AN: I've searched the internet and come up with two possible locations for the brig. One suggestion is deck four, the other deck nine. I'm going with nine as four has Tom's quarters.

Stardate 52179.4

March 7th 2375.

Day 1

"Lieutenant Thomas Eugene Paris," Captain Kathryn Janeway attempted to hold in her anger as her hands sought the young mans collar. "I hereby reduce you to the rank of Ensign, and I sentence you to thirty days solitary confinement."

"I've got a better idea," Tom spat, his expression carefully school into neutrality. Yet, those ice blue eyes stared unseeingly over Janeway's shoulder, fury fuelling his stance. Taking off his jacket, he threw it on the floor. Reaching up to his collar, he removed the last gold pip and let it drop on top of his uniform.

"60 days," Janeway stated, incensed. Holding in her disappointment and resentment, the Captain hoped this would be an end to the show down. Tom had come too far to play these games. Yet something in his posture said his intentions weren't trivial. This was not the young man she'd taken from goal four years earlier. This was a man intent on proving a point, one that was an integral part of his character.

"Hell, why not make it a year," Tom goaded, glacial orbs meeting Janeway's, dangerous in their intensity.

Not saying anything, the Kathryn Janeway's expression told him to be very careful.

"You're a hypocrite, Captain," Tom stated with rancour. If possible his expression became harder, almost inscrutable.

"Mr. Paris," Janeway responded bitterly.

Before she could say more, Tom gave her a quelling look. "You may as well have killed me in that shuttle, at least it would have been quick and painless. You're going to torture me this way."

"That's enough," Janeway's rage came to boiling point.

"Really," answered the man just as acrimoniously. "How many times have you gone against Starfleet protocol? Who checks your behaviour? You say passion alone doesn't give a person the right to take matters into their own hands. How many times has Voyager done just that because of a promise to get us home? As to starting a war, how many enemies will the Federation face in this quadrant when they finally get here because of us? How many cultures consider us hostile before we even manage first contact?"

"I won't explain decisions," Janeway was enraged.

"No, you never do," Tom responded, his own tone dripping with sarcasm. "Nor do you have to, without superiors to answer too. May I suggest you make crewman Grimes the next Chief Navigator. Baytart's flying plagues Voyager's propulsion's systems and unless you examine the logs very carefully, Engineering will never tell you. And the first time you come across the Vidiian's or some other race you've managed to right royally piss off, well, I wish you luck."

"That's enough, Mr. Paris," Janeway had reached her limit. "You are neither indispensable or irreplaceable."

"Why don't you save us all the time and effort," shaking his head, the anger sudden dissipated, "and drop me off on the next M class planet. Or better still, throw me out the airlock. Oh, that would be murder and I'd only be confined to quarters and rehabilitated."

"At this moment in time," Janeway spat, "I'm considering doing just that, after you've spent your time in the brig thinking about your future."

"What future?" Turning, Tom headed for the door. The security detail on either side went to grab his arms. "I know the way," he hissed, shaking them off.

"I haven't dismissed you, Mr. Paris," Janeway declared.

"I believe you got my resignation, Captain. That being the case," he saluted and continued towards the ready room door, "I don't have to take your orders anymore."

Taking in a deep breath, she signalled for the officers to escort with the prisoner.

Tom looked forward as he marched from the turbolift, through the corridors of deck nine. Finding the hallway that lead to the stern of the starship, he waited for the door to open. Stepping inside, he took off his com badge, placing it on the Brig Officers station before stepping into the cell that would be his new home. Without looking back, he lay on the uncomfortable bench that doubled as bed.

In a fit of rage, Tom Paris stood. Removing the grey Starfleet undershirt which left him in a white cotton singlet. Next he shucked his shoes, leaving his very unprofessional cartoon sock. Finally, he took off the offensive uniform trousers, displaying his white with red polka dot boxers. It was a strange combination that under other circumstances would be laughable.

I'm going to freeze, he thought spitefully, picking up the clothing and throwing it at the force field. As expected, it disintegrated instantaneously. Nothing like being denied a blanket because the environmental controls are supposed to set themselves to my body temperature.

The crewman left to observe the prisoner noted the behaviour with a secret smile. Whatever his personal opinion of Paris's conduct, he still had a job to do. From the rumours already doing the rounds, it would pay to keep out of the Captain's way for a while.

Four days passed, in which Captain Janeway felt the crew's displeasure at her decision to demote her helmsman increasing by the hour. Straightening her spine, she continued at usual. At the Senior staff meetings, B'Elanna ensured the empty seat remained to her right, as if taunting the Captain. The chief engineer answered any questions but didn't offer more than was necessary to fulfil her obligations as Chief Engineer. Harry looked a little less in awe and more than a slightly unhappy. For the first time he seemed to be having issues with Starfleet protocols. Even Chakotay expressed his disapproval in subtle ways.

"In the Maquis, we learnt early on," he whispered while on the bridge yesterday, "not to put Paris in the brig on Liberty. In the end, we confined him to quarters when he came back from shore leave drunk. Eventually we stopped giving him a roommate and he seemed to drink less."

With that conversation still fresh in her mind, Janeway requested, "Tuvok, a moment of your time," as the senior staff filed out of the room.

"I believe you wish to speak of the current ships moral, Captain," Tuvok predicted.

"Yes," Janeway nodded, intrigued at what her long time colleague had uncovered.

"It would be impossible to keep Mr. Paris's punishment for his disobedience from the crew," Tuvok stated dispassionately. That very tone gave away so much to the Captain. "Nor your reaction. Firing on the Delta Flyer is a matter of public record. To say they are not happy would be an understatement. Many remember the acts of kindness and heroism Mr. Paris has accomplished without regard for his personal safety or reputation to ensure Voyager and her crew's continued prosperity."

"You too Tuvok?" Kathryn questioned, falling into her seat. Although the words were delivered in his usual monotone, there was something in the syntax that bespoke disappointment.

"The punishment is in accordance with Starfleet protocol," Tuvok answered. "However, as Captain, you have given lesser penalties for greater crimes."

The Captain's only answer was a very Vulcan eyebrow arch.

"I believe reading the Brig Logs would be of great insight," the Security Officer suggested. "I am currently compiling a report should you wish to wait."

After dismissing her friend, Kathryn Janeway sat down to flick through the last few days of the recommended log. What she read startled her. In fact, if the ships complement knew about this, it was little wonder they were giving her a wide birth.

Brig Log: Day One

1206: Mr. Paris was escorted to the Brig, turned in his com badge, entered his cell without incident and lay down.

1209: Mr. Paris stood, striped to his underwear and disintegrated his uniform using the force shield.

1210: Mr. Paris lay on the bench, eyes closed as if sleeping.

1300: Mr. Neelix entered with Lunch. Mr. Paris ignored the meal.

1400: Security entered the cell to removed the untouched meal.

1432: Mr. Paris has changed position and is now curled in a foetal position facing the wall.

1700: Mr. Paris has not moved. Security entered cell to ensure prisoners wellbeing.

1730: Shift change.

1830: Mr. Neelix entered the cell to deliver evening meal.

1900: Security entered the cell to removed untouched meal.

2110: Mr. Paris is twitching and he is making soft whimpering sounds in his sleep. Vitals are elevated. EMH contacted. Ordered to continue monitoring vital signs hourly and contact sickbay should the situation change.

2243: Mr. Paris's body temperature 35.2. EMH contacted. Blanket provided. Environmental ordered to increase temperature in cell when covering ignored.

0213: Mr. Paris fell to the floor, waking with a frightened expression and shivering. Blood pressure elevated. EMH contacted, stating "another nightmare, I suppose." EMH attended to medicate Mr. Paris. Mr. Paris returned to laying on the bench without the blanket and eye closed.

0530: Shift change.

0715: Breakfast delivered. Mr. Paris remains laying on bench.

0800: Breakfast removed untouched.

0900: Mr. Paris has not consumed liquid since entering his cell. Blood pressure is low. EMH contacted. Vital signs monitoring to remain at hourly.

Day 2

1302: Lunch delivered, tray removed untouched. Mr. Paris continues to lay without moving.

1730: Shift change. Mr. Paris has moved into the foetal facing the wall.

1829: Evening meal delivered and removed untouched.

2116: Mr. Paris is experiencing another nightmare. EMH contacted, attended and gave sedative and hydration. Ordered to commence sleep, food and fluid log for prisoner.

2341: Mr. Paris fell off the bench during a nightmare. EMH contacted, attended, further medication administered. Prisoner appears to be sleeping peacefully.

0222: Mr. Paris sat bolt upright, staring at a point on the wall, shivered and collapse back on the bench. EMH contacted, attended, no further medication administered.

0530: Shift change.

0623: Lt Torres attempted to enter the brig. Stated the EMH had contacted her concerned for the prisoner's welfare. Prisoner remains ignorant of visitor.

0707: Breakfast delivered and ignored. Mr. Paris has not moved from the foetal position facing the wall.

Day 3

1420: Lunch delivered and ignored.

1730: Shift change.

1913: Evening meal delivered and ignored. Officer concerned for Mr. Paris's physical and mental welfare. Prisoner appears pale and disheveled. He had not shaved or showered. Hygiene facility log show last use more than 24 hours ago. Blood pressure increasing. Prisoner has not moved for several hours. Note behavioural pattern forming.

2356: Mr. Paris is experiencing another nightmare. Word are distinguishable as "No, please, no." And "I promise I'll be good." Officers concern for prisoner's wellbeing had increased. Vitals beyond limits set by EMH. EMH contacted, attended and medication given. Noted: EMH is considering transferring Mr. Paris to sickbay should this pattern continue.

0530: Shift change. Oncoming officer seconds opinion that incarceration is effecting Mr. Paris physically and mentally. Observations increased to half hourly. Any aberration to be reported to the EMH immediately.

0743: Breakfast delivered and ignored.

0746: Vital signs have entered concerning levels. EMH contacted, unable to attend at this time. New parameters given, for site to site transfer if vital signs do not improve.

Day 4.

1225: Lunch delivered, ignored.

By this point, which was only an hour in the past, Captain Kathryn Janeway was beginning to get the picture. Tom was refusing to eat or drink. It seemed he'd suffered from nightmares, and given his history, she be a fool not to see the obvious connections. Together, they were truly making Mr. Paris ill enough for the EMH to consider admitting the infuriating pilot to sickbay.

"Why?" Janeway fumed. "Why is Tom doing this to himself?"

Before she could formulate and answer, the Doctor requested her presence in Sickbay. It didn't take a genius to work out the correlation. Still, she didn't need to rush, it wasn't as though Tom's condition was life threatening. And, the truth be told, she was still mad as hell at him and more than a little angry he'd put her in this situation.

I though you were over these childish tantrums, Janeway sighed, understanding she'd have to get to sickbay sooner rather than later.

"Where is he," B'Elanna stormed into sickbay. Looking around, she didn't need the Doctor to indicate the surgical bay. Spotting Tom curled up and whimpering, her heart broke. She'd seen this before, usually when he'd put himself in danger to unsuccessfully save another or after a particularly stressful day when everything went wrong.

"I see the Voyager grape vine is working at lightening speed," the EMH stated sarcastically, not making a move to stop the infuriated half Klingon.

"You promised me you'd take care of him," B'Elanna felt torn. Ignoring the doctor, she opted to rush to Tom's side. Placing one hand on his brow and brushing back his sweat soaked blond hair, the other cured around his fingers. They were ice cold. "You knew what locking him up in that cell would do. Kathless, we've come to you enough times in the middle of the night. I thought we were almost over this, especially after my own bout of depression."

"Mr. Paris is suffering dehydration. I'm correcting his fluid and electrolyte levels as we speak," the long suffering EMH sighed.

"What about the damage to his mind," B'Elanna asked in a deadly tone. "At least tell me how long has been going on," she demanded. When the EMH couldn't meet her eye, she knew. "From the first night, I'll bet."

"What the hell are you doing here, Lt. Torres," the Captain entered sickbay to see her engineer leaning over her lover and arguing with the doctor. "The prisoner is in solitary confinement. I suggest you remove yourself before I place you on report."

B'Elanna answered with a snarl, before turning her attention back to Tom. His whimpering had changed to a strangled cry. "I'm here, huku," she soothed in a tone reminiscent of a mother comforting a child.

Yet the pilot responded to her soft voice. The keening stopped and his eyes seemed to focus on the woman before him. "B'Elanna?" Tom asked hopefully. "Make them stop, I don't want to be put back in the box."

"I'm not going to leave you, I promise," she consoled. "I won't let them do anything to you, Tom. Go back to sleep, you're safe. No one's going to hurt you while your with me."

Discretion being the better part of valour, the Doctor directed the Captain towards his office. She'd already seen too much not to be intrigued and possibly forming her own conclusion. For her part, Kathryn Janeway refused to budge. The expression on her face incredulous, she knew something was going on and she needed to understand it.

"Does Mr. Paris suffer with these nightmares often?" The Captain asked, her tone soft but confused.

Snorting, B'Elanna offered belligerently, "no thanks to you."

"B'Elanna," Janeway used the right amount of rebuke and concern.

"Tom experienced them almost every night when we first got together," she stated harshly. "If you want anymore details, you'll have to ask Lt. Paris. It's his story to tell."

"I have been treating Mr. Paris for night terrors since my activation on Voyager," the Doctor stated. "I'm afraid patient-doctor confidentiality stops me discussing this matter further, Captain. However, under the current circumstances, I will be keeping Mr. Paris in sickbay for the next 24 hours. Lt. Torres is of great comfort in these situations and I am including her presence as part of my medical therapy."

"I see," Janeway stated sarcastically. "I want an update tomorrow with a plan to continue the prisoners sentence without further incident."

Sighing, the EMH shook his holographic head. "It's up to you, Lieutenant. If you can get Mr. Paris to eat and drink, and promise to look after himself, I'll do my best to have him confined to quarters for the duration of his sentence."

"That's not going to solve this," she glared.

"I know, but it's the best I can do for the moment," the Doctor sighed. "Let's take this one step at a time. First lets get Mr. Paris to his quarters. When that doesn't solved his issues, I can order a nightly visit by Lt. Torres as a sure fire cure."

Nodding, B'Elanna turned her attention back to the now peacefully slumbering man. Nothing short of a warp core breach would move her from Tom's side until she was ordered away. Lt. Torres knew the nightmares of his abusive childhood and treatment in Auckland would surface once again. Underneath that arrogant exterior was a man who was slowly learning to live with being a survivor and not a victim.

Thirty days later, Tom emerged from his quarters. His anger still at boiling point, he'd agreed to continue as chief pilot on Voyager, however not as a Starfleet Officer. Wearing his uniform, he left two holes were the gold pips had once sat at his collar. On the bridge he was polite to the captain, answering her with "Aye, Captain," and never "Yes, Ma'am," in that cheeky tone he'd once used. His respect had gone out the window, not for the punishment per se, but what he knew it would do to his psyche. If it hadn't been for B'Elanna, well, he'd be back at square one, again.

Janeway felt the insult. It was magnified one evening as she returned from engineering. B'Elanna's behaviour was no better than Tom's. Cordially polite and precisely Starfleet in execution but without a hint of friendliness. The Captain couldn't fault either one as they made it plain they no longer respecter her as anything other than their commanding officer.

As Kathryn stopped in the hallway to consider what to do about two of her senior officers, she heard something that made her blood boil. If the likes of Harry Kim became distant, then few of the crew could be unaffected. It seemed this hole episode had caused the crew to polarise in their opinions as the conversation occurring proved.

"Lt. Paris," Janeway heard one of the crewmen offer. Unable to see what occurred, her mind observed the moment.

"Nwaus," Tom would have nodded his head and offered a wide smile. They'd stopped in the middle of the corridor as the foot steps ceased. "I heard you were seeing Helen D'arey in cartography? Finally got the courage up to ask her out?"

"Yes," the young man stuttered.

"If you need somewhere special to take Helen for a date, try my new carnaval holoprogram. I made it especially for a romantic evening," the humour in the words were implied in the tone.

"Thank's Lieutenant, I will," the crewman chortled.

"Nwaus," Tom reminded, "I'm a civilian now. You don't have to stand on ceremony with me."

"Sure, Lieutenant," came the good natured reply. "Anything you say, Sir."

Unsure why she suddenly felt so empty, Janeway went to her quarters. It seemed her crew still considered Mr. Paris as he was before his resignation. Changing into civilian clothing, she requested if the Sardine's program was running. Making her way to Holodeck two, the Captain ordered a drink and took a seat in a dark corner. Not easily seen, a group of crewmen and women entered and occupied the table within hearing distance. She'd hoped for a little perspective. What she got was a conversation she didn't need.

"I don't know why the Captain did it," Eddies offered after a few synthol's. "The guy's not saint, that's for sure but he'd proved himself, time and again."

"Remember when he was accused of murder," Dancen responded. The others agreed with nods and sounds of acknowledgment.

"Even Lt. Tuvok didn't think he was guilty," Ptwas added. "Did anyone see what he went through for a crime he didn't commit." Silence reigned for a short while. "I felt sorry for him. I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy but he seemed to recover."

"Then there was the time he rescued Commander Chakotay from the Ocampa world, even though they had a history," Dancen stated. "The commander made sure both Maquis and Starfleet were warned away from making his life any more difficult."

"It's been a long time since we considered this anything but a single crew, plain and simple," another crew woman offered. "I know the Captain gave him a second chance. So why didn't she give him the benefit of the doubt this time?"

"Remember when she set him up to fail with that whole Seska thing," Eddies spat. "She nearly got rid of him that time."

"I remember, he started to act up, and then left Voyager because he didn't fit in anymore. It was all a ruse so she could expose a spy. We all thought his reputation well earned," Zachary recalled, "until that show Neelix started. I kind of felt bad."

"Can't imagine what he would have gone through," shivered Eddies. "Can you imagine being ordered to lie to everyone, including your closest friends. He just completed that trans warp project with Kim and Torres in the hope of getting us home. Then he changed into that, well whatever it was. The Captain didn't bust him sassing Commander Chakotay or for abducting her which is a worse crime in my opinion. But that's just want I mean. Is there anyone of us that isn't affected by Paris's generous nature. Heck, he programmed this bar, most of his Holostories are available to anyone who wants to use them."

"He's always got a smile and joke, although some of them are pretty lame," Smith spoke for the firs time. "And he save the entire crew when we were trapped on Hanon almost single handedly."

"On the bright side, he's saved Lt. Torres more times than I care to count. I guess that's why she loved him so much. Tell me, how would we get home with out the Chief Engineer," Ptwas shook it's head. "The Lieutenant might shout a lot, but she knows her warp core and its not that bad working in Engineering."

Unable to listen to any more, Janeway stood and skirted the edge of the room. The crew gave her much to think about. Still, her punishment had met the crime, even if Mr. Paris ended up serving only four days in the brig, another three in sickbay and the rest confined to quarters.

With B'Elanna sleeping beside him every night. It seems Tom's past is very bit as dark as Lt. Torres. They've both suffered trauma leading to depression. Hell, Janeway confessed, haven't we all out here in the middle of nowhere. The question is can he overcome it. Can we overcome it and get back to some kind of normal. The way things are now, I don't know if I could ever count on half my crew in Mr. Paris decided to leave.

Luckily, Captain Janeway never had to learn the answer to that question. Six months later, using Borg technology they made it back to the Delta quadrant. The Dominion war in it's final stages, every person on Voyager was pressed into service. Tom Paris never took up his commission, but he accompanied his new wife to Allentown, one of the newest classes capable of hosting married couples. Within a year, B'Elanna was promoted and her engineering skill recognised by more than the three captains she'd serviced under. The Paris's settled on Earth, Tom writing Holosuite programs and B'Elanna heading Transwarp Research and Development for the Federation. Two of their four children entered Starfleet, but Janeway was never invited to know them.

"Lt. Miral Paris reporting for duty, Admiral," the young part Klingon announced a little over twenty five years later.

Determined no to make the same mistake twice, Admiral Kathryn Janeway offered, "its good to have you on staff, Lieutenant. Commander Satter will give you your assignment."