In the Arms of Family
Story by Janet and Christina
Written by Janet, Christina, Cybermum, Diane, Julie,Mary, Penny, and Rocky
Compiled by Janet
"Enter."
"Hi, there, Honey," Tal Celes said as she walked into the quarters Angelo Tessoni shared with James Morrow. "I thought you were going to meet me in the Mess Hall."
Angelo sat up from his bunk and stretched. "Sorry. I fell asleep. Must be all that *hesperat* somebody fed me for lunch."
"Now, you said you liked them." Celes sat down next to him.
"Oh, I do. I just should have stopped after the first dozen. They're heavy little suckers when you eat as many as I did."
"Oh, poor dear, let me rub your tummy and make it all better," Celes crooned.
He quickly grabbed her hand. "Oh, no, you don't! As full as my stomach feels, that's the last thing I need. Come back in a couple of hours, okay?"
She wrinkled her nose in the way that had charmed him from the first day he laid eyes upon her. "Wasn't the parade nice, Angelo? All the music, and everyone cheering as we led the procession down the street to the reviewing stand?"
"You Bajorans put on a nice show. A lot better than I have any right to expect on Earth."
"Angelo, please, I'm sure it's going to be all right."
Suddenly feeling like a boiler about to explode, Angelo jumped to his feet. He began to pace, but it didn't make him feel any better thanks to the heaviness of his belly - he really had gulped down way too many of the spicy Bajoran dumplings.
"I wish I could agree with you, Celes, but it's not going to be like that on Earth. I hope it is for the original Voyager crew, and the Maquis, too. But the five of us...no, we don't have any chance of being forgiven."
"Janeway hasn't said anything yet..."
"That's exactly right. She hasn't said anything, because they haven't told her she could, and that's because they're going to throw the book at us. And I can't say I'd blame them if they did."
"Angel!"
"Tarnished angel, maybe." He stopped his restless pacing and leaned against the bulkhead next to the doorway, his back towards his fiancée. She deserved someone better than him, and he knew it, but he'd never had the guts to cut it off in the beginning, when he should have. He'd been weak from being revived from the *dead*, for pity's sake - he'd told himself over and over that was the reason he ever let it get started. Of course, he knew the real reason was that he'd fallen in love with her long before that fateful mission to the damaged "derelict" vessel, loaded with refugee children and their caretakers, which had been fleeing from the Borg.
He felt her body leaning against his back. His resolve to break it off with her withered away again, just as it had every other time he'd tried it. Too late - way too late - even if her family probably wanted them apart, too.
When he turned to face her she fell into his arms, just as she always did. "Angelo, it's going to be all right. I just know it. The Prophets know you're a good person, with a warm heart. You've done things you wish you hadn't - who can't say that? I know I can't!"
"You haven't committed murder - not that I know of, anyway."
"Anyone who serves on a starship shares responsibility for any deaths caused by weapons on that vessel," she pointed out.
"Not quite the same thing as capturing innocent aliens and using their bodies for fuel," he replied dryly.
"Angelo, you were *under orders* of your captain and first officer..."
"C'mon, Celes. That defense never works. We're supposed to be ethical folks, us Starfleet types. We're supposed to obey our superior's orders without thinking - except when they're unethical, in which case we can refuse to obey."
"Right. At the risk of a captain's mast in which he can hand out a life sentence in the brig or exile you on a planet on the other side of the galaxy. All perfectly legitimate, official sanctions," she said savagely. "Oh, but, then you *do* have the right of appeal. And who, by the Celestial Temple, were you supposed to appeal to out there? Were you supposed to ring up Starfleet Command on your combadge and say, 'Oh, sirs, oh sirs...Captain Ransome is giving us unethical orders, and we need you to make him stop?' Let's be honest here. You had NO CHOICE but to follow those orders."
"When we ran into Voyager we could have said something to Janeway. We kept our mouths shut, but it wasn't only because we were ordered to. We were ashamed because we knew what happened shouldn't have.
"By the Prophets, Celes, I can't tell you how often I wished I'd been one of the ones that got killed when the Caretaker first pulled us into the Delta Quadrant. They were the lucky ones. No black mark next to their names..."
She hugged him desperately. "Please, Angelo! Don't talk like that. You frighten me."
He leaned his head upon hers and stood silently for several moments, gathering his thoughts and his courage. Finally, he related, in a deadly serious, quiet voice, "I can't even begin to explain how horrible it was, right from the beginning. I know Voyager didn't have it easy, but for us...I really don't know how we survived long enough to find out those poor alien beings could help get us home quicker, let alone meet up with Voyager. I walked around Equinox, trying my best to do my duty, in a fog of fatigue and depression every day. Never a day off; we didn't have a big enough crew for that. Our EMH was happy to shove 'mood elevators' and antidepressants down our throats to keep us going after good ol' Max 'adjusted' his ethical subroutines."
Angelo looked down into his lover's eyes. "The only good thing about being one of the survivors was meeting you. I got a chance to know you. I bless you for your patience with me, my ever faithful, 'Celes-tial' Celes. I'm grateful for every day I've spent with you."
"And there will be many, many more days together, I promise you," she said fiercely.
He broke eye contact with her, breathed deeply, and then met her eyes again. "Maybe. Maybe not. Celes, if they throw the book at us, it would be exactly what we deserve. I may be given that exile you spoke of, except on Earth. You know, I talked to Paris about New Zealand one day a while ago. From what he said, life imprisonment there wouldn't be that terrible..."
"No! It's not fair! You weren't the captain, or the first officer, or any sort of officer at all! You had no power to do anything else! And I don't think for a moment that Noah or Marla deserve to be punished like that, either, even if they were officers. What else could they do?" She broke down. Angelo found himself leading her to his bed to sit down, drying her tears and comforting her the best he could.
"Look Celes, I know your family doesn't know the details, but they've figured out there's a cloud over me and the rest of the Equinox people. There are lots of rumors out there. People have heard about Noah's demotion, even if they don't seem to realize that Marla lost her rank, too, but was reinstated. Your parents and sisters have made it clear they don't care for me. Maybe it would be better to..."
"You stop that, Angelo Tessoni! I'm not giving you up now, not after all we've been through. We'll just have to face up to whatever else they're going to throw at us. If you get life imprisonment, then I'll spend the rest of my life on Earth, or wherever else they send you."
"But your Starfleet career..."
"My Starfleet career is *over,* Angelo. I was never cut out for Starfleet. I joined up ten years ago because my prospects on Bajor were so bad. I can't say I'm sorry. Ever since Captain Janeway took me in hand I've been a decent crewman. I learned a lot about myself out in the Delta Quadrant, and I've got plenty of self-confidence now. I've learned a lot about engineering and maintenance systems - enough to earn my own way once I've resigned from Starfleet. And that's going to happen after Voyager returns to Earth, no matter what happens to you."
"Why don't you just accept the offer of asylum on Bajor from the government and stay here, with your own people?"
"No, I'm going to see this through. For the first time in my life, I'm going to see the end of something I started. But Angelo, why don't you take up the offer? I'll be back in a few months, I bet, maybe even weeks. You could wait for me here."
"Oh, sure. I could bunk with your parents. 'Hi there. I'm your soon-to-be son-in-law, just a little bit tainted by being one of those murderers from the Equinox. Mind if I stay with you?' That would go over great."
Celes couldn't help herself, she had to laugh. And, laughter being contagious, Angelo ended up laughing, too, at the absurdity of the situation and at the irony of finding the woman of his dreams when he didn't know if he had a future to offer her.
Finally, he fell back on the pillows and caught his breath - and Celes, too, when she fell down on top of him.
As soon as he caught her, she said, "Oh, I'm sorry, Angelo. Did I hurt your stomach?"
"No. It doesn't feel so bad now."
She turned on her side and cuddled up beside him. "So, I guess you will be going back to Earth on Voyager, then."
"I will."
"And you're going to accept whatever punishment they might want to dish out - no matter how much you've been punished already?"
"Yes, I am, Celes. I've got to do it for the same reason you're going to Earth. I've got to see it through to the end. I owe that to Captain Janeway and Chakotay and everyone else, for all they've done for me...for the five of us, ever since we became part of Voyager's crew."
"Okay," she whispered. "And if they decide *not* to imprison you? If they decide you've been punished enough? What will you do then?"
"My Starfleet career is over, no matter what. Just like you said. I couldn't stay in. I could never look my cousin Giovanna in the eye again if I did...it's going to be hard enough as it is, let me tell you. She's a captain now, I found out. The last thing she needs is someone like me turning up on her doorstep."
"So, after it's all over - and it will be all over someday - should we come back to Bajor?"
"If the offer to settle down here still holds - after they've found out the truth about what happened on the Equinox - yeah. I'd like to come back."
"You still want to build some houses?"
He smiled. "Yeah. I'd like to build something up instead of tearing it apart. Maybe I'll even volunteer time helping to rebuild homes for people who lost everything in the war, in the DMZ. Chakotay's sister is part of a group that's trying to reclaim Dorvan. I wouldn't mind helping them build some houses." He turned his head away from her. "Maybe then I could look in the mirror again, look at myself, and see the decent man I thought I was instead of the bastard I turned into on the Equinox."
Celes raised herself onto her elbow. Pinching his chin lightly, she pulled his face so it faced hers. "Look into my eyes, Angelo. You'll see yourself reflected in them. You don't need a mirror to see yourself as a decent man. I know your heart, Angelo Tessoni. You may not be perfect - nobody is. But you're a good man."
"You're sure about that?" he said offhandedly, although he hoped he could feel it was true someday.
"Hey, are you saying I have such bad taste I could love someone who had the heart of a pah-wraith?"
"Oh, never, my love! Never!"
He leaned towards her and kissed her, gently at first, then more passionately as she responded to him. He put his arms around her and held her close, embracing her love as she embraced his.
If you have your family who loves you, and you walk in good faith with the Prophets, Celes had always told him, you can face anything. Whatever he could do to make reparations for the mistakes he'd made, Angelo Tessoni was prepared to do. Hopefully, that was what "walking in good faith with the Prophets" meant.
Angelo did not know what the future might hold for him, but at least he was sure he wouldn't be facing it alone.
Tom nodded toward the bar and laughed. "So, why do you think our favorite press agent looks so glum today?"
Chakotay shrugged. "Perhaps someone told the press about when you slugged me?"
Tom grinned. "Poor Jonas, too bad no one ever figured out why he did it. He had every reason to hate the Cardassians."
"Seska was good..."
"Hey, old man," Tom grinned as he used his wife's terms of affection for the Commander, "I don't want to hear about *that*."
Chakotay groaned, then spoke to Craig, "Good morning, Commander Craig."
Commander Craig looked up from his glass. "Commander, lieutenant."
"Is there a problem?" Chakotay asked.
"A problem? Hell, there is a problem." Craig tossed a PADD to Chakotay, who nearly dropped it." Craig stood. "Did you know that the Romulan ale industry was nearly destroyed by our brewer's yeast? Good day."
Tom stared at the departing form of Craig. "Brewer's yeast? Did I miss something? What's gotten him so upset?"
Chakotay showed him the PADD. "The Risian Ribald?" Tom asked. "It sounds like a bad pleasure palace."
"Worse..." Chakotay chortled. "Pon Farr inflamed Vulcan fights hotshot pilot for favors of the passionate and beautiful Maquis Princess..."
"WHAT!?" Tom shouted, grabbling the PADD from out of Chakotay's hand and quickly scanning down the open page. He alternately grimaced and groaned, but finally he admitted ruefully, "You know, they have pretty good sources. They *almost* got it right, but B'Elanna's not going to be too happy finding out I was the one who 'beat the Pon Farr out of the Vulcan.' And when she finds out who made her a 'princess'...Well, I'm glad it wasn't me." Ignoring Chakotay's impatient tapping on his shoulder, Tom tabbed down to skim a few more articles before saying, "Ah. Now here's an interesting one. 'Starfleet Captain and Maquis Warrior and Their Deadly Secret Love Nest on Planet X.' We always did wonder about that."
Chakotay tugged the PADD away from Tom and read for a second. "I think I understand now why Craig is in such a bad mood. This is complete rubbish - there's even a quote from me that I know I never even thought, let alone said! Everyone will think this is the truth when it's so far from it that..." He forced the PADD back into Tom's hands.
"Excuse me," a voice said. Both men turned around.
"He's some Ferengi reporter from the Daily Business Journal or something like that," Tom whispered.
"My name is Nunk, and I'm with the Fereginar Journal of Weekly Business News," the Ferengi said.
"Well, I was close." Tom grasped the PADD tighter in his hand.
"Why don't you ask *him* how they found out about deadly secret planets," Chakotay said as he quickly stalked towards the door, taking time only to wave at several of the crew who were approaching Tom.
Tom turned away from the Ferengi reporter and leaned close enough to Hugh Murphy to whisper, "Have you read this?"
"The Risian Ribald? Yeah. I've just glanced at the headlines, but that's why Tal here is so upset."
"Commander Craig isn't too pleased," Tom said.
"I bet he isn't," Tal Celes said angrily. "Did you read page six?"
Tom scrolled through the journal quickly to the sixth page. "Science Vessel and Their Bloody Hell from ..." He gasped, unable to read further. "Hugh, has Harry seen this? Or Marla or Noah?"
Hugh shrugged. "I don't know," Tal said. "Don't they realize who these people are? Angelo..." She walked away.
Tom swore under his breath in frustration. "I'd better warn them, and all the others. Reporters! Damn them all anyway."
"Do you wish to claim a final *nay'mey*?" the waiter roared.
Alicia would have been mortified if any of the other diners had turned around to look at them, but in the Qapla', service at a high decibel level was a given. No one even noticed.
"Yes, I do. B'Elanna, are you sure you don't have time for dessert?" Alicia inquired.
"No, I really can't. I gave my word to Joe I'd get back to Engineering by 2100 to take over for him. He promised to take Anne and the boys onto the Promenade one more time tonight to get some souvenirs. I really have to get going."
"I'm pretty full. That *boqrat chej Qevlu'pu'bogh* was really filling. I have room for a *raktajino* though."
"Good. You've had more than enough *IwHIq* already," Alicia reproved.
"Mom! I'm a big boy now. And I'm not piloting tonight!" Turning to his wife, Tom asked, "Are you sure you don't have time for *qa'vIn* or *Dargh*?"
"Oh, all right. I'll have some *qa'vIn*. With a shot of prune juice."
"Excellent choice! And you?" Davulth, their *jabwI'*, shouted to Alicia.
"I'll try the *naHlet yuch chanDoq*. I don't think you can go wrong putting chocolate and nuts together - it's always good. And I'll have some *Dargh* with lemon. Oh, wait, make that with *na'ran*. It's so much better that way. Icheb? Would you like something?"
"*vIychorgh na'ran* on ice, with a bowl of *naHletmey*," Icheb stated firmly.
"In the shell, or out?" Davulth sneered, showing teeth which appeared sharp enough to crush any number of nuts, in or out of the shell.
"In the *yub*," Icheb replied.
Tom nodded his approval, murmuring, "Great accent, Icheb."
"Excellent." The server turned and yelled out their order to the cook, who repeated it, vigorously, to confirm the orders. It was bad form, Alicia had learned, for a server to fail to memorize an order and write it down instead, but the consequences for claiming what was brought to the table were in error frequently were so severe, it was better to eat what was brought you, no matter what it might smell or taste like, than ask for the mistake to be corrected.
After the food and drink order had been accepted by everyone, the *jabwI'* disappeared inside the corridor built of synthrock which led to the kitchen. The back wall of the restaurant was decorated with a multitude of wicked looking daggers, swords, and weapons from various worlds. Every one had been carefully polished and honed to an edge so sharp it almost disappeared when seen straight on. Weapons from Earth included a medieval battleaxe, a Roman trident, and an Arabian scimitar, but the most numerous and prominently displayed blades were of Klingon origin.
Tom had admired a *bat'leth* and *Daqtagh* the first night the family had eaten at the Qapla', which had led to the offer from their server Davulth for a little combat the next morning. The Klingon restaurant's tables were arranged in two concentric circles around a large central area which served as a stage or arena for all sorts of events. Before lunchtime - and sometimes after - the restaurant doubled as a Klingon martial arts academy. The clash of weapons simply added to the ambiance of torches, flickering in a smoky atmosphere, casting shadows against craggy rock walls, with ruddy mood lighting designed to resemble the glow of fire pits.
When B'Elanna had entered the Qapla' for the first time, she'd commented, "It's a cave. What a surprise," in such a world-weary voice that Alicia suspected there must be quite a story connected with the remark. And if she hadn't suspected it, the sparkle in Tom's eyes as he added, "Perfect, isn't it?" would have clued her in immediately. From the expression on *Tom's* face, the story was probably courtship related.
Alicia was resigned to the likelihood she would never find out what that reference to a cave was all about. Courtship stories were seldom shared with mothers, Alicia had found.
This evening, the Paris family group dining at the Qapla' was reduced by one. When they ate at the Klingon restaurant on the second night after Alicia had gotten to Deep Space Nine, little Miral was with them. Tonight the Doctor and his friends Haley and Leonard were babysitting on the holodeck. Alicia had met Haley - a most charming hologram - but she had yet to be introduced to Leonard. When she'd asked her son to tell her a little about him, Tom had said only, "He's short." Since Leonard was also traveling back to Earth on Voyager, Alicia expected she would eventually learn exactly what Tom meant by that cryptic description.
When Davulth, the *jabwI'*, returned with their coffee, tea, raktajino, and fruit juice, he told them Alicia's and Icheb's desserts would take a few more minutes. "No problem." Tom replied. "We can settle the bill now. You can stay as long as you want, Mom. Okay with you, Icheb?"
"Acceptab... yes. That will be okay."
"Good!" Davulth said, as Tom made arrangements for the credit transfer. He slipped away as quietly as a man as huge as he was could and came back bearing a tray with the two desserts - a massive concoction of chocolate and a pecan-like nut, pungent with the fruity marinade the dish had been soaked in; and a second plate heaped with various kinds of nuts in the shell. Both desserts were crowned by a cup made from a hollowed-out *na'ran* rind, filled with a flaming, oil-soaked husk of some sort. "Klingon dessert flambeau," as Tom dubbed them. With a flourish, the waiter set the fiery dishes in front of Icheb and Alicia for all to admire.
"Delicious," Alicia said. "I mean, *DuQ Soj*. Is that right, Tom?"