Harry Kim had long since lost his youthful enthusiasm for taking command of Gamma Shift. He was virtually dozing in the command chair,  miserably contemplating the reduced odds he now had of getting himself a date, since his best friend had committed the cardinal sin of deciding to 'go steady' with someone.

It wasn't that he thought Tom was making a mistake. He was glad his friend had finally found someone (although he was more than a little confused by who that someone had turned out to be) and he knew it was selfish of him to feel put-out simply because Tom now had someone else to spend his off-duty time with. Still, there was no getting away from the fact that without Tom's presence by his side, Harry had a far poorer chance of getting close to anyone himself.

The truth was that people gravitated towards the blond pilot. Tom's personality was like a flame, tempting people to hover around him uncaring of whether their wings got scorched, and Harry was always there to pick up the pieces afterwards.  Harry's entire romantic life, aside from the occasional disastrous fling with aliens, revolved around providing a shoulder to cry on for Tom's rejects.

It was amazing how attractive he seemed to people after they had been Tom-singed.

"The calm after the storm," he muttered.

"Sorry Sir?" Ensign Montoya asked from Ops.

"Nothing," Harry replied, flushing a little that he had spoken out loud. He looked around the bridge, but fortunately none of the other crew were paying attention.

The worst of it, he decided, was that Tom was obviously serious about his new relationship. He was being coy and secretive about it, swearing Harry to silence lest the fledgling relationship was damaged by speculation and gossip. Harry understood Tom's reticence and was covering for him as best he could, but there was no getting away from the fact that if Tom's relationship was made public, the whole ship would be filled with broken-hearted ladies desperate for Harry's comforting shoulder.

Harry vacillated between feeling pious and noble for his silence, and being royally pissed off at the missed opportunity. With his luck, Tom would tire of the relationship before Harry tired of covering for him, and things would be back to normal except for Harry's memory of several weeks of blue balls.

"I'm registering an anomalous reading to starboard," Lieutenant Wildman said.

Her voice was enough to shock Harry back to awareness. He peered anxiously at the viewscreen but the star field was clear to his naked eye.

"Initiate a sensor sweep and raise shields," he ordered.

"The phenomena is a natural occurrence," Montoya said, after running a scan. "It appears to be a wormhole, sir."

Well-used to the endless disappointments that had resulted from their investigations of similar phenomenon, Harry didn't notify the other Senior Officers of the discovery. He simply ordered Wildman to bring Voyager to a full-stop within 200,000km of the wormhole's entrance, instructed that a probe should be launched and then sat back in his chair and waited.

His apparent lack of excitement was mirrored across the bridge. Everyone continued their assigned tasks silently. Nobody speculated aloud whether the wormhole would offer them a short-cut home. Everyone pretended to be indifferent to the slow, steady bleeping of the probe as it traveled down the tunnel. Everyone pretended to barely watch the transmission of its progress as it sent back pictures of its progress.

But as soon as the first positive readings bounced back, a huge collective groan of excitement filled the bridge and Harry was galvanized into action. Within minutes, half-asleep crew were tipping out of the turbo-lift and racing to their posts. 

"It not only appears stable, but it'll take us twenty thousand light years nearer the Alpha Quadrant," Harry reported as he surrendered the command chair to the Captain.

"Send another probe through," she instructed, although the smile she gave Harry was almost as excited as his.

"You're late," she teased Chakotay, good-naturedly, as he slid into the seat next to hers.

"I stopped to put my uniform on properly," he quipped back. "Yours is on back to front."

Kathryn's eyes flared in alarm and she looked down to check, only to find that her first officer was pulling her leg.

"Very funny," she snarled, as Chakotay laughed.

"Speaking of uniforms..." Chakotay nodded his head towards Tom Paris, who had just stumbled out of the turbo lift. He was still dressing as he staggered down the bridge, his blond hair tousled, his lips so swollen that he looked like he'd been kissing a blow-fish, and his neck covered with a huge port-colored stain.

Kathryn Janeway's nose wrinkled as the young man sped past her and threw himself at the helm.

"It's not fair," she whispered in an aside to Chakotay. "Every time we have a middle of the night emergency, Mr. Paris turns up smelling like a tomcat in heat and I have to sit here and pretend I haven't noticed."

"Well, at least he's left whichever vampire he's sleeping with behind," Chakotay chuckled. "No wonder his replicator account always shows an excessive amount of dermal regenerators."

"Does it?" Kathryn asked knowingly. "What are you doing checking up on Tom's replicator account?"

Chakotay just shrugged. "I just wondered what he did with all his ill-gotten gains."

"You're still annoyed about the pool tournament?" Kathryn laughed.

"Considering how many people ended up having to eat in the mess hall that week, then I think it's a relevant concern."

"I agree that the timing could have been better."

"I told Neelix that the next time he tried out a new menu that put half the crew in Sickbay, I'd charge him with attempted mutiny," Chakotay replied, his cheeks crinkling into dimples.

"The second probe shows the same readings as the first," Montoya reported from Ops. 

Kathryn cast a querying glance towards Tuvok, who had joined Montoya at the station, and the Vulcan gave a quiet nod of concurrence.

"Send a third probe," she ordered.

She ignored the low grumble from the rest of the bridge crew. She was as excited as they were, but would rather waste a dozen probes than risk Voyager's safety. If the wormhole was stable, the delay in using it would prove irrelevant. If it wasn't stable, they could find themselves heading in the wrong direction and it wasn't a chance she was prepared to take.

"So which lucky lady is it this week?" she asked Chakotay, to distract them both during the interminable wait.

"Lady?" Chakotay asked innocently.

Kathryn nodded towards the back of Tom's head'.

"Don't be coy, Chakotay. If you're checking on his replicator account, you must know who he's sleeping with.

"It must be so hard to be a Captain," Chakotay smirked. "Left out of every loop of gossip."

"It's not gossip, it's ship's business. It's important for me to know who's going to be moping around with a broken heart next week."

"No, it's important for me to know, since I handle the duty rosters. For you, it's just gossip."

"So you do know," Kathryn challenged, her eyes sparkling.

"Let's just say it's no lady," Chakotay replied with an enigmatic smile.

"Humph, I can see that for myself," she said, her eyes narrowing at the dark blood bruise on the side of Tom's neck that was so large that it was obvious even from behind. "It's B'Elanna again, isn't it? I knew she didn't mean it when she said she'd rather kiss the warp core than go out with him again."

Chakotay stayed silent. He knew perfectly well what would make Tom's lips look that swollen and, besides, it wasn't the first time he'd seen a hickey like that on Tom's neck. He had to admit that it surprised the hell out of him, but then again it had been seven years. They'd all changed, Tom more than most. Maybe it wasn't that surprising that Greg had decided to offer Tom a second chance.

He wished them both luck. Tom and Ayala's affair on the Crazy Horse had been both wild and oddly romantic. Greg had been so seriously smitten with the young pilot that Chakotay had overlooked both Tom's drink problem and his own attraction to the blond. He'd never forgiven Tom for breaking Greg's heart, for turning his friend into a bitter, taciturn man who rarely even spoke anymore.

He'd found a level of professional respect with Tom Paris. He'd even slowly learnt to tolerate him socially, despite Tom's wildcatting around the ship as though he wanted to throw his myriad of affairs in Greg's face. 

And if Greg himself had finally decided to forgive Tom, who was he to carry on brandishing the torch of revenge?

But it made Chakotay feel a little uncomfortable. Particularly since letting go of the hatred would mean facing the fact, once again, that he himself was so attracted to the pilot.

"The third probe's readings are consistent with the others, Captain," Tuvok announced gravely. "It would appear that the wormhole is stable."

Kathryn released a breath that she'd barely been aware of holding. She stared at the viewscreen, torn between ordering a fourth probe and giving the order to take Voyager through.

Twenty thousand light years.

It was beyond belief.

It was the answer to a prayer.

Only, Kathryn was suspicious of miracles.

"Captain?" Chakotay asked her quietly, his face unreadable.

She turned to look at him and smiled as she absorbed his aura of calm. He would wait patiently for her to make up her mind and then he would support her decision. He was her anchor and his trust gave her strength. 

"When you're quite ready, Mr. Paris," Kathryn said, as she watched the blond in question bouncing impatiently in his chair. "Take us in."

"Yes, Ma'am," he replied, throwing her a wide grin over his shoulder before engaging the engine.

In all the events that followed, the image that haunted her most was the memory of that smile.

Go to Chapter Two