"Then I'm happy, Kathryn. I know it's hard for you, but you're bearing your cross well, you know."

"Mom, I'm not going into hiding because some individuals at Headquarters choose to remind a lot of other individuals that my husband is a traitor to the Federation, a Maquis renegade freedom fighter who deserves to be locked up in jail. I know there are talks, but it's part of my life now, isn't it?"

Gretchen nodded. Then Kathryn watched in fascination as Hannah fell asleep against her grandmother's bosom. Gretchen cradled Hannah to her, her hand stroking the baby's hair. She placed a tender kiss on Hannah's head then looked with misty eyes at Kathryn again.

"You sound very proud of him, Kathryn."

"I love, him, Mom. If there weren't this connection between us, who knows, I might have called a dark-haired, tanned, bedimpled Native American a renegade and Federation traitor too." Kathryn was quiet for several moments as both women thought of what happened on Dorvan V the previous year. Kathryn was proud of Chakotay and deep in her heart resided the knowledge that Chakotay loved her as deeply as she loved him, and that he would return home someday.

"Kathryn..."

"Mom?"

"Tom is in prison, as you know."

"That's common knowledge it seems. Siobhan Daley's brother is my first officer."

"I know. But Kathryn, did you know Tom offered his services to the Maquis?"

"Mom," Kathryn sighed, "you don't have to tell me. I know that and unless we're on a very, very secure channel which I've just made certain of," she added, "don't tell me anything that might be hacked into..."

"Fine, I know. Kathryn, Tom was working in Chakotay's cell."

Kathryn turned cold, knew that her face must have paled.

"I had an idea of that.."

"There's more to it than meets the eye, honey. It seems he covered for someone - "

"Mom..."

"I understand, Kathryn," Gretchen said quickly. "I'll wait when you get home, honey. Then we can talk..."

"How are Admiral and Doctor Paris holding up?" Kathryn asked, her voice laced with concern for the Parises. They were her mother's close friends.

"As well as they can in the circumstances. Tom... If only he talked to his parents more, Kathryn. He's shut them out, did you know? And poor Elizabeth is so brave! Owen...you know how he hides his feelings. He's become so closed lately, even Elizabeth can't seem to reach him, though I can tell you she senses his deep feelings. Owen loves Tom. He loves his son dearly. Tom won't see them, Kathryn." Gretchen shook her head, her eyes suddenly dark with sympathy for her friends.

"I know. We'll talk when I get home," Kathryn repeated her mother's words, hoping that her words would steer the conversation in a different direction.

They needed to keep their conversation clean for safety reasons. Although she wondered often in the last months how far Chakotay had succeeded in tracing Winonah, she knew that that at least, was something he would have informed her of in some way or another. Or another... Her heart contracted at the thought of Winonah lost somewhere. If only...She sighed. Already she had been accused of knowing where her husband was. She had no clue, and she was glad that she didn't. It protected her and her baby; it protected Phoebe and her mother. It protected Admiral Ponsonby... That thought made her recover again and the smile she gave her mother was suddenly one filled with mirth.

"So, Mom, how's Admiral Ponsonby?"

Gretchen patted and rocked Hannah gently while she cast Kathryn an aggrieved glance.

"Oh, him?" Gretchen Janeway asked, her lips curling into a curve at the corner of her mouth and one eyebrow lifting. Kathryn stifled a laugh at her mother's expression. Chakotay always teased them about the Janeway Lift.

"Yes, him, Mother. The man you married in January, remember? The same man who is my boss, my stepfather, Hannah's grandfather, etc. Need I say more?"

"Kathryn, the man's insane! Why did I marry him?"

"Because you love bossing him around?"

"No, honey. He's bossing me around, me! He wants to build me a new house. Can you believe that? I've lived all my life at Indiana. It's my home. I don't want a new house! I told him so, too!"

"Mom! How could you? I just know you gave him an ultimatum."

"What's so wrong about that?" Gretchen asked, kissing the sleeping Hannah's cheek.

"What ultimatum, Mother?" Gretchen humphed when Kathryn called her 'mother'.

"It was nothing that you should be worried about. Your little Hannah is safe with me and - "

"What ultimatum, Mother?" Kathryn insisted then smiled tenderly as her mother gave her a sheepish grin all the while as she cradled Hannah in her arms.

"No sex!"

"Mom!"

"And don't you go blushing, Kathryn. I'm not over the hill yet, you know."

"And neither is the Admiral, I suppose, hmmm?"

"Then he told me straight. Can you imagine my pedantic Adam Ponsonby suddenly getting life in him? He told me we could dissolve our liaison right there in his office with that old goat of an Owen Paris presiding over the proceedings - "

"And naturally, Mother, you couldn't bear the thought of not having the good Admiral around you and you relented on the house?"

"It's the sex."

"Oh. Okay."

"And don't blush."

"I promise I won't, Mother. But, Mom, he's good for you, isn't he? So you gave in to his demands"

Her tone was suddenly serious again as she looked at her mother for a few burning seconds. Almost, she lost Chakotay because she wouldn't give him a chance, didn't want to listen to him. She knew her mother was just being her old cantankerous self, but she needed a shot in the arm of reason.

"I have been independent for many years," Gretchen told her. "I have to get used to - to needing someone again, honey."

"And used to being needed, too. Not just by Hannah who's sleeping so sweetly. Adam Ponsonby is head over heels in love with you, Mom. He just wants to do things for you..." Kathryn knew the way she phrased her words and her tone had to have an impact on Gretchen. She deliberately let her words trail at the end.

"Well, now, er..." Gretchen started in a tone that suggested she was ready to make ten big concessions although her resistance had already crumbled by Demand No. 2 but she was too proud to say so directly to Kathryn. "He's pottering around in the back garden waiting for me to hail him."

"And how long has Adam Ponsonby been pottering outside in the garden?"

"Only since this morning early."

Kathryn's brain instantly went into overdrive.

"Mother! That's five hours ago! He's freezing out there! Let him build you the house. Let him take you to Risa for a holiday. Let him turn up late for work because he's so busy showing you how much he loves you. Tell him there's no condition attached. No conditions, Mommy..."

That got to Gretchen. Kathryn's wheedling tones made Gretchen roll her eyes.

"I told him that you and Chakotay could live at Indiana once - once..."

Kathryn gave a sigh, touched the screen to feel close to her baby. Her eyes were soft as it rested on her daughter, then fixed on the older woman.

"He'll come back, Mom. He promised. I - there will be some prison sentence for him. You realise that, don't you?"

Gretchen nodded soberly, then a slow smile spread across her face.

"You know, Kathryn, I didn't know it could be so fulfilling. It's watching you with Chakotay that day, when you gave birth. I was always going to marry Adam, did you know? I've known him longer than I've known your father. It's very good, Kathryn. But honey, I'm a Janeway. I have to put up some resistance..."

"I know, Mom, I know. You love Admiral Ponsonby to distraction. Now, I have to close communication. Kiss Hannah for me, will you?"

Gretchen immediately carried out Kathryn's instruction and rested her lips warmly on Hannah's cheek, her eyes closing as she did so. When she looked at Kathryn again, she smiled.

"Yes, Kathryn," she sighed happily, "I love Adam Ponsonby, even if he speaks such Darcy-ish English and takes pictures of Hannah and the dog all the time. He's never shown me any of it. I wonder..."

Kathryn laughed.

"Bye, Mom. I’ll see you all in two days."

When the Federation Insignia showed on the screen, Kathryn sat back and gave a sigh of relief. Then a smile formed as she thought of her baby. It had been a month since she had seen Hannah and she had been surprised to see how the baby had grown in such a short period. Hannah smiled, recognised her and waved with her pudgy arms. Kathryn had been worried that after a month Hannah would withdraw from her. She longed to hold Hannah in her arms, longed to smell her baby softness, lose herself in her child and just revel in her little girl's attachment to her. Hannah strongly resembled Winonah, who also had the dimples Chakotay had.

Kathryn's joy overflowed. When she resumed her duties again, it had been with extreme apprehension that Starfleet wouldn't let her get her vessel back. Her connection to Chakotay was too obvious and everyone knew that Chakotay had, hardly a few days after Hannah's birth, joined the Maquis. She had taken a lot of negative feedback about being married to a man who was a traitor. It had been difficult in the first few weeks to answer them, and most of the time she had one ready: It was his decision to make; she was not going to condemn him for that. But, according to them, she was guilty by association.

Their rebuttal: So, your husband doesn't kill any Starfleet officers or Federation members? They all knew there were Maquis who weren't selective in whom they killed

Chakotay would never do that, no matter how deeply he renounced the Federation's stance on those colonists who gave up their citizenship and who were no longer guaranteed protection by the Federation..

That was her response to Admiral Nechayev who appeared to gloat every time Kathryn had been summoned to Headquarters to give account of Chakotay's activities. A week after Hannah's birth - she had been angry at the manner in which she had been called away from her newborn baby - she stood in Nechayev's office and defended her husband fiercely to the woman whom very few people connected to at Starfleet Headquarters.

Admiral Nechayev was a woman without cheer, without any desire to experience the joy of just being alive. She had had made it her life's mission to bring to book any Maquis traitor or sympathiser who betrayed the Federation. Chakotay was Nechayev's major thorn in the flesh. They sent bounty hunters after him, and searched the sectors for a lone vessel called the Liberty, captained by a man whom Nechayev firmly believed, deserved to be sentenced and executed.

"Make no mistake, Captain Janeway, we will get Captain Chakotay, and he will be sentenced."

Nechayev's voice dripped with bitterness. Only a few Maquis members had been caught so far, and Tom Paris was already in jail. Kathryn couldn't help feeling glad they couldn't find Chakotay. He knew all there was to know about evasive maneuvers, devised a few new creative ones of his own and there was not a parsec in the Alpha, Beta and Gamma Quadrants he didn't know. Her guess was that they'd probably hide out in nebulas that made detecting them impossible. She hoped - no, prayed - fervently that Chakotay was safe. She really had no idea where he was or what he was up to. He vowed to protect other innocents, but any details were a mystery to her. He had a vessel called the Liberty - information imparted to her by a bitter Nechayev - but that was all she knew. In truth, she knew as much as Nechayev probably. All she could build on, was the vow he made in his last letter to her. He wanted to fight for the freedom of those who had lost their homes, their homeworlds, and who had so little protection against the Federation as well as the Cardassians. The Nechayevs and Hayses were blind to the fact that the Maquis, however ignoble they were made to look by the Federation and the Cardassians, actually did help the Federation in fighting the enemy.

She was not blind herself to the fact that Chakotay, when he returned one day, would be apprehended and sent to jail.

She had given a sigh when Nechayev cornered her like that.

"Admiral, I am very well aware of the repercussions for my husband. It's not easy to ignore, is it?"

Kathryn had known how Nechayev had spawned old resentments and a few new ones against her so that it was impossible to walk past a high ranking official without the feeling of being watched with extra care or an air of suspicion that she knew where Chakotay was hiding. If it hadn't been for Admirals Ponsonby and Paris she would have gone back to Indiana and stayed there with her baby and never come out again. But she was not the hiding type; she faced the onslaughts and fielded them as best she could. Now, after almost five months of Chakotay's absence, the novelty of a Starfleet captain with a Maquis husband had died down a little. Most of the events the gossipmongers feasted on these days were the latest in what they called the Caldik Prime Scandals and the downfall of a promising young Starfleet officer. It hadn't been easy for Elizabeth and Owen Paris. Just as she has had to deal with scorn and pity from others because her husband was branded a traitor, so did Tom's parents bear their own cross. If only Tom would speak with them, Kathryn thought. It would mean a great deal to Elizabeth and Owen Paris. They hurt, though Owen Paris particularly, never showed how much Tom's rejection of him did.

Kathryn gave a deep sigh, allowed thoughts of her baby and her love for her missing husband suffuse her until she could become restful again. She had a long day and soaking in a tub would help her peace of mind a great deal more than thinking about Caldik Prime, or Eamon Daley's quietude, or Admiral Nechayev whom she had to face again, or Admiral Hays who kept prodding her about Chakotay's whereabouts.

**

Gretchen Janeway smiled to herself as she placed Hannah back in her crib in the nursery they installed at Indiana. The farm was not that big but the homestead had been in her family for generations. It was time Kathryn and Chakotay took over the running of Indiana. Phoebe had not wanted the responsibility of tending Indiana and her life with Rodea was fulfilling enough where they were based in Paris.

She had a sudden vision of being in her new home with the man she loved so much, even though he spoke like Mr Darcy sometimes. The man was just so...everything. Her life with Edward had been so different, with their daughters growing up. She had loved Edward fiercely, overlooked his absences from their daughters' lives especially their achievements and accepted the fact that near the end of their marriage there was only a gentle affection between them. Edward was a Starfleet Admiral on active service. Could she have grown to love him less because even subspace communications were not enough to nurture a relationship that needed above all, constant sustenance? Gretchen sighed. She had loved Edward; it wouldn't be fair to him, to his memory, to disclaim that now. Still, she had never felt so completely home as she did now, or so completely at peace with herself. She basked unashamedly in Adam's attention, but sometimes she just needed to establish herself as Gretchen Janeway who put up resistance against Adam for the sake of it. He already conquered her; he didn't have to know just how easy it was.

Their new home would be just outside San Francisco and she'd be able to take up her position again as a theoretical mathematician at the University. It wasn't that Adam had been jealous of Edward's memory; it was far from that. He simply wanted to do so many things for her. It was something she had to get used to. So she fought him all the way about the house, claiming she didn't want it, that she was happy at Indiana, in Indiana. How could he go to all those expenses? Then he came back at her about how Chakotay just about made himself bankrupt furnishing his home and converting one room into a nursery for baby Hannah.

"And he was never even certain that Kathryn wanted him back, love," Adam said with a kind of smirk that didn't sit well on his handsome 71-year old face.

"He felt guilty, Adam," she lied.

"Oh, no, love. Chakotay loves that woman. She is in his blood, did you not know?"

When Adam didn't contract his contractions, he was in his most pedantic romantic mood.

"That is not fair, Adam Ponsonby. You can not compare - "

"Do you not think, Gretchen Ponsonby - "

"Janeway - "

"- Janeway-Ponsonby - "

"That's better."

"Do you not think, Gretchen Janeway-Ponsonby," he conceded with a twinkle in his eyes, "that I could not love you less than Chakotay loves his Kathryn?"

Gretchen smiled again as she remembered his words. She loved to bait Adam, but he remained as even-tempered as ever, never losing his cool. She hated him for that. Really hated him. But he was right. She just had to accept that he loved her to distraction and would do anything for her.

The kitchen window provided a good view of the back garden where Adam had been pottering about all morning. She had let it go to seed and Adam found working there therapeutic, a way to retire from the major decision making and strategising at Headquarters that he and Owen Paris seemed to be in constantly. She smiled. She hadn't wanted a new house, but Adam had been gently conniving, the beast. Before she knew it, she agreed. She wasn't about to tell Kathryn that, although Kathryn blushed furiously when she said the admiral was a great lover and she'd not miss the sex for anything.

When Adam looked up and caught her gaze, he waved and smiled. He left what he was doing - last time she looked out, he had been planting tomato seeds for Kathryn, - wiped his hands on his apron and joined her in the kitchen. Gretchen's heart gave a lurch as she looked at his face and saw the unashamed affection in his eyes.

"So love, did you tell Kathryn?"

"What was I supposed to tell Kathryn, Adam Ponsonby?"

"We sent all the holo-images of Hannah and the family to Chakotay."

She couldn't tell Kathryn that Adam and Owen communicated with Chakotay, although she burned to impart that information to her daughter.

"No, I didn't. I wasn't supposed to, remember?"

"A Janeway who listens! I am all - "

"Don't you dare say it - "

" - astonishment."

"Yes, Mr Darcy."

Adam pulled Gretchen into his arms and kissed her. For a few moments it was quiet, and when the kiss ended, he held her away from him so that he could look at her. The dog appeared out of nowhere it seemed, though Gretchen remembered that she was outside in the garden with Adam. Ceara barked and Gretchen bent down to stroke the now fully grown dog. Ceara licked and panted and in the next moment, Gretchen shooed her outside again. It scurried towards the door, turned to look longingly at Adam and when Adam moved, Ceara was out the door in a second. Adam closed the kitchen door and returned to take Gretchen in his arms again.

"You have something on your mind, Adam."

"It's Kathryn's birthday soon," he stated, not looking surprised that she knew he had something on his mind.

"And, my love?" she asked, her voice muffled as she nuzzled her face against his chest.

"We have to think of something, Gretchen."

"We certainly do, Adam. But the way I know you, you have already thought of something," Gretchen said softly.

"Yes, Gretchen, my love."

"Good. I don't want to know what it is. Now, kiss me again, Adam Ponsonby."

"Yes, Gretchen."

***

The three vessels on the viewscreen approached at two thousand kilometres in ominous formation. A Romulan vessel was flanked by two Cardassian war ships. Tom Paris's fingers hovered over the conn panel; he could get the Romulan vessel, but strafing fire from the war birds already charred the outer hull of the Bavaria's portside. They were in trouble...

"Shields!" Commander Crean shouted.

"Down seventy percent, Sir!" it came from Ensign Daley at the Operations station. Her voice sounded high-pitched, scared.

"Mr Paris, evasive maneuver Omega 6!" Crean barked.

There was hushed silence as Tom hesitated. His hands stilled on the conn panels for a split second. He turned to look at Crean then faced the viewscreen again.

"Commander, with all due resp - "

"Mr Paris, this is no time for debate. Do it!"

He knew they were in trouble. Omega 6 was outdated. They would only tickle the war birds, move out of the way only about ten thousand kilometres. Where could they hide? What the hell was Commander Crean thinking? A variant of the Epileng Cross Maneuver would get them out of trouble. They were sitting ducks, but they could get out if they were prepared to sacrifice the Bavaria.

"Sir - "

"Do it, Paris!"

When the co-pilot looked pointedly at him, Tom sighed and entered the sequence, knowing in his heart that he was doing the wrong thing. The vessel rocked as phaser fire hit them starboard side.

"Shields down 80%!" Siobhan Daley said, the edge of fear still in her voice.

Tom's hands felt clammy; the rising nausea caused him the breathe with difficulty. He knew if he looked in a mirror, he'd see the perspiration on his forehead, the slight flaring of the nostrils. He always felt that whenever they were in a no-win situation. As another phaser blast hit the port bow of the Bavaria, Tom pulled hard to starboard, unseating some of the crew on the bridge. Commander Crean remained on his feet directly behind Tom.

"Dammit, Paris, you can do better than that. We're getting back-up, but right now we're to fight this battle as best we can!"

"Aye, Sir!" Tom responded, but he was angry. Why wasn't Crean more creative? Even with one against three, they could get out. What was the man thinking? Still, he kept his mouth. Crean was the Commanding officer; it was his call. Tom lined the battle cruiser in perfect position to fire a photon torpedo and destroy at least two vessels. They were so close that an explosion from one would hit the other vessel, as long as it was followed immediately by blasts from their phaser banks.

"Commander, there's a vessel aft, five thousand kilometres away. They're firing!"

"Damn!"

The Bavaria rocked, then careened as her secondary hull was hit. Tom pulled her into position again. At the same time a Federation vessel appeared and their momentary joy turned to agony as the Bavaria took heavy fire from the enemy vessels.

He wanted to tell Crean to explode the Bavaria and beam their crew to the USS Falkland. Commander Chakotay's Epileng Cross Maneuver in reverse. He and Freyne Detroit tried it out a dozen times in the holosuites of Caldik Prime... They could do it. Let the enemy think they've killed everyone on board.

Shut up, Paris, and do what Crean says...

Fire!

"Report!" Crean shouted as they were thrown to the floor. The hull platings started to buckle as air was sucked from the bridge.

"Commander! We have no life support!" Aren Hager shouted from Tactical.

"Shields down 90%, Sir!"

"Paris!"

"It's impossible, Sir! I can't get her stable. We're imploding. We must bail!"

"No! Damage report!"

Lieutenant Aren Hager's voice rose above the noise.

"We won't make it, Commander. Hull breaches on decks 4 to 20, life support down."

"Commander, if we can get the war bird on the left - "

"We're going down, Sir!" Paris shouted as the Bavaria careened one last time, limping through space. Tom was only aware of the Falkland opening fire on the three vessels. At least, they managed to fire three photon torpedoes... One last attempt as he tried to right the Bavaria...

"Paris, what the hell are you doing!"

"Saving our lives, Sir!"

Then all hell broke loose as several more blasts disabled the Bavaria. Before Tom could do anything to right the vessel, he prepared a last ditch attempt to prepare for emergency landing.

Emergency landing. As he entered the coordinates, his console broke up in a shower of sparks.

The next moment he wasn't aware of anything as they headed for the planet surface.

*

Tom opened his eyes sluggishly. Pain lanced his leg as he tried to move. He was lying on the floor, debris strewn about him. It was quiet, with only the dust created by the explosions, sifting about him. Pushing aside a piece of the bulkhead that landed on him, he tried to look around him and groaned. One or two crew were also rising groggily to their feet. In a daze Tom heard one them hail sickbay. The blue shimmer of the transporter beam was the only thing that appeared to have any form, though that too, vanished quickly as crew were transported to sick bay.

It was difficult to focus, the figures lying around him still a blur. Agonisingly slowly, the blurring receded and he tried to pull himself up on his conn chair. Grimacing, he realised they must have sustained a direct hit to the bridge. But he brought the cruiser down, didn't he? He entered the sequence for an emergency landing, didn't he? What did he press on the conn panel? Why were some of the crew lying so still?

With sickening dread he sank to the floor again and crawled in the direction of the operations station where Siobhan Daley had been standing. When he reached her where she was lying face down on the floor about two metres away from the Ops. station.

"Siobhan..." he cried out her name and touched her. Turning her over, he screamed. The left side of her face was gone. He felt his stomach heave.

"Oh, no..." he groaned as he turned and looked where Commander Crean was lying. How did he miss the Commander? He had been standing directly behind Tom. Now he could see only Crean's head under the weight of debris on him. There was no need to examine his life signs. Crean was dead. His wide-open eyes stared accusingly at Tom - dead, still-staring accusing eyes. Crean's mouth was open as if he were giving a final command.

By the time he heard other voices on the bridge, he knew that Aren Hager, the Security officer, was also dead.

"Dead..." Tom whimpered as he lay on his stomach.

Dead...

Dead...?

Then Crean, Hager and Siobhan Daley rose slowly to their feet. Their faces were white, the area round their eyes dark.

"Siobhan..." he cried out as she pointed a finger at him.

"Murderer."

"No, I - it was an accident. An Accident."

Crean pushed Siobhan and Hager away from him and cried in hoarse tones, "I told you to follow my orders!"

"Pilot error...pilot error..." Aren Hager uttered in flat tones, pointing a finger at him.

"No..."

Tom closed his eyes and willed their figures away from him. The bridge smelled of burning flesh, fresh blood, scorched hair. He realised absently it was his own hair that burned off his scalp. His leg looked lifeless and the pain, when it hit him, made him cry out. Then suddenly, Siobhan Daley's face changed. Another face superimposed on hers.

"Come on, Paris, you killed me..."

"Torres? Why are you here?"

"It's simple, Paris. There's nothing between us, so your conscience is clear if I died, right?"

"No! Torres, what's happening? How can you be here - ?"

"Murderer...murderer...murderer..." the voices of Daley, Crean and Hager echoed.

"Tell them I didn't mean it, Torres. Tell them! Tell them!"

"It's your call, Paris. Deal with it..."

"No...I can't. You should be alive. I wanted to take you skiing, remember?"

"No, Torres is no more. There's nothing between us..."

"Nothing..."

"Nothing..."

"No!"

****

Tom Paris salt bolt upright, gasping for breath. He felt a burn in his chest. The prison issue T-shirt he slept in was drenched in sweat. He touched his face, breathed heavily as he realised how clammy his skin was.

He had the dream again. The second one in two nights. This time B'Elanna was in the dream, though he couldn't fathom how she got there. He clasped the sides of his head in frustration as the voices started up again, banging insistently on his conscience.

"Go away..." he murmured softly as he looked distractedly around him. It was dark, but his eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness. He was sitting on his bunk in his cell. Dimly he could see the outline of the door.

Siobhan Daley's face flashed before him.

"Tom, did you know my brother is serving as First Officer on Captain Janeway's Crimond?"

"Daley, if I hear one more song of praise about your brother or Captain Janeway - "

"But Tom, you know Captain Janeway!" she exclaimed.

"Yeah. I also know the man in the moon."

"Come on, Paris. Don't be such a grouch early in the morning. We have to do some climbing, remember? You promised."

"Okay, Siobhan. I don't know why they assign the rookies to me," he complained, but smiled nonetheless at her. Siobhan Daley was still so young. Her face oozed youth and beauty and innocence.

"Thanks, Tom. Did I mention that you're the coolest officer on board?"

"Yeah..."

Siobhan Daley's face receded as the conversation ended. Tom shook his head. Siobhan was dead. Siobhan Daley and Commander Graham Crean and Lieutenant Aren Hager. Three officers dead and they took pleasure in visiting him in the dead of night. Tom rose from the bed and in the dark made his way to the small stand where he could take a drink of water. He gulped thirstily, then he sat down on his bunk again and sighed.

He remembered Kathryn Janeway when she brought him a letter from his mother a year ago. His mother had written that she missed him, that she wished he could come home more often when he was on leave. He had never bothered to reply, every time seeing his father's face whenever he thought of home.

Stern, uncompromising Owen Paris who looked at his only son with accusing eyes. Tom could never quite penetrate the steely glint in his father's eyes. He could never quite heal the breach that had been there since his late teens when he - Tom sighed again. Owen Paris didn't suffer fools; he never made mistakes, never showed any weakness, never ...never... What demands he made on himself, he made on his son.

He wanted the same from me... I couldn't be that, Dad...Didn't you know how difficult it always was to be called not Tom Paris, but Admiral Paris's son? I was always the son of an admiral, always the secondary part of a designation, never just me...me.

Tom beat his fist in the palm of his hand.

"Damn!" he swore softly.

After the accident he hadn't wanted to see them - his mother, his father, Kathryn Janeway, his best friend Freyne Detroit who was stationed with him at Caldik Prime, not even Deanna Troi who was on shore leave at the time.

"I don't need a counsellor," he spat angrily.

"Your mother thinks you do, Tom," Deanna replied coolly. "You're suffering from - "

"I don't care what I'm suffering from. Just...leave me alone, will you?"

He had not been on his best behaviour at the hearing. He was angry, angry that his bubbly new friend Siobhan died, angry that he followed orders which killed them, angry that the emergency landing sequence still left them dead when.. He sighed. Why did he lie to cover up something that was an accident? Why did he lie?.

He had been afraid. He was paralysed with shock, distraught that three officers died by his hand, he believed. They kept coming for him in his nightmares, taunting him. Most nights he stayed awake all night so that he didn't have to dream.

I'm a wreck.

"You screwed up, Tom..."

"Yeah, right."

****

Tom was lying on his stomach, his hand trailing the cold floor when his cell door chimed. Raising his head, he blinked as a shaft of light flooded in as the door opened and a guard entered.

"Come on, guys, it's Sunday. I'm allowed to sleep late," he mumbled as he pulled on his trousers over the boxers he slept in. The offending guard stood before him, his burly figure daring Tom to object. As Tom stepped back, his security anklet clanked against the metal leg of his bunk. Tom pursed his lips. He couldn't shower in peace...

"There's someone to see you, Paris," the guard barked, then turned to leave the cell again.

"Wait!"

The guard paused and turned to looked at him.

"Who is it?"

"Admiral and Mrs Paris."

Tom turned cold as his eyes remained fixed on the door.

"I...don't want to see them..." he said, the guard's footsteps down the corridor the only reply to his objection.

He didn't want to see them. He couldn't bear his mother's unhappiness or his father's shame. He didn't want to look in Owen Paris's eyes and be reminded he screwed up. He was a miserable ex-Starfleet officer turned traitor who couldn't, no matter how hard he tried, shake off his guilt.

I don't want you to see me like this, Mom....

A array of images paraded past him. He was eight years old again, standing with a replica of the Bounty, with his father looking sternly at him.

"You have work to do, Thomas. Why do you play with toys?"

"But, Daddy, I like the Bounty. I - "

"That's enough. Go to your room, Thomas."

Tom shook his head, feeling how his eyes burned behind his eyelids as he closed his eyes.

I had no childhood, Dad. You robbed me of it...

Look, Thomas, the Phoenix of Zephram Cochrane. One day, son, you will fly the Federation's greatest vessels...

He fought his father all the time growing up. What good was it that his father dreamed his dreams for him? He had his own dreams, why couldn't they let him dream on his own? Why couldn't Owen Paris accept that his son was just an ordinary boy?

Dad, there's something I want to tell you... I don't know how to tell you.

I screwed up, Dad.

He wanted to speak of the accident. He wanted to tell his father of the Maquis, why he joined. He had no principles; he piloted the Liberty for a fee. He wanted to pour his heart out and tell his father it was an accident on Caldik Prime. He wanted to tell his father he was a screw-up and wouldn't the old man mind taking back a screw-up miserable being of an only son and forgive him for not talking. It's a great divide to cross, he wanted to say. But didn't someone say:

"Let me lie down and be your bridge, so that you may cross over the divide and not fear that you will plunge into its depths..."

He had dreams other than tall ships and star ships. Dreams in which his father held his hand and said:

"Here, let me lift you on my shoulders, son."

Tom Paris stood in his cell, the cold of the floor unheeded as he struggled to move forward and through the door.

The guard said they were here, he thought, a wave of shame and guilt spreading through him.

"God, I'm suddenly nervous. All I have to do is say I don't want to see them."

He disgraced them. Owen Paris's eyes bore into him.

"You must take responsibility for all your actions, Thomas..."

Tom remembered the first time he heard those words. He had been five years old, and got a bloodied nose and black eye after fighting with Freyne Detroit.

Five years old. How could he? He had been a child, addressing issues in the way of a child. What did he know of accountability?

But those words trailed him, refused stubbornly to break away and instead became a part of his daily life. He disobeyed his father for the heck of it. Most of the time he could evade the hurt in his mother's eyes, ignore the disappointment in his father's by closing his heart. What did his father know of how all he wanted to be was just a normal boy who didn't give a damn that Daddy was an admiral?

Now, Tom, you're at the Academy now. I expect you to conduct yourself in a manner becoming the son of an admiral.

"Yeah, right."

Then, suddenly, unaccountably, he remembered Captain Janeway's words when she relayed a message to him from his mother.

"Did you know, Tom, that Commander Chakotay refused to see his father for fifteen years? He went to Dorvan V kicking and screaming, but when he saw his father, all Kolopak did was say: 'Welcome home, son...'"

Dorvan V had been destroyed by the Cardassians, all its inhabitants murdered, the women raped. He heard the news not long after it happened. Chakotay buried his parents and brothers and sister.

"All they want is for you to come home, Tom, no questions asked."

He had an instinctive feel then that they didn't put her up to saying that. It wasn't Kathryn Janeway's style.

He remembered the good days, days when his father smiled at him and explained about Zephram Cochrane. He remembered his mother's chocolate chip cookies. He remembered the many times he had seen Owen Paris's hesitant move of the hand - a gesture Tom knew, that meant he wanted to talk - and he ignored it and walked away.

He remembered the way Owen Paris's eyes became clouded and Tom knew that he hurt his father.

Tom Paris rose from his bunk and sighed.

"Admit it, Paris," he muttered to himself, "you miss the old man. So why don't you just get off your behind and go see him?"

I miss you, Mom...

Tom felt suddenly better than he had in months as he proceeded to shower and dress and even sang off-key as he combed his hair.

By the time he walked out of his cell to meet his parents, Tom Paris knew that he had just been liberated by a thing called hope.

****

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Author's note: The segment of Tom's dream of the accident at Caldik Prime was taken from my P/T story "A matter of Trust". I've always felt that sometime I would use that scenario again.