We took a shuttle from Starfleet head quarters. It felt like old times as I navigated us out of orbit and into space, while Kathryn checked the control panel to my right. As Jupiter came into sight, I adjusted our course until we were headed toward the busy Station that was dwarfed by the huge gas giant planet it orbited. It was a spectacular sight. As we neared the Station I could see that my Starship was already docked there. No doubt my crew would begin to arrive in the next few hours.

"Which way to the Prison?" I asked once we'd docked the shuttle.

"This way," Janeway pointed.

"Let's go."

We strode through the busy corridors side by side. Officers and civilians made way for us respectfully. It may have been 0200 hours, but Jupiter Station was in full swing 24/7. Finally we arrived at the Prison facility. "I just hope visiting hours don't apply," I pointed out.

"Don't worry," Janeway assured. "I'm an admiral, remember? I'll get you clearance." She strode up to the security guard. "The Captain and I are here to speak with one of the prisoners. His name is Elliot Lloyd."

"Yes, Admiral Janeway," he nodded. "Wait here."

The guard disappeared and we waited. I tapped my fingers impatiently on the counter, wondering what exactly I was going to say to this man.

"Probably has to wake him up," Janeway commented. "I hope he won't be too annoyed about it."

"I couldn't care less," I said a little harshly. "He's in prison, for god's sake. It's not like he needs his beauty sleep!"

Kathryn gave me a look of disapproval. I knew she thought I was acting impulsively, that my suspicions were unfounded.

The guard reappeared. "This way," he directed.

I took a deep breath and followed. We were led to a room containing a table in the centre. A man sat lazily at one end. The guard signalled for us to take the two seats at the other side. "The forcefield runs through the middle of the room, though the centre of the table, separating you from the prisoner," he informed us. "Let me know if you need anything." With that he left us.

I focussed my attention on the prisoner facing us. He was leaning back in his chair, dressed in his rumpled grey prison garb, tapping his foot impatiently. His sandy blonde hair was tousled and his face weathered and unshaven. He peered at us through sharp hazel eyes while drawing on, of all things, a cigarette. It was like a scene out of a bad cop movie. I took an instant dislike to the man.

"Put out the cigarette," I told him.

He grinned. "What's it to you, Captain? The forcefield won't let the smoke through. You don't need to worry about your precious lungs."

He blew a stream of smoke and we watched the forcefield glitter as the particles were deflected.

"It's a disgusting habit," I pointed out.

He raised his eyebrows. "Then you'll be pleased to know I only smoke when I'm disgusted with myself." He took another sharp draw as if to intentionally annoy me.

"What are you disgusted about?"

"What do you think? Look were I am!" he held up his hands. "Again!"

"So you regret your crimes?"

He chuckled. "No Captain, I do not regret my crimes. Not this time. I just regret being caught, that's all." He grinned ruefully, putting out his cigarette stub against the tabletop. "So what brings the two of you here? It's not everyday I'm honoured with a visit from a Starfleet Captain, let alone an Admiral as well. Last time I spoke with an admiral was…" He gazed past us, remembering. "Fuck," he swore under his breath and turned morose. "What do you want from me?"

"We simply want to ask you a few questions." Janeway told him almost pleasantly.

"Fire away, Admiral. I've got nothing to hide." He leaned back in his chair, placing his hands behind his head.

It was an arrogant gesture and it irritated me. I narrowed my eyes. Could I believe anything this man said? I doubted it. I cleared my throat. "I understand you have spent some time on Turellia. Did you have much contact with the Starfleet Rescue Squads stationed there?"

"I run… correction, ran… a cargo ship, transporting goods in and out of Turellia. I know that system better than anyone, Captain. I helped the Rescue Squads during evacuations, delivering food and medical supplies – when they'd let me."

"You helped them? Let me guess, for a fee?" If he was trying to win me over with his good deeds, I was unimpressed.

"Of course, Captain. I run a business, not a charity," he smirked.

"So you didn't get on well with the officers?"

"Oh, I got on all right with some of them. Thankfully not all officers have the superiority complex you seem to have, Captain."

I gritted my teeth. "What else did you transport besides food and medical supplies? Tobacco, I take it? What contraband items caused you to end up here? Illegal drugs?"

"No! Captain, haven't you even read my case file?"

"No," I had to admit. I had been in too much of a rush to read the whole document.

He leaned towards me and admitted. "The only illegal thing I transported, Captain, was myself."

"I don't understand," I cringed.

"Humans are no longer allowed into Turellia," the man explained. "But I decided to continue to operate my business anyway, delivering supplies to some of the more remote areas that the rescue squads can't reach. But… on my last trip… there was a fever outbreak in the area. I had to call in the Starfleet Squad with their medical personnel. They arrested me on the spot. I don't regret what I did. Those people would not have got any help otherwise. I just wish I'd realised what petty bastards Starfleet officers can be, and gotten out of there before they clapped me in the irons."

"Those regulations were made for your own safety," Janeway pointed out, "to prevent humans contracting the Turellian Fever. It's a debilitating disease for our species."

Elliot shrugged. "Are you saying Starfleet is trying to protect me, Admiral? I never asked for their protection. Why should I leave, just because Starfleet is in a panic about losing a few of their precious officers? I've been working on Turellia for years and I've never got sick. Maybe I'm immune."

"That's what we all thought initially – that humans were immune," Janeway explained. We were wrong."

"Look Admiral," he argued, "I've never put anyone in danger, except myself. Don't I have the right to risk my own life, if I choose?"

"So you're not a smuggler?" I interjected. "You… don't deal in any illegal goods?"

Elliot turned to me with a scowl. "I told you I didn't. What do you want? Proof?"

"I don't trust you," I said through gritted teeth.

Elliot laughed out loud. "Good for you Captain! I don't recommend it. Times I don't even trust myself."

I frowned. As well as irritation, I had been feeling a niggling sense of déjà vu since laying eyes on Elliot Lloyd. This man reminded me of someone I'd met before, but I couldn't place who it was. Janeway sent me a knowing look.

"What?" Elliot asked, catching our glance. "What?"

"Who does he remind me of?" I whispered to Janeway.

She grinned, assuming the question was rhetorical.

"His words, his manner, his arrogant attitude," I continued, "they all remind me of someone. I can't quite put my finger on it, but it's as if we've met before. Elliot reminds me so much of…" It was doing my head in that I couldn't place this feeling.

"…Tom Paris," Janeway helped me out. "The old Tom Paris. I'm reminded of that man I first met as a prisoner at Auckland Penal Colony."

I was dumbfounded. "You're right Kathryn!" I practically laughed. "That's it. He reminds me of Tom Paris, the arrogant pilot I signed up to the Maquis! First time we met. That was such a long time ago. So much for first impressions. I hardly think of him as the same man."

"What the fuck do you know about Paris?" Elliot interrupted. I looked over to see his face suddenly turn pale.

"Elliot," Janeway spoke calmly. "Let us introduce ourselves properly. My name is Kathryn Janeway. This is Captain Chakotay. We served with Tom Paris on the USS Voyager. I'm also a good friend of Admiral Owen Paris, Tom's father."

"Admiral Paris? That's the admiral I spoke with the night that Tom… Oh shit! You don't think I had something to do with that?" He rose to him feet. "Is that why you thought I dealt in drugs? The doctors thought he must have overdosed. You think I was responsible? Is this an inquest? Into Tom's death? Look I had nothing to do with…okay, so I guess I wasn't always the best influence on him, I know his wife wanted me out of the picture… but I was his friend. You have to believe me!"

"I believe you, Elliot," Janeway reassured. "Please sit down. This is not an inquest."

"It's not?"

"Of course not. Tom Paris isn't dead." I told him.

"What?"

"It wasn't an overdose at all. He had contracted Turellian Fever. It was one of the first human cases. He was very ill for a long time."

"I never heard from him again… I just assumed… maybe we weren't such good friends…" Elliot sank to his seat in shock.

"Don't think that," Janeway consoled Elliot. "I've heard him speak highly of you. But he's going through a tough time..."

"How is he now?" Elliot seemed genuinely concerned.

Janeway filled him in. "He was doing well but… I'm afraid he's just had a relapse."

"When?"

"Earlier tonight. He's being treated and his condition has stabilised, but his recovery… it will take some time. We still don't have a cure."

"Fuck." I watched Elliot as he took all this in. "But… but he's alive! I can't believe… I had no idea." I saw the alternating emotions cross his face now that his defensive mask had fallen away. Maybe if we had never been stranded in the Delta quadrant, if Tom had never had that opportunity to return to Starfleet, to redeem himself, he may have ended up more like this man, today. Maybe that was why they had become friends. Maybe Tom had seen himself in this man, as Kathryn and I did. And maybe he understood him better than we could.

"You came out here just to tell me this?" Elliot asked.

"My starship is docked here. I'm heading out in a couple of hours. Thought I'd come out early and interrogate you. Anything beats waiting around in a hospital," I shrugged and Elliot nodded in sympathy. "…Also Tom mentioned you."

"He did? What did he say?"

"He mentioned you helping him during an evacuation. And he wanted someone to contact you and fill you in. I promised I would - although I don't think he knew what he was saying at the time. He was delirious."

"But, let me guess, you're a man of your word?" Elliot grinned. Was he mocking me? I wasn't sure.

"I try to be." I was tight-lipped.

Elliot nodded respectfully. "It's a shame you have to leave, Captain. I have a lot of questions I'd like to ask."

"Likewise. How soon do you get out?"

Elliot shrugged. He sighed deeply, running his fingers through his hair. "I don't know… days, weeks… depends how soon I can organise bail. Then I'll have to figure out how to pay my way out to the Turellian Border, where my ship is being held and deal with all the god-awful red tape. Once I have my ship back I'll be right as rain."

I quickly considered the situation. There wasn't a lot of time to make my decision. I hit my comm. badge. "Captain Chakotay to Prison Security."

"On my way." The guard took only seconds to appear.

"Get this man his things," I instructed. "I'm bailing him out." I saw the look of surprise on Janeway's face.

The guard nodded and left.

"I'm heading out past the Turellian Border on my mission," I explained to Kathryn. "I can give Elliot passage on my ship, and drop him off on the way. It's easy enough. Afterall he is Tom's friend."

The guard returned quickly, deactivating the forcefield to hand Elliot a pile of things – his clothes, boots, and a phaser. I walked to the computer console to key in my access codes.

I understood that Janeway was surprised by my decision, but it was Elliot who approached me to ask, "Are you sure you want to do this, Captain?"

"No, I'm not sure," I warned him. "So don't make me regret it."

"Yes, Sir." He mimicked a Starfleet officer's tone of respect.

This was going to be interesting, I thought as I keyed in my code and finalised the bail.