The Devore were gone. Inspector Kashyk had departed with his proverbial tail between his legs, still amazed that he had been fooled by Janeway and her crew. The refugee telepaths were safely through their wormhole, Voyager’s telepaths were out of hiding, and the ship had safe passage through the rest of Devore-influenced space.

Janeway and Chakotay were in her quarters, sitting at the table that doubled as work station and dinner table. A nearly empty bottle of champagne and three glasses were the only objects still in sight. The report on the Devore incident was just about complete. Tuvok had retired to his own quarters half an hour earlier; although he did not admit it, it was evident to them both that he was still feeling the effects of prolonged exposure to the transporter buffer.

Chakotay looked at the Captain with a little apprehension. They had successfully outwitted an enemy superior in numbers and technology; she ought to be celebrating. Instead, she was quiet and preoccupied. The suspicion was beginning to grow in him that she had been far more attracted to Inspector Kashyk than she had acknowledged. If so, his betrayal must have hurt her. He had feared that might happen.

Finally, he couldn’t stand it any longer. "What’s wrong, Kathryn? We pulled it off. You should be happy."

She blinked, as if her attention had been someplace else. "What? -- I’m sorry, it’s just that –well, never mind."

That sealed it. She had fallen for the Inspector, and now she was hurting. He fought back the wave of self-pity that surged through him. It hurt to think that she could feel that much for someone else. Feel sorry for yourself later, he told himself sternly. Right now, she needs a friend. "Go on. You look like you need to talk about it."

"It’s nothing. Nothing important, anyway. Probably just foolishness."

"So tell me. I could use a smile right now."

She looked at him a long time, as if trying to make up her mind. Then she sighed. "I kissed him, you know."

No, until then, he hadn’t known. Now that he did, he could imagine it, and he found the picture too painful to visualize.

She went on, "The time we spent together was actually pleasant, taken at face value. We worked well together, had some good conversation. That is so rare. You and Tuvok are the only two I can really talk to on this ship."

She said it so casually, he didn’t know whether to feel good about it or not.

"You were attracted to him," he said without inflection.

"I thought so." She tilted her head. "But when I kissed him, I didn’t feel anything. Not desire, not revulsion, just…nothing." Her eyes became troubled. "I’m beginning to wonder if there is something wrong with me."

It was all he could do not to smile, his relief was so great. To cover up his elation, he lowered his head as if in thought and spoke slowly. "Well, I could say a great deal but it wouldn’t mean much to you. This is the sort of thing each of us has to feel in his – or her- own gut." He stood, starting pacing around the table.

"Gut," she repeated, rubbing her temple with one hand. "Gee, thanks."

"You’re a scientist. Why not approach the question scientifically?"

"What do you mean?"

"It seems to me," he said, "that there are only two variables in any kiss – the participants. In this case, you and Kashyk were the participants. You need to change the variables and see if you get the same result. For instance," he said, stopping behind her chair. He placed a hand under her jaw and tipped her face upwards as he bent down, and before she could protest, his mouth was on hers.

For a moment, she didn’t react at all, she was so surprised. Gently at first, so she wouldn’t push him away, his lips teased hers. When she didn’t object, he increased the pressure, coaxing her mouth to open. Then her hands came up to his face and held him there. That was when it changed, when the teasing ended and things became serious. She shifted slightly and the kiss deepened, caught fire. In a moment, her hands slid around his neck and her fingers threaded through his hair. His arms wound around her and he pulled her out of the chair, never breaking the kiss. He forgot that this started out as a mild joke, forgot everything except the taste of her and the need for more. She rose willingly and pressed against him with the same urgent need he felt for contact. One of her legs lifted slightly, the knee rubbing up and down his thigh. His hands slid up her back and then traced down her spine, then cupped her buttocks and encouraged her movement. She made a small sound in the back of her throat.

He heard it. He realized what he was doing, and lifted his head. His heart was pounding and he was painfully aware that all the blood in his body seemed to be running to one place, south of his waistline. He had let it get out of hand, with no more control than a teenager on his first date.

More than that, he had just technically assaulted his commanding officer.

She was looking at him, stunned.

"Kathryn," he began, then stopped. He really didn’t know what to say.

She drew a shaky breath Her eyes seemed to be having trouble focusing. "Well. I guess that answers that."

Chakotay looked at her uncertainly. Was she letting him off the hook?

"It appears there is nothing wrong with me at all," she said with a briskness that increased with every word. She let go of him and stepped back. "A change in the variable made all the difference. Thank you, Commander."

Suddenly he felt incredibly foolish. "You’re welcome. I, ah, I guess I should be going now."

She nodded. "Good night, then." When he was almost to the door, she said, "I think further research on this topic might be warranted, though. Perhaps we can try again sometime and see if we can replicate the results. In the interest of science."

He stared at her for a moment, then he smiled broadly. "Of course, Captain. In the interest of science. Just let me know when you’re ready to try again." Then he turned and left.

He was grinning by the time he reached his quarters.