D--- THAT VULCAN

Chakotay had recognized that there was a problem as far back as New Earth. The problem may have been present before, but he'd first noticed it on that idyllic planet. Kathryn was just starting to open up to him and let her guard down. He'd shown her his plans for a boat and she'd turned to him with delight. She'd taken a step toward him and placed both her hands on his chest. That was when the crackle was heard, the sound that ended his hopes for a deeper relationship with her. He'd seen the look of regret in her eyes when she'd turned back to him after the message of impending rescue. Damn that Vulcan.

As the years passed, he realized that Tuvok's timing was nothing short of woeful. It was almost as though he had eyes everywhere, and could pick absolutely the worst possible time to interrupt. Kathryn and Chakotay would be relaxing in the ready room, feet on the coffee table, and chirp would sound one or the other of their comm badges. It got so they would just sigh, look at each other and head back to the bridge. He really didn't wish Tuvok ill, really and truly, but Chakotay was beginning to deeply regret the fact that despite Tuvok's great age, according to Vulcan standards, he was barely middle aged.

"What's this party for again?" Kathryn inquired as they walked down the corridor to the holodeck.

Chakotay had to think for a moment. "I know we're supposed to be playing pool, so it's probably just Sandrines. I think Neelix said it was January Blues Day."

"No, that one was two months ago."

"Hmm," he pondered. "Ah, yes. I remember now. It's the Ides of March."

"The Ides of March!" she exclaimed. "Isn't that from Shakespeare's Julius Caesar? And doesn't Julius Caesar wind up getting skewered?" At his nod, she continued. "Then why are we celebrating this?"

"I believe he decided to do a party a month and work it around the old Earth calendar." He leaned over and whispered to her, "Better watch out in May."

She looked at him carefully. "Why? What's in May?"

He winked, and grinned his devastating grin at her. "A certain captain's birthday."

Kathryn knew she was staring at his mouth. It really was a beautiful mouth. "You know, Chakotay, those dimples of yours should be declared dangerous weapons."

He flashed them again. "You think so?"

"I know so."

He wondered just what effect they might be having on her that she actually brought this up. He was too busy thinking and not paying attention, so he nearly walked into her. They were at the holodeck doors and she had stopped.

Kathryn stared at the doors. "The Ides of March, huh? I wonder if it's safe to go in."

"Shall I contact Tuvok to have the holodeck scanned for weapons?"

She just glared at him and proceeded through the doors. They were no more than two paces inside when they both stopped in utter amazement.

It was not Sandrines, although there were a couple of pool tables present. There were booths with tables and benches, and music blared from a strange looking large box with a curved top against one wall. It seemed every off duty crewmember was present and they were all singing along to the music at the top of their lungs, and swaying from side to side together.

You picked a fine time to leave me, Lucille
With four hungry children and a crop in the fields
I've had some bad times, lived through some sad times
This time the hurtin' won't heal
You picked a fine time to leave me, Lucille.

Kathryn turned to Chakotay. "Do you suppose Neelix has been spiking the punch again, or has the Delta Quadrant finally gotten to them all?"

He never had a chance to reply before a slightly red-faced Tom Paris appeared. "Captain, you're finally here!"

"What is this, Tom?" She waved her hands around her.

"It's a twentieth century pool hall. I thought we needed a little change."

"And what is that music everyone is singing?"

He pointed at the large upright box. "That's a juke box and right now it's playing a famous country and western song from the…"

" - twentieth century," she finished for him. "Yes, I gathered that."

"Apparently, in that era, the truckers used to change the words to 'You picked a fine time to leave me, loose wheel'." This revelation was met with a slight grin from the commander and a totally blank stare from the captain. "Uh, well, never mind." Tom had enough headaches without banging his head on a titanium wall. "So, Captain, come and play a game with me. Pretty-please? Hmm?" He clasped his hands together, beseechingly.

The captain gaped at him. "Tom Paris, you haven't been drinking, have you? You're supposed to be on gamma shift very shortly, remember?"

The young man placed his hand over his heart. "Captain, you wound me! I'm just high on life. I'm married to a beautiful, exciting woman, have a job doing what I love best, got a great boss," he winked at her, "plus, I've beaten everyone at pool tonight. Seriously, I would never drink and fly. Nope, not even synthenol tonight, just beer for this flyboy."

"Beer! But Tom…" the captain exclaimed.

"Root beer," he grinned saucily. "It's a soda drink. You should try it."

"Does it have any caffeine?"

"Nope."

"Then why bother?" She took the pool cue he held out to her.

The crew sang just as loudly and raucously to the next song, which Tom informed her was performed by a famous twentieth century group named after some insect. The cacophony of sound swirling around her made it hard to concentrate, and she didn't quite catch what he'd said. 'The Bugs'? No, that wasn't right. Even though the song didn't sound like it, Kathryn figured it must be country and western too, since she could just make out that it kept repeating 'Hay jute.' She couldn't understand why anyone would sing endlessly about two plants.

Whether it was his obvious high spirits, good luck or superior concentration tonight, Tom was ahead of the captain and in danger of beating her for the first time ever. He was making some amazing shots and it was almost like he could do no wrong. Just three of his balls and the black were left on the table. "Looks like this is it, Captain. You're going down."

"The game's not over yet, Tom" she answered. Tom just smirked and bent to line up the shot.

"Bridge to Lieutenant Paris. You are late for your duty shift," Tuvok's smooth tones were clearly heard.

"Ahh," came the agonized cry. "No, no, no! I'm winning! Captain, you didn't, you wouldn't - would you?"

"No, Tom, I wouldn't and I didn't. Mr. Tuvok," she raised her voice, "I think we can cut Lieutenant Paris some slack just for tonight. He'll be along shortly."

There was a disapproving pause. "As you wish, Captain. We - anticipate the Lieutenant's arrival. Tuvok out."

Kathryn whispered to Chakotay beside her, "Tuvok can be such a stuffed shirt sometimes."

Chakotay looked at her with fake confusion. "Sometimes, Kathryn?"

"Thank you, Captain. I'll repay you somehow," Tom was saying.

"I'm sure you will, Lieutenant. Now, please proceed with all due haste."

It was not to be. The interruption had broken the flow, and Tom's next shot went awry. "Ahh," he cried again. "So close!"

The captain easily sank the rest of her solids and potted the black. She patted her desolate pilot on the shoulder. "Too bad, Tom. Better luck next time. Guess you'd better be off, you still need to change." She and the commander headed for the bar.

Tom stared bleakly at the three lonely striped balls left on the table. "Damn that Vulcan."

Crewman Chell was fearless when it came to enemies like the Cardassians. He also had no concern about people's opinions, having taken up with the Maquis when it was neither popular nor legal to do so. And when faced with a crisis, he could hold his own with any crewmember - officer or not - any time, any place.

Except Cargo Bay Two.

The cargo bay gave him the creeps and turned him into what the Earthers called a 'Nervous Nelly.' But of course there was absolutely no possible way that he would ever admit to that, so when Neelix asked if he'd hunt out a particular storage bin of vegetables in said Cargo Bay Two, he just smiled brightly and replied, "Certainly. Be delighted to."

Then he went and threw up his lunch.

Now he stood before the doors, breathing heavily like he'd just personally run two parsecs. Which was about the distance he'd like to be from these doors. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. And then another. When the fourth crewman walked by him and he was still standing there, he knew it was time to get a hold of himself and get on with it. He walked forward before he could change his mind.

Even the doors seemed to have a special clang to them that resounded in his gut as they shut behind him. The place was always dark, and there were so many shadows that reminded him of every scary tale the chief storyteller had ever told all the children back home. He'd hung on every word of those stories back then, but now he wished he'd never listened to any of them.

Especially unnerving were the two figures standing upright in their alcoves, eyes closed while strange green lights whirred and spiraled. Totally unnatural, standing up to sleep. Only they didn't even call it sleep. It was 'regenerating.' What kind of a word was that?

Chell studied them both. Icheb, the tall, slender teenager. He was pleasant enough. For a former Borg. But Seven of Nine. He felt a shiver go down his spine. He knew she was considered beautiful by human standards, and he supposed he could see that, although she was awfully pale for his liking. But something about that - what, woman? - rattled him every time he saw her. They said she was recovering her humanity, but he still half expected her to try to assimilate him and the rest of the crew at any moment.

He tore his eyes away from the pair. Better get to it. The quicker there, the quicker out. He went in the direction Neelix had told him and began his hunt, every once in a while casting looks back toward the two alcoves. Should be in beds like normal folk.

It took longer than he expected and his nerves were just about shot by the time he finally found the missing bin. He attached the transport device and set it to the coordinates that Neelix had given him. He bent over to recheck the coordinates - wouldn't do to have the bin appear someplace like the captain's ready room. He almost chuckled to himself.

"Crewman Chell, have you located the bin Mr. Neelix requires?"

Chell let out a screech and came upright with a start, smacking his bald blue head hard on the overhead shelf. It jarred loose and several items tumbled down upon him, causing him to screech again. He stepped away, only to bang into the storage bin and tumble to the floor in a graceless sprawl.

The dark form standing over him bent toward him before he could move or breathe. He felt himself grasped by his forearm and hauled to his feet. Here it comes, his scrambling brain thought, tubules in the neck.

"I apologize for startling you, Crewman. Mr. Neelix was concerned with the length of your absence. He assumed you were having trouble locating the bin, and he believes the vegetables will complement tonight's - dinner."

Chell pressed his hand to his heart just over his right hip; it was still galloping at an erratic pace. He was glad he'd already lost his lunch, or he would have done so right now at the polished boots of the Vulcan chief of security.

Commander Tuvok was still speaking, so Chell forced himself to concentrate. "Although I have little confidence that any of Mr. Neelix's concoctions deserve the title of 'dinner'." The commander looked at the bin with the transport device attached. "This is the storage case?"

Chell just nodded.

"Shall I assist you with reassembling the storage shelves?"

Chell finally found his voice, although it sounded a little squeaky. "Uh, no sir. I made the mess; I'll clean it up."

"Very good. Then I shall check the co-ordinates and send this case to Mr. Neelix." The commander retrieved the PADD that Chell had dropped in his fright and bent to examine the device. Chell had realigned the shelf when the Vulcan spoke again. "Crewman Chell, you made an error on two of the digits in the coordinates."

Chell turned to him. "Oh dear. Where would it have ended up?"

"The captain's ready room."

Chell smiled. "You're kidding, right?" One look at the commander's stoic face and raised eyebrow wiped Chell's smile away. "I apologize, Commander, I didn't mean to insult you."

"Quite all right, Crewman." The commander contacted the transporter room and they watched the bin disappear. "Mr. Chell, I suggest you visit the EMH in Sickbay before returning to your duties. You seem to have injured yourself." The commander's eyes were scanning the Bolian's bald head.

Dang. Chell knew what that meant. He hated getting whacked on the head - it always turned an ugly shade of pink when it bruised.

Just as the commander turned to leave, he paused. "Crewman, if I may make a suggestion?"

Chell nodded. This was his superior officer after all, what could he say - go take a walk outside the ship?

"I recommend that you try meditating in your off duty hours. You seem very - tense."

Once the doors clanged shut after the Vulcan's exit, Chell began returning the boxes to their rightful places. One, two boxes. "Dang. Dang," he said out loud. He took a peek at the two Borg still in their alcoves. Another box. "Dang that Vulcan."

One of the boxes had opened and all the contents had scattered. Chell followed each toss into the box with, "Dang. Dang. Dang. Dang that Vulcan."

Ten minutes of muttering later, Cargo Bay Two was restored to order. Chell rubbed his head. He would definitely stop in at Sickbay. He paused before the doors and looked back at the two upright figures. What was the word he'd heard Harry Kim use the other day? Weird. That was it. Borg in the cargo bay, a cook who made inedible meals, a hologram for a doctor, and a security chief who meditated. "Dang, this is one weird ship."

Once the doors closed, two sets of eyes popped open. They glanced at each other. Icheb spoke first. "He seemed a little nervous."

Seven stepped down from her alcove and picked up a small box Crewman Chell had overlooked. "Indeed."

It was boring. It was dull. There was virtually nothing of interest to see out the main viewscreen. Kathryn sighed, almost wishing for something, anything to happen. Almost. Not a big disaster, just a little something to break the monotony. Even Tom had run out of jokes an hour ago. She came out of a fantasy of watching her dog, Molly, running across an open field, trying fruitlessly to catch crows. She glanced at her first officer. He seemed engrossed in a PADD.

"What's that?" she asked quietly.

He seemed to be very far away. "Pardon?"

She nodded at the PADD in his hand. "I said, what's that?"

There was a strange expression on his face. "Oh. Next week's roster."

She smirked at him. "Try again, Chakotay. I happen to know you finished the roster over two hours ago."

He looked at her a little sheepishly and wordlessly held the PADD out to her.

Her eyebrows hit Tuvok levels. "Wuthering Heights?" She looked back at him in time to catch his blush.

He shrugged. "Well, it's got your namesake in it."

"But that's spelled entirely differently, Chakotay. And I'm not about to become a ghost haunting Deck Twelve. I never knew you were such a romantic."

He let loose that wicked grin of his. "There are a lot of things you don't know about me, Captain."

She felt her heart do a little lurch as she handed back the PADD and their hands brushed. He returned his attention to the old novel and she returned to her musing.

This time, she was following Molly across that field on horseback, riding sidesaddle, clothed in an old-fashioned full-length riding habit. And close behind her on a spirited black horse, was a handsome, broad shouldered man with dark hair and an exotic tattoo on his forehead, wearing a cutaway jacket and breeches.

They stopped their horses under a large tree. The man dismounted and easily lifted her from her horse. As she slid down his body, her hands fell to his shoulders. Decorum indicated that he should have released her, but his hands remained on her waist. His height was such that his head blocked the sun and she realized that his beautiful lips were descending toward hers. He paused and seemed about to speak…

"Captain, there is a class four nebula two light years off our starboard bow. Would you care to alter course to investigate?"

She closed her eyes as reality crashed in on her like a cold bucket of water. She was on board Voyager, on the bridge, in her chair, with that handsome man with the exotic tattoo sitting to her left. Along with the biggest snoop on the ship sitting in front of her at the helm, as well as the cause of the destruction of her sweet fantasy standing at his post behind and to her right. Who just also happened to possess a Vulcan's hyper sensitive hearing, so her frustration increased, as she couldn't even swear out loud. She opened her eyes and mouthed to herself, 'Drat that Vulcan.'

Chakotay wondered at the delay in the captain's response and looked over at her. Her eyes were just opening and he watched as she mouthed something to herself, something that included 'Vulcan.' He noticed the flush on her face and neck and wondered just what she'd been thinking about before Tuvok spoke.

Kathryn sighed. Well, that fantasy was truly popped like a balloon. Might as well go and check out that sure-to-be thrilling, scintillating nebula. "Sure, Tuvok. What the heck? It's not like we've got a whole lot to do today. We are explorers, aren't we?"

The bridge paused at the strange tone from their usually by-the-book captain. Tom swiveled around from the helm. "Captain?"

Janeway waved her hand at him. "Well, go on, Tom. Set a course. Let's go check out this nebula, shall we?"

Tom grinned at her. "Another exciting day in the Delta Quadrant, eh Captain?"

Janeway sighed and propped her chin on her hand. "Oh, absolutely."

At the science station at the side of the bridge, Seven had a clear view of the captain, and unlike Commander Chakotay, she had been able to perfectly lip read the captain's words.

Naomi was scurrying as fast as her little legs would take her. It had been the call for all senior staff to report to the bridge that had alerted her to the time. She wasn't late yet, but would be in one minute. She was hoping that call would save her, and that Commander Tuvok would also be late for class. If not…

"Naomi Wildman, subunit of Ensign Samantha Wildman."

Although she recognized the unemotional tones of the former Borg, the sudden interruption of her thoughts made her jump. "Oh. Hi Seven, you startled me."

"I apologize. You were absorbed in your thoughts." Her long legs easily kept pace with the hurrying child. "You seem to be in great haste today."

Naomi grimaced. She whispered, "I'm running a little late."

Seven glanced at the flying feet. "I can see that."

"I kind of got caught up in a game of kadis-kot with Ensign T'Nar - I was winning, you see - and well, I'm due for class with Commander Tuvok in about thirty seconds or so. If I don't make it, then I'll have to face the commander's disapproval and he'll undoubtedly tell my mother, and she always says that lateness is a sign of disrespect, and she'll probably…"

Chirp. The sound of Naomi's comm badge cut off her babble and she gasped.

"Commander Tuvok to Captain's Assistant Wildman."

Seven was intrigued by the sound that emerged from the child's throat. Something between a cough and grunt. She watched as Naomi reluctantly tapped her badge. She started right in. "I'm sorry Commander Tuvok. I'll be right there. I was…" she glanced at Seven. "I was detained."

"I await your imminent arrival. Tuvok out."

"Curious," Seven commented. "You did not lie, but neither did you tell the truth."

Naomi's nose wrinkled. "My mom would never let me get away with it. And I have a feeling neither will Commander Tuvok," she muttered.

Once again, Seven heard the strange sound from Naomi. "This sound you make - you have done it twice now. It sounds as though you wish to say something more but feel it to be inappropriate to do so. Would that be a correct assessment?"

Naomi flushed and stopped walking. "My mom would take away my kadis-kot game if she knew what I was thinking."

Seven's eyebrow raised as she faced the young girl. "Was it perhaps something similar to, 'drat that Vulcan'?"

Naomi's eyes popped open along with her mouth. "How did - how did you know?" she stammered.

Seven's expression was wry. "I have overheard several of the crew express similar sentiments on a number of occasions."

"You won't tell my mom, will you?" she implored.

Seven's head tilted as she regarded the child. "I cannot report what I did not hear."

"Oh thank you, Seven," she grabbed the former Borg's hand.

Chirp. "Commander Tuvok to Captain's Assistant Wildman."

Seven heard the strange sound from Naomi once more as the child slapped her comm badge and began running at the same time.

"I'm coming, Commander, really I am."

Seven was certain that she had never previously observed any being with such tiny legs move at such great speed.

"So Kathryn, did you like your birthday surprise?"

"Mostly." She dropped onto her couch, kicked off her shoes and wiggled her toes in the carpet. She was more used to wearing boots than sling-back shoes, but she had felt like dressing up.

He sat beside her and grinned, knowing full well what was the cause of the qualification. "Why just mostly?"

"Well, Chakotay, I think I could have done without Neelix jumping out of my cake. Who would have expected him to be so, so…?" She struggled for words.

"So furry?" he supplied.

"That too," she mumbled. "Why did you allow…?"

He put up his hand to stop her. "I had no idea about that, Kathryn, although you must admit, it did liven things up quite a bit."

"That's one word for it."

"Perhaps next year I should volunteer for that job," he teased her. Her response was not what he expected.

"Fine by me, but only if it's a private party."

Their eyes locked and breath seemed to stop. Chakotay slowly leaned closer and when she didn't move away, he kissed her cheek. "Happy birthday, Kathryn." He took her hand, and glanced down at her wrist. He was pleased with the way the bracelet he had crafted for her had turned out.

Kathryn was still close beside him and not only did she not move away, but her face turned toward him. He could hardly believe it. He was actually going to kiss her. Suddenly there appeared an impish look on her face and her next words confused him.

"Wait for it," she whispered. "Here it comes." She closed the distance and lightly brushed his lips with hers. Beep. It was her door chime. "Right on time," she sighed. "Darn that Vulcan." They moved slightly apart.

"Come in, Tuvok."

Her security chief stepped through the doors. "Captain, you left a couple of your gifts at the…" he paused. "There was not time for you to consult the computer. May I inquire, Captain, as to how you knew it was me at your door?"

Her eyes flicked sideways to Chakotay. "Call it a hunch."

They were seated at their usual table in the mess hall for lunch when Tom approached and asked to speak with the commander. They stepped away from the table momentarily while the captain watched with curiosity. Tom actually seemed hesitant and even a little embarrassed. She saw Chakotay clap Tom on the shoulder and say a couple of words that brought an expression of relief and something like sheepishness to her chief pilot's face. When Chakotay returned to his seat, she couldn't stop herself from inquiring. "Is it permissible to ask what that was about?"

Chakotay glanced at her. "You're the captain. You're more than entitled to know about anything concerning the running of this ship. Tom just informed me that he's asked Lieutenant Jenner to take his shift this evening."

She knew there had been more to that conversation than just that little bit of information, as that alone didn't warrant the need to speak to Chakotay privately. She tried the subtle approach. "Is it a special anniversary of some sort for Tom and B'Elanna?"

Chakotay looked at her over the rim of his cup, and knew she was not going to let this rest until she had all the information. The chief reason Tom had requested to speak privately with Chakotay had not been for his sake, but for the captain's. Tom had known it would embarrass her. She wanted to know; fine, he'd tell her and let the chips fall where they may.

"Tom and B'E want to try to have a child, and apparently the doctor has informed them that according to his scan of B'E this morning, tonight would be a productive night to try."

"Ah. I see."

As he suspected, she flushed pink and avoided his eyes. He hid his smirk behind his cup.

They were quiet for a time, each following their own thoughts on relationships, commitment, children. Sharing life with another.

"Chakotay?"

"M-hmm?"

"Would you like to have dinner tonight?"

His eyes snapped to hers. There was an invitation in those blue eyes he thought he'd never see directed at him. He wasn't going to give her a chance to change her mind, so he quickly found his voice. "Love to, only I'll cook."

"Fine, but let's meet in my quarters. It has a bigger," she paused, "table."

At 1900 hours, Chakotay appeared at her door, and entered at her call. Throughout the meal, he could hardly take his eyes from her. She wore a forest green sheath and her hair was soft and loose. He was happy to see that she was wearing the bracelet he'd given her for her birthday.

He expected it to happen when her hand touched his as she handed him his plate.

He was sure it would happen when she asked him to dance with her.

He was positive it would happen when he brushed his lips against her hair and breathed in the scent of her perfume.

Kathryn knew what he was waiting for and grinned to herself. She finally decided to put him out of his misery. "I told Tuvok I didn't want to be disturbed this evening except for a red alert," she murmured.

A slow smile spread over his face. "I like your style, Captain."

She slid her arms around his neck and pressed close to him. "Why, thank you, Commander."

Finally, finally, those beautiful, wonderful lips were on hers and doing beautiful, wonderful things. The warmth, the smooth strong-soft texture, brushing, caressing. She shuddered at the sweet touch of his tongue against her lips, bidding her to open to him.

Chirp. "Tuvok to Captain Janeway."

Kathryn exploded with a growl of frustration. "Damn that Vulcan!" She vigorously slapped her comm badge. "Tuvok! I thought I told you I didn't want to be interrupted unless it was a red alert. And I don't hear any klaxons sounding, so this had better be good, mister!"

Although Chakotay was just as frustrated as Kathryn, it was amusing as well as gratifying to see her rake her hand through her hair, and the flash of anger in her eyes. If silence could sound startled, Tuvok's did. Chakotay was sure the security chief had never heard the captain react to him in quite that manner.

"I apologize for the - intrusion, Captain." Chakotay had never before heard a Vulcan sound hesitant. "We have encountered something that you may wish to see."

"Let me guess," her reply dripped with sarcasm. "It's a wormhole that leads straight to the front lawn of Starfleet Headquarters."

There was another surprised silence. "Not quite the front lawn of Starfleet Headquarters, Captain, but would 25,000 kilometers from the edge of the Alpha Quadrant do?"

Kathryn and Chakotay stared at one another in opened-mouthed shock. She shook herself quickly. "Does it appear stable?"

"Affirmative."

"I'm on my way." At least she'd managed to regroup enough of her mind from wherever Chakotay's kisses had sent it reeling that she hadn't said "we're" on "our" way. Although knowing Tuvok, he was undoubtedly completely aware of exactly who was in her quarters. Probably knew what they were doing, what they'd eaten for dinner and even what they were wearing.

"Aye, Captain. I will contact the rest of the senior staff."

"Janeway out."

They needed to get out of civvies and into uniforms for this trip, so Chakotay turned to the door. Kathryn had taken two steps toward her bedroom when they both whirled to face each other with looks of horror on their faces.

"Tom and B'Elanna!"

"Oh no!"

"Bridge to Lieutenants Paris and Torres."

There was a long silence before the line opened. An angry half Klingon female was heard. "Tuvok, be afraid. Be very afraid." Deep breathing was clearly heard.

Tuvok's eyebrow hit a new height. "Lieutenant Torres, did you just threaten a senior officer?"

Tom's voice quickly interjected. "No, Tuvok, of course not. Now what…"

"Yes, it was so a threat. Damn that Vul…" The sound of B'Elanna's voice was suddenly cut off.

"Sorry, Tuvok, what were you calling ab - ow, B'E, don't bite the hand that feeds you, honey!"

"Then don't try to shut me up by putting your hand over my mouth, flyboy! With that blasted Vulcan around, I can see why only one child has been born on Voyager, and she was conceived in the Alpha Quadrant!"

Harry was torn between blushing profusely at what they had obviously interrupted, and laughing out loud. However, he figured if he laughed and B'Elanna heard him, his life wouldn't be worth targ turd, so he pressed his lips firmly together. He glanced at Commander Tuvok and nearly lost it anyway.

The Vulcan actually looked uncomfortable. "I - apologize, Lieutenants. We have encountered a wormhole that appears to lead to the edge of the Alpha Quadrant, and all senior officers are needed on the bridge."

That piece of news changed everything. Harry could picture his two friends staring at each other in hopeful shock.

There was already a rustle of movement. "We're on our way," Tom declared on behalf of them both.

They were home. The debriefings were done, the hearings were done, the wedding was done. Admiral Owen Paris had officiated, and since Commander Tuvok was on his way home to Vulcan, Lieutenant Thomas Eugene Paris had the pleasurable duty of escorting the bride to her waiting groom. Ensign Harry Kim and Lieutenant Mike Ayala stood with the groom and Lieutenant B'Elanna Torres and Seven of Nine stood with the bride. The bride and groom exchanged words of love and commitment before the only other guests, the bride's mother and sister, and the groom's sister.

Now, husband and wife were alone at last, each of them still amazed at being loved by the other. It was just the two of them and a bottle of real Dom Perignon, care of the admiral. Chakotay's lips were busily working their magic down Kathryn's throat to her collarbone, making her gasp. His hands at her waist tugged at the tie to her robe and began to slide inside.

Beep. Both of their heads raised at the sound. The haze of passion dissipated to confusion.

Kathryn shook her head in denial. "It can't be."

Chakotay stared back at her. "He's on his way to Vulcan, isn't he?"

They turned together to the console on the desk of their VIP guest quarters. Sure enough, there was a light flashing. They both warily approached the computer as though drawing near a dangerous viper. Kathryn bravely reached out a finger and tapped a key.

She sighed. "Figures. I should have known better."

He looked at her. "This is your fault?"

She shrugged. "I told him to let me know when he arrived safely on Vulcan. I should have realized that he would take it to mean the very minute he stepped off the shuttle."

"And the crazy thing is, I'm sure T'Pel understands, too."

Kathryn grinned. "She probably does, at that." She read the rest of the message. "Uh-oh."

Chakotay looked with concern at his bride of just a few hours. "What? Is there something wrong with Tuvok's family?"

She raised wary eyes to him. "He and T'Pel want us to come for an extended visit. Where…"

" - he'll be able to interrupt us frequently, any time of day or night. No."

"Chakotay…"

"No, Kathryn. That's final. We just got married and I'm not having that darned Vulcan popping up every…"

Her fingers on his lips silenced him. She smiled sweetly. "We're not about to have our first argument as a married couple, are we?" He shook his head against her hand. "That's good," she whispered, "because I can think of much better things to do right now, can't you?" At his nod, she began to propel him backward towards their bedroom.

Once inside, he spun their bodies and tumbled them both to the bed. As he returned to the task of nibbling at her collarbone, he murmured against her skin, "This discussion is not over, Kathryn." He scooted lower. "Just temporarily postponed."

For once she had nothing to say. Nothing intelligent, anyway.

The End

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© Brianna Thomas, January 2002 Please email me to post/distribute elsewhere.