Disclaimer: I don't own Voyager or Star Trek.

Author's Note: This is my first Voyager fic, and I'm sure several other authors have toyed with the same ideas that I have. I'll try to make mine original. AND just so you know, I've never actually finished a story before, except for a one shot, so you may not want to get too attached. I really want to finish this one though.

Chapter 1: Unfamiliar Ceiling

Had today been a normal day, she would have felt perfectly calm, even delighted at the soothingly beautiful weather. A cool May breeze passed through her hair and rattled her flirty earrings. She took a deep, cleansing breath and felt the aroma of freshly brewed coffee penetrate every part of her exhausted body. She passed by the coffee shop, hesitating only for a second as she was tempted by the prospect a smooth, Venezuelan brew, and the smooth Venezuelan who worked there.

But today was not a normal day. Three days before graduation, and Kaitlyn had no plans for the future. Twenty-two years old, English literature major with a 4.0 GPA, and Kaitlyn McClain had nothing. She wanted to be published, but she had no viable material. At this point, a job in a bookstore seemed better than nothing.

A quick wind blew her thick head of hair into her eyes. Without a spare though, Kaitlyn shifted her books and notebooks to her left arm, tucked her long bangs behind her ear, and began sifting though her purse for a clip to secure her hair.

Clip procured, Kaitlyn flung her head once more to displace any brunette locks that were still in the way.

A blue light? There!

There, maybe 5 yards before her, a blue light shone in midair. Kaitlyn was transfixed. Perhaps it was a trick. A slight of hand covertly performed by a wandering magician. Should she get closer? Should she back away? A hundred thoughts pressed on her mind as she contemplated her next actions, but a gust had stopped her. She lost her balance and a notebook slipped from her grasp. Papers were blown everywhere. On instinct, Kaitlyn dropped her purse and other papers and ran for the escapees.

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"I'm telling you, it was 1928," Insisted Chakotay, as he leaned closer to the Captain's chair.

"No, it was 1927 for sure," parried Captain Janeway, "Help us out Tom."

The debate had been going on for nearly 10 minutes after the critical question had been asked by 20th century aficionado, Tom Paris: When did Louis Armstrong make his first recording?

"Are you sure you want me to spoil your fun?" Tom asked in his characteristically humorous tone.

"True," Chakotay added, "It could just add to the mystery to never find out."

"Or it could just annoy the hell out of me," Janeway insisted, "What year was it Tom?"

He smiled, suppressing a quite laugh, "Both of you are wrong. It was 1926."

Janeway smiled. Chakotay nodded his head in defeat.

"We'll call it a tie," He suggested.

The captain began to reply, but was cut short.

"Captain," Ensign Harry Kim interrupted, "I'm detecting a highly localized disturbance in the space-time continuum."

"Where?" the Captain asked, clearly disturbed.

"I'm not sure. I'm having trouble finding it, but it's close."

Janeway rose from her chair and joined Ensign Kim at his station.

"I've found it Captain. It's just beginning to form and," Kim hesitated, "it's on the bridge!"

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In her haste to try and salvage her fallen papers, Kaitlyn had forgotten about the blue light and unintentionally ran strait for it. When she was only a few feet away from it, she had not noticed it expanding, and when the scenery suddenly changed she could think of nothing more than retrieving the precious document. With a flick of the wrist and a triumphant smile she clenched the paper in her grasp.

But there was no more wind. The smell of coffee had dissipated and the constant roar of traffic had been replaced by an almost inaudible whir. There was carpet beneath her feet and walls surrounding her. She looked around. Faces. Unfamiliar faces atop unfamiliar bodies in unfamiliar uniforms, all of them looking at her. A tall man to her left stood. Dark blonde hair. She stepped back. Two women. Four men, one of them pointing some sort of weapon at her. Pointy ears. Strange eyebrows. She dropped her paper and moved her wide eyes to the left. Stars in a black sky. Nothing more.

Was it some sort of trick or illusion? She continued to step back and back. She looked at the faces. One woman began stepping toward her from an upper platform.

"Don't be alarmed," She said.

Kaitlyn stumbled, but regained her footing, continuing to pace backwards hesitantly. It was a dream. A psychotic breakdown. The woman continued to step forward, offering calm and composed words, but none of them were processing.

Kaitlyn finally reached the wall, but let out a short shriek upon impact. Her hands shook, her eyes darting. She took a step to the left, but her knees buckled. She lay on the ground. Unfamiliar ceiling. And then black.