Enmity Mine

Tom was still pacing, not bothering to count his steps, simply unable
to sit still any longer. It had been hours since the last meal; he
guessed it was almost time for dinner. More barely edible stew, he
supposed, made from some kind of tuber which that Neelix fellow
had given them.

The outer door to the brig opened, and Tom looked over expectantly.
His stomach dropped down to his feet. Oh fuck. Chakotay. His
heart started hammering in his chest. Chakotay hadn't come to see
him once yet; he'd ordered Tom taken into custody as soon as the
Maquis had seized the ship. Maybe he'd decided to kill him, finally.
Tom noted the phaser on Chakotay's belt, and felt his knees go a
little bit weak. He hadn't included getting shot as one of his options.
Chakotay wouldn't shoot him in cold blood, would he? Christ,
maybe he would.

He forced a calm mask on his face. Shit, even if he was going to
die, there was no way in hell he was going to let Chakotay have the
satisfaction of seeing how scared he was. No fucking way.

Chakotay walked up to cell, gazed at him pensively for a few
minutes. Tom grew quickly uncomfortable with the scrutiny, and
with the silence, but for once in his life, he had no idea what to say.

Finally, Chakotay spoke. "How are you?"

Tom stared at him stupidly for a minute. "How *am* I? How do
you *think* I am?"

Chakotay ignored the sarcasm. "Are you all right?"

Tom gave up. This was beyond him. "I'm fine. What do you want,
'Captain'?"

Chakotay's face hardened. "I'm trying to figure out what to do with
you."

"Having difficulty making up your mind?"

"You could say that."

"I should have let you die down there."

"Maybe you should have. Why didn't you?"

"I'm too soft-hearted. Besides, I wanted the satisfaction of punching
you later. Unfortunately, I never got the chance."

"No."

"Is that why you haven't killed me yet? Because I saved your life?"

"Yes."

"Are you still deciding whether or not to kill me?"

"Yes." Chakotay's face was impassive.

Tom felt suddenly sick to his stomach, but he controlled his face.
"Lots of people urging you to do it?"

"Some."

"Yeah, I guess no one here would care if you did." He was trying to
sound flippant, but heard the tremor in his voice and cursed it.

"Harry Kim would care. He asked me to not to kill you."

Tom smiled briefly in spite of himself. "Figures. How is Harry?"

"He's pretty upset at how things turned out."

"This was his first mission. Fresh out of the Academy. Be gentle
with him, o.k., Chakotay? He's just a kid."

Chakotay nodded. "He's tougher than you think. He'll be fine." He
looked at Tom, speculatively. "He thinks I should let you out of the
brig, and let you join the crew."

Tom snorted. "I'd be dead in a week."

"If you lived even that long."

"You don't want to keep me locked up in here for 70 years, though."

"Not really."

"Tough problem."

"Yes. Got any ideas?"

"You could drop me off on a planet somewhere."

Chakotay looked at him thoughtfully. "You'd never make it back to
the Alpha Quadrant. You'd never get home."

Tom shrugged. "It's better than being dead." He looked Chakotay
squarely in the eyes for a second before the older man tore his
glance away, uncomfortable. Tom laughed bitterly. "You don't
want to do that either. I get off too easy that way? The Maquis want
me punished."

Chakotay admitted it. "Yes."

"Shit."

"The easiest thing would be to kill you."

"Not easy for me."

"No, I suppose not."

Tom stared at him, saw the indecision in Chakotay's eyes, and
nodded slowly. "You can't stand this. You don't want to kill me,
because I saved your life. Sorry, Big Man. Sometimes life just sucks
that way. The hard decisions are *hard*."

Chakotay turned away, hands clenched into fists. "I don't even
know why I came down here."

"To gloat. Admit it, Chakotay, you get a kick out of knowing I'm
stuck in here, that I live or die based on your word."

"I'm not enjoying this."

"Bullshit."

"I'm *not*. Seska's telling me to kill you and get it over with
already. Some of the other Maquis would rather have you executed
publicly, and Harry Kim is in my office every day begging me to
spare your life, reminding me how you saved mine. Believe it or
not, Paris, this isn't how I like to spend my days."

Tom snorted. "Am I supposed to feel sorry for you now?"

"No," Chakotay said, suddenly exhausted. "I'm leaving." He turned
for the door.

"Wait." Tom's voice was quiet.

"What is it?" Chakotay turned around slowly, half afraid that Tom
was going to plead for his life. Gods, no, as if this wasn't bad
enough already. When he was facing the cell, though, Tom was
sitting on the bed, looking at him with nothing but resignation
written on his face.

"Chakotay, I'm not going to beg you ... I mean, that life-debt thing,
it's crap, I know that, but ... I'm going crazy in here, alone like this.
You're the only one who's talked to me since I was locked up." He
shook his head, once, slowly. "Could you let Harry come in, once in
a while? Or at least give me something to read. Something. I can't
take this any more."

Chakotay knew that if it had been Seska standing here, she'd have
turned and walked out without bothering to reply. Of course, if it
had been Seska, Tom wouldn't have bothered to ask. Chakotay was
almost tempted to leave, let Paris sit here and rot, who cares if he
was bored, but he looked at Tom's face, saw the silent pleading
there, and came to a quick decision. "I'll send Kim down with some
padds for you. You'll be monitored while he's here."

Tom nodded. "I know." He swallowed heavily, closed his eyes, and
forced the words out. "Thank you."

Chakotay looked at him measuringly. "Don't thank me. I still
might decide to kill you."

"I know that, too."

Chakotay took one last look, turned back for the door, and left the
brig.

+++++

A week later, Chakotay was no closer to a decision than he had
been. Seska was in his quarters again, still pressing him to make an
alliance with the Kazon.

"I told you already," Chakotay said, beginning to lose his patience,
"I'm not willing to do that. I don't trust them."

"They're powerful, Chakotay," Seska said. "We need friends like
that."

"They enslaved the Ocampans," he answered back. "They use fear
to intimidate. I don't want those kind of friends."

Seska blew out air angrily. "Fine. You're going to regret it,
Chakotay."

"Maybe I will."

She rounded the table, sat on the edge near him. "What are you
going to do about the crew?"

"What about the crew?" Chakotay asked, lost.

"They're getting restless. The Starfleet crew don't respect your
command, and the Maquis think you've gone soft. I've heard it from
more than one person. You're going to have to do something to re-
establish your authority, Chakotay. Something to convince them
that *you* are the captain of this ship."

"What do you suggest?"

"Kill Tom Paris." Chakotay opened his mouth to protest, but Seska
silenced him. "The longer you let him sit in the brig, the more the
Maquis distrust your motives. He sold us out to Starfleet,
Chakotay."

"And you think he deserves to die for that?"

"Yes. I'm not the only one."

Chakotay looked at her carefully. "You've changed, Seska. Since
we got out here, you're different. Harder."

"I'm adapting," she said, shrugging. "You need to adapt, too. Too
many people are depending on you to get them home. You can't do
that if the crew doesn't respect your authority." She reached into his
desk, handed him a phaser. "Do it, Chakotay. It's the only way."

Chakotay stared at the phaser for a long time. The only way... the
only way to consolidate his authority, to show that he was firmly in
command, and, not the least, to punish the man for his treason ...
one life weighed against the lives of many ... Slowly, woodenly, he
reached out to her and took the weapon, then stood up. "Let's go."

+++++

Harry was there, again. Tom had told him, a few days ago, that
these visits were the only thing keeping him sane, and Harry had
looked at him very seriously, and promised to come every day, for 70
years, if that's what it took.

Sweet. Harry was really sweet. Tom had never met anyone like
that, not anyone in Starfleet, at any rate. But then again, Harry
wasn't in Starfleet any more. None of them were. Actually, Tom
was the only one on the ship left in a Starfleet uniform. He was
pretty sure Chakotay made him wear it so anyone who saw him
would be reminded of his treachery. Not that anyone came to see
him, except Harry. And tonight, Harry had brought someone else.

Tom remembered B'Elanna Torres from the Ocampan caves, but he
hadn't exchanged more than a few words with her. Harry, on the
other hand, had spent a lot of time with her, before they were
rescued. Now he'd latched onto her much the same way he'd first
latched onto Tom. A friendly face. He talked about her constantly,
B'Elanna this, B'Elanna that. Finally, Tom had told him to shut up
and bring her, already. He'd been joking. Why would a Maquis
crewmember, especially one who was close to Chakotay, want to
come see him?

But she'd come, maybe just because Harry had asked her, or maybe
because she was curious. She'd been silent so far, only nodding
cordially when Harry had officially introduced them. Tom was
uncomfortable with her there; it made him feel like a specimen
under glass, so he wasn't doing much talking either. Harry kept up
the conversation, talking about the day's events. He was still at Ops,
the only former Starfleet member Chakotay allowed on the bridge.

Harry was rambling on about the problems they were having trying
to reroute power from the holodeck for use by other systems, when
Chakotay and Seska walked in. Tom saw Chakotay's stony
expression and got cold all over. Oh shit. He closed his eyes, took a
deep breath. Don't let him see it, flyboy. Don't let him see that
you're afraid.

Chakotay came close to the cell, fixed Tom with an unwavering
gaze. "Harry. B'Elanna," he said softly. "Leave."

Harry took one look at Chakotay, saw the intractable expression on
his face, saw the phaser at his side, and paled. "Captain, you're not
going to --"

"I'm going to do what I have to do, Mr. Kim," Chakotay said, flatly,
never breaking contact with Tom's eyes.

"You *can't*!" Harry said, desperately. "Please, sir, you can't do
this."

Chakotay turned to face him, eyes cold. "Are you presuming to tell
me what I can and can not do?"

"No, sir," Harry said, backing off slightly from Chakotay's furious
glare.

"Good. I was afraid you were under the mistaken impression that
this was a democracy. You're not in Starfleet anymore, Mr. Kim.
Keep that in mind in the future. Now leave."

"But sir," Harry said, his voice pleading.

"B'Elanna, will you please escort Mr. Kim out of the brig?"

B'Elanna stood still for a minute. "Chakotay, are you sure about
this?"

Chakotay took a deep breath. Even B'Elanna was questioning his
decisions, in front of a Starfleet officer, no less. Seska was right.
He had to establish his authority, for once and for all, make it clear
that he was in charge. "B'Elanna, that was an order. Get out, and
take Harry with you."

B'Elanna stiffened angrily, before muttering, "Yes, *sir*." With only
a second's sympathetic look at Tom, she took Harry by the arm and
led him slowly from the room.

"Mr. Paris," Chakotay said.

Tom took a deep breath, willing his voice not to shake. "Made up
your mind, I guess."

"Yes. I'm sorry." Chakotay unhooked his phaser from his belt.
"Seska, deactivate the forcefield."

Tom closed his eyes briefly, fighting back the frightened tears that
were threatening to spring to his eyes. Don't show him, flyboy.
Keep it together for a few more minutes. He took another deep
breath, straightened his back. Hell, if he hadn't been able to live like
a Paris, at least he'd be able to die like one. Hold your head up,
Tom, he heard his father whispering. Stand tall. He lifted his head
defiantly and opened his eyes.

The soft buzz of the forcefield deactivating sent a chill down his
spine. Oh shit. This was really it. His heart was pounding so hard,
he could barely hear over its noisy rhythm. Breathing was an effort.

Chakotay stood outside the cell, phaser poised. "Come out of there,"
he said, gesturing with the phaser. Tom hesitated for only an
instant, then took a few cautious steps out of the cell, into the main
room. Chakotay watched him. He looked calm, damn it. How
could he be so calm? Chakotay had been afraid the younger man
would break down, beg and plead for his life, but Tom hadn't uttered
a word. He wasn't even pleading with his eyes. Spirits, with death
mere seconds away, he was still standing proudly, back straight,
facing forward. Chakotay had always assumed Paris was weak, that
being an admiral's son had made him soft, but he was being forced
to revise his opinion. The man wasn't even afraid of dying ...

Then he took a closer look, saw Tom's chest heaving, breaths
coming too rapidly, saw Tom's hands clenched tightly at his sides,
saw the fear unsuccessfully hidden in his eyes. He *was* afraid, just
too proud to beg for his life. Not from Chakotay.

Chakotay was feeling a little dizzy. It's now or never, he told
himself. Go ahead and do it. You're not making it any easier on
him by waiting.

Tom saw Chakotay's grip tighten on his phaser, and felt his stomach
lurch. Please, he prayed, don't throw up before it happens. Go out
with some dignity. His eyes kept threatening to close, and a scream
was waiting at the back of his throat. He forced it down, looked
straight at Chakotay and whispered, "Don't miss."

The comment made Chakotay pause. Paris always had to get in the
last word. Chakotay didn't understand him at all. Gods, how could
he go through with this, the man had saved his life... an offhand
remark Paris had made the week before flashed through his mind
and jogged his curiosity, gave him a reason to wait. He relaxed his
arm muscles slightly. "Why did you want to punch me?"

"What?" Tom looked like he was about to be sick.

"You said you saved my life so you could punch me."

"Chakotay," Tom said, voice barely above a whisper, "if you're
trying to give me a few more miserable minutes of life, I'd rather you
didn't. Just get it over with." The anticipation was agony; his heart
had never pounded so fiercely, his stomach had never been twisted
so tightly. He was afraid he was going to collapse, or vomit, or start
screaming, and that's not how he wanted to die. Oh gods. He
didn't want to die at all.

Chakotay closed his eyes briefly. "Humor me. Why did you want to
punch me?"

Tom was breathing heavily. "I can't believe you're ... why do you
care? It doesn't matter anymore. You've got the ship, you've
*won*."

"Tell me, Paris. Please. A last request."

"I'm the one that's supposed to get the last request," Tom said, trying
to joke. Gods, he was going to faint if he had to stare down the
barrel of that phaser too much longer. He forced his mind to
concentrate. "I wanted to punch you for sending me to prison."

Chakotay was stunned. "What are you talking about? I didn't send
you to prison, Paris. You got caught."

"Of course I got caught. You sent me into a trap."

"That's ridiculous."

"They were waiting for us. Three starships. We never had a
chance. Didn't you know?"

"No."

They stared at each other for a few seconds, then Chakotay said
softly, "You thought it was my fault. That's why you came after
me."

Tom nodded, once. "That was part of it. Prison was ... pretty lousy,
Chakotay. I'd have done anything to get out of there. Getting back
at you was just icing on the cake."

Another few tense seconds passed, then Chakotay lowered the
phaser. "Get back in the cell," he said, with no emotion in his voice.

Tom stared at him, blankly. His brain was still sluggish. I can't take
this again, he thought. Next time he comes back for me, I'll be
screaming. "If you're sparing me now just to come back and kill me
later, you're not doing me any favors."

"I'm not going to kill you. Get back in the cell."

"Chakotay!" Seska said furiously. "What the hell are you doing?"

Tom didn't move. He watched Chakotay turn slowly to Seska, fire
in his eyes. "I am not going to kill him," Chakotay said deliberately,
clearly enunciating each word.

"Why not?" she spat out. "You don't believe that fairy story about a
trap, do you? He sold you out to Starfleet, Chakotay, don't you
remember? We discussed this. You have to kill him."

Chakotay's face froze, and Seska's eyes widened. She took a step
backwards. "Don't ever forget I am the captain of this ship,"
Chakotay said, softly. "I do not take orders from you. You take
orders from me." Seska nodded once, almost meekly. Chakotay
continued, oblivious. "I am not going to kill Tom Paris, now, or
ever. He saved my life, he owns it. So long as I'm alive, he is not to
be harmed. Do you understand that?" At Seska's nod, Chakotay
said, "Good. See that the rest of the crew understands it as well.
Paris, get back into the cell."

Numbly, Tom stepped back into the cell, remaining on his feet while
Chakotay reactivated the forcefield and left with Seska, without
saying another word. As soon as the doors had shut behind them,
Tom's legs gave out and he collapsed heavily onto the bed. His
whole body was shaking. Shit shit shit, he thought to himself. Shit.
Shit. Shit. He stayed there for hours, huddled on the bed, arms
wrapped around himself to contain the trembling that he was
powerless to stop.