Joxer squeezed her tighter. "I love you even when you make absolutely no sense at all, and that's a good thing, since it happens so often." He looked around, and started tugging Scribe toward a door.

"Where are we going?"

"I gotta find some place to hide you."

"Joxer! You sweety!" She kissed him. "You're trying to help me hide, and here I thought you were going to jump me!"

"Oh, I am. I just want to get you out of the open before one of the big guys come along and takes you away from me."

"Snot!" She kicked him, and yelped. "Damn! For such crappy armor that stuff has some pretty effective shin guards."

"I've added a brass cup, too, so you might as well save your knees." He grinned as he pulled her along a corridor, "since you may be spending some time on them soon."

"Pardon me while I swear."

"Why should now be any different than most occasions? Okay, let's see..."

*FLASH*

"Damn! Too late." Ares blocked the hallway before them, hands on hips, one booted foot tapping. "Hi, sweety! I caught Scribe for you."

"That trick didn't work for Gabrielle," Scribe informed him.

"Joxer," Ares cooed. "You dear thing! For me?"

Both Scribe and Joxer blinked, staring at him, then looked at each other. "Cooed?" Joxer said.

"Dear thing?" Scribe countered. They looked at Ares again. "What happened to the militant goth look?" There was still lots of leather, but it was white instead of black. There was also silk in a festive light blue, and tasteful accessories. "Um, not that this isn't a good look for you, but it's kind of out of character for the God of War, dontcha think?"

"Please!" Ares tossed his hair. "You're thinking of that beast, Cupid. I," hand spread on chest, "am a lover, not a fighter."

"W-a-i-t a minute. What do you think about Xena and Gabrielle?"

"One of my best couples."

Joxer gasped. "He can't stand Gabby," he whispered. "What's going on?"

Scribe squinted. "Lessee... I think the title of the episode was the same as a science-fiction novel... Um, I Sing the Body Electric? No. Dune? No. Ah! Stranger in a Strange Land."

"Huh?" Ares had sauntered over and was running a finger up and down Joxer's bicep.

"A single episode where someone enters an alternate universe, kinda like on Star Trek, where personalities are shifted. Ares and Cupid had switched jobs, thus Ares, God of Love." She winced. "Good God, now I've entered an alternate universe of my fan fiction universe! Will it never end?"

Joxer wrapped his arms tighter around Scribe. "I don't care! You can't have her this time, Ares. I've worked hard, and I deserve her!"

"All right, sugar plum," the dark haired god said agreeably.

Joxer looked at him suspiciously. "You're not going to zap me for that?"

"Olympus forbid, sweetcheeks. How could I deny anyone so cute? All I ask is that you let me tag along, and maybe keep things rolling when eventually you get tired."

Joxer gave Scribe a questioning look, and she made 'go on' gestures at him. He cleared his throat, and voice squeaking, said, "Wanna make out?"

Ares smiled. "I thought you'd never ask!"

Joxer took a deep breath, squeezed his eyes shut, and said in a tiny voice, "Can I top?" He flinched in anticipation of a zap, or at least a slap.

His eyes flew open when Ares groped him, purring, "Oh, I bet you can!" He pouted. "But you have to promise not to be too rough."

Joxer's mouth hung open for a minute in astonishment, then he gaped at Scribe. "I get to pitch!"

She patted him on the shoulder. "Go, get 'im, Nolan."

Joxer started to let her go, then hesitated. "But I just got you."

"Look, it'll probably take me a few episodes to escape, it usually does. And you've got a hot god just waiting to be ravished." She elbowed him, whispering, "Personally, I think that 'don't be too rough' bit was a little of the ol' Br'er Rabbit briar patch schtict." Joxer still paused. "Joxer, what's the thread count on Ares' sheets?"

"Why are you asking me?"

"Well, I figured as many times as you've had your face pushed into them..."

Joxer let go of Scribe, grabbed Ares' arm and dragged him off toward the bedroom. "C'mon. I'm gonna show you why I'm called The Mighty One."

Scribe clasped her hands. "Such a sweet couple. Now, how the hell do I get out of here? And I'd better make it quick. If I remember correctly, the Xena and Herc-uverses are teeming with alternate characters. I can remember four for Xena alone. While the idea of being piled by a bunch of Lucy Lawless clones is intriguing, I just might not survive it. So, nearest exit..."

*FLASH*

"SCRIBE!"

"Crud." She found herself dangling from Ares' fist. "Hey, whatever happened to 'I'm a lover, not a fighter'?"

He snorted. "Sounds like something that wimp, Cupid, would say."

"Ah. God of War?"

"Who else were you expecting? I leave you alone for just a minute and you run out on me. I guess this time I'll have to make the cuffs solid. We're going right to my room, young lady."

"Now, you wait just... a... min..." She grinned. "Okay. But let's walk, huh?"

"I can just zap us there."

"I know you can, but humor me, all right?"

"All right." He started dragging her. "But I don't see why."

"Because I already have enough bruises, and if Joxer hasn't gotten rid of all the armor..."

They'd entered the room, and Ares stopped dead at the sight of the bed, and the activity taking place thereon. "Joxer!"

"Oh! Er, hi."

"What did I tell you about that?"

"It's not really cheating, honeybuns."

"What the fuck do you mean, not cheating? That slut..." His voice trailed off.

"Hi, studmuffin."

*silence*

Ares shook his head. "Okay, this is weird."

Scribe patted him on the back. "Coming from someone who travels in a flash of blue lightning, that's pretty profound. Be polite: tell him hi."

"If I talk to myself people will think I'm crazy."

"News flash--they already do. Of course they tend to use the word 'insane' more often..." Scribe cocked her head. "Joxer, aren't you even gonna slow down?"

"No."

"Damn, you were anxious, weren't you?"

Ares wandered closer to the bed, fascinated. "It's like watching myself have sex."

"Enjoy it," Scribe advised. "Once someone invents video over here it won't be quite so exotic."

He ignored her. Judging him to be sufficiently distracted, she carefully began prying herself loose, a finger at a time. He continued, not noticing, "Except I've never done that."

Ares, GOL sighed voluptuously. "Why have you been denying yourself?"

"It... uh... Are you enjoying that?"

*Moan* "Does that answer your question? Why don't you come closer and I'll explain things to you?"

Scribe quietly sneaked toward the door as Ares, GOW climbed up on the bed. She paused at the hall, peering back. "Whoa! Ouch!" She looked down, rubbing her ankle, and found a particularly debauched plot bunny leering up at her. "Yeah, right, I get the picture. But you have to get in line behind the song fic bunny." The nose twitched, and the bunny wiggled its eyebrows (which up until that moment Scribe hadn't even realized that they possessed). "Well, yeah, if you think you can kick his cotton tail and take first place, go for it. But I gotta get out of here or none of it is getting written."

The bunny jerked its head for her to follow and hopped off down the corridor. Scribe followed, tossing looks back to the room and muttering to herself, "I wonder if that qualifies as self-abuse?"

She had to duck behind a hanging tapestry again when two Joxer clones wandered past. That must be Jett and Jace. Lessee, one of 'em is supposed to be a psycho, but damned if I can remember which, and I'm not going to risk... Who-oh, they found the bedroom! Man, the logistics of three Joxers and two Ares simply boggles the mind! I could become legend in the annals of fan fiction. Maybe I should take notes... "Ow!" She reached down to rub her other ankle, to find an even sleazier plot bunny grinning at her with buck teeth. It was wearing leather. "Oo, now that's interesting. Look, just go wait at my place, huh? Have I ever neglected you guys before?"

A nose wiggle. "That wasn't my fault! I was in the hospital, okay? All I had to write with once they took out the IV was a Magic Marker, and it ended up so smudged I couldn't read it to transcribe to disk, but I tried, dammit!" The bunny ducked its head. "Okay, apology accepted. Now, how do I get out of here?"

The bunny led her to an open doorway. She peaked through. "Uh... What IS that big, blue swirly thing?" The bunny tilted its head so its ears pointed at a sign on the wall. "Generic Interdimensional Time and Space Portal. Figures. Will this take me home?" The bunny rolled on the floor, holding its sides. "Figures. I'm not so sure I want to do this."

"Well, well, well. What have we here?"

Scribe turned to find someone who looked a lot like Hercules grinning at her from a few yards down the corridor. "You're not Hercules, are you?"

"That wimp? You can call me Your Worship. Now, come here and I'll show you divine intervention."

"Eep. That would be the Sovereign." She remembered some of the fan fiction she'd read about him, and unhesitatingly plunged into the blue swirl.

The blue flashes turned to sparkles, and she found herself dropping from a height of about three feet onto a raised dias. An indignant plot bunny squirmed out from under her, kicking her as he went. "Sex in a transporter beam? No way! You just go figure something else out and see me when you're done." The bunny thumped its foot angrily. "I mean it! Go find Mulder and lead him astray." The bunny looked thoughtful, and hopped off.

She hauled herself to her feet, dusting herself off as she looked around. She noted the high-tech interior. "Oh, crap! Space again. Dammit, I have to get more specific about my desired location when I ask for help."

Two people, a man and a woman, came through the door. "Okay, no mistaking those 'no visible fastenings' uniforms. What section of the Star Trek neighborhood have I dropped myself into now?"

"This is the Voyager," said a crisp red-headed woman. "Who are you, and why are you on my ship?"

Scribe did a Snoopy dance. "HALLELUJAH! Someone who doesn't recognize me!"

"Yeah, well, " said the blonde man, "Janeway's a little out of it, anyway. Hi, Scribe."

"Hi, Tom. Are you the Chakotay ship version, the Harry ship version, or the B'ellana ship version?"

"I'm the 'so horny he'll jump anything' version." He made a grab at her.

Scribe ducked behind Janeway, who froze Paris with a look, then turned to Scribe. "We'd better get you down to sick bay so the Doctor can check you out."

"I'm fine." she protested as they led her down the corridor.

"Yes, I'm sure. But there's no telling what hidden germs you could be carrying."

"Look just because I don't use protection in my fics... Hey, I don’t allow STDs, okay? And when I was in RL with Xander, I made him put on the raincoat every time there was a shower. Or even a sprinkle."

"She means, like, deep space oogie germs," Tom explained. "Stuff that will make you turn green, or cause parts to drop off."

"Well, from what I 've heard there are certain strains..."

They'd entered the medical bay. The Doctor stepped forward. "Please state the nature of the medical emergency."

"I thought that went out half-way through the first season? And am I the only one who's noticed that the actor playing the Doctor has a name only one letter off the name of the Enterprise's captain?" Silence and stares. "Well, I thought it was funny."

A slender, stern looking blonde woman came into the room. "Captain, sensors show that we picked up a fan fiction author, and I came to assess the situation myself."

Janeway nodded. "Yes, she seems to..." Janeway was interrupted by a wild shriek from Scribe. "What?! What is it?"

Scribe was pointing, horrified, at the blonde. "You!" The blonde did a quick look over both shoulders, then touched her chest in a 'Who, me?' gesture. "You... you... BITCH"

Scribe dived at the woman, fingers hooked into claws. Tom Paris barely managed to catch her around the waist, and he struggled to hold onto her. He panted, "What's you problem?"

Scribe did her best Tasmanian Devil impression, and got loose, diving for the woman once again. The handsome man with the facial tattoo who'd just walked in said, "All right! Cat fight!"

The black man with pointy ears who'd followed him said, "Yes. That form of altercation has proven most effective in increasing viewer rates, as first demonstrated in the great Alexis/Krystal fight on Dynasty..."

Scribe was chasing the woman around the room, and she screamed. "Exactly! Alexis... No, different Alexis, still a bitch!"

"What is wrong with the woman?" Janeway tried to catch Scribe on the next pass. Scribe took a moment to viciously mess up her smooth bun, causing Janeway to stop everything else and try to rearrange it.

"She appears to be suffering from a psychotic break," said the doctor.

"I would appreciate less analysis and more assistance," panted the blonde on her next lap. "Doctor, she's gotten a metal tray, please."

Paris, Chakotay, and Tuvok combined managed to run down Scribe, disarm her, and hang on to her while the panting blonde collapsed against a bed. "Hey, calm down!" Chakotay soothed. "What have you got against Seven?"

"What have I got against her?!" Scribe spat in her direction. "Evil! Pure and simple."

"No, no, you don't understand!" Jane way said. "She's no longer Borg, she's human. Sure, she's a little cold, still, but she's working on it."

"Fuck the Borg!"

Seven smoothed back her hair, "Actually, they don't. That's one reason why I didn't mind becoming human again."

"Will you people let me go so I can dismember her?"

Tuvok said, "Please, try to control your hostility."

"What hostile? This is a perfectly normal reaction. Ask any fan fiction reader. Ask any slash fan fiction reader, and they'll tell you to turn me loose and give me a chainsaw."

"Such violent emotion when the woman has done nothing to you is illogical."

"Logic, my butt! It's not what she's done to me! And she's evil, I tell you! Evil!" She stamped her feet, unfortunately missing every crew members' foot she was aiming at. Despite having her arms held she managed to point. "Bad Sentinel! Bad"

Everyone blinked. "Sentinel?" the Doctor inquired.

Janeway said, "You've mistaken her for someone else."

"No, I haven't! Alexis Barnes, evil, psycho sentinel! And jealous bitch!" She almost managed to get away again.

Seven said to Janeway, "Captain, she's obviously delusional. Have the doctor sedate her."

All the men nodded vigorously.

Scribe kicked. "Whatcha gonna do, Alex? There isn't a fountain around here to drown me in!"

Janeway snapped. "What, exactly, are you accusing her of?"

"SHE DROWNED BLAIR!"

There was silence. Everyone looked at Seven. She cleared her throat. "He came back."

Janeway looked at Scribe. "That cute little curly headed stud-puppy who pals around with the big, buff cop?" Scribe nodded. "The one who finds inventive uses for foodstuffs?" Scribe grinned and nodded again. Janeway looked at Seven, then looked at the men holding Scribe. "Let her go."

They shrugged and turned loose. Seven headed for the transporter room. Scribe paused only to snatch something off a table, then went in hot pursuit. Paris said to Chakotay, "Don't you think we should have at least taken away the scalpel before we let her out of the room?"

He shrugged. "There's probably an NC-17 warning on this thing, so why bother?"

They found them in the transporter room. Scribe was kneeling on Seven/Alexis, pinning her arms down, and had managed to half shave her head with the scalpel already. Tuvok said. "Ah, the traditional humiliation of shaving a woman's head. Very appropriate."

Scribe glanced at him scornfully. "This is just the first step in making her a Pinhead lookalike."

The crew exchanged looks and sighed. Chakotay shot her with a phaser set on 'stun'. As Seven crawled out from under her, he said, "I'd advise you to take a powder. Now."

"But where can I go?"

Janeway was scanning monitors. "There's a ship nearby. We'll send you there."

Straightening her uniform (which was mussed, but unripped, as polyester is damn tough), and smoothing what was left of her hair, Seven/Alexis got on the transporter platform. Just as the shimmer enveloped her she sneered. "As soon as I find a way back to Earth I'm gonna finish off that pipsqueak!"

Scribe sat back up just in time to hear this and see her disappear. "Oh, no!" she wailed. "Janeway, how could you! She'll make her way back to Earth and go after Blair again."

Janeway was smiling. "Oh, I don't think so."

"Why not? She'll find some way to get whoever is on board that ship to take her back to Earth."

"Not likely. Come look at the ship." Scribe scrambled up and went to peer at the monitor. Then she gave Janeway a grin and a big, smacking kiss.

"Hey, what did you do to deserve that?" Paris asked, curious. Janeway indicated the monitor, and he leaned over and looked. A slow grin spread across his face. "Oh."

Written across the hull of the rapidly departing ship in stories high letters was the name 'RED DWARF'.