Hi Folks. This entire story was based on a simple idea: What if there is no Q Continuum, what if it's just dear old Rumple getting up to a bit of mischief in a far away realm?

I do not own any Star Trek or OUAT Characters, I'm just rudely using and abusing them.

Various ships will come to light throughout this story- Tom/B'Elanna, Chakotay/Seven, (briefly) Chakotay/Janeway, Swanqueen, (briefly) Captain Swan, Rumpbelle, and a few unexpected others along the way.

Rated T for now, this might change later...

PLEASE REVIEW, NEXT CHAPTER READY TO BE POSTED WHEN WANTED.

Chapter 1- The Arcanum

Star Date 53304.64

Electric currents violently attacked the shuttle, causing it to sway dangerously from side to side like an injured bird of prey incredulously finding itself in the centre of a thunderstorm.

"Communications are down," Councillor Troi barked above the harrowing racket, finding little solace in the trained calmness that emanated from the petite redhead navigating the vessel beside her.

"Hull integrity is holding at 67%," was the only reply Commander Scarlett could offer, her long hair slowly falling out of its meticulous ponytail with every jolting movement. Long streaks of blood red now sticking to her sweat soaked face.

"Approaching the edge of the electrical storm in 5... 4... 3... 2..."

A bright white light engulfed the shuttle, blinding it's only two occupants.


Star Date 53553.27 (3 months later…)

Captain Kathryn Janeway sat at her desk in her ready room, casually sipping on her fourth- or was it her fifth?- cup of coffee today. Her ready room was so quiet she could hear the comforting tick… tick… tick of the old antique clock on her wall. She gazed at it, pondering how it could have possibly survived the last five years in the delta quadrant. Sure, the glass was cracked in several places, one of the hands was bent and the polished wood had a few dents here and there. It had certainly seen better days, but still it continued to tick… tick… tick…

She silently smiled to herself as she continued to listen, the rather large pile of reports on her desk taking a back seat for only a minute, for the first time today. She looked out of the window to gaze at the stars that hurriedly shot by in white strings of light. A reminder that they were no longer trapped in the dull, bleakness of the void they had, had to endure for far to long.

Kathryn leaned back in her chair, fighting the urge to bring her feet up to rest on the desk. It wouldn't be befitting of a Captain of a star ship, she could almost hear her father chastising her. The ground beneath her suddenly lurched, spilling the last dregs of her coffee down her shirt.

"Shit!" she exclaimed to the empty room before jumping to her feet in a well rehearsed movement and heading towards her ready room door. "Here we go again…"

"Report!" Captain Janeway demanded, a second jolt to her ship threatening to knock her off her feet as she exited her ready room.

"Unidentified vessel at our port, Captain," Ensign Kim informed as she took her place in command, "two shots fired. They are now disabling their weapons".

"Damage report?"

"Moderate damage to decks 10 and 11," Kim continued.

"Have B'Elanna send an engineering team to- "

"Captain," Lieutenant commander Tuvok uncharacteristically interrupted, "scans of the vessel indicate a level of technology far superior to our own, logic would suggest that their weapons are therefore equally superior-"

"Meaning we were probably on the receiving end of a couple of warning shots," Chakotay interjected.

Janeway looked back to Tuvok for confirmation.

"Indeed," was all the reply she needed before taking her seat and throwing a final order over her shoulder at her Vulcan friend.

"Hail them".

"They are responding to our hail," Tuvok notified the crew, "however, I do not recognise this form of signal. I will need time to translate…"

This was all Janeway heard before a flash of white light invaded her senses. Drowning out all other colours, sounds, smells… she felt the comfortable arm rests of her chair disappear beneath her, and found herself floating deeper and deeper into the abyss.


A minute? An hour? A day? Janeway had no idea how long she had been floating in that endless, unconscious sea of white. Her eyes began to focus on the dark grey metal bars that criss-crossed the ceiling above her. Her throat was dry and scratchy, her tongue sticking uncomfortably to the roof of her mouth. To call what she found herself lying upon a 'bed' would have been incredibly generous, as it was more like a plank of wood- an object of necessity, blatantly giving the middle finger to any semblance of comfort. With an elegant flick of her wrist she relieved herself of the flimsy material which she supposed passed for a blanket and manoeuvred herself to sit on the edge of this precarious perch, letting out an involuntary moan as her entire body violently protested this sudden burst of movement.

"I'm getting old," she silently mused to herself as the world stopped spinning long enough for her to take in her surroundings.

A similar bed was located just opposite her, covered in a pile of dirty rags, smelling vaguely of mildew, body odour and yet a slight floral sent she couldn't quite put her finger on. The space was surrounded by three walls, one of which held a barred window showcasing the same bright streaks of stars she had been quietly observing earlier, and a fourth barricade of criss-crossed bars, behind which she could vaguely make out a dimly lit, deserted hallway. She listened intently for any sounds that could be a clue as to where she was, but there was nothing. No chatting in the distance, no scuffling of feet. Just bare, empty silence.

Prison

The word seemed to echo from the darkest corners of her mind.

She allowed herself only a moment to contemplate this before rising to her feet, ignoring the cracks and creaks of her own body which, she told herself, were grossly exaggerated as the sounds bounced off the cold stone walls of the cell. She walked to the bars and looked at the lock. It strangely resembled an old earth padlock, just like the one she had seen as a little girl growing up in Bloomington, Indiana- the one her grandfather used to use to lock the stables every night.

Not that it did much good, she mused to herself. Remembering the countless times she had snuck out of bed to go for a midnight ride. She had often wondered, however, if her grandfather was aware of her late night adventures, choosing to allow them regardless.

"That's not going to work, Captain," A voice stated simply from behind her, shaking her out of her warm, complacent memories. She turned to look about the cell, still finding it empty behind her.

She observed as the pile of rags on the opposite bed slowly began to stir. A small round face appeared from beneath a curtain of bright red matted hair, her skin stained a dark brown from a thick layer of dust. A thin blanket, similar to her own was removed and the woman stood from her bed, stretching and arching her back, mimicking the same creaks and moans that her own body had performed only a few seconds ago. The woman's hair, even in its dishevelled state, reached well below her waist. The rags she wore hung loosely over her skeletal figure and although her malnutrition was clearly evident, her face was round and jovial, sporting a cheeky grin that reminded the Captain of her own lieutenant Paris- A joker in even the worst of times- only a few lines betrayed the fact that this woman was closer to her own age. Upon further inspection of the rags, she could identify the red and black of a Starfleet command uniform. She raised her eyes to count the pins that were sported on the redheads collar- one, two. Her stomach lurched as the sudden realisation hit her- She's not one of my crew.

"With all due respect, Lieutenant, I think I may have a bit more training than you…"

The woman chuckled quietly, sauntering lazily towards the bars. Although this action would have been met by scorn coming from a member of her crew, the Captain found it oddly comforting and saved the poor woman from what she had once overheard an ensign describe as "The glare that makes your ass leak".

"Commander…" The woman corrected, leaning against the bars, "Commander Gina Scarlett of the Starship Enterprise. I lost a pin, picking that damn padlock. I made it two feet out of this cell before two guards picked me up and hurled me back in here like a frisbee".

Janeway winced as she watched the Commander absent-mindedly run a hand over her bruised ribs.

"Captain Kathryn Janeway of the Starship Voyager," She offered, holding out her hand hand for the woman to shake.

Scarlett willingly took her hand as she seemed to ponder her words carefully.

"Janeway… Voyager… I know those words mean something to me. My minds like a Lazy Susan, I'm afraid you're going to have to wait for it to come back around," She chuckled as she turned to look back through the bars, down the hallway.

Janeway caught the smile that was threatening to form on her lips before the redhead could see it. Now wasn't the time for jokes, it was time for information.

"I was under the impression that William Ryker was still commanding the Enterprise…" Janeway pushed cautiously.

"He was made Captain of the USS Alectrona about three years ago," Scarlett informed her, "He got a brand new ship and left me with some very big boots to fill. Very rude if you ask me and I never fail to tell him so."

Janeway let out a sigh and sat back on her bed, attempting to massage some of the stiffness from her thighs.

"Yeah, their transport system will do that to you. It'll wear off in a few hours," Scarlett smiled sympathetically.

"Who, exactly, is 'they'?" Janeway asked with a shake of her head.

"My last roommate referred to them as the Arcanum. Large, strong creatures with full body armour- whether it's biological or synthetic, I don't know. They're quiet, and I don't just mean that they don't communicate verbally, they literally make no sound. And they smell like…" the redhead seemed to mull over her next words, "Like the smell of the earth after a thunderstorm."

A silence fell over the two women as they seemed to think through their situation.

"Petrichor," Janeway affirmed, causing Scarlett to look at her quizzically, "The smell of the earth after rain- Petrichor."

"Huh…" The redhead instinctively brought her hand to her neck, pulling a necklace from beneath the rags and absentmindedly running the pendant along the chain, in a gesture that Kathryn recognised as self-soothing. Almost like Chakotay pulling on his ears, she thought to herself.

"I think you've found my new favourite word, Captain…"

"It seems I've also found some non-regulation jewellery, Commander," Janeway smiled in mock reprimand.

"mmm," Scarlett hummed in agreement, "Jean-Luc couldn't take it from me so I'd like to see you try." the cheeky grin returned

"Jean- Luc? Awfully familiar way to address your Captain," Janeway chuckled, "Then again, you don't strike me as the type to follow regulations to the letter."

"Am I that easy to read?" Scarlett groaned, sitting back on the opposite bed, "We had an agreement. On the bridge it was 'Captain', off the bridge it was 'Jean-Luc'".

"And what did he call you?"

"'Number one'" Scarlett scrunched her face up in distaste, causing Janeway to double over laughing.

"It's not funny!" Scarlett protested, barely holding back her own laughter, "I lost count of how many times I asked him to just call me 'Red'".

Janeway took a deep breath to compose herself before standing to her feet once more.

"Alright, Red. How the hell are going to get out of here?".