I noticed that there was a conspicuous lack of crossovers of this variety in the database, so I thought, eh, why not? My attempt to do something mostly original. I hope you enjoy!

Prussia, 1947

It's funny what you think about when you know you're about to die.

Who would've thought that it would all come to this? He knew that it happened, of course. All nations did. Ancient Greece, Germania, the Roman Empire. They all came to an end. But no, not him. Never him. The mighty nation of Prussia would never die. Never be forgotten, locked away in the dusty tomes of history. And yet here he was.

It wasn't even a good ending. Prussia snorted from where he stood rigidly at attention, blue uniform spotless and crisp. He had been allowed to wear it as his last tribute to his country. Dissolution. Not a mighty downfall, no last battle that was fiercely fought to the last man. Nein, not for him. Out with a whimper.

Prussia felt a faint burning behind his eyes, but kept his face blank and stoic. He would not cry. It was unawesome, and besides, he would be damned before he showed any sign of weakness before the other nations. He flicked his view to them without moving his head.

England stood on the far left of the courtyard, with his guards standing at attention behind him. The blond nation's brow was furrowed as he watched over the proceedings. A faint scowl was present on his features. He was still leaning heavily on his cane, and it was clear that he was conflicted over something.

France stood close to England, closer than he would have before the war. Prussia felt a momentary stab of guilt at the sight of his former friend's crutches. France was staring at the ground, looking anywhere but at the spectacle before him. It had been two years since the war was officially over, and yet the French nation still wasn't back on his feet. It would take many years before the effects of the fighting would fade into nothing more than a nightmarish memory.

The man-whatever his name was- in charge of the address was still going on with his stupid speech. "…and it is due to these actions, and for all purposes…" A harsh wind whipped through the clearing, biting Prussia with its icy chill. Its mournful howl moaned mockingly in his ears.

Prussia looked out for what he considered his last time at the assembled nations, picking out faces and mentally saying good-bye. There was America, looking supremely uncomfortable and sad. It was a shame; America hadn't wanted any of this. This was probably one of his first times seeing a nation that he knew personally die. The Italies, Romano staring angrily at the ground, Veneziano looking teary-eyed. Ah, he would miss those two Dummkopfe. Austria, blank-faced and somberly dressed. Hungary stood beside him. She was scowling, but Prussia could tell (years of experience) that she wasn't angry, just… sad. That surprised him. Maybe she did care after all.

A faint prickle crept up the back of Prussia's neck as he spotted Russia. Russia was smiling his innocent smile, seemingly oblivious to the mood around him. They locked gazes for a moment. Russia's smile grew wider and colder, a faint sparkle of madness making its way into his eyes. Against his will, Prussia shivered ever so slightly. Russia's boss and government were in turmoil, and that seemed to be affecting Russia more than anyone else knew.

All at once, a great wave of despair washed over Prussia. He swiftly looked downwards, staring hard at the dirt ground. He was going to die. And there wasn't anything else he could do about it; he was just going to… disappear. He closed his eyes. What would it be like? At least… he could see Vater again. And Old Fritz too.

Faintly, Prussia heard the man coming to the end of his speech. He snapped his head up, frantically searching for his brother. There he was, on the far right, alone amidst the sea of people. Germany looked exhausted, but he still stood straight and tall. Prussia met his younger brother's icy blue gaze, and was shocked to see the faint track of a tear glimmering in the weak sunlight.

Prussia could feel a numb tingling sensation spreading over his entire body. So here it was.

"…and with this, we hereby declare the nation of Prussia forevermore…"

Prussia smiled sadly. I'm sorry. "Auf Wiedersehen, Bruder," he whispered.

A white light blinded Prussia. He closed his eyes and accepted it.

Then the world was gone.

The Delta Quadrant, 2376

Many thousand light years away from home, a lone starship sailed smoothly through space at warp 7.

Captain Janeway sat loosely in the captain's chair on bridge, fingers drumming the side of her mug of coffee. The faint whirring and beeping noises from the computer systems and the hiss of air from the environmental systems filled the quiet room. The morning shift was present and at their posts. Janeway, gazing blankly at the constant flow of stars on the main viewscreen, didn't notice her second in command approaching until his amused voice cut through her thoughts.

"Contemplating the higher mysteries of the universe?" Chakotay asked, sliding into his chair. Janeway started, jolted out of her reverie. She locked glances with him, a faint smile making its way onto her face.

"I'm contemplating something," she said with a small huff of laughter, leaning back in her chair. She pursed her lips in mock deliberation, tilting her head to the side. "I'm not entirely sure what, but I'm working on it."

Chakotay chuckled softly. "While you're figuring that out, might I suggest a word of advice? Avoid the mess hall for a while."

Janeway raised an eyebrow. "Indeed, Commander? Is there any specific reason?"

Chakotay's grin broadened and he shook his head. "No." He paused, as if remembering something. "In fact, if you find yourself having sudden cravings for sauerbraten, sauerkraut, and boiled potatoes, then I suggest you stop by."

Janeway grinned as well, putting down her mug. "If I'm not mistaken, that sounds very German of Mr. Neelix. How did he come by those recipes?" Before Chakotay could reply, she held out a hand, forestalling him. "Let me guess. Our resident 20th century lover has a new holodeck program."

Chakotay nodded in mild amusement and amazement. "Right in one. How did you know?"

Janeway settled back in her chair again, a small smirk on her lips. "Let's just say that Mr. Paris has been very enthusiastic about it. I believe that he and Harry have a time slot in the holodeck around now." She crossed her legs and picked up her coffee again, toasting it forwards in a mock salute. "To the mighty conquests of Mr. Paris and Mr. Kim as they face the dangers of World War Two." She brought the cup to her lips, taking a sip. "Although it does sound rather interesting. Maybe I'll have to try it and see what it's all about."

Chakotay went to reply, but was cut off when something rocked the ship with a dull thrum. A few alarms beeped frantically in response as the lights dimmed and flickered. After a couple seconds, they brightened again and continued as though nothing had happened.

Janeway frowned and set her cup down from where she had rescued it. She stood up and assumed an attentive position. "Report."

"Voyager seems to have encountered a small temporal anomaly," Tuvok replied from behind his station. The Vulcan's dark hands flew deftly over the computer screen. "It initiated a sudden power surge in the auxiliary systems. A few of them are offline." He glanced up and met the Captain's gaze. "There appears to be only minor damage."

"Have Engineering work on getting them back online." Janeway tapped her comm badge. "Bridge to Astrometrics."

"Seven of Nine here." The former Borg drone's calm voice filtered through the comm system.

"Did you get a reading on the temporal anomaly we just hit?" Janeway questioned. There was a moment's pause.

"Yes." You could practically see Seven as she scanned her cold data, processing it faster than any normal human could. "It was approximately 1.77 meters in length, and impacted the starboard side of the hull. Upon impact, it sent an energy surge throughout Voyager's hull, disrupting several auxiliary systems, including internal sensors, communications, holo-emitters, and turbolifts." There was another pause as Seven finished her dispassionate report. "It is not of importance. I will note it in ships logs."

"Thank you, Seven." Janeway closed the communications with another tap of her comm badge.

"Why are we doing this again?" Kim sighed, tugging at the collar of his near perfect replica of a black Gestapo uniform. The thing was stiff and heavy.

Paris looked up from the computer panel outside Holodeck One and rolled his eyes.

"Oh, come on Harry!" He pulled on his pair of replicated leather gloves once he was done tapping last minute commands into the matrix. Paris theatrically shook his head in mock exasperation. "I did your last holoprogram, so now you have to do one of mine. It was our deal, remember?"

"I remember!" Kim replied indignantly. His voice turned dry. "But was it really necessary to get Neelix to cook an 'authentic German meal?'"

"Just getting in the spirit of things. Don't be such a downer."

"At least my last holoprogram was interesting," Kim muttered under his breath.

Paris scowled at him as he pressed the command code to open the doors. They whooshed open to the sight of a dark, uneven alleyway lined by tall buildings. "I heard that."

The familiar ringing tone greeted them after they stepped through the archway. The metallic structure that was so out of place in the 20th century setting vanished as though into thin air. Kim shivered a bit at the unexpected bite of cold air, suddenly grateful for his thick coat.

Paris, hands shoved deep in his pockets, turned on the spot appreciatively, taking in the sights. It was early evening here. The sun was sinking its rosy glow behind the pointed rooftops, and the wind was slightly damp with the promise of rain.

"Not bad, if I do say so myself." Paris began his brisk walk down the alleyway, Kim following closely behind. Kim nodded absentmindedly as he also searched the surroundings. It was fairly impressive.

A deep thrumming sound reverberated through the deck plating, rattling the two of them down to their core. The ground shook, and the entire program flickered for a moment, the precise black and yellow pattern of the holodeck showing as the surrounding city shimmered out of reality and back in.

Kim frowned, and the pair of them stopped walking. They looked at each other.

"What was that?"

Paris turned on the spot again, this time scrutinizing the images surrounding him. Satisfied that there would be no more disappearing, he shrugged and turned back to Kim, his posture relaxing.

"It was probably just some turbulence." Seeing a familiar look on his best friend's face, Paris groaned in protest.

"It's fine, Harry. If we were needed, then we would have been called." He pulled a long face. "This is the first time in two weeks that we get the holodeck all to ourselves." Paris slung an arm over Kim's reluctant shoulder. "Let's try to enjoy it, alright?"

Kim sighed and grinned, giving in. "Alright. It was probably nothing anyways."

Prussia wasn't sure of what to think. In fact, the only clear thought going through his mind at the moment was, "If I'm dead, then why does it hurt so damn much?!"

His eyes flickered open, and he winced at the sudden influx of sunlight. Blinking, he forced himself to wake up and shake the grey fog out of his head. The nation grumbled softly and pushed himself up into a more stable position, noticing that he was currently leaning against a very rough and uncomfortable wall on the very cold and uncomfortable ground.

Prussia shook his head to clear the last traces of fuzziness away and took in his surroundings. Buildings. A dark alleyway. There was no one else in sight.

A hollow pain ran through his chest, and he gasped, pressing a hand to it instinctively.

"Was…"

A stark realization hit him as suddenly as a thunder bolt. He couldn't feel anyone.

All nations carried their citizens in their hearts. They instinctively knew all of them and were deeply tied with their people, much more so than their physical lands and selves. It was one of the nicer things about being a nation. All the nations also felt parts of each other as well. It was always there, like a faint brush in the back of their minds. (A few nations used to the exasperation of others. Denmark, after driving over the Swedish/Danish border repeatedly at 2 in the morning was finally met by a very pissed off Sweden with a Finnish-made sniper rifle. Needless to say, he was encouraged to stop.)

But now… Prussia drew a deep, shuddering breath. There was no one. None of his people, no lands, no Earth-sense… no nations.

He was alone.

Prussia stayed where he was for a moment, staring blankly at the wall across from him. If he was dead… then this was hell.

The nation scowled and pushed himself up on his feet. He hissed at the sudden surge of pain, and clutched the rough stone of the wall as the world spun dizzyingly around him. "Damn it!"

Prussia breathed in through his nose and willed the world to steady. It did, after a few disorienting moments. He looked up, finally paying more attention to his surroundings.

With the terrifying loss of his Earth-sense, he had no idea where he was. However… Prussia stumbled over to the edge of the alleyway and stopped as he completely viewed the city around him for the first time. Familiar buildings rose in the distance, and even more familiar people walked through the streets. This was Berlin. His brother's heart.

Prussia half-smiled at the thought of that. But even that didn't cheer him up all the way. This city wasn't real. He couldn't feel it. The land, the houses, even the men and women passing by... all seemed as insubstantial as the wind to him. None of them existed. This was a place of ghosts.

His outstretched hand, steadying himself on the wall, made a rustling sound as it dragged over a dry paper poster. He turned his head, startled by the noise, and froze for a second time. "No…"

Ripping the poster of the wall with a sudden grab, the Prussian nation stared the hateful thing with loathing. Hitler's familiar face stood out, almost mocking his plight. Prussia snarled under his breath. He was seconds away from ripping it up when his eyes strayed to the far right corner. 1942, read the date.

"Damn!" he swore again, finally crumpling the paper and hurling it as far as he could into the darkened alley. Prussia clenched his fists, posture stiff and unyielding.

With a swift motion, he spun and slammed his right fist into the stone wall besides him. The wall shook dangerously, accompanied by a rough smacking sound as flesh met brick. A protesting rocky groan sprung from the side of building. Prussia stayed there, breathing hard, his forehead pressed against the cool material. Then, carefully, he removed his bleeding hand from the powdery crushed indent his hand had left in the wall. Detachedly, he examined the raw splits on his knuckles and the dark bruising that had quickly formed around them, relishing in the pain that came from it. Prussia flexed his fingers and watched in disinterest as the skin healed over, the damage already disappearing from so minor an injury.

"Well," he muttered under his breath. "At least I still heal like a nation. And"- he glanced at the damaged wall, the first true smile since he had woken up playing a smug smirk around his lips-"I still punch like one too."

Prussia shoved both hands into his pockets of his Prussian blues, after giving them both one last cursory scan. He glanced around him and then set off down the not-street with a forced confidant air. If this was the afterlife, then he was going to make the best of it. Maybe someday he would find everyone else. Hah… he'd like to see Old Fritz again.

But first, Prussia needed a beer.

"So, where are we again?"

"Berlin, the capital of Germany, 1942," Paris answered. The pair of them paused as they came to the end of an alley, reaching a slightly busier street. Common folk passed by, a few giving the black-clad pair searching, cautious glances before hurrying on. Posters lined the wall, a familiar face on the one closest to the Starfleet men.

Kim sidestepped, coming closer to the poster. He traced the edge of the famously mustachioed face with a gloved forefinger. Hitler's fierce features stood out in the still photograph, face and body language impassioned. "That was the middle of World War 2, right?"

Paris joined him, staring at the poster with mild curiosity. "Yep. All the Allies have joined the war, but the Atomic bomb hasn't been dropped yet."

"And, who are we?" Kim asked, raising an eyebrow at his friend. He glanced down at his outfit. "I seem to remember the bad guys wearing this uniform."

"Well done Harry, you've brushed up on your history." Paris grinned. "We are, in fact, dressed as Gestapo agents."

Kim nodded thoughtfully, a slight frown on his face as he searched his memory for the days of his Earth history classes. "They were the Nazi's secret police, weren't they?"

Paris tilted his head and shrugged. "Eh, close enough. But we"- he clapped his hands together, a pleased expression on his face-"are not Gestapo agents. We are American spies who have infiltrated the Gestapo network and are now working with the underground."

Paris looked out on the main street for a moment, and then stepped out smartly onto the sidewalk, pulling his friend with him.

"Our first mission tonight"-he looked up at the sky and amended that statement-"this evening, is to meet up with another spy in the Hofbrau and get him out of Berlin safely."

"And how do we do that?"

Paris glanced over his shoulder. "We have papers, and he doesn't."

"Ah. What's his name?"

Paris took another left, slowing down as he came in sight of a cheerfully glowing building. He stopped, stepping with Kim into the shadows for a moment. The pair of them peeked watchfully around the corner before Paris turned back.

"Karl Langenscheidt. He's been secretly giving the Allies information about the German war effort."

Kim's eyebrow's furrowed in thought. "And why do we need to get him out of Berlin?"

"I don't know." Seeing Kim's incredulous look, Paris threw up his hands defensively. "Hey, that's part of the mission! All we got"- he dug into the left pocket of his overcoat and pulled out a crumpled slip of blue paper, smoothing it out so that it was legible-"was this letter from headquarters."

Kim leaned over his friend's arm, reading the spidery scrawl softly aloud. "Code name Blue Fox. Deliver package outside mansion this evening. Hofbrau. Fox hunting. Response: Out to the countryside." Kim looked skyward, thinking it over. His face cleared after a moment. "Oh, okay, I get it. Codes."

"You got it." Paris smirked and shoved the note back in his pocket. He stole one more quick look, and then headed across the street for the Hoffbrau. They stayed side by side as they entered the busy building.

Another thing that sucked about this whole being dead thing was they didn't have any good beer.

Prussia scowled down at the frothy lip of the mug he was currently holding. It was like everything else in this damn place. It looked like beer, but it most definitely not beer. "And they call themselves Germans…" he muttered in disgust.

The pretty young blond women behind the bar came back over to where he was seating, leaning against the edge of the wooden counter. She adjusted her apron and gave him a charming smile.

"Is there anything else I can do for you?" she asked.

Prussia glanced up, mildly irritated.

"Yes, I have a question." At her questioning expression, the nation lifted his mug and set it down on the bar again with perhaps a little more force than necessary. The amber liquid sloshed against the glass sides, a few dribbles spilling over the edge. "What the hell is this?"

Her expression grew a little guarded and puzzled. "Isn't that they beer you ordered, sir?"

Prussia huffed in annoyance. He leaned across the bar top, a grumpy expression on his face.

"Fraulein, I was drinking beer six hundred years before you were born." He gestured towards his rejected mug with a disdainful hand. "And I can tell you that whatever this is, it is definitely not beer." Prussia pushed himself backwards on his stool and crossed his arms.

The women just stared at him for a moment. Then, slowly, she took the beer up with a careful hand and left, giving a few concerned glances over her shoulder as she did so. Prussia rolled his eyes. So what if they thought he was crazy. Drinking fake beer like that was a disgrace to the name of Prussia.

Prussia spread his fingers out on the smooth counter, dully noting the faint, ever present hum that ran through every solid thing he touched. This place… He didn't know what to make of it. The people acted like normal people. The looked like them, down to the faint scents and body heat. And yet, they were all empty inside.

"What am I doing here?" Prussia asked softly. The deep emptiness inside his heart seemed to throb mournfully in reply.

The door to the bar opened, breaking across the quiet hum of conversation that filled the warmly-lit room. There was an audible pause as two black-clad men entered the Hoffbrau. Gestapo.

Prussia barely looked up in acknowledgement, still caught deep in his depressed thoughts. But then, a soft touch brushed the back of his mind.

The nation's white-haired head snapped up, zeroing in on the two newcomers in astonishment. Prussia's eyes widened. He quickly concentrated on the pair, red eyes narrowing. His breath caught.

They were alive.

They were alive.

He could feel both of them, not in the personal way he knew his own citizens, of course, but in that natural way that said, "Yes, they are human. They exist." Their beings thrummed gently in his center.

Prussia quickly turned back to his seat, mind racing. A faint bubble of hope had risen in his chest. If they were alive, then did that mean…

"I'm still alive," the Prussian nation whispered. A smile grew on his face. Then it dimmed, as it really dawned upon him what that meant.

What really was this place? And why was he here? Why wasn't he dead?

Prussia watched out of the corner of his eye as the two of them approached one of the tables fairly close to him. His eyes narrowed suspiciously. The first one, looking supremely confident, was blond and blue-eyed, Hitler's idea of the perfect man. But the second one was Chinese. That was so wrong he couldn't even wrap his mind around it.

There were never any Chinese men in the Gestapo. There were never any in any of the German armed forces. It simply did not happen. But there he sat, warily eyeing his surroundings, and nobody was batting an eyelash. It was the fact that nobody seemed to notice that had Prussia on edge. Were the ghost people supposed to miss things like that?

Prussia knew he needed to talk to those two.

The waitress that he had exchanged words with earlier had walked over to the pair seated at the table, inconspicuously avoiding Prussia as she went. Prussia leaned heavily on the counter, pretending to be completely engrossed in the empty glass that he had taken from a man who had just left after finishing his drink. Softly, yet clearly, he heard the blonde pose the same question she had asked everyone else, albeit with a bit more trepidation faced with two Gestapo men.

"What can I get you?"

Still watching in his peripheral, Prussia saw the blond man look up, smiling warmly at the young women.

"Nothing for the moment, but we'll tell you if we change our minds, okay?"

Prussia winced, hunching his shoulder slightly in surprise as an unexpected bolt of pain lanced through his head. That… was strange.

He could hear them speaking in perfect German, both with a natural Hochdeutsch accent. But underneath that, at the very edge of his nation senses… He could also hear English. Their true accents stood out as boldly as the American flag they reminded him of.

Prussia risked a lazy glance over his shoulder, brow furrowed ever-so slightly in suspicion. Whoever these Americans were, he definitely needed answers from them. And soon.

"So," Kim asked softly, leaning forwards. "When was this Langenscheidt supposed to be here?" He glanced surreptitiously around him.

"Relax, Harry." Paris rested his chin in his palm, looking completely at ease. "He'll be here. Now ease up, will you? You'll blow our cover."

Kim sighed and leaned back in his chair. "I hope you know what you're doing…" he muttered. Paris smirked.

"When don't I?"

Kim gave him a sardonic look. Paris huffed, mildly offended.

"Such an overwhelming amount of faith in me."

"Yeah, well, I know you a bit too well."

There was a moment's pause at the table, covered up by the mild chatter that buzzed lowly in the background. Then-

"What's the counter-code again?"

Paris rolled his eyes and groaned.

"Jeez, Harry, you'd think that you'd never done this before."

"I haven't!" After looking around again, Kim lowered his voice. "But this isn't exactly like Captain Proton. This…" He struggled with his words for a moment. Kim frowned. "This just feels much more real, doesn't it? That's the difference. This was a real period, and this is one of the most famous times in human history." Kim scratched the table absentmindedly. "It's setting me on edge."

Paris paused. He hadn't really thought of it like that before. He blew out a breath.

"Now that you mention it, this does feel different than the stuff you and I normally do on the Holodeck," he admitted. He nodded. "Blue Fox, counter is Out to the Countryside."

"Right."

The two of them went back to nonchalantly sitting and making small talk. Paris insisted on ordering a beer when the waitress came back, with Kim rolling his eyes at the not-so subtle flirting that his friend engaged in. Paris turned back to his friend, bewildered by the cold-shoulder he had just been given.

"What did I do?"

"Tom, you're forgetting." Kim leaned forwards and tapped the chest of Paris's black coat, not bothering to hide his grin. "Bad guys, remember?"

"Oh." Paris looked fairly disappointed. "Right."

"Excuse me."

Both Paris and Kim looked up, startled by the sudden interjection. A white-haired man stood there, an impassive look on his face. They quickly took in the blue uniform and the unusual, almost demonic-looking red eyes that stood out from his pale face.

Paris exchanged a quick glance with Kim.

"Can we help you?" Paris asked guardedly. The man's eyes flashed and a slight grin bared his teeth.

"You two wouldn't have happened to have seen a blue fox anywhere, have you?" The man asked softly, crossing his arms.

"No, but if you're looking for one, you might go out to the countryside to see for yourself," Kim replied smoothly, covering up his surprise admirably. Paris cocked an approving eyebrow in his direction before clearing his face into a politely interested mask.

The white-haired man didn't change expression, and instead sat down carefully in the open chair on that side of the table. Both Kim and Paris leaned forwards inconspicuously.

"Are you Langenscheidt?" Paris asked quietly. The man gave him an appraising glance.

"Not here." He pushed his chair back. "Meet me out back." With that, the man stood up and sauntered out the door, hands in his pockets. Paris pulled a wry face and turned back to Kim.

"Well, you don't see that every day. I didn't expect Langenscheidt to be an albino."

At Kim's raised eyebrow, Paris sighed and rolled his eyes.

"Blame the Doc, he's the one that had me study all those medical databases. That's why he has white hair and red eyes. It was pretty rare condition that used to affect people in the earlier centuries." Paris stood up himself, adjusted his collar and laying a few coins on the table. "I'm surprised he didn't get caught sooner, sticking out like that."

"Well, if nothing, he proved a very important point."

Paris gave his friend a puzzled look. "What?"

Kim gave his friend a sly grin. "You can learn things if you try hard enough."

Paris scoffed as the two of them exited the Hofbrau through the back door. Stepping out onto the cool street again, he pulled up his collar and glanced around curiously.

"Do you see where Langenscheidt went?" He asked Kim in an undertone.

Kim shook his head, opening his mouth to reply, but stopped in surprise as Paris was suddenly slammed in to.

Paris reeled, stumbling forwards from the unexpected motion, an exclamation of surprise escaping him. His hand went to the holstered handgun at his belt, only to find it missing.

The pair of them looked up to see Langenscheidt standing in front of the two of them, having just completed the smooth spin that had carried him back away from Paris. His face was partially covered in shadows.

"What the hell was that?!" Paris exclaimed angrily. He started forwards, only to stop in concern at the gleaming handgun that was suddenly being leveled at him. The Starfleet man glanced down at his belt. Langenscheidt must have taken it in the brief moment of contact the two had had.

"I want answers." Langenscheidt's voice was low and fierce. "Who the hell are you two? And why are you here?"

"Hold on." Kim stepped forwards, hands up in a placating gesture. Langenscheidt swiveled to keep him in his sights, switching targets. "You know who we are. We were sent by headquarters to get you out of Berlin tonight. I'm Harry Kim." He jerked a thumb in Paris's direction. "That's Tom Paris." He lowered his hands. "Let us help. Whoever's after you, we can get you out safely."

"No," the Langenscheidt said harshly. His grip tightened dangerously on the gun. "Who are you really?"

At Paris and Kim's wary, confused glances, he snarled in impatience.

"Why is everything but you two not real?!"

That got a reaction out of the two Starfleet men. Paris jerked his head back in the albino man's direction, eye's wide. "What did you say?"

"You heard me." Langenscheidt narrowed his eyes. "You two are the only living people I've met in this damn place. And I want to know why."

Yay, Chapter 1 of a new story! A few things:

If any of you understood and can tell me the references to a certain T.V show that I put in, you are an amazing human being and I bow in respect to your eternal knowledge.

If any of you got my Star Trek reference, same to you.

I am a fairly new fanfiction writer, so I would like your, the reader's opinion on this.- Do you prefer longer chapters (like this one) with a bit more time between updates, or short (around 1,000 words) chapters with weekly updates? (I mean, obviously it would be great to have both longer chapters and quick updates, but I unfortunately am not that great of a writer.)

Please review, and if you have any questions or corrections, don't hesitate to voice them.