TIMELINE: This story takes place between Coda and Blood Fever in Season Three. It contains spoilers for both these episodes, as well as Resolutions and Unity.

HOPE

by Yeats Kurzweil

A long, quiet, unruffled glide through the Delta Quadrant: for weeks on end, no worries, little to endanger Voyager, enough planets for supply, all systems in good working order. Very routine.

One might even say boring, thought Kathryn Janeway, and then immediately after, Have you become such an adrenaline junkie?

The problem wasn't a constant need for risk and action, Kathryn told herself. She just preferred to keep busy, her thoughts focused and directed towards problem-solving. Given too much lassitude, her mind drifted too close to unresolvable issues. And Kathryn liked being in control.

Certain aspects of her life didn't fit any pattern of control or order. In fact, certain aspects of her life verged on . . . chaos. Intellectually, Kathryn knew nature often thrived on chaos, but that was slim comfort. Her eyes glanced quickly sideways at Chakotay standing at Ops looking over the results of a routine diagnostic of Voyager's systems. Chaos came in many forms. Some of them very appealing. But chaos, nonetheless.

The first time she had seen Chakotay had in fact been the very definition of chaos. He had been angry and defiant, transported onto the bridge just ahead of the explosion of his ship. And yet in that tumbling furor she had noticed--of all the crazy things!--his hands. Long, slender, strong hands which looked as if they also had a great capacity for gentleness. Such an irrational thing--chaotic, even--to base part of her trust on, but those hands made it somehow easier for her to decide to work with him. Of course, it helped even more that he had saved Voyager at the cost of his own ship. An honorable man with beautiful hands--and she believed then they could make their crazy alliance work.

Kathryn noticed his hands again now, moving over the Ops console, so emblematic of the man: lean, graceful, gentle, strong. Once she'd noticed his hands, she couldn't help noticing the rest.

Be honest with yourself, Kathryn--he registered like a shock to your system from the very beginning.

Yes, of course. How could she not be aware of how attractive he was, how he moved through her life like a sleek cougar--beautiful, silent, inside himself and his own thoughts--and that he pulled at something inside her beyond logic, duty, even loyalty?

She pushed that thought down and away, looking resolutely at the PADD lying on her lap. Recommendations for Promotion and Reassignment. One of their older ensigns, Marcia Teague, was due for lieutenant j.g. rank. Her performance had been commendable and she'd certainly put in the requisite time in present rank. In fact, she'd been in present rank much longer then she might have under other circumstances. The problem was, she served in Engineering, and that would give them far too many LJGs in that section. Kathryn would have to reassess those assignments, decide who could go elsewhere while still being able to use their talents and training. She'd consult with B'Elanna at her first opportunity.

One thing was certain: Marcia deserved this promotion--she knew it and everyone else did. Kathryn didn't want her discouraged just because circumstances were unusual and there were no other Federation assignments for her to transfer to. This crew needed acknowledgment and encouragement even more then those who served in the Alpha Quadrant. If disappointed too often, eventually they lost hope.

Hope. It always came down to that, didn't it? They were frozen without it, defeated. And Kathryn hated admitting defeat.

And what of your own hopes, Kathryn?

She resisted the urge to look again at Chakotay. It was a closed option. As good a man as he was, as attractive--someone who in other circumstances she could quite easily . . . what? It didn't matter. Kathryn was not in a position to act on her attraction, here, in this place and time, back aboard Voyager.

She forced herself to look again at the PADD. But it was useless. Her mind kept pushing into places she didn't want it to go.

Like a celebratory holodeck sail she'd taken with Chakotay on Lake George. She leaned back and stopped fighting it, remembering the moonlight, champagne chilling in a bucket of ice--the real stuff, not synthehol--purchased with precious rations. They had guided the small boat out to deep water, laughing together as they worked the sails.

Chakotay wore a white windbreaker over a white sweater; a beautiful contrast to his dark skin. Kathryn thought he looked especially handsome and happy that night, his face more relaxed then it had been for a long time. A great burden, and the cause for their celebration, had lifted from him. Kathryn had died, but she had come back to life.

He had thought she was gone for good, Chakotay told her afterward solemnly, the fear momentarily washing back over his face. She almost was. Kathryn had fought hard to throw off the presence of an alien who invaded her mind and wished to take her consciousness as nourishment. But she'd won that fight.

And now she was alive--gloriously, joyously alive! When Chakotay brought her a rose in the ready room, she wanted to be with nobody but him at that moment, celebrating life, friendship, and . . . well, just life. That's when she'd suggested this trip to the holodeck and Lake George, a place they'd shared happily before.

Once the sailboat was far from shore, they stowed the sails and dropped anchor, letting the boat bob gently on the slight swell. They sat on the cabin roof near the bow, watching the stars and the liquid reverberations of the full moon on the water, talking for a bit about inconsequential things, neither wanting to stray too close to what had happened a few days before. The champagne was deliciously buoyant, especially with the strawberries Chakotay had thought of providing from his supply of rations. Then a very comfortable, companionable silence enveloped them.

He closed his eyes and turned his face up to the wind, a slight smile playing over his lips, and an air of elegant contentment about him as he stretched his long legs onto the bow rail.

He's the perfect friend, Kathryn thought. Not only someone I can talk to, but someone I'm comfortable being quiet with.

She almost told him then, almost said, "I was there, Chakotay, when you sobbed over my dead body. I saw you, saw your pain. I wanted so much to hold you in my arms and tell you it would be all right. But you couldn't see me or feel my hand on your shoulder. It broke my heart to watch you and not be able to help."

Kathryn formed the words in her mind, but she couldn't bring them to her lips. Because she knew once they were spoken, everything would change. Like it had on New Earth. How could she hold herself back once those words were spoken? Instead, she closed her eyes, turned her face to the wind and let it blow away the clenched feeling in her heart. The contentment of this beautiful night washed through her, and she felt whole again.

When she opened her eyes, Chakotay was watching her and smiling warmly. "It's good to be alive, isn't it?" he asked quietly.

"Yes," she said, her heart expanding outward to the stars, "it's very good to be alive."

Kathryn sat up sharply and looked at the PADD again. It wasn't like her to daydream while on duty. Ever since waking up this morning, her mind had been slipping in and out of focus, almost as if compelled. Chakotay was always featured in these daydreams--Chakotay and thoughts of things that could not be. Because her dreams were always followed by the same thought: what would the crew say if the Captain became the lover of Commander Chakotay?

The Captain must not do anything to undermine her authority or shake the crew's confidence. She had to be the one they looked to for strength and courage. If the crew came to believe she had given up hope of returning to Mark, had decided on this time and place with Chakotay, they would lose hope of returning, too. Then they might stop looking for ways home, start searching instead for a planet to settle on, maybe lose their edge, endanger the ship and themselves. No, as she saw it, their very survival depended on them believing she counted on getting home.

And Chakotay could still be her friend. He was so good to talk to. Sometimes after first being transported to the Delta Quadrant, she'd been so alone, so isolated, so burdened by responsibility. Chakotay had been there, but he was not her friend. He was suspicious, formal, distant--still angry, even--but he had given his word to serve under her command and stuck by it. His attitude shifted so gradually, so subtlely she hadn't noticed until one day, he was simply a valuable first officer--fully supporting her decisions, important to the crew, someone she could trust implicitly. Trust enough to talk out all her major decisions; discuss her worries about the ship and crew; to ask for his thoughts and advice, depend on their sensibleness, and his lack of ego if she decided not to take that advice. She wasn't alone any more.

Kathryn could not give him more, give him what he wanted most: to tell him she loved him in return.

It hurts him, though . . . and that's unpardonable.

But Kathryn couldn't let him or anyone else make her choose between love and the survival of Voyager. Voyager must always come first.

Chakotay never asked her to choose, of course, either in attitude or deed. He allowed her to be what she needed to be: Captain first and foremost. He waited with the same calm acceptance he always had, and suffered whatever he suffered in private.

Sometimes she wished they'd never been on New Earth. All her illusions about just being friends were permanently shattered there. Was she to blame for that, too? Perhaps if she'd kept up the captain/first officer formality with him?

But they had thought New Earth was forever. Once that seemed certain, once Voyager was out of comm range, and all the equipment she used for seeking a cure to the disease which isolated them there was irreparably damaged, she was almost glad. Finally, her life belonged only to her: the aching responsibility was gone; the crew with their ever-present need for hope was gone; no Mark or Starfleet to worry distantly about. Just Chakotay and Kathryn. He told her of his feelings--deep and true and quite overwhelming--and it stirred all those held-down emotions of her own.

Nothing had happened, of course, not in twelve weeks--her conditioning went too deep to be broken down in three months. But something would have happened if they had stayed just a little longer. Or forever, as they both thought. Each day she was more relaxed, drifting closer to acting on the dreams she had about him every night on that planet! She joyed in his laughter, his breathtaking smile and fine, dark eyes, his centeredness, balance, acceptance and calm. The pretenses slowly slipped away. Her conflicted loyalty over Mark no longer tormented her. He was sixty-seven light years away and she knew then, absolutely, she'd never see him again. Kathryn also saw more clearly then ever what a remarkable man Chakotay was; the depth of his honor, his gentleness and patience, his beauty. On New Earth, where the inner man shone through so brilliantly, worry left her. She turned her heart towards him and thought, Someday soon, Chakotay . . .

But not soon enough.

Was she glad or sorry she hadn't been more impetuous and acted on her feelings? She honestly didn't know.

What now, Kathryn? What if we don't get back to the Alpha Quadrant? Would it be so bad to make a life with such a man? You know you want him. Isn't your life still your own?

No. She owed the ship and crew. She had to stay strong, not give up hope so easily and give in to the moment. Now that she was back on Voyager and New Earth was far behind, that possibility was closed.

Her solace was that he was still part of her life. Part of your heart, too, Kathryn. Admit it. Yes, yes. New Earth had sealed her fate. What was attraction and admiration before was much deeper now.

She wanted to be fair, tell him she could never return his feelings, that he should put those feelings behind him and move on . . . to someone else? Her heart tightened at the thought. She remembered how it had constricted when she'd realized there was a connection between Chakotay and Reilly, a Borg woman he'd had a brief liaison with. Kathryn had suppressed her feelings then--he owed her nothing, logically, since she had not allowed herself to openly return his affections. But, oh, how it had hurt!

And even if she found the selflessness to say, "Move on, Chakotay, to someone else," it probably wouldn't do any good. His feelings, after all, were his own to give or not. He was intensely private--much like Kathryn herself, and would follow his own emotions, not her words. She knew damned well how capable he was of feeling intensely, but never letting on.

Yes, he would suffer in quiet as he always did, but it would be infinitely worse, because he would no longer have any hope. Kathryn didn't want him to live without hope. She didn't want any of them to live without it--including herself. And that was the real reason she wouldn't close the door on Chakotay for good.

Besides, Reilly had proved what she'd always believed anyway: he wasn't living like a monk! She didn't expect him to, even if being confronted directly with the knowledge hurt. Surely, he had liaisons of some sort. But that selfish part of her didn't want him to give his heart to anyone else. She needed to hold onto the vague hope that someday, somehow, all the worries and problems would be swept away, and they could be--

What, Kathryn? What do you really want from Chakotay?

Everything. All of it. To be his friend, his lover, his companion.

A fantasy, of course. Impossible. But that's what fantasies were all about, wasn't it? Making hope out of the impossible; something to get lonely human hearts through the darkest regions of space . . .

*****

Kathryn . . .

She looked up as if she heard her name whispered in Chakotay's mind. They exchanged brief smiles, then he turned his attention back to the diagnostic data on the screen in front of him. Or pretended to. His thoughts drifted again to the image which had filled his dreams last night, the image which prompted his mind to sigh her name: Kathryn, standing in a bathtub, towel around her graceful body, strong white shoulders glistening with water.

Soft, too, I'll bet--if I would have dared touch them.

And in the dream he had dared. He kissed those soft, milky shoulders and she let go of that towel . . .

What was wrong with him? He wasn't prone to this kind of dreamy fantasy, acting like a lovesick adolescent--especially while on duty! But his mind cooked with dreams as if something had turned up the heat and was bringing the pot to boil.

Chakotay sighed in frustration and tried to cover the sound by clearing his throat. Tuvok, with those damned Vulcan ears, picked up the sound and raised an eyebrow. Chakotay looked earnestly again at the data as if shaking off a moment of boredom. Thankfully, Vulcan ethics did not allow for casual mind reading.

May the spirits save me from such a fate!

But the data on the vidscreen could not keep his thoughts from Kathryn's bare shoulders, once remembered. And a hundred other images from the twelve weeks they'd spent together on New Earth: her earthy laugh that always stirred his heartbeat; that sly, teasing smile and sideways glance; her amazing, changeable blue-gray eyes--bright, steely, laughing, fiery. But most of all, her intelligence, wit, and boundless curiosity, her energy and unbreakable will, her determination to make the very best of what life gave her. Her strength took his breath away, made him forget all the false steps, anger, and rebellion of his own life and believe unshakably in something--Kathryn Janeway.

And, of course, the seductive hope that one day she would whisper his name as he whispered hers.

On New Earth they had been together not as captain and first officer, but as a man and a woman, stranded and alone. Not as much of a man and a woman as he might have hoped for, unfortunately, but now, at least, Kathryn knew his feelings. A momentary wave of vulnerability washed over him at the thought that she had that knowledge; that they were once again on the bridge and pretending nothing had been said; that they were the same as they'd been before being stranded. Kathryn never mentioned their time on New Earth, nor said anything of her own feelings. She had moved towards him during their time there; her guard dropped gradually. Chakotay waited patiently, watching her draw near, knowing that whatever happened--if anything happened--it would have to be on her terms. He was content to wait for as long as she needed; content to let go of the first officer, the ex-Maquis, the angry son; content to let go of it all and be the man he could be--on that planet with Kathryn drawing near.

If only we'd had a little more time . . . !

If, if, if! A fool's word! They hadn't had more time; she never drew near enough. And although their time had been sweet and permanently changed their relationship, she drew away again as soon as they'd returned to the ship.

Chakotay thought he understood her reasons. Though she'd never really talked about them, he knew Kathryn very well by this time. He guessed her conflicting loyalties, her concern over doing what was best for the crew and being their . . . icon of hope, he supposed. Even if he thought her reasons were not as big an obstacle to them being together as she did, Chakotay would never push the point. He wasn't sure if his motives were pure, for one thing. In fact, he was damned sure they were pretty muddy.

So, he waited. Again, he waited. Certainly with less hope then on New Earth, with the occasional consolation of others on other planets, and with the if onlys playing through his mind now and then. That's what if onlys were for, weren't they? Consolation and hope.

His body betrayed him again with another sigh. Her eyes were on him, but he wouldn't look up for fear his expression would give his thoughts away. Kathryn herself had been looking thoughtful all morning. Perhaps she would tell him what she had been thinking later when they were alone in the ready room. And he could call her by name once again.

Kathryn . . .

Part Two: Emissions

"The sensor readings for this planet are conflicting and contradictory, Captain." Puzzlement drew Tuvok's eyebrows together. "The cloud layer has a strong mineral content which acts as a shield of the planet surface. And yet, windows of clarity open at regular but random intervals. When we scan through these windows, the readings indicate an M-class planet."

The planet in question filled the viewscreen--a great glowing pearl against the black space all around. A dense cloud layer filled with as yet unidentified mineral particles covered it completely, explaining its pearly luminescence. But Kathryn couldn't help thinking this rational explanation was inadequate to the breathtaking beauty of the shifting rainbow highlights traveling across the face of the clouds. The patterns were mesmerizing, soothing, comforting. But they also filled her with a vague longing, an ache she couldn't quite identify--and a mysterious dread of investigating further. Kathryn stood very near the viewscreen, as if a closer examination might show why she felt these things.

"Fascinating," was all she managed to say.

"Indeed it is, Captain," Chakotay said softly, coming to stand behind her right shoulder. Somehow his proximity increased the strange sensations. Did he feel it, too? The fear of exploring this place hovering side by side with an overwhelming curiosity to see what lay beneath the clouds?

She faced Chakotay. He shielded his emotions when she turned, but before he did, Kathryn caught an odd look in his eyes as he stared at the planet. For no logical reason, she suspected he was working through his own version of what she felt.

"Do you suppose it's worth exploring?" she asked, unable to keep a note of challenge out of her voice.

"Mr. Neelix knows nothing about this planet," he replied, a small smirk playing at the edge of his mouth in response to her challenge. "And it doesn't appear on any of his star charts."

"Quite an enigma." Kathryn turned back to the viewscreen. As her eyes fell on the planet, her emotions stirred strongly once more. Her whole back tingled with the knowledge of Chakotay's presence, and she had trouble keeping her breathing even. What was going on?? She felt like someone else--not Kathryn Janeway.

"Mr. Tuvok," she called, "do your sensors register any emissions from the planet?"

"What kinds of emissions, Captain?"

Obviously, Mr. Tuvok was not having the same response to the planet.

But Chakotay spoke up. "Any kind of force field or projection or emissions that might . . . uh . . ."

Kathryn turned at the sudden hesitation in his voice. She saw in his eyes he couldn't say what he was really feeling. Neither could she, for that matter, but she finished the sentence for him, "Anything that might effect brain function, Mr. Tuvok, or the autonomic nervous system."

Chakotay watched her face carefully as she spoke, but Kathryn managed to keep it neutral.

Tuvok raised an eyebrow again, but said only, "I'll check once more, Captain, but my sensors indicate no such . . . emissions. Why do you ask?"

"Just a thought. " Kathryn turned back to the viewscreen so no one would see her embarrassment. "I thought perhaps that cloud layer might be a kind of passive defense network."

Chakotay cleared his throat. "Yes, yes, I had a similar thought."

She wasn't about to peek at his expression this time. She didn't want him to see hers.

Pull yourself together, Kathryn--or report to sickbay!

She took a deep, steadying breath and asked as casually as she could manage, "Could a shuttlecraft make it through the cloud layer undamaged, Mr. Tuvok?"

"From all indications, Captain. The clouds are thick, but apart from the mineral particles, they are of standard water vapor. The minerals themselves do not appear to be a hazard. But until I can do a close analysis and identify exactly what they are, I would not advise venturing through the clouds with a shuttlecraft."

"All right, Mr. Tuvok, we'll wait for your analysis. Mr. Paris--"

"Aye, Captain?"

"Put us into standard orbit."

"Aye, Captain."

"And in the meantime?" Chakotay said in a low, barely audible voice close to her ear. She shivered and hoped he didn't notice.

"In the meantime," she said, finally getting up the nerve to look him in the eye, "I'd like to talk to you in my ready room."

His dark eyes had a mysterious glint to them. He gave a little smile and said, "Aye, Captain."

"Mr. Tuvok, Commander Chakotay and I will be in my ready room if needed," she said, her eyes never leaving Chakotay's face. When she realized she might be making a spectacle of herself, Kathryn turned sharply on her heel and marched into the ready room. She didn't need to ask if Chakotay was following. She could feel his presence all up and down her spine, looming like a sweaty dream that would not stay submerged.

*****

"Kathryn . . ." His voice was husky when he said her name. "Why did you call me in here?"

It was a fair question. She'd been standing with her back to him for what seemed an eternity (probably just minutes) because she was too shaken by the images which had flashed through her mind the moment she entered the room:

Chakotay came up behind her, wrapping his strong arms around her waist, his beautiful, soft lips brushing against the back of her neck, then trailing kisses along her neck to suck lightly at the lobe of her ear. His hands closed over her breasts, massaging gently, while his erection grew against her backside . . .

Kathryn dug her nails into the palms of her hands and the images stopped. She wheeled around to face him, and the passionate look in his eyes brought back the sensation of his lips on her neck, his arms around her.

"Chakotay," she whispered, "something very strange is happening . . ."

His eyes still burned into her, but he was struggling against what he felt. "Yes," he choked out. "I think--"

But he couldn't finish the sentence. His eyes were riveted by her hands. He stepped quickly forward and took them in his own hands, bringing her palms close to his face.

"Chakotay!" she gasped, starting with surprise.

"You've hurt yourself!" He inspected her palms carefully. "You're bleeding."

"Oh," she managed to say, but his flesh was as burning as his eyes, and she squirmed uncomfortably, feeling a rush between her legs. Chakotay bent his face closer to her hands, and she was certain from the fascinated look in his eyes that he wanted to kiss the palms, to lick the small flow of blood from them. And Kathryn wanted him to, wanted it desperately, with every nerve in her body. He fought his desire, but his lips, parted slightly, bent minutely towards her palms, his eyes intent and bright, his breath hot against her skin . . .

With the last shred of her sense of duty, Kathryn pulled her hands from his grasp. "I think I'd better report to sickbay," she said unevenly.

"Y-yes." Chakotay wouldn't look at her, clearly shaken and ashamed by what had just passed. He brought his hands down with attempted casualness to hold in front of his groin.

Oh, my God! Did he have--??

Kathryn hurried by him, calling over her shoulder as she headed toward the door, "Perhaps you should report to sickbay, too!"

"Maybe a little later," he said hoarsely, never turning around.

Kathryn rushed out the ready room door, reminding herself not to sprint for the turbolift, and called to Tuvok, "I'll be in sickbay!" Tuvok gave her a puzzled look, but, gratefully, it was cut off by the lift doors closing.

*****

Chakotay thought of old Mrs. Beavis who lived on the land next to his uncle's when he was sixteen. He lived with his uncle until he left for Starfleet at eighteen, and Mrs. Beavis bought apples from their orchard. Chakotay was the delivery boy, and she was rather . . . fond of him. She didn't have many teeth, and the ones she had ranged in color from green to black. Her breasts were huge--like two haunches of beef hanging to her waist, and she had the lumpiest human face he'd ever seen, making him wonder if she might not be some sort of human-potato hybrid. But whenever Mrs. Beavis saw young Chakotay, already tall beyond his years, she would wink lasciviously at him and smack her lips--sometimes even going so far as to waggle her pendant breasts and whisper provocatively, "Call me Bridget, sweet boy." Apparently, Mrs. Beavis enjoyed watching Chakotay turn crimson. It caused her to laugh uproariously, at any rate.

Thinking of her usually did the trick, but this time it only marginally decreased his erection. So he thought of taking many very, very cold showers, and for good measure, remembered that time he'd jumped into a frigid mountain lake and been in a lot of pain.

Chakotay also thought of the time during his second year at the Academy when they'd gone on a cultural mission to Lyaeus IV. Some of the cadets thought it would be fun to loosen up their very serious Indian pal a bit, so they got him abysmally drunk on the very potent Lyaeusian puspatip ale. So drunk, in fact, that a trip to the Lyaeusian Visitors Welcome Palace seemed like a good idea. The cadets kindly picked out a Lyaeusian "date" for him, but Chakotay promptly passed out as soon as he and his date were alone--face down in a bowl of green slime Lyaeusian females used as an aphrodisiac. (They weren't particularly attracted to human males, but considered it their duty to offer their special Lyaeusian welcome to all who wished to take them up on it.) His date had been forced to give Chakotay mouth-to-tentacled-air-spout resuscitation.

You know, Chakotay wasn't a man who was particularly squeamish about the appearance of human or non-human--Mrs. Beavis excepted. In fact, it was part of why he liked being out amongst the stars, witnessing all the glorious differences the Great Spirit had painted into being. But there was just something about the memory of waking up with that purple tentacle wrapped around his nose and mouth and those air filaments sticking up his nostrils and down his throat, his face caked with dried green slime, his fellow cadets hovering behind the Lyaeusian female's bilobate cranium, looking both terrified they'd have some explaining to do, and with a barely suppressed urge to laugh hysterically at the spectacle he must have presented, that gave him the absolute and total willies. And it never failed to put him completely out of the mood.

It finally did the trick.

Kathryn was right. He needed to go to sickbay. What had possessed him? Yes, that's what it had been like. Suddenly, he had been possessed by an uncontrollable desire for her; one that raged like a storm and wouldn't be shoved aside no matter how hard he tried.

Hard was probably a poor choice of word, he thought wryly.

Chakotay took a deep breath. They were both acting way out of character. He had been mesmerized by her hands, by the smell of her, a scent like the wild sage and barley that grew in the hills around his uncle's land in the state of Utah on Earth, a lifetime away in both space and time.

There had also been a tang of the sea in Kathryn's fragrance, if he wasn't mistaken. She had wanted him just as much as he wanted her. His heart momentarily soared before he pulled it savagely back down to earth.

Don't get your hopes up, Chakotay, he told himself sternly. She may not have been responding to you in a natural way.

Well, of course it had been a natural way--but it might not have been inspired by her own feelings. Some force was affecting them both, and it really was no indication she cared for him as anything more than a good friend. Chakotay took another calming breath and turned towards the ready room door. He was still embarrassed when he looked down to see if his, uh, uniform was in order. Everything was fine, thankfully.

The doors hissed open and he called to Tuvok as he passed, "I'll be in sickbay!"

Tuvok's eyebrows practically clanged together in front. Tom Paris turned from his console with a puzzled smirk on his boyish, blue-eyed face, and Chakotay had a sudden very strong urge to slap that smirk away. But he turned his back on the young man, on Tuvok--didn't want to see any questioning expressions he couldn't answer--and kept his back to them until the turbolift started to move.

*****

The Doctor was extremely perplexed when Kathryn showed up in sickbay and asked to be examined--but wouldn't say why. He was even more perplexed when Chakotay showed up some little while later and asked the same thing.

Kathryn nodded briefly at Chakotay when he entered, but couldn't bring herself to look him in the eye. Which seemed to suit Chakotay just fine. Unfortunately, the Doctor found nothing unusual in his scans of either of them.

"Except for these gouge marks on your palms, Captain," the Doctor said, eyeing them with a perplexed look and running the dermal regenerator over the wounds.

"Those are nothing," Kathryn said quickly. "I realized my nails were too long only after I clenched my fist."

"Oh? And why were you clenching your fists?" he asked with an irony that set Kathryn's teeth on edge.

"Never mind, Doctor. You say you found nothing else unusual?"

"If you'd just tell me why you asked for the examination, Captain," he said impatiently, "perhaps I could narrow my scan appropriately."

"No particular reason, Doctor," she said.

"No particular reason," Chakotay repeated.

"I see." The Doctor looked from Captain to Commander with pursed lips and furrowed brow. "Well, if either of you think of a reason, let me know and I'll try again."

Kathryn cleared her throat and moved out of sickbay. Chakotay hesitated, then followed a few steps behind. They walked in silence side-by-side, a fist clenching Kathryn's stomach, her body vibrating with his proximity. They stared straight ahead, never speaking, but Kathryn could hear the raggedness of his breathing, feel the strain of his body. They were still affected by--whatever it was--even if it didn't register on the Doctor's instruments.

As they approached the turbolift, Chakotay paused. "Perhaps I should let you ride to the bridge alone."

Kathryn knew he was right, that in their present state, in an enclosed space, together, alone . . . But a wave of defiance passed through her. She wasn't going to be dictated to by . . . by . . . hormones!

"We have to face this, Chakotay. Something is affecting us both and we have to fight it off." The turbolift doors opened and she stepped inside. "Come on. We'll lick this."

Oh, God! Why did I say lick?

But Chakotay had the good grace not to react to the word, and Kathryn managed to keep her features in control. He stepped into the lift and moved to the opposite side. The doors closed, and Kathryn would have sworn she'd just blinked her eyes, but when she opened them again, the lift had stopped between decks and she was in Chakotay's arms, clenching him passionately to her, their tongues exploring each other's mouths, their hands running over each others' bodies.

Oh, so sweet, as sweet as I imagined . . .

Kathryn closed her eyes again to savor his taste, but when she opened them this time, the lift was moving. Chakotay was huddled on his side of the lift and looked paler than usual. Steadfastly, he stared at the floor as if it were the most fascinating thing on the ship. Had it been a dream? It had been so real! And her body still vibrated with his touch!

Confusion buffeted her, but she still couldn't bring herself to ask him if it had happened.

It was a long ride back to the bridge--even though it took only moments--and an even longer time getting through the rest of the day. They scrupulously avoided eye contact and spoke in only clipped, highly professional sentences until they were off duty and could sneak back to their respective quarters, safely out of each others' way and the increasingly quizzical looks of the bridge crew.

*****

Tom Paris had a suspicious turn of mind, especially when it came to things involving men and women. And the atmosphere between the Captain and Chakotay on the bridge during the last duty shift had been much more about men and women then about the command of Voyager. Nothing too obvious to anyone who didn't have his finely tuned instincts in these things, but a definite charge in the atmosphere, a persistence in not looking at one another, addressing each other in only the most formal ways, each locked inside their own thoughts. Tuvok also picked up on the atmosphere, of course, though Tom doubted he had come to the same conclusions about what was going on. By the end of the duty shift, the whole bridge crew were perplexed, but again, Tom doubted they understood the true nature of the conflict, as he was so confident he did.

Ah, his favorite game: what's up with the command structure? It never ceased to fascinate him. That trip to the ready room, then sickbay . . . what had that been about? And was he the only one who noticed the Captain had something on her hands that looked like blood? And why had it taken Chakotay so long to leave the ready room and follow her to sickbay? Something big had clearly happened.

Paris wondered if Chakotay had finally gotten around to making his move on the Captain and been rebuffed as Tom always knew he would be? Or was this just a continuation of something that happened on New Earth? Paris would give six months' rations to find out just how comfortable the Captain and Chakotay had gotten together on that planet!

Of course, he didn't really like to think of the Captain in that way. Not always, anyway. Definitely not with Chakotay. He pushed the disgusting contents of his plate around with his fork, nearly gagging as its fetid aroma assaulted his nostrils again. To kill the smell, he picked up the glass of zozzinberry punch Neelix was serving. It wasn't that the punch was all that delicious, either--but it was fragrant. Mostly in a pleasant way.

I swear to God Neelix just heats up the compost from the agricultural bay when he's out of ideas!

Not that Tom's good ideas were much better. He let his fork clatter against the plate and wished to hell he hadn't bet his whole month's replicator rations on that inside straight. Dershowitz in Security, that stone-faced son of a bitch, had been sitting on a damned royal flush!

But that was another story, one he was letting distract him from the real problem at hand--figuring out the snafu in the command structure. Paris reminded himself how much he owed the Captain, how much he admired and looked up to her. And how much he wanted her to be happy.

He looked around at the other denizens of the galley, wondering how they'd feel if he voiced his suspicions? Probably a mixed bag of reactions. Some held the Captain in almost mythical regard, others accepted that no matter how remarkable a leader she was, beneath it all she was a human being. Of course she was human, for crying out loud! She had needs, didn't she? The Captain didn't deserve to be put on a pedestal. Why shouldn't she be allowed a little relaxation, a little something to help her make it through? And since it looked like Chakotay was the only one in any position to offer her anything like that . . .

He sniffed and put his drink down on the table. It's her decision, he said grudgingly to himself, but no accounting for taste.

Ah, Tommy boy, what are you saying? Chakotay's an okay guy. All right, more than okay--he's great. Just rubs me the wrong way sometimes. Gives me that same fishy stare my dad used to--Whoa!

That was a whole weird area Paris wasn't eager to get into. He hoped Chakotay was worthy of the Captain's regard, that's all.

"What are you scheming now?"

Tom looked up to see Harry standing near the table with a suspicious look of his own.

"Harry, I'm shocked," Tom said, giving him his most innocent boy smile. "Can't a man indulge in a little idle thought without being accused of scheming?"

Harry gave Tom one of his rare smirks. "I know you too well, Tom."

"That you do, my friend, that you do. I was just thinking over the day's events, that's all. No scheming whatsoever."

Harry looked worried. "What was going on between the Captain and Commander Chakotay?"

Tom drummed his fingers on the table, wondering if he should sully Harry's wholesome mind with his speculations. Nah. That was unfair to the Captain and Chakotay. And Harry, well, his regard of the Captain was legendary. He'd probably knock Tom on his ass for even suggesting she had real feelings like a real woman. "I haven't a clue, Harry," he said. "I guess they were both just having a bad day."

*****

Chakotay tossed and turned in bed. Images and sensations of Kathryn in his arms on that turbolift tormented away any thought of sleep. The experience had been so intense, so real. He had tasted her tongue on his, been lost in the heady smell of her, the feel of her body pressed all along his. And then he had opened his eyes and it was as if none of it had happened.

Now when he wanted fiercely to close his eyes and be lost to sleep, to let his dreams off the leash to accomplish what he could not while awake, sleep wouldn't come! In frustration, he threw the covers aside and swung his legs onto the floor. He usually wore pajamas when he slept, but tonight they had been too confining, and he wore nothing. He tapped his bare feet on the floor, wondering if he really wanted to use a precious replicator ration on an Indian herbal for sleep. Asking the Doctor for something was not an option. Too many questions to answer, too many suspicions to be added to the ones their mutual visit to sickbay had already produced.

He got up and moved towards the replicator just as the door chimed. Who was it at this hour? He almost called, "Come in!" before remembering his nakedness, and hurriedly grabbed a robe. The door chimed again impatiently.

"Come in!" he said as he tied the robe's belt.

The door sighed open. Kathryn! She had on a short robe herself, her bare legs and feet showing beneath. Her breasts rippled against the blue silk pattern of the fabric as she moved into his quarters and the door sighed closed. Her hair was down around her shoulders and the look in her eyes was bright, eager . . . wild. He stared in stunned silence at the beauty of her in the half light of his quarters, a beam of light illuminating those remarkable eyes. His heart boomed in his chest.

"I can't stand it any more," she whispered, crossing the room to him quickly. She undid the tie of his belt and let the robe swing open, the challenge back in her eyes. This time, he was neither ashamed nor embarrassed. His burgeoning erection brought a seductive, appreciative smile to her face, and he felt himself grinning back with what must surely be a leer. Kathryn laughed softly as he undid her robe and shifted it off those magnificent shoulders. It fell billowing to the floor.

She was exquisite, just as he knew she would be. Her breasts rounded and full and topped by deeply flushed nipples; her waist slim and her hips curving beautifully. Her stomach was flat before it plunged down to the red-brown mound between her legs. He wanted to bury his face in that thatch and lick her until she was weak with joy.

Chakotay knelt and pulled her close, one hand on each firm, round buttock. He ran his tongue into the gap separating the labia, penetrating only slightly, tasting the bitter sea. Kathryn quivered and sighed his name. He parted the lips, briefly sucking on her clitoris before beginning a rhythm with his tongue. She gripped the back of his head, massaging her fingers into his scalp, moaned and came, and moaned his name again.

Suddenly his need to be inside her was so intense, he rose quickly, swept her into his arms, and tossed her on the bed. She laughed earthily as she landed on her back, her eyes bright and inviting. Her arms reached up for him, and she parted her legs. He swooped down on her like an eagle . . .

"Commander Chakotay!"

He was confused, blinking at the ceiling, a wetness laying on top of him and beneath him. It took him a few seconds to realize what it was--it had been so long since it had happened--and then he swore viciously.

His communicator on the bedside table barked again. "Commander Chakotay!"

He tapped it. "Yes?" he asked irritably.

The intimidated voice of Ensign Danucci spoke again, "I'm very sorry to disturb you, sir, but there are some anomalous readings coming from the planet we're orbiting."

"Anomalous readings?" he asked, extracting himself from the damp bedclothes with a disgusted grimace.

"Yes, sir! The metallic particles in the atmosphere are giving off some kind of, uh, emissions."

That was not a word Chakotay wanted to hear. "Can you identify them?"

"Not yet, sir."

"Have you informed the Captain?"

"Yes, sir. She'll be on the bridge presently and asked that we inform you."

"I see. All right. I'll be on the bridge presently, too."

But first, even before he took a hurried sonic shower, he stuffed all the bedclothes into the laundry chute. He didn't want to be reminded of this little incident whenever he got back to his quarters . . .

*****

"Most unusual," Tuvok said. "Our sensors cannot identify these emissions. They have a completely unknown energy signature."

"A new form of energy?" asked Chakotay.

"It would appear so." Tuvok stared at his sensor screens as if sheer will would release an answer. "And why I was not able to scan these emissions before perplexes me a great deal." He turned to Chakotay and Kathryn. "And yet, you Captain, and you also, Commander, apparently sensed the presence of them yesterday."

Chakotay's jaw clenched as he stood in square-shouldered silence. Kathryn raised an eyebrow and frowned.

"Sensed is probably too strong a word," she said. "It was more of an intuition."

Tuvok looked as if he might argue semantics with her, but Chakotay interjected, "Yes, an intuition, as if there were more to this planet then just a pretty cloud pattern. Not much more then a guess, really."

"Yes, a guess," Kathryn agreed earnestly. "Definitely more of a guess."

"Still, that does not explain why only the two of you had this guess. I am very curious as to why that might be. Perhaps the Doctor--"

"We've already been to sickbay," Kathryn said flatly. "His sensors found nothing."

"Perhaps now that the emissions are registering--"

"It's a closed subject," Kathryn said abruptly.

Tuvok would not argue with her further, of course, but she could see the wheels spinning in his head.

"I think an away mission might be in order," she said. Both Chakotay and Tuvok eyed her in surprise.

"But the emissions--"

"Mr. Tuvok, do the sensors register them as harmful?"

"No, Captain, they seem completely benign. But since they have only just started registering, any harmful effects may be masked by whatever it was that blocked the sensors before."

Kathryn considered this, aware she was scowling. Tuvok was right, of course, but the same effect which had compelled she and Chakotay to act so uncharacteristically was now telling her to descend to the planet's surface, a compulsion so insistent it went beyond all logic. Even natural caution. She had a sense that neither of them would have any peace until they pierced those clouds. And that was an even stronger motivation to go down there. Kathryn desperately wanted things back to normal.

"Mr. Chakotay--"

"Yes, Captain?"

"Could I see you in my ready room?"

There was a glint of panic in his eyes before he quashed it and said, "Aye, Captain."

Kathryn walked casually to the ready room, calm now because she was certain of what must be done. Chakotay seemed unsure and would probably take some convincing, but she was confident he'd see things her way.

He eyed her warily as the ready room doors closed, and he stayed just inside the room. It would have been comical if what she was about to ask him wasn't so embarrassing.

"Chakotay," she said quietly, and he tensed at the sound of his name from her lips. "I think we both realize what's been happening, how we've both been affected by this . . . planet."

"Yes," he said uncertainly.

"Did . . . did you dream . . ." This was much harder to say then she thought it would be, so she just blurted it all out at once, "Did I come to your quarters last night?"

He started at this question, blushed, then slowly nodded.

"Oh." She sat down suddenly in her chair, feeling her own cheeks grow warm. The affirmation had been harder to take then the question. Distractedly, she asked, "Was it a dream, do you suppose?"

He had a funny look on his face. "I . . . I think it was."

"Then I dreamed the same dream."

"Oh." Chakotay moved to her desk, placed his hands on it and leaned over in his characteristic fashion. "What are we going to do about this, Kathryn?" Unconsciously, she pushed her chair minutely backwards, his looming presence suddenly overwhelming. His scent filled her nostrils--earth and wild grass and citrus and . . . something much deeper, unidentifiable, pulling at her insides like a stretched cord.

"We could leave the system immediately, of course," she said, "but somehow I don't think that would solve the problem. And I also don't think our sensors will ever give us a clear picture of that planet. It doesn't want us to see clearly."

He arched an eyebrow at that last sentence. Kathryn knew it was not something she'd usually say, or even think. But she hadn't been behaving at all as usual for the last twenty-four hours.

Was it really less then twenty four hours since we first came to this planet? It seems an eternity.

"Is that why you suggested the away mission?" Chakotay asked.

"Yes. And I believe only you and I must go. Since we're the only ones affected, it looks like all this has been directed at us specifically."

"It could be a trap."

"Possibly. But I, for one, am tired of being manipulated in this way. Aren't you?"

Chakotay sighed. "I would like some form of resolution, yes."

She wasn't quite sure how he meant that statement and frowned. "Well, I don't think we're going to find resolution until we travel to the planet. One way or another, Chakotay, this has to end."

"I certainly agree about that."

Again, she wasn't sure what his tone meant--or maybe she just didn't want to think about the implications. Either way, it sounded as if he was willing to try her idea. "So you agree about the away mission?"

He nodded. "If it's the only way, we have to go through with it."

It frightened her a little that he was so agreeable. But she pushed that fear aside and tapped her communicator. "Engineering--prepare a shuttlecraft for Commander Chakotay and I." She met his eyes squarely, but they gave nothing away. She spoke to Engineering again without ever taking her eyes off his set and serious face. "We're going down to that planet as soon as the next window of clarity opens."

B'Elanna said a surprised, "Aye, Captain." And that was pretty much it. Kathryn and Chakotay stared at each other uncertainly for a very long time.

*****

The idea of approaching the planet in a shuttlecraft was not nearly as harrowing as convincing Tuvok of the wisdom of it, and of both Kathryn and Chakotay going. Ultimately, Kathryn had to pull rank and end the discussion.

Chakotay was very quiet as he piloted the shuttle toward the latest window of clarity near the planet's equator. Quiet suited Kathryn. She wasn't sure what she would have said to him, anyway, that hadn't already been said. His hands moved smoothly over the controls and Kathryn watched them again appreciatively. She remembered the feel of them on her breasts--

This way lies madness! she told herself sternly, pulling her eyes away from his hands and looking earnestly at the shuttle viewscreen.

It was only a dream, anyway.

At least, she sincerely hoped it was only a dream.

The planet, for the most part, looked just as it had when they'd first put into orbit around it. The emissions had not changed the appearance of the metallic particles in the atmosphere, and clouds still covered the entire surface--except for that window, which was about the size of Voyager itself.

"We're approaching the window, Kathryn." He'd been silent so long, Chakotay's voice startled her slightly. "Five minutes until we enter. I guess we should prepare ourselves, but I don't know how."

"Neither do I." She gave him a tight smile, and he returned it with an equally strained one of his own.

As the minutes counted down, Kathryn's stomach clenched, but she couldn't say if it was from fear or anticipation. And anticipation of what, exactly? She glanced sideways at Chakotay. His face was unreadable, staring alternately at the viewscreen and at the controls.

"One minute until entry."

Kathryn's spine tingled, her breathing grew irregular, the palms of her hands were moist. She was usually much cooler when approaching the unknown; in fact, it always made her feel completely alive and focused. But this last day of ambushing dreams had shaken her composure.

"Thirty seconds until entry."

It was unfair Chakotay was so calm. She stretched exaggeratedly--to make him think she was calm, too, and also so she could get a good look at him without seeming to. There was moisture on the side of his face. Not quite as calm as he appeared. Especially as he tried not to look at her arching body. Realizing this, she immediately stopped the stretch and sat up straight in the seat.

"Ten seconds until entry."

Kathryn braced herself against the instrument panel. An absurd thing to do, and she immediately withdrew her hands and took a deep, steadying breath. They glided forward to the wall of cloud swirling swiftly everywhere but in that window.

"Five, four, three, two--"

Suddenly, the clouds were all around them, swirling at incredible speed, buffeting the shuttle, a loud, random clattering noise all over the hull.

"The window must have closed around us!" Chakotay shouted over the clatter.

"That noise!" Kathryn shouted. "The metallic particles?"

"I think so!" He was struggling with the controls.

"What's wrong?"

"Navigation is out! And we've lost the number two engine!"

Kathryn leaned forward to help. Their hands flew in perfect sync over the instrument panel. The noise on the hull was deafening.

"There goes the other engine!" Kathryn yelled.

Chakotay's face was tight with concern. He opened his mouth to speak. And that was all Kathryn remembered.

Part Three: Night Journeys

The limousine jolted over the pothole and Chakotay woke to find Kathryn still asleep beside him, her head resting on his shoulder. He smiled. He loved watching her face in sleep--so relaxed, childlike in its trust. And he loved the warmth of her against him, the spicy-sweet smell of her hair. It filled his heart with an absurd tenderness he wouldn't dare tell her about.

There was another jolt. Kathryn wrinkled her brow and opened her eyes. "What happened?" she asked sleepily.

"Pothole."

"Did we fall asleep?"

He smiled. "It was a long flight from Boston. I guess we both got worn out."

"Oh dear," she said, sitting upright. "Does that mean we're old fogeys?"

Chakotay laughed. "Maybe so."

Kathryn looked out the limo's smoky windows. "Where the heck are we?"

Outside the night was pitch black, not even illuminated by the limo's headlights. There was nothing to see. The driver was separated from them by a dark window above the front seat, giving the illusion of being inside a cocoon.

"I can't tell any more then you can," he said. "We're still driving to the resort, I guess."

He reached over playfully to undo the top button of her white cotton blouse.

"Hey, watch it, Mister!" she laughed, slapping at his hand.

He knew he was leering. "I just thought that since no one can see in and the driver is giving us some privacy . . ."

"Right! And we could arrive at the resort any minute. Then wouldn't we be embarrassed?"

"Well, at least let me kiss you."

"Can't wait?" she asked provocatively.

The truth was, he couldn't. Ever since they'd gotten off the plane, his anticipation level had been excruciating, as if they were young lovers going away together for the first time. Certainly not like folks married five years--and cohabitating two years before that--on their way to a second honeymoon. It was a strange sensation, but one he wasn't displeased with. It was good to still feel passion after all this time.

Chakotay leaned close. Kathryn's eyes opened wide . . . in anticipation. Yes, she was excited, too. "You're right," he said quietly. "I can't wait."

He pressed his mouth to hers as he'd done so many times in their life together. Kathryn's mouth opened to receive him, her soft, slim hands gently touching his face. And it did feel like the first time, the first time in real life and not just in his dreams; like the excitement when he first met her in Costa Rica and couldn't stop thinking about her, day or night. He reveled in the feel of her flesh on his, her warm breath against his face, her tongue meeting his own. She pressed against him, her arms going round his back. And then he did unbutton that blouse. She didn't resist. He cupped his palm over her right breast, the nipple hard against the fabric of her bra as he rotated his palm, massaging it harder. She sighed and he moved his hand to her back to unfasten the bra.

But they hit another damned jolt in the damned road, and the driver's voice came over the intercom: "We're just pulling into the resort now, Dr. and Mrs. Janeway."

They laughed and began straightening their clothes, Chakotay grumbling, "They never get the damned names right."

"That's what you get for only having one name," she laughed.

"And you for keeping your own name," he said with a smirk. "Does that mean I'm Mrs. Janeway?"

"I would never mistake you for a missus," Kathryn said with a saucy smile.

"I'm glad." Chakotay looked down at the "rumple" in the front of his pants and frowned.

Kathryn noticed, too, and handed him her briefcase from the limo floor. "Here. You'd better carry this in front of you as we walk inside."

He laughed. "I'm easy, what can I say?"

"You'd think we'd never done it before," Kathryn laughed, but she wore a perplexed look. Did she feel it, too, this newness of touching and tasting each other? But before he could ask, the limo came to a halt.

Kathryn was back to looking proper: her blouse buttoned, her hair neatened into the upsweep behind her head, her pink linen skirt and jacket wrinkled from the journey but otherwise orderly. Chakotay was a little more out of balance with the briefcase on his lap, but otherwise his pale gray suit looked as if nothing untoward had happened in this back seat. Even if he was acting like a horny adolescent! But he couldn't help himself: the touch of her was driving him crazy and all his self-control seemed utterly lost.

He made himself think of the horrified look on his mother's face when he was sixteen and she'd come home early from the Tribal Council meeting. Neither of them had even heard his mother open the door, and so she walked in and discovered him on the couch with Mary Angela Fulcinelli at the precise moment he lost his virginity.

Whatever happened to Mary Angela? he wondered. Nineteen, very generous to the younger boys . . .

But his mom didn't think much of her, and recalling again her expression and the unfortunate scene that played out afterward, Chakotay began to unrumple. Only, he sincerely hoped he didn't think of his mother's face later when he was with Kathryn.

The limo door opened and the driver smiled, gesturing elaborately with his hand for them to exit: a cheerful, blonde, round faced fellow wearing a black chauffeur's uniform and cap.

Chakotay wasn't quite unrumpled yet, and scooted over as best he could without moving the briefcase to exit the car. He smiled self-consciously at the chauffeur, and extended his free hand for Kathryn. She could barely contain her amusement. He gave her a mocking frown.

And then he looked around.

They stood before a sweeping set of low stairs, wide and flaring upward like an amphitheater. These stairs led to a glass-fronted, one-story building heavily framed with tropical foliage. Around the building on all sides there was darkness, as if nothing in all the world existed but this brightly lit glass structure. They could clearly see the reception area inside: the long, white and gray marble front desk, the wood-paneled walls, the plush red carpet, and stately, overstuffed easy chairs.

"Boston luxury on a lonely tropical island," Chakotay mused.

"It's quite plush, isn't it?" Kathryn said ironically. "I was expecting beachcomber bungalows."

They started up the stairs and Chakotay's pants were finally unrumpled enough to let the briefcase swing at his side. The chauffeur held the immense glass and brass-framed doors open for them as they stepped inside the lobby. It smelled of oranges and cinnamon.

"What a curious place." Kathryn looked up at the high-arching ceiling, coming to a pointed marble and brass vault thirty feet above their heads. An elaborate crystal chandelier hung from the pinnacle, cascading downward at least ten feet.

"Surreal," Chakotay agreed.

She looked into his eyes and smiled. "I hope it's not a precursor for this entire vacation."

"No, let's hope not!'

They marched up to the desk.

"Dr. and Mrs. Janeway?" asked the clerk brightly. She was also blonde. Chakotay wondered in passing if everyone on the island was. The clerk blinked her wide, blue eyes at him and smiled cheerily.

"Actually," he said, "that's Dr. Janeway and Dr. Chakotay."

"Oh!" she said in chirpy surprise. "I thought you were a married couple!"

Kathryn nailed her with the intimidating-the-undergrads look she'd perfected at M.I.T., saying in her steeliest voice, "We are."

The clerk's eyes popped wide and she quickly looked at her paperwork. "Oh, yes. I see," she said, flustered. "Dr. Janeway and Dr. Chakotay in Bungalow 21."

As they finished registering, a bellboy appeared, immaculate in red and gray uniform, to take the luggage the chauffeur brought from the limo. He was also blonde.

Chakotay whispered in Kathryn's ear. "I'm beginning to worry. Do you suppose non-blondes are allowed on this island?"

She tried not to laugh but didn't succeed.

The bellboy led them through an impressive oak door into an area which was in stark contrast to the lobby: a very long, impersonal corridor, starkly white, and bright with fluorescent lighting. Running down the middle was a wide conveyor belt-looking thing, obviously built to transport people.

"Curiouser and curiouser," Kathryn said, mystified.

This conveyor stretched as far as their eyes could pierce down the corridor. Chakotay sighed impatiently. When was he going to be able to make love to his wife?

The bellboy stepped briskly onto the conveyor with their luggage and they jumped to keep up. Chakotay looked behind. The door was closed tight, looking practically hermetically sealed, as if they had entered a secret world of which they were the only three occupants. Kathryn stood just in front of him, the bellboy some six feet ahead.

Impetuously, Chakotay pulled the combs from Kathryn's hair, letting it tumble loose over her shoulders. He ran his hands through it, fluffing it out as he knew she liked it, massaging her scalp. Her eyes closed, she relaxed into the ministrations of his hands, sighing languidly. Experimentally, he ran his hand down Kathryn's spine. She arched her back at his touch, but still did not look around at him. So Chakotay continued downward until his hand passed under her backside and between her legs. She caught her breath as that hand moved back and forth between her legs. Her head tilted backwards, her eyes half-closed, her teeth bit her lower lip. She breathed deeply, concentrating on making as little noise as possible, pleasure rippling over her features.

Neither of them noticed the change in the corridor until the bellboy called out, "We've reached the bungalow area!"

Fortunately, he yelled it over his shoulder without turning, and Kathryn and Chakotay quickly rearranged themselves. Ahead, the conveyor ended and they were fronted by another set of glass and brass doors.

"What now?" Kathryn said breathily.

"Bungalows." Chakotay pointed to a small, dimly lit building about thirty feet beyond the doors.

The bellboy passed through the doors and set their suitcases down on an earthen tiled slab about ten feet in diameter. All they could see was darkness and intense tropical vegetation, occasionally a pinpoint of dim, distant lights. To the left was that lone bungalow, its backside to them, its face shielded by more heavy foliage. Distantly, they heard the sound of the sea, and the air was heavy with its smell, combined with the heady scent of night flowers.

"It reminds me . . ." Kathryn whispered.

"Yes," Chakotay said in a low voice, close to her ear, "that first time."

They had met in Costa Rica while he was leading an archaeology dig and she was supervising some of her engineering grad students on a rural town well project. Their attraction had been instantaneous, their chemistry explosive, and although both had told themselves to take it slow, within a week they'd been making love surrounded by rain forest. They hadn't been apart since for any significant length of time.

Kathryn smiled reminiscently and touched his face with her fingertips. "I guess it's always going to be like that first time with us."

So she did feel the newness. He was about to confirm this, but the bellboy interrupted: "Your driver will be along shortly." He started back through the glass doors.

"Driver?" Chakotay asked incredulously.

The bellboy turned with the door half open. "You're in Bungalow 21, the last one up the path, the most secluded. Too far to walk."

And before they could ask another question, the bellboy popped through the doors and receded down the conveyor--which, conveniently, was now moving in the opposite direction.

"This really is really weird," Chakotay said.

But the driver arrived then, a pleasantly smiling fellow in a golf cart. He jumped out and stowed their luggage in the carrier behind the cart, gesturing for them to get into the back seat.

"Another blonde," Kathryn noted quietly as they got into the cart.

"Seems to be all they grow 'round these parts," Chakotay said with a sly grin. But as they settled into the cart, he grumbled, "This is taking forever!"

"You weren't in any hurry to get to our Bungalow, were you?" she asked teasingly.

He gave her what must have been a very devilish look because her eyes went wide with mock surprise. "Don't you dare!" she said unconvincingly.

Chakotay folded his hands in his lap and looked out into the darkness, pretending to be offended. But he couldn't keep from laughing when her hand snaked sinuously over his thigh. Kathryn's hand explored further, but before things got too far advanced, he gently took her hand and raised it to his lips. Their eyes locked on one another's. Had someone given them a powerful aphrodisiac? He wanted to lift her onto his lap right this second, the driver be damned. And the look in her eyes told him she wouldn't resist such a move.

But instead he leaned over to nuzzle her neck and murmured, "I love you."

"And I love you," she sighed.

She did love him!

Of course she does, idiot! She agreed to marry you!

But his heart was pounding in his chest as if he'd never heard her say those words before, had been waiting a long time for them. He kissed the side of her face, sucked at her earlobe, couldn't get enough of touching her and being touched by her.

And then he got a particularly evil thought.

Has someone secretly injected you with the hormones of a thirteen-year-old? he wondered, but he couldn't help himself. The idea was just too irresistible. He began to suck at her neck, interspersing it with kisses elsewhere so she wouldn't figure out what he was up to, but always returning to the same spot.

She'll be furious when she sees this!

Ah, but that was half the fun.

Kathryn enjoyed his kisses immensely. Her eyes were closed again, her soft hands ran over his face and along the back of his head and neck--occasionally straying to his lap--until his kisses became so ardent they had to break away from one another or really risk embarrassment in front of the driver.

By the time they reached Bungalow 21, they were both in such a state of high excitement and in such a frenzy to get out of the cart, they hardly even looked at the place.

Chakotay's hands shook as he put the key in the lock, as if something long desired was about to be granted him. Kathryn ran her hands over his back, going downward, and finally he got the key in the lock and the door opened. Chakotay literally threw the bags inside, and they stumbled into the small front hall, slamming the door behind them.

She turned with a mischievous expression. "I'm so sleepy I don't think I could keep my eyes open another second." But her eyes were wide and glistening.

He laughed and pulled her towards him, wrapping his arms around her back. She nestled against his chest as she'd done--surely--hundreds of times. But again, that strange sensation of newness and unexplored territory overwhelmed him. He kissed her lightly, then more deeply, the taste of her fresh and miraculous on his tongue, the excitement tightening in his chest and loins. Kathryn met his kiss with an excitement and passion equal to his. Her nipples were hard, pressing through the silk of her lingerie and the thin cotton of her blouse; he caught her lower lip between his own, sucking, then opened wider to capture her tongue and suck briefly before giving her his own. He lost all thought of newness, all thought of anything but the sensation of Kathryn, and gave himself to the heat of the moment and his driving need, finally, to be with the woman he loved.

*****

Chakotay hardened against Kathryn's stomach. Moisture started between her legs. God, how she wanted him! More then anyone she'd ever known. And when he stopped the exploration of her mouth with his tongue only long enough to lift her blouse over her head and discard it, she thought, Yes, I'll give myself to him, yes, this time I will . . .

She lost her concentration momentarily, wondering why she'd had that thought. We've made love hundreds of times . . .

But then his mouth moved to her neck, her collarbone; his hands released the snap at the back of her bra, and the thought cascaded away like a feather on air. He encircled her with his arms and lifted her slightly; they stumbled backward and thumped against the wall. They laughed, but then his mouth enveloped her painfully hardened nipples, one at a time, and they were very serious again.

He's never kissed me like this before, never . . . But a quick flash of memory of the time in Costa Rica, making love on that Mayan stele . . .

That thought vaporized when Chakotay's hand reached under her skirt and along the skin of her inner thigh. Oh, God! Kathryn's mons radiated heat. His fingers snaked in through the leg of her panties and parted the hot wetness of her labia. She shivered at his touch, rushing over his fingers. Then he pulled the panties down and off; they fell wetly to the ground. Kathryn kicked them away, hooking her left leg over his hip and around his waist. Her hands struggled to get his damned belt loose and to unzip him. Two of his fingers moved in and out of her, but she wanted him. She came again just has her hands found his penis. Oh, God . . . hard and thick . . .

She must have guided him towards her like this before, but when the tip of his penis touched her, she shivered at the unfamiliar pleasure, so new, so unexpected . . . . Insistently, once, oh, twice, oh, and then he was inside, ohhh, thrusting gently, slowly.

"Chakotay . . ." she moaned, and his thrusting became more insistent, deep and long, pinning her to the wall. She brought her other leg up and wrapped them both tightly around him so he could get even deeper. He moved his hands beneath her ass to hold her in place and thrust hard.

Kathryn's breath shrieked out of her, the intensity of her pleasure obliterating everything else. A wordless cry of ecstasy spurred him to thrust harder, faster, his breath quickening sharply where his face laid beside her ear. She spasmed, holding him tight. He gasped and thrust harder. She spasmed again, and a purple glow rose in her vision. Her come saturated her bunched skirt. Then Chakotay shuddered violently, let out a deep moan, and their come combined to cascade to the floor.

He lay against her, inside her, his forehead leaning on the wall. She still throbbed from his thrusts, rhythmically clenching and unclenching him. Every time she did, he gave a little groan. She drew her legs tighter around him, reluctant to let go.

"Don't leave me yet," she whispered.

Tenderly, he kissed the side of her face, her cheek, then her lips and neck. "Never," he whispered back.

They leaned against the wall, kissing and tenderly touching, until her spasming eased away.

"All right," she finally whispered, "it's okay . . ."

He kissed her long and deep before pulling out. So sorry to feel him go, but he couldn't hold her against that wall forever. She placed her legs on the ground again, but as soon as she did, he swept her up in his arms and carried her to the bed. He tripped over the luggage and they flopped sideways onto the bed, laughing exhaustedly in each others' arms.

They straightened themselves and removed the few articles of clothing still clinging to their bodies, and Kathryn nestled her forehead against his neck. He enclosed her in his arms and sighed deeply, contentedly.

"It was as if we'd never made love before," she murmured, "as if everything was new."

"Yes," he sighed. "Never know we'd been married five years . . ." His voice faded with each word. Then he was silent, breathing slowly, deeply asleep.

A warm, luxurious torpor enveloped Kathryn. She closed her eyes. Their mutual impression of having never made love before was truly strange. And then she remembered that purple glow. You don't get orgasms like that the first time out, she reminded herself sleepily. You have to be really comfortable with someone to feel that . . . And then she, too, was asleep.

Part Four: A Perfect Day

The sun in his eyes woke him, streaming into the room from some unknown source. He lay on his back, Kathryn's naked body tight against his, on her side, her back to him, still asleep. He smiled, remembering last night, and turned on his own side, slipping his arm around her waist, her soft skin all up and down his torso. She mumbled in her sleep but didn't wake. He kissed her shoulder, as soft as he always thought it would be.

Then paused.

Why did I think that? I've kissed this shoulder hundreds of times.

He shook his head, laughing silently at himself. It was preposterous, of course. Just be grateful you haven't turned into old married folk. And take this moment and all the rest for what it is: a gift.

Chakotay kissed her shoulder again, gently moving her hair out of the way to caress the back of her neck. She sighed deeply and brought her hand up to lay on the arm encircling her waist.

"You realize, of course, that there are clothes strewn all over this room," she said ironically. They both laughed, a wonderful, joyful shaking of bodies.

"I hardly saw this room last night. I couldn't have described it if someone had held a . . . a . . . gun to my head . . ."

Kathryn tensed briefly over his hesitation on the word "gun," as if she, too, felt the word was somehow wrong, archaic, not what he would normally say. But what other word was there? The phrase had always been "held a gun to my head" for as long as he could remember. I'm being completely fanciful this morning, he thought, forcing himself to relax. Kathryn's tension eased, too, as if cued by his own.

"Should we explore our surroundings?" she finally asked, attempting the casual tone of before.

"Eventually." He kissed the back of her neck once more. She gave a little laugh, then a contented sigh.

Chakotay moved his hand from her waist to where breasts came together from laying on her side. He massaged one nipple hard with the palm of his hand while his fingers played with the other. His other hand gently caressed her hair. He was hardening against her backside, his penis rising between the cheeks, encouraged by Kathryn slowly rubbing herself up and down against him. His hand left her hard nipples, traveling down her abs and stomach. She lifted her upper leg slightly so his fingers could run back and forth over the meeting point of the labia.

She gave a shuddering sigh. Then he parted those lips, exploring her opening, gently pinching the clitoris before starting a sweet rotation on it with his thumb. His two fingers penetrated her slowly, then picked up the tempo. She came for him very quickly, always ready for him, always, and what a glory her passion was as great as his for her!

"Let me over on my back," she sighed.

"Not necessary," he breathed, lightly biting the shoulder he'd just been kissing. His fingers withdrew from her, and she gave a bereft "Oh!" but sighed again as he ran his palm along the smooth inner thigh of that raised leg, hooking it with his fingers to bring it forward and a little higher.

"I see," she breathed, shifting her body slightly onto her stomach and bending the knee up. He entered from behind, gently but easily, gasping as he was enveloped by her. She moaned as he eased her back onto her side to thrust more deeply. His flesh was all around her, tight against her. His arm on the other side of Kathryn balanced him as the tempo of his thrusts increased. She gave a shivering sigh, pressing her backside into his thrusts, shifting the balance enough so he could move his hand back to her clitoris. She came again and again, crying out with each gush.

Then suddenly she cried out, "Oh, wait!"

He stopped moving. "What??" he choked out.

She rolled away, leaving him suddenly abandoned and confused. But she laughed seductively and pushed him playfully onto his back. She leaned over him with her hands lightly pinning his shoulders to the bed, and ran her tongue teasingly all around his mouth, and into the cleft of his chin.

"It's been wonderful," she said hoarsely "but you've been totally in charge so far. Now, it's my turn, Mister!"

He had an almost irresistible urge to say, "Aye, Captain!" But as she straddled him, he forgot all about this strange compulsion. Kathryn guided him inside herself with an gratified "Ahhh!" Her thighs moved rhythmically up and down, her buttocks patted his own thighs lightly, and with each downward plunge, she swallowed him up, swallowed him up, moving, sighing, gasping. Her head was thrown back in ecstasy, her mouth bowed with pleasure, her breasts jutting.

Chakotay's breath caught in his throat. Watching her was almost better then the exquisite sensations she gave him, almost better than the excruciatingly sweet build of tension. Her bones were fine and fragile-looking, but the power in her soul made her like a goddess riding him. His hands caressed her breasts wonderingly, ran over her body, stroked that marvelous ass, held her waist as she rose and fell and then his fingers returned to the place where she swallowed him and began again that rotation. Kathryn cried with pleasure and exultation.

Not ready for it to end it yet!

Chakotay sat up abruptly so they were face to face and she was forced to stop moving. He drew her close. Kathryn held on tight, turned her face up to him with the shadow of a smile--wise, worldly, serene. His heart thundered in his chest. He kissed that enticing smile, lost in the taste of her. She sucked on his lower lip, his tongue, and then he took her tongue into his mouth.

When he pulled away from her lips, he said desperately, "I need--"

"I know," she whispered, smiling her permission.

They tumbled onto their sides, and he said triumphantly, "I didn't lose hold!" She smiled that serene smile again, and brought her free leg up around his waist. He moved her over onto her back to free the other leg and she brought that around his waist, too, locking ankles behind his back. He thrust into her powerfully, feeling at once dominant and supremely in her power. She owned him, body and soul, and he didn't want it any other way. Kathryn matched his thrusts, arching her back, gasping and moaning raggedly, until he came with a violence that momentarily blinded him with pleasure and tore a shout of ecstasy from them both.

Chakotay lay lightly atop her, kissing her face, her mouth, her throat tenderly. Her clenched legs released their hold on his back and moved slowly down his own legs, her arms encircling him, her hands gently playing over his back.

"That was amazing," she whispered.

"Yes, yes . . ."

A long cherished dream, Kathryn, to lie exhausted and used up in your arms. . . What?

But his mind was lulled, and suddenly he was too tired to think what he might have meant by that. With another tender kiss, he pulled free and rolled over on his back. She wrapped her arm around his waist, entwined her legs with his, and lay her cheek against his chest.

This is Paradise, he thought, and drifted to sleep again.

*****

Kathryn roused from dozing and quietly moved away from the sleeping form of her . . . husband . . .

Yes, of course, your husband, silly. Why is that concept so foreign?

She tread carefully between damp clothes and tumbled luggage on her way to the bathroom, laughing silently at the carnage they'd made last night in their frenzy to make love.

Like newlyweds!

And she was rather sore this morning, as if it had been a long time since she'd had sex. Which was ridiculous, of course. They had a very passionate marriage! They made love all the time!

When she returned to the room, her eyes fell again on the form of her husband sleeping peacefully on his back. Kathryn loved looking at him without having to be guarded, without worrying about what anyone else thought or interpreted. Chakotay smiled in his sleep, his face relaxed and peaceful. He had kicked off the covers, and his long, lean, naked body was good to linger over: those powerful thighs, the toned chest and shoulders, his penis--now slack but so thick and powerful inside her. She wished he'd turn over so she could see his naked ass, so tight! Instead, she contented herself with looking at the beautiful bow of his mouth--heavenly to kiss and be kissed by.

To Kathryn's astonishment, tears welled in her eyes and crowded into her heart, as well. She was simultaneously so full of joy and so damned embarrassed at the power these emotions had! But she couldn't help it. It was so good to finally let these feelings out, to love him without reserve or worry.

And why would I ever hold back my love for him?

Kathryn didn't know, but it was unmistakable, this sense of releasing something which had been penned in and held close.

Without warning, the world suddenly tilted around her and shivered as if about to dissolve. Kathryn reached for the door frame of the bathroom, but her hand passed through the wood as if it was as insubstantial as smoke. Then all at once the floor simply wasn't there anymore! Blackness was beneath her and all around, and when she turned to cry out to Chakotay, he slept as peacefully as before--except he floated on the blackness! She blinked in astonishment a few times, and as suddenly as the world had gone strange, everything was back the way it had been. Her hand grasped solid wood. Her husband lay on the bed. Her feet were beneath her again.

What in God's name--?? She staggered back to the bed to sit on the edge. Get a grip, Kathryn. Was she hallucinating? Or was she still asleep and dreaming? She pinched herself hard and let out a yelp of pain she was sure would wake Chakotay. But he only mumbled in his sleep and turned over on his side.

What in God's name just happened? Had they fallen into some weird space anomaly?

Oh, Kathryn, don't start with the bizarre ideas again! You're jet lagged, that's all. And your blood sugar is probably at rock bottom.

True. It had been at least half a day since either of them had eaten! She'd order breakfast and wake him when it arrived.

She closed her eyes tight and took in a great lungful of air. When she opened her eyes again the room was still solid, and she took a good look around for the first time. It restored her sense of normalcy. As it happened, the room was charming, painted a pale rose above a dark reddish wainscoting rising halfway up the wall. A small, cozy place: a bathroom off the main room, a small refrigerator against the south wall, a bed, of course--King size--and an area set aside with two rose floral stuffed chairs, a desk with paper, pencils, and a phone sitting on it.

Like an English cottage, she thought. But in the tropics?

In the middle of the west wall was a large sliding glass window looking out on a spectacular beach of white sand, clear aquamarine water, and bending, green palm trees.

God! We've been making love and sleeping naked in front of that window all night long!

Kathryn would have sworn it wasn't there last night, sworn it wasn't there when she'd gone to the bathroom! She had another disoriented moment when the world got all wobbly, and took several long, stabilizing breaths.

I've got to get something to eat!

But first, close those damned drapes! Thankfully, no one was outside on the beach, but Kathryn slinked up to the drapes, anyway, in case someone came along. She stretched for the cord, and the heavy rose-beige drapes snapped shut. The noise finally woke Chakotay.

"Good morning," he said raspily, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"Good morning again, you mean. Did you know the drapes were open all night long and all morning, too?"

"Oh. No. Is there a window there?" He sat up and smiled sheepishly. "Guess I didn't notice. Did you?"

"Apparently, we were both too distracted."

He smiled. "It was a nice distraction."

"Yes," Kathryn agreed in a long, thoughtful drawl. "But some very distracting things have happened this morning. I don't like it."

Chakotay looked puzzled and vaguely hurt. "You don't like how I distract you?"

She laughed. "I love the way you distract me"--he looked pleased by this information--"but I'm just feeling rather, I don't know . . . lightheaded, I guess."

"Lightheaded?"

"Lightheaded is as good a word for it as any. And before we get distracted again, I want to get something to eat! I'm starving! Would you call room service? I want to shower and actually put some clothes on, then get out of this bungalow and see what's here!"

He gave her a teasing smirk, eyeing her up and down. "You really want to get dressed?"

Preposterously, she found herself blushing.

Chakotay gave an appreciative "oh" and grinned at her.

Flustered, she tried to pretend it was no big deal, but moved back to the protection of the bathroom. "Yes, I really want to get dressed," she said over her shoulder. "I want to explore that beach, and don't think the neighbors would appreciate buck nakedness."

"Always exploring," he said, stretching luxuriously. "But . . . as it pleases you, m'lady."

Kathryn eyed him again just before popping through the bathroom door, sitting on the edge of the bed with his arms crossed over his bare chest, a devilish smile on his lips. "If I didn't love you so much," she said, "I might have to slap your face for what you're thinking."

He looked both surprised and very pleased with her statement.

Then she popped through the bathroom door and caught sight of herself in the mirror for the first time. Her face was relaxed, satiated, her hair tousled, and she felt very, very content . . . . until she saw the large, suspicious bruise on her neck.

She marched back into the bedroom, stuck her hands on her hips and said crossly, "Did you give me a hickey?"

Chakotay flopped over onto his back, laughing uncontrollably--a full, open, rolling laugh from the very center of his being. Kathryn thought it was the most joyous sound she had ever heard, and although she tried to remain stern, that glorious laugh was too infectious to resist.

"Oh, you are an evil man!" she laughed.

He stopped chortling long enough to wipe a tear from his eye. "Only with you, my love. Only with you!"

*****

Not another soul in the world . . . as if they had been magically transported to a place that belonged only to them.

After Chakotay's phone call, food appeared on a cart outside the door, a slight knock announcing its presence. When they looked outside, there was no sign of who had delivered it. They wheeled the cart onto a small wooden deck beyond the glass doors and set up breakfast on the white metal and glass patio table there. Not a single other human being was visible on the beach for the entire curving expanse of the bay, north and south as far as they could see. They lolled in white patio chairs while ravenously consuming their food: bagels and cream cheese, sliced melon and pineapple, corn flakes, milk, and cranberry muffins. Coffee, tea, and orange juice were also on hand.

"You ordered a California bed and breakfast meal for a tropical island?" Kathryn asked.

"This is their standard breakfast."

"Hmm. I guess it fits, considering this bungalow looks more like an English cottage! But, anyway, I am happy!" Kathryn eyed him over the brim of her coffee cup, her faced radiating contentment. "Good, strong coffee! It's been ages and it's absolute heaven!"

Kathryn got perfunctorily to her feet. "Grab a muffin!"

"What?"

"In case we get hungry on the trail." She grabbed the knapsack she'd liberated from their luggage and stuffed a couple of plastic bottles of water from the refrigerator into it.

"Ah. Exploring."

Chakotay followed orders, picking up a muffin and, without thinking about it much, pushed it into the wide pockets of his loose, white cotton trousers. Kathryn wrapped two in a linen napkin before putting them into the knapsack. She wore khaki shorts and a sleeveless red plaid cotton blouse, but the shorts had most of his attention.

Such an incongruous sight! Kathryn in shorts! Chakotay had to laugh.

"What's so funny?" she asked, stepping off the deck and onto the sand.

"I don't know. Life, I guess."

But before stepping onto the sand himself, he watched her walk away and decided he could easily get used to the sight of Kathryn in shorts. And her legs were nice, too.

She was several yards ahead when she turned around. "Come on, slow poke!"

"Coming," he said, grinning at the images flashing through his mind.

Near the water, Kathryn took a deep breath of sea air and turned her face up to the wind. "It's good to be alive, isn't it?"

Chakotay experienced a moment of déjà vu. Those words had been spoken between them before--and the wind and the water were part of it, too. Suddenly, the beach and water undulated before his eyes, the sand beneath his feet turned to air. Only Kathryn standing before him, dressed in a red and black uniform, had any solidity. He gasped for air, unable to breathe, but just as suddenly everything snapped back into place again: Kathryn in her shorts, the beach, the bay. Reeling with vertigo, he stumbled forward a few steps before righting himself.

All he managed to say was a distracted, "Uh . . ."

Kathryn opened her eyes and smirked. "Such enthusiasm!" But when she looked closely at this face, her humor was replaced by concern. "Chakotay, what's wrong?"

"Disoriented for a moment." He rubbed the bridge of his nose with his finger and thumb. A headache was pounding behind his eyes. "I guess I caught a dose of your lightheadedness."

She laid a solicitous hand on his arm. "This place must have a doctor. Maybe we should have you checked out--and me, too, for that matter."

"No." He forced a smile, and told himself the headache was leaving, he wasn't sick, he wouldn't allow it to ruin things. "If you promise to distract me later, I'll be fine." And the headache really did begin to fade.

Kathryn smiled, but her eyes still looked concerned. "Sure?"

"Positive," and this time his smile was unforced. "It is good to be alive, and I'm happy to be here with you, and this place is Paradise, and I say we'd better enjoy it before it fades away."

She eyed him quizzically--Chakotay wasn't sure why he'd phrased it quite that way himself--but then she smiled and patted his arm. He encircled her waist and pulled her close, kissing her with as much feeling as he could summon. She hooked her arms behind his neck and gave him back as good as she got. They gradually pulled away and walked close beside each other northward along the beach, arms around waists. Chakotay's hand slipped down over the back of her shorts.

Kathryn grinned. "Exploring?"

"My mission in life."

Kathryn's eyes blinked rapidly and she looked distracted. "Mission . . ." she repeated. "Why does that word have such a peculiar resonance?"

"I couldn't say. It's been a day for peculiar resonances, though, hasn't it?"

She faced him. "What do you mean?"

"I wish I knew!" he said in frustration. "Things here have a way of seeming unreal sometimes."

"Yes," she said slowly, "I know what you mean. As if we're in a state of . . . flux."

"I'm an archaeologist not a doctor," Chakotay said, "but perhaps we're just a little exhausted from the travel and from our busy schedules before we left home. Still winding down, you know? The mind plays tricks when you're tired."

"You could be right," she mused, but her expression told him she wasn't quite convinced.

Chakotay, on the other hand, decided he was sure. His explanation for their experiences was exactly right. Their minds had been playing tricks on them from the start, and he wasn't going to let himself be confused by weird feelings anymore.

"I know I'm right," he said, "and I think it's important for us to just be here together and enjoy ourselves while we can!"

"You sound as if you don't believe it will ever be this way again!"

"Uh, sure, it will be this way again . . ." But her statement threw him into momentary confusion. "Yes," he said resolutely, for himself as well as for her. "It will be this way for a long time!"

Kathryn laughed. "All right, I believe you!" She drew close to him again. "I hope it lasts forever."

They kissed again for a long time before continuing their walk up the beach. They hadn't made much progress. The waves lapped over their bare feet, the foam bubbled between their toes while the retreating water carved out chunks of sand beneath their feet, tickling as it receded. The sun blazed overhead, but a mild breeze came off the ocean, keeping them relatively cool. The scent of lush greenness was on that breeze, sweeping over them from a thick stand of palms about thirty yards inland from the shore.

"Let's, uh, turn to starboard," Kathryn suggested.

Chakotay leered. "Aye, Captain."

"I hate to leave any uncharted territory."

"I like the way you think, Captain."

Kathryn took off running for the stand of palms. He let her get quite a lead before going after her. She was a fast, athletic runner, but his legs were longer--and he wasn't such a bad runner himself. He caught up with her just before she disappeared into the forest of palms. They laughed goofily, breathing hard, and she pulled him quickly inside the cover of greenery.

"What a pair of kids we've turned into!" she wheezed. She led him towards a bed of moss in a small open space between the slim trunks of the palms. The look in her eyes was unmistakable, and he was content to allow himself to be dragged along. His breath was still tight in his chest, but not from running. Kathryn sat on the bed of moss and patted it with her hand.

"Quite comfortable and refreshing," she said, pulling him down beside her.

Something squished inside his pocket. "Damn!"

"What?"

He pulled out pieces of squashed cranberry muffin and inspected the red stain bleeding through the fabric of the pocket. Kathryn tried not to laugh, her eyes tearing and her mouth pursed with the strain.

Chakotay smiled sheepishly. "Guess I picked the wrong day to wear white."

Kathryn let out a depressurized guffaw, and Chakotay joined in.

"It's all right. Both of us will have our backsides stained green from this moss!"

"Well then . . ." He reached for the belt of her shorts. "Those had been come off right now!"

"You first!" Kathryn laid her hand on his chest, gently pushing until he laid on his back, then undid the button of his pants. She sat astride his legs just in case he decided to argue. But he wasn't inclined to. Kathryn unzipped him and slowly pulled the pants down, removing herself from his legs so he could raise his butt just enough for her to slide the pants and his shorts off.

"Hello," she said throatily to the beginnings of his erection.

"Just trying to do my duty."

"You do it well."

She bent her head towards his "duty," a salacious grin forming.

Oh, yes, Kathryn! Such a generous woman.

She licked playfully at his glans, running her tongue into the slit. Chakotay sucked in his breath at the sudden pleasure of it. Kathryn took the tip in her mouth, rolling her tongue around, her eyes wide and full of . . . power. Oh yes, he was definitely in her power. Chakotay's entire world became the sensation of that mouth on him. Her eyes glinted with satisfaction as he gave a profound sigh and the elbows he propped himself up with got wobbly. He gave up and flopped back on the moss while she worked exquisitely all around, over, up and down, and the pressure built. He panted as he got close, trying to hold back.

"Almost time," he choked out, but Kathryn still worked as if not hearing. The pressure was intense, but still he tried to hold back. He propped himself up on his elbows so he could see her face.

"Coming!" he gasped. She flicked her eyes upward to indicate she heard, but her mouth still played deliciously over him. Inevitability took over. He groaned and released in a powerful rush, contracting five, six, seven times, while his feet shook and he let out a loud groaning. Kathryn was still there, swallowing, a look of triumph in her eyes.

Chakotay collapsed back onto the moss, every part of his body slack and relaxed. Kathryn took a long drink from one of the water bottles and casually removed her clothes. She unbuttoned his blue chambray shirt and laid down, her cheek against his bare chest, her legs wrapped around his. He sighed in profound happiness and stroked her hair.

"Thank you," he whispered.

"My pleasure. It's nice to feel in command of things once in a while."

He laughed. "You can command me any time you want, Kathryn! I am your devoted follower!"

"First officer," she corrected. They both tensed suddenly. She raised her head to look into his eyes. "You felt that, too."

"What?"

Her eyes edged towards anger. "Don't pretend you didn't feel how jarring that was!"

"Well, okay, so what?" he said defensively. Why couldn't she just let go and enjoy what they'd been given? Why did she have to notice every wrong word and analyze it to death? Why did she have to spoil beautiful moments like this?

His thoughts must have spilled into his eyes and face. Her own face looked startled. She opened her mouth to speak, thought better of it, and looked around as if she might find better words floating in the air. Chakotay felt like an idiot. He was the one spoiling the moment.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I just . . ." He stroked her cheek gently with his fingers. "I just want this time together, Kathryn. Somehow I know it's precious, and yes, it may never happen his way again, no matter what I said before."

Kathryn bent low so her eyes were close to his. "What aren't you telling me?"

"I've told you everything I know. I just feel how precious this time is; how fleeting times like these are. I want us to relax, stop asking questions, take what's offered."

"It's not in my nature to stop asking questions."

He closed his eyes so she wouldn't see the disappointment in them. No, it wasn't in her nature. He knew that, had known it all along. Just this once, he'd hoped she would put her wonderful, boundless curiosity on hold and enjoy the moment without reserve.

"Chakotay," she whispered, her breath warm on his cheek, "I'm sorry, too."

He opened his eyes. Her face was full of tenderness, and again he realized how lucky he was, how unbearably wonderful the gift of this time together was.

"If you feel it's that important, it must be," she said, and smiled broadly. "You always were more sensitive to that kind of thing than I."

When she kissed him, he tasted his own saltiness on her tongue. Her fingertips made small, sensual circles on his chest and ran slowly up and down along his ribs and abdomen. His hand, in turn, traced the entire length of her spine, barely touching the flesh. Then he held her while slowly turning them over so she was the one laying on the bed of moss.

"What?" she whispered. "Are you ready again so soon?"

Chakotay's mouth played with the nipples of her breasts, sucking them with eyes closed before traveling down to kiss her stomach. He paused there, looking up at her face. "I thought I'd return your generosity."

"Oh. That would be very nice."

His tongued played around her navel while his hands rested easily on her hips. Kathryn's flesh was so soft, so tender, so intoxicating; touching her, kissing her, licking her was exhilarating. Would he ever get enough of her? His heart pounded at the thought of giving her the kind of pleasure she had given him. Traveling farther down, his hands slid over her hips and down to her inner thighs, bringing them gently apart. Chakotay settled his head and shoulders between her legs. The tangy smell of her was already there. His tongue played up and down the folds of her until her breathing grew ragged. She moaned deeply and her acid tanginess burst onto his tongue.

Her legs went wider and he moved down to penetrate her with his tongue before touching his mouth to her clitoris--kissing, sucking, flicking insistently. Kathryn gasped and sighed, coming again and again until she moved her hips against his face; until all she could do was gasp "oh" over and over; until she could no longer make any sound at all but panting, and her hands floated up from her body, quivering.

Miraculously, he was hard again, as rigid as if he were once more a twenty-year-old. He knelt over her, his arms on either side, looking down at her moist, languid face.

Without a word, she pulled him on top of her. Chakotay slipped inside, and Kathryn moaned raggedly as soon as his glans touched her. He moved slowly, enticing her by just touching the edge of her vulva, savoring every second. She locked her legs hard around him and forced him to thrust hard inside. Kathryn cried out his name, matching every thrust. He gasped as she clenched him and thrust upwards. Pressure built fast; he'd lose control too quickly and desperately wanted this pleasure to last.

"Turn over!" he gasped.

"Oh! Oh, yes!" Kathryn unlocked her legs so he could get to his knees. Quickly, she turned over and rose on her own knees, grabbing one of the slim palm trunks with both hands. He entered her from behind, his hand moving her hips back to him as he moved forward, her buttocks pounding gently against his lower stomach, exciting him more. She gasped with each thrust, her fingernails dug into the bark of the palm, she threw her head back to cry out in pleasure. His speed increased until spasms rocked through her with every few beats, and she shook with ecstasy.

"I can't stand it!" she finally cried out, gripping the palm trunk fiercely. "Oh, God!"

Chakotay moved rapidly then until inevitability carried him to a glorious climax. Kathryn arched her back and let out a extended cry of joy. Their orgasms crashed together, his contractions seeming to last forever--another miracle--forcing moans of pleasure from him that led to one, long, sighing groan.

Kathryn's hands slipped limply down the trunk of the palm and she sank forward to lay her face on her arms. Chakotay shifted forward with her movement, not wanting to leave her yet. He encircled her waist with his arms and raised her up while he settled back on his haunches. Kathryn sat bonelessly on his thighs. He was still inside her. Her head lay back against his shoulder and lolled over so her face was against his neck; her arms hung loose at her sides before she finally raised them to lay over his arms encircling her waist.

"Like this, forever . . ." she murmured.

He turned his face as much as he could, but he still couldn't quite reach her lips. "Forever," he whispered back, and they sat embracing like that for a long time.

Inevitably, his legs and feet began to cramp and go numb. He sighed in frustration. "My legs . . ." he said regretfully.

Kathryn gave a little groan followed by a brief laugh, and rose off him. She laid back down on the moss, holding her arms up to him. Gingerly, he moved his deadened legs, trying not to pitch forward from the lack of feeling. He managed to lower himself to her with his arms, a very sincere "Ow" escaping him as the sensation started coming back to his legs.

She laughed again and wrapped her arms around his back, tracing lazy loops over his flesh with her fingertips. A profound peace descended over them both.

*****

Kathryn drifted into a place beyond the pleasure of the body, into that secret inner place where the universe made sense; where she understood all the mysteries of life--if only for a brief moment before it flashed away again. Her eyes were half-lidded, and a smile rose on her lips, touching not just her face, but that place of knowing deep inside. Her heart was both opaque and clear as glass, simultaneously pure and utterly worldly. This smile, then, must be as secret as that inner place. Chakotay's eyes were closed, but Kathryn had no fear of him opening them and seeing her smile. She realized suddenly he was the only one--in all that vast universe--she would trust with that smile. She'd never given it to any other man, because she believed none other had accepted her as much as he; had loved her for all her aspects. She told herself she was being absurd, but it did nothing to remove that smile from her lips.

He did open his eyes then and when he saw her face, blinked in surprise. "You look beautiful . . . and mysterious." His voice held a note of awe.

"That's my secret smile," she said.

"Your secret smile," he repeated, smiling back uncertainly.

"Yes." She cupped his face with her hands. "It belongs to no one else in the universe but you."

Chakotay wore a stunned expression, but it quickly changed to one of intense love. It left her breathless. How could she have ever denied him? How could she not love him back with all her heart? As his lips closed over hers, she melted into him, losing herself momentarily.

When he raised his lips from hers, his own face was peaceful. "You know what you are?" he whispered. "You are my calm center, the place where I end and the universe begins. That doesn't make sense, I know--and I guess it's pretty corny--but Kathryn . . . you make my life a completed circle."

She touched his face, too full of emotion to say anything and they kissed again. When they parted, she cradled his face against her chest. She didn't really want him looking at her while she said what she wanted to say, but she knew it was important she say it.

"We're so different," she said. "You have these marvelous insights and instincts--and I'm all right angles and equations! Yet somehow, we compliment each other perfectly. You're my best friend, my desired lover, my true companion. And just when I think my heart has hit bottom and my love for you can't get any deeper, you surprise me like you did just now, and I see the well is bottomless and my heart is sinking deeper . . ."

Chakotay was silent a long time, and she began to wonder if he had slept through her entire declaration! But then he kissed her collarbone, her neck, and raised his face to hers. His eyes were bright. "I guess," he said quietly, his smile sweet and amazed, "we're lucky in love."

"Very lucky," she agreed.

*****

"The sun's low on the horizon," he said disappointedly. "I wanted this day to extend to infinity, but . . ." He smiled ruefully at her.

"The sun always wins," she reminded him gently.

They sat with arms entwined around each others' waist, watching the sinking sun appear and disappear through the trunks of the palms and their fronds.

"I guess we'd better get dressed and get back to the bungalow."

"Yes." Kathryn thought it was a damned shame that bodies got tired and hungry, a damned shame. She wished they could lie here all night long, continuing as they'd gone all day--talking quietly, saying important things, making tender love, watching the sky change as the day progressed.

There were stars just beginning to show overhead.

"The stars . . ." she sighed.

A shadow fell across Chakotay's features as he followed her gaze to the stars. He looked puzzled, then distant, as if perceiving something vaguely through a distant mist. "The stars," he repeated. "Somehow I think our lives are up there with the stars, Kathryn."

She nodded. Her instincts told her he was right, though her mind told her space travel was virtually impossible because of the vast distances involved. She found herself saying, "Yes, in the stars. But how?"

"You're the astrophysicist--"

"Yes, but I'm something more, aren't I?"

He looked deeply into her eyes, sadness edging into his own. "Yes. And so am I."

"What are we?"

Chakotay stared at her a long time, a recognition he clearly didn't want starting to form on his face.

"What are we?" she repeated, more urgently.

"Something"--he took a deep breath before continuing--"that means we shouldn't be here together . . ." He closed his eyes and began to rub the bridge of his nose.

"Headache again?"

"Yes. But at least I'm not lightheaded."

"We need to get back to--" And she realized she was about to say "the ship. With that realization came the knowledge of who she really was, who he really was. A deep crimson blush rose on her face, down her neck and breasts. He opened his eyes, and she knew Chakotay realized it, too--had known it the moment he looked at those stars. He turned away from her towards the sunset, his face set and grim, and closed his eyes again tightly.

As Kathryn watched, the grotto of palms all at once became transparent, and she wondered briefly if it was some trick of the setting sun. But she knew it wasn't. The palms grew even more transparent, the violet and orange of the sky got paler, the bed of moss less and less like greenery and more and more like a large piece of white, silky, crumpled fabric.

"Chakotay!" She touched his arm.

He opened his eyes, started violently, and drew Kathryn to him protectively. "What--??"

The tropical scene faded completely. They were surrounded by whiteness--a soft-sided room with rounded corners and a high, arching ceiling, a long expanse of that silky fabric covering the floor, assorted cushions and pillows here and there . . . and their two uniforms lying crumpled on the floor a few feet away. Their perfect day was over.

Part Five: Life in the Stars

It was the sight of those uniforms, Chakotay decided, that caused her to pull away from him and turn her back. The uniforms reminded her--and him--of the problems which had kept them apart and the duties which waited back on Voyager.

We can't escape, can we, Kathryn? We always return to Voyager.

A bitter ache rose in his chest. They'd been cheated again! Obviously, this time with some intervention.

"Why have you done this to us?" he found himself shouting to the blank, white walls.

Kathryn turned in surprise at this outburst, but seeing the look on his face, said nothing. Her own face was full of sorrow, struggling for some kind of control. Finally, she rose, moved to her uniform, and began to dress.

So that's it? We just get dressed and go back to the ship as if nothing happened? What passed between us this time will be much more difficult to ignore then the aftermath of New Earth, Kathryn.

Fury flashed through him, the anger of his youth and his rebellion, goaded by the bitterness and disappointment in his heart. It was just too much, too damned much, to be given the one thing in the universe he hoped most for, only to have it snatched away like this!

"Whoever you are, whoever has done this, show yourselves!" He was screaming at everything that had ever disappointed him his whole life, everything he thought he'd put behind him.

Kathryn pulled on her boots and was looking for the combs and pins she'd used to sweep up her hair. "Perhaps they are intimidated by your anger," she said calmly, neutrally.

Chakotay closed his eyes, partly so he wouldn't see her back in uniform, partly to get a grip on the wild beast which raged inside. The slumbering bear had awakened; he must be put back to sleep or risk a terrible wrath that once released always drew blood. He searched for the fragments of his meditations, tried to breath deep and let his shattered calm return. It was a difficult struggle, perhaps the most difficult of his life, because with each calming thought and silent chant, a little more of his hope died. Nurtured carefully for long months, kept alive despite disappointment, that hope was wasting away, and he couldn't to do a thing about it. The very air was being crushed out of it. All to regain his calm. All so he could go back to pretending he didn't love this woman with a fierce passion--a fierceness he hadn't known he was capable of and that scared him more than a little.

Slowly, gradually, he managed it, managed to battle through waves of bitterness, anger, and sorrow only because she wanted it--needed it, really, as much as he needed to love her. He restored at least a semblance of calm. Enough so he could open his eyes and look at her again.

Kathryn's knees were drawn up, enfolded by her arms, her cheek lying against them, watching Chakotay with compassion and great tenderness before she hurried it away from her face and locked it back inside.

So this is how it will be . . .

He pushed the thought away roughly and sighed deeply. "I'm calm now," he said quietly. "Perhaps they'll explain things to us."

"Whoever they are," she said, rising to bring him his uniform and boots. She let them drop at his side and moved a few feet away with her back to him, as if afraid to watch him while he dressed, afraid to get too close to him.

An absurd modesty, considering . . .

He dressed quickly, never taking his eyes from her--the tension in her shoulders, the wisps of red-brown hair touching her long, white neck which tasted so spicy and sweet, the curve of her hips and buttocks covered in that hiding uniform, but so firm beneath his hands. It was as if he had to stare while he still had the chance, memorize every part of her body, as if . . . But he just couldn't let himself complete the thought, could not quite let the last crushed and powdered bone of his hope blow away on the wind.

"All right," he said, "I'm done."

When she turned, he saw she'd been struggling with tears. The need to draw her into his arms for comfort was nearly overwhelming, but her own arms were rigidly crossed across her body, and he knew such a move wouldn't be welcome.

"Our comm badges are missing," she said in a voice approaching her old tone of command.

"They probably took them."

"And who are they, I wonder?" she said, half to him, half to the immense room.

"We are the Ysarians," said a deep voice from behind them.

They wheeled around to see two very strange and identical beings. Their heads were the color of chalk, and were long and ridged, their eyes about the size and shape of tennis balls and completely black and moist-looking. Each had a long snout which reminded Chakotay of pictures from the twentieth century of people wearing gas masks. Their bodies were covered in shapeless purple robes reaching all the way to the ground, and made of the same silky material which covered the floor. It was impossible to tell what their bodies were like, but they had hands--three very long fingers and an opposable thumb nearly as long as the fingers--also of the same chalky color.

"Why have you brought us here?" Kathryn demanded icily.

"No one visits our planet unless they want something," said the being on the right. It's mouth was barely visible beneath the snout, which seemed to act as a resonator, making the voice deep and echoing. "We are known--in the places which know of us--as the planet of dreams and last hope. We can make things happen that might not otherwise come to be, partly through our ability to enter dreams and minds, partly by our ability to manipulate local time and space."

"We allow hope to exist here, on our world, so that our visitors may see how much it could mean to them in their real lives," said the being on the left, his voice also identical to his companion's.

"Because once they have the courage to ask for what they want," said the being on the right, "and see how much it might mean to them--or conversely, how little--they usually gain the courage to change their real lives, or at least know they've chosen the right path."

"But we asked nothing of you," Kathryn said, anger just beginning to rise in her voice.

"Indeed, you did not," said the being on the left. "When you simply approached our planet without making the Ritual of Supplication and asked for nothing, we became very curious about your species."

"We knew nothing of your ritual," Chakotay said, keeping his voice as calm as possible. "We are explorers and were curious about your planet!"

"Ah," both beings said in unison. The one on the right continued, "We entered your minds seeking to know you. We did see your curiosity, but also many other lost hopes and dreams, scattered throughout your crew. It was most perplexing, a babble of desires, but with one overriding hope: to get home."

"Home," Kathryn whispered. "Yes, we are stranded in this quadrant of the galaxy, and wish to return to our own--many light years away."

"Alas," said the one on the left, "that is beyond our powers to grant, or we would have done so. So we sought something else we might grant you. Your crew had too many wishes, some in direct conflict with others, so we concentrated on the two of you."

"Why us?" Chakotay demanded.

"You are the leaders. We sought to find something that would benefit the majority, to know all your people through you. We sought to know your hopes, your dreams and desires, your fears . . . But, again, your hopes were as individual as everyone else."

The one on the left nodded and continued for his companion, "Yes, and furthermore, we saw that many of the things you desired centered on one another."

Kathryn and Chakotay exchanged brief, startled glances before Kathryn turned her eyes quickly back to the beings.

The one on the right folded his two hands together and spoke in a compassionate voice, "This made us very sad, because the two of you were so unhappy. We thought, perhaps, if we granted you a boon--made your dreams real, helped you set aside your fears--maybe your entire crew would benefit from your happiness."

"But you did not ask our permission!" Kathryn's anger was barely contained this time. Her eyes burned, her brows nettled together, her mouth was thin and pursed.

The one on the right cocked its head and sounded puzzled. "But if we had asked your permission, you would have said no. You would have denied, even, that your dreams were what they were. We thought to help you beyond this denial."

"It wasn't your decision to make!" Kathryn fumed.

Chakotay's anger, curiously, was diminishing. The Ysarians were right. If they'd asked, he and Kathryn would have said no. Kathryn's outrage proved that. And even though it made him feel disloyal to her, Chakotay could not regret what had happened the last two days. Except that it was over now and so was his hope.

"If it was not our decision, then whose was it?" the one on the left asked. "You would not make the decision for yourself. Why should we not give you what you were too afraid to ask for?"

"We believe every individual has the right to choose for themselves what's best for them." Kathryn was attempting to be patient, attempting to curb her fury, but she clenched her fists so hard, Chakotay was afraid she'd make the palms bleed again.

But the one on the left shook its head, making its snout waggle in a way that would have been very funny--if Chakotay had been in the mood to laugh. "Ah, well," said the being, "we believe in allowing each person to find their happiness and true desires, no matter what duty or tradition may say. Your point of view seems strange, not like us at all."

"No, but it's human," Chakotay said quietly.

Very human and very Kathryn. And very me two days ago. But now?

Chakotay wasn't sure he knew the right or wrong of this argument, but he knew he had to support Kathryn. It was what he'd promised her when he first came on board Voyager, and that, at least, had not changed.

"You are being very thoughtful, Commander Chakotay," said the one on the right. "Do you not wish to voice your thoughts?"

"I have nothing to add to the discussion," he said, and turning to look at Kathryn's profile, "I support . . . my captain."

Kathryn flashed him a smile of gratitude over her shoulder, but the one on the left said, "Certainly Kathryn must be more now then just your captain?"

Chakotay stared into Kathryn's eyes for long moments, allowing her to see that nothing had changed for him just because he once more wore a Starfleet uniform. As it registered to her, she dropped her eyes to the ground. Defeat covered his heart like ash, but he turned to the beings and said, "She always was more then just my captain. But that's between her and me--not you."

"Hmm," the beings said in unison before the one on the right continued, "It seems as if we have blundered badly."

"It seems as if you have," Kathryn said coldly.

Chakotay wished Kathryn would look at him again, would let him know with a look or a nod--any sign at all!--that she was not abandoning what had been between them. But although she was aware of his burning stare, she would not turn his way. After a time, he, too, turned away.

"How can we make amends?" asked the one on the left.

"By making it as if this had never happened!" Kathryn said with a choke in her voice.

Chakotay was stunned. His breath caught in his chest preventing him from voicing the protest forming on his lips. The two beings shifted their eyes his way for an instant as if sensing his struggle, and the one on the right said, "Impossible. We cannot undo what has been done."

"Then return us to our ship in a manner that will not arouse suspicion!" Kathryn demanded.

"That we can do," said the one on the left.

Kathryn let out a deep, relieved breath, but Chakotay's soul ached that she was so willing to erase all they had shared. Did it mean so little to her?

"All right," she said coldly. "Return us to our ship!"

"As you wish," the beings said in unison.

But Chakotay urgently needed another question answered, and he held up his hand to stop them. "Was everything that happened between us only an illusion?"

"Oh, no!" they said. The one on the right continued, "What the two of you experienced aboard your ship were not dreams so much as shared hallucinations--to prepare the way, so to speak. But once you were aboard your shuttlecraft and passed through our cloud layer, everything that happened was just as it was. We temporarily removed your knowledge of your ship and your mission, gave you an illusion of a shared past in very different circumstances, and put you in a time and place where you would be comfortable acting on your hopes and dreams. We tried to stay out of your way as much as possible. All the rest happened through your own volition."

"Were you observing us?" Kathryn asked in a half-queasy voice.

"No, we assure you! That would be intrusive--an unforgivable sin in our culture!"

"Your notions of intrusiveness are peculiar," she said. "Some would say all of this was intrusive."

The beings held up their hands in a gesture of helplessness and Chakotay was tired of arguing the point, too.

"Kathryn, let's go," he said firmly.

She blinked in surprise, but nodded. In the next instant, they were aboard the shuttlecraft, breaking through the layer of clouds. The stars were all around them again, a different set of stars from the ones they'd viewed back on that tropical beach on Earth. The illusion of Earth, Chakotay corrected himself. And there, floating silently in the distance, patiently waiting to draw them back in, was the starship Voyager.

*****

The shuttlecraft ride back to the ship was not particularly long time-wise, but it seemed interminable to Kathryn. She couldn't meet Chakotay's eyes. There were too many questions she wasn't sure she could answer. Besides, he was locked behind a stone wall, his thoughts completely private, his face impassive. Watching his hands play deftly over the controls, Kathryn remember how skilled they were on her flesh, but she brutally choked that thought down and turned her face from him so he couldn't see her agony.

You can never go to that place again, she told herself ruthlessly. It is finished, past, beyond reclaiming . . .

By the time they reached the shuttle bay she was in control again. Chakotay followed her to the bridge silently, still locked inside himself, even in the turbolift. She was just as glad. She still didn't know what to say. When they got to the bridge, they discovered--not really to their surprise--that as far as Voyager was concerned, they had been out of contact no longer then half an hour. It had been a worrisome time for the crew because their sensors registered nothing at all once they'd been swallowed by the clouds. When the shuttlecraft broke back through and communicated again with Voyager, the entire bridge crew broke out in spontaneous applause--and Tuvok actually allowed this demonstration. One thing, though, puzzled Tuvok: the shuttlecraft's sensors were as blank as Voyager's. Apparently, they had been thoroughly scrambled inside the clouds, and picked up nothing of their journey.

Kathryn reported for all to hear that they'd never made it out of that cloud layer. "Except for those brief windows of clarity," she said, "it appears that once the cloud layer forms again, there is nothing but cloud all the way to the surface. We descended many miles, and finally had to admit we wouldn't know when we were approaching the surface until we crashed into it." She looked briefly at Chakotay to see how he was handling her lie. He wore that same impassive look, staring at the image of the planet on the viewscreen. Kathryn turned back to Tuvok. "At that point, we decided we'd better turn around and come home."

"A most wise decision, Captain, considering the circumstances."

"Thank you, Mr. Tuvok." She looked around at her bridge crew. They appeared to trust everything she had said, although Tom Paris wore a funny expression for a moment as her eyes glanced over him. Then he smiled and beamed confidence at her like all the rest.

The crew had complete faith in her, and Kathryn felt guilty for lying. But she couldn't bring herself to tell the truth. In the long run lying--just this once--would be best for all of them.

"Mr. Paris, take us out of orbit and set a course for the Alpha Quadrant. I think this planet is best left unexplored."

Paris looked surprised and Tuvok raised a querying eyebrow, but all Tom said was, "Aye, Captain," and obeyed orders.

Chakotay tensed beside her. He turned perfunctorily away from the viewscreen, the impassive mask starting to waiver, and said quietly, "Do you mean, Captain, that you plan to abandon this place without further discussion?"

Kathryn knew damned well what discussion he meant and under no circumstances did she want to have it. "I believe that is my right to decide, Mr. Chakotay."

Not many heard their exchange, but Paris, because he was near, and Tuvok, with his superior hearing, did. Tuvok simply raised another eyebrow, Paris pretended he didn't hear, but his eyes momentarily popped wide with surprise. She'd have to deal with their suspicions later, because Chakotay stared at her with a fierceness she'd rarely seen in his eyes. He managed to keep his face cool, and his voice was tightly controlled when he said, "Captain, may I see you in the ready room?"

"Now, Mr. Chakotay?"

"It's a matter of some urgency, Captain."

Kathryn was angry he'd put her on the spot in front of the crew. So unlike him! But there was no arguing with the intensity of that stare, and no getting out of it without causing a scene. "All right, Mr. Chakotay," she said as mildly as she could manage, and headed toward the ready room. Paris and Tuvok's eyes followed them all the way. "Mr. Tuvok, the conn is yours," she called over her shoulder as the doors to the ready room opened.

Kathryn wheeled on Chakotay as soon as the doors closed. "Was that melodrama necessary?"

"I can't go back to the way it was, Kathryn," he announced with steely quiet. The impassive mask was gone. His jaw clenched, his eyes were as angry as they had been the first time he'd appeared on her bridge.

"What would you have me do, Chakotay? Make love to you in front of everyone?" she snapped angrily.

"Of course not!" he said hotly. "I have no expectations of making love to you anywhere on this ship now! But I do expect some acknowledgment--in private--of what passed between us! And I could tell by the way you turned your back on Ysaria that you have no intention of doing that! You plan to wipe it out of existence!"

She set her jaw firmly. "You know my reasons."

"And I don't accept them any more!"

"It's not for you to say!" He stared at her in pained but defiant silence. It crushed her heart to see his pain, but it hurt her even more that he couldn't accept her feelings. Didn't he know this was killing her, too?

"Not for me to say?" His voice was raw. "What you are doing here is just what the Ysarians did to us! Assuming you know best for everyone, for us! No discussion, no compromise, just Kathryn Janeway's will over all!"

His words hit her like a fist in the heart. For a moment, she couldn't breathe. But she squared her shoulders, raised her chin, and looked him straight in the eye with as much steel as she could muster. "In my judgment," she said icily, "this is the way things have to be, for the good of the ship, for the good of the crew. Our personal agendas . . . will just have to take second place. Can't you see that?"

Chakotay met her eyes without flinching. "Oh, I see, all right," he said with whispered fierceness.

Again, she couldn't quite catch her breath, but forced in a lungful of air. "Are you going to support my authority on this ship, Chakotay, or are you going to start pulling against me over . . . personal issues?"

He looked for an instant as if she had slapped him across his face, but quickly pulled himself together and slipped the impassive mask back in place. However, he couldn't quite get the bitterness out of his tone. "All right, Kathryn. If that's how you want it. I'll do nothing to undermine your authority over personal issues or a personal agenda." The mask slipped briefly showing an unbearable pain. "I would have supported you, anyway, you know. I will be as loyal a first officer as you could want. You can depend on my professional behavior, my best command advice, my full support. But if you can't even acknowledge all that has passed between us--not just physically, but sharing a kind of love not many people get to experience"--his faced twitched again before he regained absolute control--"then I can't go on hoping anymore. I can't go back to the way it was, and you won't let us be what we were on Ysaria. So, I'm your first officer from now on, Captain. That's it."

Abruptly, before she could even respond, he turned and left the room. The door opened and closed, leaving her forlorn and breathless. Alone again, as utterly alone as she'd been when they'd first come to the Delta Quadrant. And how much harder to be alone this time! How could she have misjudged him so badly? Why couldn't he accept that she was trying to keep Voyager together, that Voyager must always come first? And how--oh how--was she going to salvage the wreckage of her love for him?

*****

My, oh my, oh my!

Tom Paris had to struggle to keep from shaking his head in disbelief as he listened to the brief, quiet discussion of the command structure before they stormed off to the ready room. Nobody could tell him there wasn't more to this situation then met the eye!

Tuvok slowly moved his way. Casually, as if checking on the various duty stations, but Paris knew what was on his mind. Sure enough, when the Vulcan reached him, he said in a low voice only Paris could pick up, "You will not repeat anything you might have heard just now, Lieutenant."

Paris was genuinely offended. "I had no intention of doing that, sir."

"Good. See that you are true to your intentions." Tuvok walked away as casually as he arrived.

Arrogant bastard thinks he's got a lock on decency!

Paris tried concentrating on the helm, but everything there was pretty routine and he couldn't help wishing Tuvok would trip and fall on his face. When he didn't, Tom could help thinking over what had gone on between Chakotay and the Captain.

They had been strange from the moment they appeared on the bridge. Chakotay was like a blank wall--nothing at all coming from him--and he seemed only marginally interested in the Captain's story of what had happened. Instead, he stared at the cloud planet on the viewscreen as if part of him was still back there and he didn't know how the hell he was going to get it back. And the Captain! Well, she'd been just a little too perky and energetic--even for her--as she relayed their adventure. They were both covering something up--something significant. Tom Paris couldn't be fooled in these matters.

They were only gone a half hour! the doubtful part of his mind reminded him. Still, doable. Although more rushed then either of them would likely be.

Besides, they would have had to start almost as soon as they entered the clouds--hardly likely, even if pre-planned.

Then again, the Captain had a suspicious-looking bruise on her neck rising about an inch beyond her turtleneck, and with the clear impression of indentation running through it. That hadn't been there when she'd left. And the curious thing was, it had started to yellow as if it were a day or so old.

Time anomaly, a voice whispered in his mind.

That's kind of a stretch, he told himself. But he thought again about that bruise and about his own convictions of what had happened between them, and the time anomaly didn't seem quite so far-fetched. Voyager had encountered them before, after all--too many times for his comfort, in fact.

Okay, time anomaly. If that's the case, there's no telling how long they were down on that planet--or what they got up to!

But Paris knew. Just as he knew the Captain had told Chakotay it was over. They had the same feel to them as when they'd returned from New Earth, only much more intense this time. And also this time, it didn't look as if Big C was ready to let go!

Paris' suspicions were confirmed when Chakotay charged out of the ready room, took a few steps with a furious look in his eyes, suddenly realized where he was, straightened, and dropped a cool mask over his features. Chakotay moved to Tuvok's console and asked for the status reports, pouring over them as if they were the most compelling material he'd ever read.

Long moments later, the Captain returned to sit in her chair, her face as unreadable as Chakotay's. She stared at the viewscreen, now showing their unremarkable progress through space. Though her face didn't reflect it, Paris sensed she was locked inside a very dark place, as dark as the space she stared into. And it broke his heart.

The Commander and the Captain were studiously correct with each other for the remainder of the duty shift, very professional. But something vital was gone. Even the most insensitive member of the bridge crew could have picked that up. No smiles, no laughs, no conspiratorial or reassuring glances, no quiet, intimate conversations. For all appearances, their friendship, which had been such a happy component of life on the ship, had simply ceased to be.

Come on, guys! Paris wanted to shout. This isn't an either/or situation! Haven't you heard of compromise?

But there was no room for compromise in the dead eyes they turned to each other.

Sometimes, he thought ruefully, the command structure lacks imagination.

It wasn't any of his business, of course, and, of course, he should allow them to work things out themselves. But they could both be so damned stubborn sometimes, and he doubted they'd work it out anytime soon.

He sighed sadly and busied his hands with minor course corrections. This situation was not good for anyone on board, he told himself. It could poison the harmony and cooperation they'd enjoyed most of the last three years. So, if he did a little something to speed up the working out process, he wasn't really butting in. Just looking out for the welfare of the crew--which was, after all, part of his duty.

Yeah, it was his duty to butt in.

Looks like I have to interject a little imagination into the command structure. But how?

Harry, if Paris' back hadn't been to him, would have taken one look at his face and undoubtedly accused him of scheming again.

*****

The being on the right shook his snout in a sign of satisfaction. "This young man will do well for our purposes," he said to his companion.

"Yes," said the being on the left. "He cares for both the Captain and the Commander--especially the Captain--and he wishes to see them happy. He will eagerly take our suggestions."

The being on the right clasped his hands together. "Perhaps we will be able to fulfill our mission after all."

"Perhaps," said the being on the left, clasping his hands together in a similar manner. "And then we will owe a debt of gratitude to Tom Paris. How shall we repay him?"

The one on the right said, "We will think of something."

*****

Commander Chakotay went about his duties on Voyager in a mechanical and detached way. He had promised Kathryn he'd be the best first officer she could hope for, and that's exactly what he tried to be. Inside, though, life had lost its fire. Nothing remained but ashes. Sometimes he even thought he tasted them on his tongue, though that made no sense. So, he locked himself inside the ash-filled prison of his heart, talked little to the rest of the crew except where it related to the running of the ship, and worked hard--but not very successfully--at keeping his mind clear of anything that had happened on Ysaria.

His friends noticed, of course. B'Elanna asked him what was wrong and if he wanted to talk about it.

"Nothing's wrong," he said flatly. "I don't need to talk about anything."

He walked away from her startled expression, unable to say more, and unable to meet her eyes, either. More and more, he avoided his friends so he wouldn't have to see those questions in their eyes. When off duty, he stayed alone as much as possible.

Dreams pestered him. He would wake up in a panic, sweating, his pulse racing, his breathing fast, but he could never remember what he'd dreamed, only that something awful had happened, that something was lost that could never be retrieved. He began to dread going to sleep.

One night after finishing his duty shift, a solitary dinner, and all the other distractions he could think of, Chakotay dreaded sleep so much he headed instead for the observation deck. Sitting on one of the benches and leaning his head back against the wall, he stared at the stars and tried to empty his mind. The peace he'd struggled so hard to find in his spiritual beliefs had evaporated.

If he could only find a quiet place within his heart, perhaps he could clean away some of those ashes and contact his spirit guide. Several times in the last week he'd tried, but his mind would never quiet enough and his heart kept pumping unsettling images before him. He was back to the old days of his restless searching; back to the days before he'd returned to following the ways of his people rejected in his youth; the days when his anger propelled him to leave Starfleet and join the Maquis. Once again his soul felt transient in his own body.

Tonight his skin itched with his own restlessness, and no matter how many deep breaths he took, how many calming thoughts, his soul wouldn't hold still. Images flooded him: of making love to Kathryn, of holding her close and telling her all the things he'd wanted to say for so long, of her leaning over him to say she loved him . . . . Desperately, he began counting the stars to chase those images away.

Futile, of course. As soon as he choked them down, another image came to take their place: Kathryn's face as he told her their friendship was over. Her features had the oddest combination of anger, disbelief, and determined steel. At the time, he hadn't allowed himself to see what else was in that expression--her own heartbreak. His words had stabbed at her like the knife of an enemy, and it shamed him now to think of it. No wonder the spirits had nothing to say to him. In one moment, he had shattered all the peace it had taken years for him to acquire, made a sacrilege of everything the spirits--and Kathryn--had shown him. How could he have done that--to her, of all people?

Yes, yes, she had hurt him, too, made him feel all they'd had together on Ysaria was unimportant, or something to be ashamed of. For him, Ysaria had been a precious gift and he'd been so caught up in the joy of sharing a life with her, if only briefly, he hadn't want to leave it behind. He had resented returning to the life of duty and service back on Voyager. If she really loved him, he'd thought, she wouldn't have wanted it, either.

Now he saw it had all been pride, wounded vanity, selfishness. And anger, of course, his biggest demon. He shook his head and gave a bitter little laugh.

I guess our old demons never leave us completely, and come back to haunt us most when we are weakest.

The hope which had sustained him so long had turned desperate, had made him weak and prone to the old evils. Worse, it had made him force her to choose between him and Voyager, just like some cocky kid. What a jerk. Voyager would always come first. It had to. All their lives depended on it.

He ached for her. Not only her body, not even her body most of all. But her, the intimate talks and comfortable silences, the shared confidences, the quiet jokes and laughter. The way things were before. Despite what he had said in that disastrous ready room conversation, the way things were before was infinitely preferable to the way things were now.

But that was gone forever. He'd seen to that. And no hope of getting it back.

At that moment, he was greatly dismayed to see out the corner of his eye that Tom Paris was moving along the observation deck towards him.

That's all I need, dammit!

But he raised his eyes to Tom and nodded.

"Commander!" Tom said with irritating joviality, "I didn't expect to see you here!"

"Nor I you," Chakotay said sourly.

"Yeah, well, just wandered down here to think a few things over," Paris announced casually, and to Chakotay's great chagrin, sat down on the bench. "It's a great place for quiet and settling the mind, wouldn't you say, sir?"

"Yes," Chakotay said pointedly, "I would."

"You know, since you're here, I'm wondering if I could ask your advice about something?"

Chakotay considered excusing himself on the basis of not being in the mood to dispense advice, but decided that didn't sound very commanderly. Besides, if he listened to Tom prattle he wouldn't have to think about Kathryn.

"I'll listen," he finally said, "but I can't guarantee I'll have any sage things to say."

"Fair enough. It'll be good to talk it out with someone, all the same."

Paris gave Chakotay an odd sort of smile--not exactly vulnerable, but certainly not his insolent or cocky one, either. Insecure, maybe, a little intimidated. Which surprised Chakotay a great deal.

"Okay." Tom drew a big breath, looked as if he wasn't really sure he wanted to do this, then plunged rapidly into deep water. "What would you do if you were really, truly, deeply in love with someone who wouldn't give you the time of day?"

The question hit Chakotay like a sucker punch to the stomach, and before pulling himself together, he physically recoiled from Paris. His mouth tightened into what must have been a ferocious scowl because Paris blanched noticeably. Chakotay quickly pulled himself together, sat up straighter and gave Paris a suspicious stare. What had Tom meant by asking such a question? Did he have suspicions about the situation with Kathryn? But Chakotay decided not to add paranoia to his recent collection of negative emotions. Whatever Paris' motive for asking the question, he would treat it seriously. At least at first, until he could see what Tom was up to.

Chakotay made an effort to relax his features and managed to keep his voice level when he answered. "If I was, as you say, in love with someone who wouldn't give me the time of day, I suppose I'd ask myself why. Was it something in the situation which prevented her from responding, or just something in me she couldn't commit to. And maybe I'd also ask myself why I continued to love her, even though the odds were against us."

Tom listened and nodded. "But suppose you've already asked yourself all that and realized you just are in love with her--beyond reason, I guess. It's not something you can change, and you don't really want to change it, because as bad as it gets sometimes, its become part of you, something that's changed you. And you kinda like the changes, you know? So, you've just come to the conclusion that love plays by its own rules, and you accept those rules, and you hope. What would you do then?"

Chakotay flinched internally at the word hope. His mouth was dry, his pulse picking up again. What was Paris up to? But Tom looked very sincere, sort of far away as if concentrating on something that really was digging at his heart.

Chakotay thought he'd try turning the tables on Paris a bit, to see how he reacted. "Who are you in love with, Tom?"

Paris actually blushed a little. "Um, I'd rather not say now, Commander."

If this was a genuine conversation and not some veiled attempt at squeezing for information, Chakotay had a fairly good idea who Tom was talking about. But all he said was, "All right. None of my business, anyway."

"It's not that, sir, it's just--"

Chakotay raised his hand. "Really, Tom, it's all right. But when you say she won't give you the time of day, what exactly do you mean? Is she actively hostile, or actively ignoring you, or somewhere in between?"

Tom shook his head. "It changes all the time, sir! From hostile, to indifferent, to, well, is some ways, sort of . . . seductive. I have never had this much trouble figuring things out! And I used to be so good at it!"

Chakotay suppressed a grin. "It's different this time, Tom, because you're not playing a game. You have real feelings for her. I'm sure you had real feelings for your fiancee, but the woman we're talking about here is very different from anyone else you've known. Am I right?"

"Uh . . . " Tom closed his mouth again as if he's decided he'd said way more then he should have. Finally, he smiled and just said, "Yes, sir." Paris looked at his hands for a moment, lost in thought. "I'm stuck, I guess," he said musingly. "She's not antagonistic, but she's not friendly. She's professional towards me--well, most of the time--but doesn't respond to any of my . . . overtures."

Chakotay casually moved his hand to his mouth as if thinking deeply, but it was really to cover the grin which would not stay suppressed. So Paris had gotten too aggressive and been swatted down like a fly? B'Elanna was good at that. "Overtures, huh?"

"Maybe I was a little too obvious a time or two," Tom said, actually sounding bashful. "But I was perfectly sincere, and, uh . . ." His voice trailed off helplessly.

Chakotay was actually beginning to believe this was a genuine conversation. "And she doesn't believe you're sincere?"

"I think she believes me. Sometimes, I even think she returns my feelings," Tom said without looking up, more talking to himself then Chakotay. "But maybe not. Or maybe the implications scare her a little. They scare me sometimes. But . . . I gotta think it would be worth finding out." He became aware of Chakotay again and smiled rather sheepishly. "Maybe she's afraid the rest of the crew would talk too much, say rude things about us behind our back, especially if things didn't work out." He added bitterly, "Maybe if it was any other man on the ship who was interested in her she wouldn't have any of these problems accepting what I'm trying to offer!" He gave Chakotay a half-formed smile. "Reputation is a bitch sometimes, isn't it? Sir."

Chakotay eyed Paris sympathetically for the first time. These feelings really were working on Tom, tormenting him. And Chakotay hadn't a clue what to offer for hope. "Yes, reputations are difficult to get around sometimes, Tom--good as well as bad," he said slowly, thinking, of course, about more then just Tom and B'Elanna. "Maybe she's more worried about her good reputation then your, uh, colorful one."

Tom wore a crooked little smile, but his eyes remained troubled. "Ruining her good reputation, or interfering with the way she does her job, or making her a laughing stock--or whatever she fears!--is absolutely the last thing I want to do. I just wish I could think of some way to make her see, to make her believe me. If she knew I was willing to work any compromise to make things right, surely she'd come around?"

"Have you told her that?"

Tom gave a bitter laugh. "No. I guess maybe I'm a little . . . intimidated by her. I'm not sure she'd listen, even if I did get up the nerve to say it."

"Maybe if you had some kind of neutral territory where you could work things out--some place that had nothing to do with her job or your history. But I'm at a total loss what to suggest." He considered for a moment, then said quietly. "Maybe you should try saying it to her, anyway. You never know. She might hear you."

"You think so?" Tom asked hopefully.

Chakotay looked at the stars. "Either that or you'll have to make some place that's neutral ground." Chakotay was reaching for something in the void between the lights of the stars, something in that spirit place that had been shut off to him for the last week. It wouldn't quite come to him, but he could tell it was there, waiting to be discovered. He sighed and looked at Tom helplessly.

Tom blinked in surprise as if awakening from a dream and realizing he'd been talking in his sleep. He stood abruptly, blushing. "Gosh, sir, I've taken up way too much of your time. Thanks for listening. You helped a lot."

"I did?"

"Uh, yes sir, uh, yeah. Made things much clearer in my mind, sir, much clearer . . ."

"Glad I could help," Chakotay said with a shrug.

But Paris was already walking away, waving at Chakotay over his shoulder, as if he had an important appointment somewhere else.

"What an odd conversation," Chakotay said to himself.

And then his eyes turned back to the stars. Possibilities were stirring there, and he let his mind follow where the stars led, perfectly calm, centered, and curious about what he'd see.

*****

That was the strangest conversation I've ever had in my life!

Tom Paris' mind reeled with what had just happened on the observation deck. He was so preoccupied he bumped right into Ensign Vorik before he'd even seen him.

"Oh, sorry Vorik. My fault."

"Not a problem, sir," said the young Vulcan and continued on his way.

Nice guy, Vorik. For a Vulcan. Kinda moody lately, but nice enough.

Paris hurried into his quarters and sat on the edge of the bed. He thought again about that weird conversation with Chakotay. One minute he'd been on a mission to make a few helpful suggestions to Commander Chakotay by slyly disguised talk about himself, the next minute he was talking about himself.

I poured out my guts! And to Chakotay, for crying out loud!'

Beads of sweat popped out on Paris' brow. What if Chakotay told B'Elanna? Because Tom had no doubt Chakotay knew exactly who he'd been talking about.

Of all the lame-brained . . .

The thing was, Tom wasn't exactly sure how or when the transition took place. It just happened, like something came over him, urged him to unburden his soul like a boob! Was his need to talk that great? He had bottled it inside for such a long time, not even mentioning anything to Harry, and it really had been a tremendous relief to say it all to someone. Even if that someone was Commander Chakotay. Even if there were consequences down the line.

But had it accomplished his mission? Had it nudged Chakotay closer to thinking about some kind of middle way in the . . . relationship, or whatever it was, between him and the Captain?

You were a selfish, undisciplined clod, Tom!

Then again, there at the end, the commander had a look in his eyes which indicated the wheels were definitely turning in his head. Paris hoped it was enough of a nudge. The whole ship was talking about the ice at the top, and that couldn't be healthy for morale if it went on too long.

And who the hell appointed Tom Paris morale officer? he asked himself sarcastically.

Shut up, he told himself.

Paris flopped down on the bed and stared at the ceiling. What was done was done. His guts were spilled, Chakotay either did or didn't get the message, and would or wouldn't act on it. Unless Tom got another bright idea, he was out of the picture now.

And B'Elanna was just as far away from him as ever . . . .

The positive feeling he'd had from talking about things was beginning to fade, and the reality of his frustration descended on him again.

If only . . .

If only they could find that neutral ground the commander had talked about, some place where it was just Tom and B'Elanna, where they could strip away the bull and the worry and just admit the attraction. Where maybe he could convince her that his intentions were entirely honorable. Okay, not entirely honorable, but relatively pure. For Tom Paris. Okay, not actually pure, either. But, real dammit! Yeah, the real thing. Just them, some neutral place, the real thing, beyond distrust and fear, being honest with each other.

Real. Yeah. That's what he wanted now, more then anything else.

Wow. Who would have believed I was capable of that three years ago? Nobody! Including me.

Paris was forced to come to the startling conclusion that maybe he was growing as a human being. He laughed at the thought, but started thinking again about being alone with B'Elanna and getting real. B'Elanna sweaty and closing in, growling, taking a solid bite at his cheek. Whoa.

And Tom noticed he was growing in other, more literal ways.

He sighed. He supposed he could take a cold shower, but that was a far less attractive solution to the problem then . . . huh . . . taking the matter in hand.

Maybe I'm not growing as a human being after all.

But what the hell? A guy had to do what a guy had to do. He undressed. He wished he had a picture of her.

Creativity is your hallmark, Tom . . .

Getting down to basics . . . with B'Elanna . . . hot and sweaty . . . panting his name--no, growling his name . . . biting and gouging and . . . throwing things? Yeah, that could work, work real well . . . Tom's hand traveled downward to his point of inspiration . . . .

*****

"It worked very well, the conversation between the commander and the lieutenant," said the being on the right.

"Oh, yes. It gave the commander much to think about," said the being on the left.

"And since the lieutenant was forced to give away his inmost thoughts in order to help us, we must reward him."

"He has given us the key to rewarding him. It seems a simple enough thing to arrange."

"Yes, but is it sufficient reward for the young man?" asked the being on the right.

"It appears to be what he truly hopes for--the opportunity to be honest with this woman," the being on the left said. "These creatures have the most amazing tenacity when it comes to running their own lives."

The being on the right waggled his snout in agreement. "A foolish independence. But if all the young lieutenant wants is an opportunity, then we will make it so. They will be near Sakari in a few weeks of their time."

"Ah, yes," said the being on the left, "the possibilities are forming . . ."

Part Six: Hopes and Dreams

Chakotay grabbed her roughly. "You know you want this as much as I do!"

"Of course I do!" Kathryn said desperately, "but you know why we can't!"

"I don't accept that argument." Pulling her to him, he kissed her passionately. Her mind told her to push him away, to kick him in the groin if she had to, but her body clung to him. God yes, she wanted him, more then anything else in the universe.

Finally, she broke away, "Chakotay, please . . ."

He pulled her jacket off. "If you can honestly say you want me to stop doing this"--his hands caressed her breasts through the uniform--"then I will stop."

Those hands were far away from her flesh, tons of material between, but they were still electric to her. "I . . ." but she wasn't sure what she had been about to say.

He nuzzled her neck, his hands still stroking her breasts. "Do you want me to stop this?" he mumbled between kisses.

Oh, she had missed those soft lips, missed them so much! Once he had actually kissed her, it was so difficult to let him go. But Voyager . . .

Chakotay slowly peeled the jumpsuit away from her shoulders. He kissed those shoulders, moved along her collarbone, up under her chin and neck, and back again to the other shoulder. "Tell me when to stop," he whispered.

Why is he tormenting me like this?

"You must . . ." she began, but he was running his tongue along her jaw line, and she decided to kiss him instead, her tongue working around his. Oh, God.

He peeled the jumpsuit down to her waist, and urgently pushed the turtleneck up and away, unfastened her bra and buried his face against her breasts. His teeth gently brought her nipples hard. Then he sucked at them, drawing them to life.

She placed her hands on either side of his face, thinking to push him away, but oh, she would feel so empty if his mouth left her now.

I can't, I can't, oh, God . . .

He pulled the jumpsuit the rest of the way off (but left her boots on), and putting his strong hands around her waist, lifted her onto the ready room desk.

"Not here, surely?" she asked in alarm.

But Chakotay gently parted her legs and stood between them, his hand breaching the leg hole of her panties, seeking the wet opening there, finding the clitoris and circling. "Should I leave now?" he whispered as his lips sucked at the lobe of her ear.

Her resistance crumbled. "No," she sighed.

Then he was undressed, as naked as she, pulling the panties from her and discarding them. His free hand lifted one booted leg and she wrapped it eagerly around his waist. He entered her roughly and she gasped at the shock of it, the exquisite sensation of him filling her so suddenly.

Again . . . oh yes, I've missed him so . . .

He moved steadily, purposefully inside her, giving a tiny grunt with each intense thrust. She clung to him with both legs so he could go deeper, her breath in ragged gasps.

Oh, God, yes, oh . . .

Over his shoulder she saw the ready room door suddenly open, saw Tuvok's shocked face as he raised his eyes.

"No!" she gasped, but Chakotay was beyond hearing, his face concentrated, his eyes closed.

Next, Tom Paris joined Tuvok, smirking, and then Harry Kim, shocked and disappointed, and B'Elanna, wide-eyed. Finally, the whole bridge crew was there, and others besides--Neelix, the Doctor, and Kes, profusely blushing! Soon the whole crew would be watching.

"Stop, Chakotay, please!" she begged, but it was too late. He came with a powerful rush, groaned deeply, and grasped her tighter to him, spasmodically.

The crew was a mixture of shock, sneering, laughter, disappointment, disdain. One or two even applauded. Everything was ruined! They turned away from her and wandered away like seeds scattered on the wind . . .

Kathryn opened her eyes. Only another dream, of course, taking her where she wouldn't go otherwise.

And maybe telling her she'd made the right decision?

But her body was still aroused, her nipples painfully hard, and she still felt his dream body inside her. She reached between her legs to rekindle the life there, but it was no good. The usual relief would not do this time. She wanted him, his long body draped over hers, his warm, brown flesh all along her, his powerful thrusting inside her.

A tear glided down her cheek and she brusquely wiped it away. Quickly, she got out of bed and headed towards the bathroom. She splashed water on her face and looked at herself in the mirror. That damned bruise was still there! How he'd laughed over that . . . oh how he'd laughed--sweet, sweet laughter . . .

And she couldn't get his scent out of her nostrils, even after a week. Even being so careful not to get too close to him, that spicy, earthy, heady fragrance clung to the inside of her head, making her wet again just remembering it. His body was like a madness to her, one she had to fight at all costs.

Pheromones, she reminded herself ruthlessly. They will cling for a while and be gone, they are what attracted you to him in the first place!

Ah, Kathryn, no, of course that isn't the whole answer.

His delicious body was not all she needed from him. She needed those soft words, those intimate talks, that wonderful smile, his friendship . . . Losing that had been almost--very close--to losing Justin and her father . . . and Mark, of course.

Kathryn had faced those tragedies, though it nearly killed her in the case of Justin and her father, and she would face this. She had to. There was no other option if she was to keep the crew together and Voyager on its mission home.

But would Chakotay ever forgive her? Would she ever forgive herself?

What's to forgive, Kathryn? You know you did the right thing, the thing you had to do. And you were true to yourself.

Yes, but she could have handled it so much better! She had been so shocked and angry and--yes, humiliated--by what the Ysarians had done that she had . . . taken it out on him. Why did she do that, to that gentle man who loved her so sincerely? Maybe that very sincerity had scared her. First her enemy, then her friend, then her lover who she thought was her husband. It frightened her how ready she was to give herself over completely to that fantasy. She could quite easily get lost in him--and Voyager could pay the price.

She'd made the right decision.

But the memory of the hurt on his face slashed at her again, making another tear roll down her cheek.

None of that!

She brushed the tear away and stood straight, chin up. There were circles under her eyes from the lack of sleep this week, but at least the eyes themselves weren't puffy and red. That was the last thing she needed the bridge crew to see. Kathryn decided to take a real, wet, hot shower instead of a sonic one. It would do her face a world of good. And then, although it was two hours before she had to be on duty, she would dress and go to the . . . ready room--yes, she would go to the ready room--and work on some reports. She had to stay busy, keep her mind focused. It was the only way to make it through. It was the only way she could steel herself to face another day of Chakotay's distance and ice.

And to fight down her own desire to take him in her arms and tell him she loved him.

*****

But two hours later when Chakotay came on duty, everything was different. He was talking to the crew about things other than duty, laughing at their jokes, and he even smiled at Kathryn, tentatively, almost shyly. She returned the smile with a tentative one of her own, so glad to see this sign of a thaw she didn't care what had caused it.

She breathed easier, hoping this mood would last, that it was a sign he'd forgiven her, and things could return to the way they had been before Ysaria.

Things will never be as they were before Ysaria.

Yes, she did know that. But she hoped they could find a way of going on as friends. She was willing to go a long way to make that happen again.

Near the end of the duty shift, she wondered if perhaps she should invite him to the ready room for a talk. She'd be nervous, of course, considering her dream and the tension of the last week, but knew they really should talk things out.

However, at the end of the shift, he was off the bridge so fast she never had a chance to ask. It could wait for tomorrow, she supposed. If the mood continued until tomorrow.

The next day, however, it was even better. No one had seen him yesterday after his duty shift, he hadn't gone to the galley or the holodeck resort, or even Sandrine's. But whatever he was doing with his evenings, it had certainly made a difference in him.

Mid-shift, she leaned as close as she dared and asked him quietly if he wanted to talk to her in the ready room. He looked a bit embarrassed, but his smile was friendly.

In a low, gentle voice only she could hear, he said, "I do want to talk to you, Kathryn, but not now. I need another day, and then I'll tell you everything, if that's all right."

"Of course it's all right. Take whatever time you need."

He smiled--rather warmly, she thought--and the look in his eyes was full of promise. Then he returned to the duty roster he'd been working on.

He called me Kathryn, she thought, a wave of relief sweeping over her.

It was ridiculous, of course, to be so happy about his use of her first name, but it was the first sign of that return to friendship she'd been hoping for.

He's working on something, something that he thinks will help us get through this.

She realized, suddenly, that he was still someone she trusted implicitly. Whatever he was working on, it would almost certainly be right and proper and what they needed. Chakotay was still the same man. He would not force her into his arms as he had in her dream, not force her again to choose between him and the good of the ship. He would remain the gentleman he had always been--even if it killed him. He would even allow her to crush his hope again, if she needed to, and this time he would not retaliate by withdrawing his friendship. She had seen that in his eyes. His friendship was hers again if she wanted it, whether or not she accepted him back as her lover.

Kathryn was overwhelmed by his generosity. She couldn't look at him again for fear she'd lose her composure. She stared at the viewscreen, at the stars, and hoped she would not have to crush that hope of his again. Because it would also crush her hope, too. And frankly, she was beginning to believe she owed that hope of hers something.

If only he offers me a hope I can live with; a compromise I can accept without damaging the ship and crew.

She got up and said, "I'll be in my ready room. The bridge is yours, Mr. Chakotay."

"Aye, Captain," he said softly, a quizzical look in those deep, black eyes.

She didn't know how, but she was sure they could find a way to make this work.

His beautiful hands moved gracefully over his PADD, reminding her again of that first time she'd noticed them--it seemed a lifetime ago. Kathryn smiled to herself.

I'll just have to wait to see what tomorrow brings.

*****

Okay, this is it. Spirits, guide my words, and guide also her heart.

Chakotay pushed the door chime of the ready room, as nervous as a first-year cadet going to meet an admiral.

"Come," he heard her voice from the intercom, and the door hissed open. When she looked up from her PADD and saw him, she was surprised.

"Chakotay," she said simply, and he was glad to hear she hadn't used Commander or Mr. in front of it.

"May I talk to you, Captain?"

She lifted an eyebrow. "Of course. Come in."

He took a deep breath before stepping into the room. The doors hissed closed, but for a moment he was frozen in place. His smile felt nervous around the edges, and her penetrating eyes were hard to hold. His own must have looked like a rabbit caught in a snare.

"What is it, Chakotay?" she asked gently, her voice conveying expectation and compassion both.

That's hopeful.

He walked slowly towards her desk, standing a few feet away, his hands folded in front of him. Then remembering the last time he'd stood before this desk like that, he quickly moved his hands behind his back. If she noticed, she gave no indication. He cleared his throat.

"Uh, Captain, if you have the time, there is something I would like to show you."

He watched her face carefully for a reaction. She moistened her lips subtly, but otherwise gave nothing away.

"What is it, Mr. Chakotay?" she asked in a barely audible voice.

"If it's all the same, I'd rather show you then try to explain."

She laid the PADD down. "All right, Mr. Chakotay. I have time now if that is convenient."

"Most convenient!" he said, maybe a little too eagerly, but she didn't seem to care. She walked around the desk and stood beside him, looking into his face with focused curiosity. He wanted to kiss her so bad he could already taste those lips, but instead he gestured with his hand for her to lead the way. She gave him a funny, crooked smile and walked towards the door. He enjoyed the sight of her walking away from him for a moment, then followed in her wake. Lieutenant Stein was already on the bridge prepared to begin this duty shift.

"Goodnight, Mr. Stein, the bridge is yours," she announced, and the two of them got into the turbolift. He surprised her very greatly when he punched in their destination on the backup PADD inside the lift rather then announcing it to the computer.

"You are being mysterious," she said challengingly.

He gave a soundless laugh. "Don't you like surprises?"

"Depends," she said warily.

"Well . . ." he shrugged. He had been going to say, "I think you'll like this one," but realized he wasn't sure of that at all. So instead he added, "You'll just have to wait and see."

She said mildly, "All right."

They looked into each others' eyes so long he began to feel as if he was falling forward into hers. She blinked in surprise and turned her attention to the turbolift door. He did the same, aware after a time that she was watching his profile, but he wasn't sure he could keep his composure if he looked at her, so he began a minute examination of the lift's ceiling.

Please let her like it! he prayed.

And then the lift stopped and the doors opened and he gestured once again with his hand for her to precede him.

"Holodeck Three?" she asked in amazement when she saw where they were.

Chakotay gave her a fleeting smile and punched in an access code at the first door. When it opened, Kathryn gasped, but silently he thanked the spirits that she did not hesitate to enter.

The doors closed, and he prayed again to the spirits to guide his words. "I've encoded a special program, so the ship's locator can't find us here, and no one else can gain access. Our badges still work, of course, so if we're needed, we can be contacted. We won't be neglecting Voyager, and our responsibility to the crew and ship. But here, I thought--if you can live with this compromise--perhaps we can . . . discuss what we want to do about our own hopes and dreams."

Kathryn's back was to him, taking in the whole magnificent crescent of tropical beach before them, the clump of green palms some thirty feet in from the water, and behind them, the bungalow and its porch with white table and chairs. She seemed to be breathing heavily, her shoulders noticeably moving up and down, and he feared that it was too much, reminded her too much of the humiliation she'd felt.

"If you don't like it, we can use any program, and the encoding will still work. Lake George, perhaps--"

"This is fine," she said, her voice shaky with emotion. She turned then, her cheeks stained with tears, and he took several steps forward to take her in his arms before stopping himself. It had to be her call.

"It's more than fine," she breathed. "It's beautiful, in each and every minute detail."

"I hoped I remembered it the way you did."

"Just the way I remember it."

"God, I've missed you, Kathryn," he whispered.

"Have you?" she asked uncertainly.

"Yes! I tried not to, tried to chase what I felt away. But it's a funny damned thing about love. It doesn't go away just because you want it to."

She looked at him with conflicted eyes and a face struggling for control. "No, it doesn't," she said, and from the complex series of emotions in her voice and on her face--pain and hope and a thousand others--he knew she'd suffered all that he had.

Of course she has, you fool!

She turned back to stare at the sea. "The problems are still the same," she said hoarsely.

"I know. But I thought we deserved to get away from them once in a

while to a place where we could dream that some day those problems would be solved."

Kathryn stared out to sea for a very long time, her profile to him, her expression absolutely still and unreadable. Chakotay's hope began to slip away, his heart sinking with grief. But he wouldn't force her to choose this time. This time the decision was all hers, and he would try to live with it as gracefully as he could. And above all, to remain her friend.

Then she bit her lower lip and after a moment said quietly, "You never lost hope, did you?"

It fluttered again in his heart. "I tried, Kathryn, I really tried. It definitely wavered, but no matter how hard I tried, it never went away completely." He cleared his throat to purge the emotion there. "It's not in my nature, I guess. So I channeled my hope into this." He gestured up and down the beach.

"It's a beautiful hope, Chakotay," she said in an awed, hushed voice. And again, she was quiet for a long time, staring out to sea, biting down on that lower lip. Then she gave a profound sigh. "And this hope is one . . . I can live with."

Her eyes glistened when she turned towards him; her face relaxed as if, finally, she was safe. She stepped into his arms, the crew and Voyager suddenly very far away. He held her tight against him, struggling to contain the enormity of his relief and joy, his gratitude that she was here, in his arms, loving him as much as he loved her--and still herself, still Kathryn Janeway. He kissed her hair, and when she lifted her face, kissed her lips long and tenderly.

"It's good to be alive," she murmured when their lips parted. And there is was again, the miracle of her secret smile--just for him.

"Yes," he said, knowing his eyes must be glistening, too. "It is good to be alive." A wave drifted softly onto the white sand they stood upon, just missing their boots. "And what shall we call this secret place of ours, Kathryn?"

"There's no question in my mind," she said, smiling joyously and taking his hand to lead him to the grove of palm trees, "This place is called 'Hope.'"

THE END

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