1. All Aboard

**Star Trek is property of its respective owners. I only own Mallory.**

The day the shuttle left from the Riverside Shipyard, three of its passengers were not in uniform. Only three. The rest had proudly arrived in their 'Cadet Reds' as they called them, showing off their status as members of Starfleet Academy.

Legs clad in dark denim stretched out into the aisle, the rubber soles of her red hightops peeking out from beneath the ragged hem. Without so much as a peep Mal crossed her arms and settled her MSU cap lower over her eyes in an attempt to fall asleep. It was too damn early in the morning for this crap. Whoever thought it was a good idea to launch a shuttle at eight in the morning was a sick on of a bitch.

"Go change into your reds, Mallory. You look like a homeless man."

Speaking of sick sons of bitches…

Mal smirked and flicked up the bill of her cap to look at her father. She had inherited his bright blue eyes, easy smile, and if her mother was to believed, his pigheadedness. "I'll change when we get there." Mal grinned and waved him away. "Go, I don't want to be seen talking to the boss. You'll ruin my reputation."

Her father snickered good naturedly, smacked the bill of her cap back down over her eyes, and went to sit in the cockpit. He would pick his battles with his daughter when there wasn't an audience to watch him lose. Cadets were beginning to settle into the shuttle with tired, hung over, and otherwise discontented complaints. Mal tried to ignore the grumbles and whispers around her. She tugged the leather of collar of her coat closer to keep out the chill creeping in through the open shuttle door and wondered what her father would do if she burned her Reds instead of wearing them. Probably make her walk around campus in her underpants to teach her a lesson. It might still be worth it, but maybe she'd wait until the weather got a bit warmer.

No point in catching a cold.

Someone kicked at her sneakers and Mal opened an eye. "Ny," she said in greeting to the dark skinned beauty taking a seat across from her. "I wondered if I'd be seeing you."

"Look who finally caved in." Nyota Uhura offered a dazzling smile and Mal stretched back out and snorted. It was no secret among the returning cadets that Mal's father had been hounding her to enlist, but Mal simply hadn't had the time or the inclination to accommodate him. "It only took… What? Five years?"

"Seven. Pop can be a nag when he wants to be." Uhura giggled and Mal smiled dryly. "He told me you had a bit of an adventure last night. Breaking hearts again, Ny?"

Uhura snorted. "Shut up, Mal."

She obeyed. Last time Mal checked, Uhura was acing her hand to hand combat elective. That would be one of the only good things about enlisting. Mal would finally be able to take part in the different classes and lectures, instead of just sitting in while she waited for her father to get out of one meeting or another. She'd finally be _trained_. Out of the corner of her eye, Mal saw someone dart onto the shuttle. He looked around, slightly panicked, before he bolted into the bathroom and slammed the door shut behind him. Mal rolled her eyes and yawned. "Newbies," she muttered darkly.

Mal was rudely woken a short time later by someone sitting nearby. He was a shit mess, blood all over his shirt, his face pounded into hamburger meat. There were good looks hidden somewhere beneath the bruises and dried blood. He was around her age with sandy brown hair and a lean build. His blue eyes burned brightly as he grinned cheekily at Uhura. Mal was clever enough to put two and two together and chuckled under her breath. "You know that 'hitting' on a guy doesn't actually mean you bloody him up, right?" That only earned her a glare from her friend and an eyebrow raise from the stranger settling in a seat over.

"You want to introduce me to your friend, Uhura?" he said with an arrogant wink at Mal.

"Nope." Uhura turned her attention to a PADD in her lap.

Mal laughed into her hand. "Ouch. Strike one, farm boy."

"Believe me, Mal. That was strike three." Uhura gave the farm boy a pointed look and went back to her PADD. He looked like he was about to say something when there was a disruption in the back of the shuttle.

"You need a doctor!" Sleep was clearly going to be impossible so Mal gave up and decided to enjoy the show instead. The man she had seen flee into the bathroom earlier was being hauled out by a vexed looking Commander Gibbs.

He was doing his best to shake her off, but Gibbs was determined despite her rather laughable size. "I don't _need_ a doctor, dammit, I _am_ a doctor!" Mal had to admire his spirit as he faced off with the much shorter woman, cowering from her all the same. He was scruffy and ill-kept and smelt like he had showered in bourbon, but his jaw was strong, his hazel eyes intelligent, if just a bit glassy, like everyone else aboard the shuttle.

Apparently Starfleet was raising its standards. Smart, badass, and beautiful seemed to be what all three of the new recruits had in common. That and an apparent disregard for the rules since none of them were in uniform or even remotely dressed to impress.

"You need to get back to your seat, now!" Gibbs snapped.

"I had one in the bathroom...with no windows," he griped right back without missing a beat. Mal and the farm boy watched with barely concealed amusement, silently cheering him on. "I suffer from Aviophobia. That means the fear of dying in something that flies." He gestured to the shuttle as though he thought the commander was particularly thick and needed the visual aid.

Gibbs had lost her patience. "Sir, for your own safety, sit down… Or else I'll _make _you sit down."

The man looked like he was ready to keep arguing, but he suddenly noticed the cadets watching him with rapt attention. He went for the first open seat he saw, right between Mal and the farm boy.

"Next time hit her," Mal mumbled as he settled in next to her. "Uppity bitch."

"A southern gentleman never hits a lady," he groused, trying to strap in.

Mal snorted. "Bro, you wouldn't be breaking any rules. Gibbs is no lady. She's a barracuda."

He didn't seem sure of what to make of that. "I may throw up on you," he was finally buckled and blanketing those in his immediate vicinity with a warning.

The farm boy glanced over. "I think these things are pretty safe." He didn't sound terribly convinced himself and Mal snorted, adjusting her cap and stretching her legs out into the aisle again. She was tempted to kick Uhura just to stir up some more rukus, but she got distracted by the litany of woe being recited at her side.

"Don't pander to me, kid." There was a distinctly southern lilt to his words, his accent flaring as he panicked. "One tiny crack in the hull and our blood boils in 13 seconds! A solar flare might crop up and cook us in our seats! And wait 'til you sittin' pretty with a case of Andorian shingles; see if you're so relaxed when you're _eyeballs are bleeding_! Space is disease and danger wrapped in darkness and silence!"

Mal turned in her seat and stared at him. "You're one of those guys who yells fire in a crowded movie theater, aren't ya?" she demanded, half laughing. "Andorian shingles… Great. Does that really make your eyes bleed?"

"I hate to break this to you, but Starfleet operates in space." The farm boy realized Mal was trying to distract the nervous man but his attempt to help failed miserably. Their nervous new friend slumped against his seatbelt.

"Yeah, well, I've got nowhere else to go," he pulled a flask out of his jacket and unscrewed the top. "The ex-wife took the whole damn planet in the divorce. All I've got left are my bones." He helped himself to a remorseful swallow before offering it over to the younger man.

Mal grinned. That explained the bourbon cologne.

"Jim Kirk," the farm boy finally introduced himself and saluted with the flask before he took a sip.

"McCoy. Leonard McCoy." He was about to put the flask back into his jacket when he looked over at Mal and offered it to her with a gentle elbow to the ribs. "Got a name, darlin'?"

Out of the corner of her eye, Mal saw Uhura glance over, waiting expectantly to hear Mal's answer. "Mal P-Parker. I'm Mallory Parker." Uhura smirked but stayed out of it. If Mal wanted to lie, that was her business. Mal accepted the flask from him and sniffed the neck. Bourbon. Duh. "Booze at eight AM," she said swallowing a mouthful and letting it burn through her body. "We're going to be friends, I can tell already."

The doors were closed and the shuttle lifted off. "This is Captain Pike…" as soon as he started speaking, Mal scowled and closed her eyes in an effort to tune him out.

"Do you not fly well, either?" McCoy asked. "Mal?"

"Huh?" Mal opened one eye and fixed it on him. "No, I've been running on shuttles most of my life. I'm just sick to death of them. It's enough to almost make me _wish _for Andorian shingles." Jim laughed at what was clearly a joke, but the doctor between them stared at Mal like he was regretting offering her the flask.

"You're odd."

Mal shrugged, settling back down under her cap. "_You_ wanted to ride in the bathroom. Glass houses, McCoy."

"I like her," she heard Jim say, laughter coloring his voice.

McCoy looked down at the girl feigning sleep and almost smiled. Almost. "Yeah, she's alright."


	2. Trust Me, I'm a Doctor

**Star Trek is property of its respective owners. I only own Mallory.**

In the end, Leonard McCoy made good on his threat and redecorated the floor with the contents of his stomach. Mal had immediately flown from her seat to bother the captain for the Dramamine that was kept in the cockpit's medical kit and then spent the rest of the trip worrying over him. He should have told her to knock it off, but truth be told he didn't mind. It was nice to have someone taking care of him for a change. Besides, every time Mal leaned in to check on him she flooded the air with the faint scent of apples.

It definitely could have been worse.

"No temperature." Satisfied, Mal removed her hand from Leo's forehead. "But maybe no more booze until we land, huh? Otherwise we'll be pouring you out the shuttle." He mumbled something noncommittal and Mal rolled her eyes. "McCoy..."

"It's just motion sickness, dammit. I'm fine."

"Sit down, Mal!" Commander Gibbs' voice could be heard from her seat up front. Mal obeyed, with an easy shrug. She and Jim chatted ceaselessly, doing their best to comfort and distract their luckless, new friend.

Maybe not so luckless, since a certain bullying commander slipped in the mess on her way out and had to de-board covered regurgitation.

"I suggest none of us takes interspecies ethics with that woman," Mal said making a face. She reclaimed her duffle and left the shuttle hanger with Jim and Leo, the three of them sticking out like dirty pennies amid the never ending sea of Reds. With a stretch and the popping of vertebra, Mal tugged her cap off and shoved it into her jacket, finally awarding her two companions an unimpeded look at who they'd been chatting up since take off.

_Dibs, _Jim thought immediately.

Mal's eyes were the same icy blue as his, wide and mischievous in her pale face. There was a weak scattering of freckles over her nose, making her look like she was eighteen instead of the twenty-four year old she claimed to be. Her lips were turned up into a lazy smile as she casually tossed her dark hair over her shoulder. Leo was busy looking around, trying to makes sense of the campus. He vaguely registered that Mal was a pretty little thing with big eyes and a careless smile, but he was immune. "How do you know what she teaches?" he asked.

"You knew Uhura, too," Jim said distractedly. He was taking in the scenery and gaining some appreciative looks from the female cadets crossing the quad. "Pike even wished you luck before he got off the shuttle. How do you know everyone?"

Mal shrugged. "I grew up here."

"In San Francisco?" Jim asked. She shed her leather jacket and Leo snorted when he caught sight of the MSU t-shirt she was wearing underneath.

"At the Academy. Mom's a diplomat and spends most of her time off planet. Dad's been a recruiter forever. My sisters and I grew up right here on campus when we weren't home in Mojave. I love me some California." Mal stretched in the sunlight and smiled.

"So says the bulldog," Leo grumbled.

Jim looked confused but Mal threw back her head and laughed. "Bulldog?"

Mal pointed to her shirt. "Mississippi State. My alma mater. Got a problem with it, cowboy?" she said, her smile challenging.

Leo said two words that had her chanting Hotty Toddy at him. "Ole Miss."

"Guess we're rivals, McCoy." Mal looked up at him, her smile faltering a bit. "Are you sure you're ok?" She asked, eyeing him suspiciously. Like he was planning on croaking just to irritate her. "You're color still isn't great."

Leo gave her a scowl. "My color is fine. And I know what I'm talking about, since I'm the doctor, not you." Mal chuckled, but checked the pulse just inside his wrist with practiced fingers.

"You're elevated," she muttered.

_You have no idea_, Leo had to shake the errant thought out of his head.

"Doctor!"

A commander was coming toward them purposefully. He was young, his dark eyes brooding as he approached. "How the hell did they find me so fast?" Leo mused aloud, straightening himself up and trying to look like he hadn't just tried to forcibly expel the lining of his stomach.

"I doubt he's looking for you." Mal's expression darkened considerably as she stood at attention, annoyance clear on her face. "Commander Price." She greeted in absolute monotone.

"Doctor _Parker_," Price barked her name with barely concealed hostility. "You're supposed to be in the infirmary to assist with the new recruit physicals, are you not?"

"Yes, sir." Again, there was no intonation to her answer, only steely restraint.

"Then I suggest you get there."

McCoy eyed the girl. _Doctor_ Parker? He hadn't seen that coming. Usually the pretty girls weren't the brightest. His ex-wife had taught him that. Manipulative and greedy, yes, but not smart.

Price wasn't finished with Mal. "May I also remind you that you need to report _in uniform_?"

"Does wearing jeans somehow impede my ability to read a tricorder?" Mal demanded.

Commander Price stepped closer. "Listen, _Cadet_. I don't give a shit who your father is. You're enlisted, now, which means I don't have to put up with your mouth anymore. I can throw you in lockdown for insubordination. Change, Parker. _Now._"

Mal's dark expression changed. Her politely indifferent mask melted into a wicked grin. "Yes, sir." She tore open her duffle, pulled out her Reds, and with one flourishing gesture… Mal shed her t-shirt.

Jim let out a cheer of encouragement at the sight of a black lace. "Go, Parker!"

"Dammit, woman, put your clothes back on!" Leo's voice cracked.

Mal grinned at him and went for the button on her jeans. She was starting to attract attention, a fact that didn't go unnoticed by Commander Price. "You're a pain in the ass, Parker."

"Then we have something in common, don't we… Sir."

Price snarled but turned on his heel and shoved his way out of the crowd that had started to form amid laughter and applause. Mal took a bow and pulled her red sweater down over her head. "Show's over people. Scatter!"

"That was _awesome_, Mal." Jim handed her the discarded t-shirt. "I swear, getting on that shuttle was the best idea ever."

Mal laughed and punched his arm lightly. "I hope you enjoyed that, Jim, because that is the last time you get to see my goodies."

It took Leo a moment to regain the ability to form a coherent sentence. "What the hell was that?" he demanded at last.

"Anatomy, cowboy," Mal said with a devilish wink. "That was anatomy." She sighed and slung her duffle over her shoulder. "I'd better get to the infirmary. They could probably use some extra hands, McCoy, if you don't mind getting thrown into the mix right away."

Jim looked a bit put out. "What about me?"

"Swing by after you're settled." Mal started to jog away. "You coming, cowboy?" She looked back at Leo, expectantly.

"For the love of God, Bones, a hot doctor chick just asked you to come. If you don't follow her this second I'm pretty sure I will," Jim muttered, a huge grin on his face.

Leo glowered but headed slowly after the girl. "Shut up, Jim."


	3. Family

**Star Trek is property of its respective owners. I own Mallory.**

A man stood by in the shuttle hanger and watched as his daughter de-boarded. He sighed when he saw her talking animatedly with the Kirk boy and the brooding doctor he had picked up in Riverside. Count on Mal to gravitate to trouble. It wasn't her fault. She just had an affinity for fixer-uppers, just like her mother.

Her mother…

Mal might deny her Betazoid half up and down, but it was still there, like it or not. Usually, not. His wife had been trying for years to train Mal up properly, but the girl avoided it when she could.

All three of his daughters had Betazoid traits but, since they were hybrids, those traits manifested differently in each. His oldest, Darby, simply looked the part with her bright, black eyes. She had no mental abilities to speak of but Darby had the same merry, bubbly attitude as her mother and was honest to a fault. Darby had graduated the Academy three years ago and was a helmsman aboard an impulse ship stationed in the Delta Quadrant.

The youngest, Kadence, favored him for looks with blue eyes and dark blonde hair but her Betazoid half was thriving, too. She could read minds the way most people read books. There were no secrets from Kadence. She had embraced her mother's heritage and developed her telepathy, but where the Betazoids were a painfully truthful people, Kadence took what she 'heard' and used it to manipulate and schmooze. It had served her well during her time at the Academy and even more so when she had been grabbed up by Starfleet Intelligence. Intergalactic espionage had her name all over it.

Not that many people were privy to _that_ information.

Mal was a perfect blend of both her parents. Her father's blue eyes, her mother's dark hair. Her father's undeniable ability to see the potential in people, and her mother's natural gifts with emotions and projections. All of that culminated in the laid back, devil may care, young doctor that he had practically bullied into enlisting. Mal had agreed to join Starfleet, finally, but on one condition. She wanted him to go into the system and change her name. If Mal was attending the Academy at long last, she wanted to succeed, or fail, based on her own merit and not count on her father's influence at the Academy.

"Captain Pike, sir? Admiral Archer is waiting for you to report."

Pike glanced away as Mal left the hanger with Kirk and McCoy in step with her. "Thank you, Cadet. Dismissed." The cadet ran off and Pike silently wished his daughter good luck.

With a friend like James Kirk, she was going to need it.


	4. Business Time

**Star Trek is property of its respective owners. I only own Mallory.**

**Three Years Later –**

"Come on, Mal…"

Jim was sprawled in a booth at Grisham's, an off-campus pub that was rarely frequented by cadets. It was loud, cheap, and a bit dodgy, but it was perfect for clandestine meetings and plotting subterfuge. Good thing, because that's what he and Mal were doing.

They were plotting.

Mal flicked a sugar packet over to his side of the table and Jim immediately flicked it back. They were waiting for Leo to get off infirmary duty and were bored out of their minds. Jim and Mal were not people that handled boredom well. If there was nothing happening, they would _make _something happen. That seldom meant anything good for the administration which had, on more than one occasion, been at the receiving end of their stunts. Their disciplinary records were peppered with demerits from their miscellaneous adventures.

In their first year at the Academy Jim and Mal broke into the staff accommodations and rewired all the replicators to spit out Andorian ice roaches whenever someone ordered black coffee. A few months later they rigged the Vulcan ambassador's shuttle to play 'U & Ur Hand' upon take off. Once Jim had even conned one of his many conquests to get a hold of Romulan ale. The resulting hangovers were wide spread over the campus and had all of the cadets flinching at the sight of any blue liquid for weeks afterward. Their exploits were many and varied, and not all wound up on their permanent record.

Lucky for them.

"Please, Mal? I'll love you forever."

"You already love me forever."

Jim didn't have a sister, but if he had, he suspected she would have been a lot like Mallory Parker. Brilliant, talented…An unparalleled troublemaker. They had adopted each other on that very first day when he had shown up in the infirmary to meet her and Leo after their shift. He had flirted shamelessly, grabbed her ass, and then was floored when Mal's icy blue eyes turned black and he _felt_ her annoyance and humiliation at being handled. He had _felt _it.

"_So you're…you're what, exactly?" Jim stared at Mal with those intense eyes, waiting for an answer while Leo pretended to not listen._

"_Half-Betazoid."_

_Leo's eyebrow swept up, but he merely shrugged. "So long as you can place a clean central line, darlin', I don't care if you're Klingon."_

_Jim could have called her a freak and left. Mal wouldn't have blamed him. Instead he said two words that solidified their friendship and started their rather brilliant career in troublemaking._

"_Fucking awesome."_

"You're going to make me beg, aren't you?"

If anyone else had asked, Mal would have laughed in their face, but somehow it made perfect sense for Jim to suggest that they find a way to beat the Kobyashi Maru. She didn't expect anything but the unexpected from James Kirk. Why not hug a Klingon while they were at it? Or lick a Capellan power-cat? The outcome was likely to be the same. Unsatisfying and sure to end in tears. Sounded right up their alley.

With a grin Mal relented. "I'll see what I can do."

"My exam is only in three days. I'm not exactly giving you a lot of time to figure anything out," Jim pointed out.

Mal dismissed his concern with a wave of her hand. "Don't stress, farm boy. I'll get it settled…"

"And if you don't?"

Mal winked at him. "I'll improvise."

"Excellent." Jim drummed on the table. "I love when you improvise." He looked like he was about to say something else, but paused, a wicked smile spreading across his face. "Uh-oh. Look at Bones." Jim gestured to the door as the pub's regulars sent up a cry of salutation. Leo was walking in, his face set in his patented scowl.

"He always looks like that," Mal said with a lazy shrug.

Jim flicked the sugar back to her. "Give Bones a lap dance or something, huh? I need him to be in a good mood."

"Seriously, Jim? It would be super if you didn't pimp me out. Leo has enough problems."

He erupted into laughter. "Don't worry, Beta-babe. I'm saving you for myself."

"It would never work, Jim."

Jim pretended to pout. "Why not?"

Mal smirked. "I've got standards, kid."

He made a kissy face and Mal threw the entire container of sugar at his head.

"Bones! Over here!"

Three years had not been enough to take the bitter edge off of Leonard McCoy but time had polished him slightly. Jim and Mal had dragged him through his darker days with their easy humor and joyful persistence, whether he liked it or not. And while Mal could still feel his sadness, she was pleased that she could no longer sense utter despair from him. Slowly but surely he was healing.

Leo sat down with a massive sigh and slid a club soda with lime over to Mal and a beer to Jim. He had a glass of bourbon for himself and an exhausted expression. Mal accepted her glass and ran a finger along the rim. "Uh-oh. Hard shift?" she asked, already knowing the answer. The Academy infirmary was a madhouse. Starfleet attracted overconfident, reckless, megalomaniacs. That meant the poor doctors that ran medical had to clean up after lots and lots of 'accidents' and 'tiny miscalculations'.

Leo just grunted. "It was the usual idiot parade. A group of engineers nearly blew up the scrap hanger. I swear that whole damn department is mentally unstable. They were whining and bleeding on me for nearly four hours. Goddamn morons. When are you coming back to the infirmary, darlin'? You're being wasted in the research labs."

"Aw, miss me, cowboy?"

Leo rolled his eyes.

"So what's the plan tonight, guys?" Mal asked. "I mean, I'm going to assume that _you're_ going to hit on every chick in the place and _you_ are going to drink yourself stupid?" She pointed to each man in turn.

"Business as usual, darlin'," Leo said dryly.

A shadow fell over their table. All three cadets looked guiltily up at the man standing over them. Jim saw Mal straighten up. "Captain Pike! Welcome back!"

"Cadets," he said with a small incline of his head. "Doctor Parker, a word…" Mal grinned and nearly kicked Jim in the head when she clambered out of the booth.

"I'll be back guys."

Jim smacked her ass as she darted off and earned a matching glares from Captain Pike and Mal. The Captain led the girl out of the bar and Jim clapped his friend on the back. "Let's go, wingman."

Yup.

Business as usual.


	5. Cowbells Making A Comeback

**Star Trek is property of its respective owners. I only own Mal.**

It was true that Leonard McCoy was a creature of habit, but he had promised himself that once his divorce was final he wouldn't walk the same road twice. He had done the 'love' thing and it had left him utterly defeated. Jocelyn had systematically broken him, striping him of his dignity in the cruelest way possible. She had pointed out every mistake he'd ever made, every flaw, burning them into his memory with vicious glee. He could recite the list of his deficiencies right along with her… He loved his job more than her. He loved their daughter more than her. He was emotionally absent. He was distant and sarcastic. He was a drunk. He got her pregnant to trap her. He cared more about the anonymous strangers rotating through his ER than he did about her...it went on and on.

Leo had tried to drink her anger and bitterness away but it was there every night when he got home, trying to suffocate him.

Until the day he got home and she was gone.

Her, the baby, and whatever naïve notion he had about the world being a beautiful and overall fair place.

He learned.

Love was for idiots.

Still, while Jocelyn had browbeaten him into submission, Mal and Jim refused to let him flounder. As obnoxious as they were, they legitimately cared about him. Jim was his best friend, even if the kid did annoy the shit out of him. And Mal…he wasn't sure how he would classify their relationship except to say his world was a better place with her in it. He'd do anything to keep her there, but he wouldn't break his one rule.

He could look all he wanted, but he sure as hell wasn't going to touch.

No matter how much he wanted to.

Leo spotted the lead in all of his dirty thoughts a few minutes later. Mal launched herself back through the doors of the pub with a grin on her face. She spotted them at the bar and practically skipped over, smacking Jim in the back of the head and interrupting whatever he had going with the buxom blonde he was chatting up. "Never grab my ass in front of that man again unless you want to be taken out back and shot," she ordered. The blonde left with a startled expression and Jim whined.

"Fuck, Mal!"

She patted Jim's cheek like he was five instead of twenty-five. "I did you a favor, kiddo. I was getting nothing but dishonesty off of her. I know these things, remember?" Jim pouted until Mal pointed him toward a pretty redhead sitting with a bunch of other girls in a booth. "She's interested and she's a sweetheart. Thank me later. Shoo."

Jim nearly crushed her ribs when he hugged her. "You're a way better wingman than Bones."

"Excuse me for not having a built in emo detector," Leo grumbled. He looked at Mal and added, "Cheater."

Mal took Jim's vacated seat and just smiled, giving Leo the chills. She was up to something. He didn't need to be an empath to know that.

"What?"

"Pike was recruiting in the Magnolia State and he picked us up a little something. I thought you'd appreciate it." Mal slid a nondescript box in front of him. Leo half expected the box to explode in his face but he unfolded the lid and scowled when he caught sight of the tin cowbell nestled among the tissue paper. "You're kinda a pain in the ass, Parker."

"Go dogs!" she shouted, clanging the bell. Mal was practically standing on the bar and the crowd of regulars let out a cheer, understanding her enthusiasm if not her words. Leo hauled her back down to her seat, trying not to smile. Their school rivalry bit had been ongoing from day one and it was hard to tell who was winning. He had surgically removed the heads from each of the plush bulldogs that were all over her room. She had tie-dyed his lab coat MSU's colors. Leo had gotten the cadet in charge of the computer labs to change Mal's door chime from the usual alert to the Ole Miss fight song. Mal had waited until Leo drank himself to oblivion before penning MSU across his forehead in permanent marker. It had taken the better part of two weeks to fade and he had refused to talk to her until it was gone. It also taught him not to get blackout drunk. He had almost capitulated at one point when Mal stole all the clothes out of his room and replaced them with MSU gear. He had furiously spent the day dressed in maroon sweatpants and a t-shirt with that twice damned bulldog on it. Mal still had a picture of that day saved in her PADD and she routinely pulled it out for reference and torture.

"You're happy," Mal sounded pleased.

Leo shoved the box and the offending cowbell back toward her. He changed his mind when he realized she would just be ringing it in his face all night long. "Stop feeling me up with that Betazoid voodoo." He smirked and pushed his empty glass forward to be refilled. There was no edge to his voice, just the lilt of laughter. "Pervert."

"Me?" Mal laughed out loud, earning looks from around the bar, most of them appreciative and a bit leering. Leo moved a bit closer to her, a clear warning to those watching the girl that she was off limits. He had thought that Mal hadn't noticed, but there was very little that got past her, for all that she looked like she was half asleep most of the time. "Feeling protective, cowboy?" she asked slyly.

There were few people more in touch with emotions than Mal. Most people couldn't identify what _they_ were feeling, let alone what everyone else was feeling, but Mal took it all in stride. She knew the day she met Leo that he was damaged goods, broken and hostile, practically making her dizzy with the anger, resentment, and bitterness that rolled off of him in hateful waves. She could also feel that wasn't all there was to him. There was genuine goodness buried in all of that bullshit.

Despite Leo's best efforts to run them off, she and Jim had stuck around. Little by little they had chased away the worst of the dark cloud that had hovered over the good doctor, but there was still plenty of heartache left. Leo just needed time and Mal made sure he got it. She ignored his every blush, every flare of affection, every quickening of his heart. Mal was unwilling to acknowledge them until Leo was ready to acknowledge it himself. No one would dare accuse her of pushing him into something he wasn't ready for.

Mal knew firsthand the damage an empath could cause.

"Earth to Mallory." Mal resurfaced from her self-induced trance to see Leo snapping his fingers under her nose, his face creased with concern.

"Yeah."

Leo frowned. "You were in deep space for a minute there. Everything ok?"

Mal nodded and slid her lazy smile back into place. "Fine. I was just reminding myself of the virtues of patience." They sat silently together for a moment. He sipped on his refill and Mal traced languid circles on the bar with her fingernails. "Alright, I need to get out of here," she said suddenly. Mal planted a kiss on his cheek before she slipped off the stool and made her way to the door. She waved to Jim where he was romancing the redhead and he shot her a devilish wink as she disappeared outside.

"You stupid or something?" the bartender was eyeing Leo with ill-concealed pity.

"I'm a doctor," Leo grumbled, not in the mood to hear some sort of beer tap psychology from a man that handled Maraschino cherries for a living.

The bartender moved away to take another order, shaking his head. "Don't mean you ain't stupid."


	6. Down and Dirty

**Star Trek is property of its respective owners. I only own Mallory.**

Jim agreed with Mal. The redhead she had picked out _was_ a sweetheart. That was the problem. She was too damn nice. Jim wasn't above using and loosing, but he wasn't about to jade an innocent girl like that. He was willing to bet that Mal knew that, too. So, Jim had paid for her drinks and returned to the barstool next to Leo, the two of them hanging around and drinking until the pub closed. He secretly wished he hadn't let Mal chase off the slutty blonde with dishonorable intentions. _That _he could have worked with. Girls like that knew what they were getting into with James Kirk.

"Huh?" Jim only half realized that Leo was talking to him.

"Dammit, Jim, get the corn out of your Iowa ears and listen! I want to know why Pike always tracks down Mal? And he brought her back a present?" Leo griped loudly as they walked the short distance back to campus. "Every time he comes back to the Academy he finds her, and she acts like it's the most natural thing in the world. He's a captain, she's a cadet… it's creepy. He's so old." He shuddered at the thought. "What the hell is she doing?"

They were too drunk to be having this conversation. "Dunno." That was the most intelligent thing Jim could come up with.

"You think she's got a thing for captains?"

Jim snickered into his hands like a big drunk kid. "I think she has a thing for divorced doctors that treat her like crap," he said slurring a bit. "When are you going to stop torturing that girl, Bones? Hell, when are you going to stop torturing yourself? I know you've been gun-shy since Jocelyn, but…"

"Uh-uh. No. _You _do not get to give me relationship advice. You're in the infirmary every other day with one form of crotch rot or another, so…no." Leo waved a hand in Jim's face, voicing his displeasure. "Mal doesn't need to mess around with someone like me. I'm not cut out for… for whatever."

"Pssssh," Jim scoffed. "Why don't you let Mal decide what she does or doesn't need to mess with?" He wiggled his eyebrows and Leo growled at him. "Oh, lighten up, Bones."

Leo tripped his friend, knowing full well that neither of them would remember this conversation in the morning.

* * *

Mal was barely proficient when it came to computers. She knew almost nothing about binary, programs, repletion control structures… that shit was beyond her. Normally Mal's technological deficiencies didn't make much difference to her, but in this case…

"Fuck!"

Mal wanted to put her boot through the screen.

She had managed to break into the simulation lab, using her father's access codes to bypass the higher security locks. Mal downloaded the entire exam program into her PADD and got the hell out of there before the guards completed their rotation and pitched her ass into lockdown. She was sitting in her room in the dark, going over one strand of binary code after another, her mind already spinning with all those ones and zeros.

The Kobyashi Maru was an incredibly complex program. Thousands of strands of data and code…maybe millions…whoever had written the program had clearly put a lot of time and effort into it. They had also made sure that it couldn't be tampered with by my mere mortals.

That meant there was no way she'd be able to alter the programming on her own.

Mal closed down the screen with an exhausted sigh. Unless she called in the big guns Jim was out of luck and looking at his third Kobyashi Maru failure. Normally she didn't mind a laugh at her friend's expense but she'd never let Jim fail if she could help it.

Mal glanced over her shoulder at her sleeping roommate. The entire campus was silent and still. If she was going to break the exam coding, it was now or never. As quietly as she could, Mal relocated to the bathroom. She stared in the mirror for a long time. It was incredibly easy for her to let her mind go, to empty it and slowly unwind the defenses around her mind.

This was a bad idea. If her dad found out what she was doing…

Mal's pupils dilated suddenly, the icy blue of her eyes nearly disappearing. Telepathy was not something that came easily to Mal. Her mother had done her best to train her but her mind to mind contact was rusty and grossly limited. At best she could telepathically reach her little sister. Even that connection was based in their blood tie more than any actual skill on Mal's part. She only hoped that Kadence wasn't too far away to hear her.

Yeah, if the captain found out…

Trouble. Lots and lots of trouble.

_Hey, big._

Mal grinned into the mirror, her eyes as black as any full blooded Betazoid. She felt her sister's mind touch her own in what could only be described as a mental hug. "Hey, little."

_Isn't it a little late for you to be getting into trouble?_

"It's never too late. Now what do you know about ridiculously complicated alien programming."

* * *

"I think…I hate… you."

Mal burst into laughter and just ran faster, pushing Leo to keep up. She had dragged him out early that morning, under the pretense that she needed a jogging buddy. Usually, she did her workouts with Jim, but the amorous cadet had refused to wake up that morning. Leo hadn't been much easier to rouse, but she had concentrated on him. Mal always had fun with Jim, but she preferred her one on one time with the cantankerous doctor.

"Come on, Leo. Fresh air, elevated heart rate, endorphins…As your doctor, I'm telling you that running is a perfect pick me up after a night of drinking. It's good for your health."

Leo grumbled but kept pace with Mal. "As _your _doctor, I'm disagreeing. Mostly because I'm going to kill you for dragging me out here, Last time I checked being dead is bad for your health."

Mal shoved him playfully. "Oh, yeah? I can see Ole Miss really earned that tuition check."

"What's a heart attack feel like?"

"Suck it up, cowboy!"

Leo scowled. "Slow down, woman!"

Mal skidded to a stop unexpectedly and Leo didn't have time to put on the brakes. He bowled her over, knocking them both off the path and into the grass. They landed in a heap of limbs and colorful curses. Mal laughed and flicked a bit of mud off her shoulder. "Smooth. Real smooth." She tried to wipe the mess off her face but only succeeded in smearing the mud across her cheek.

Leo looked down at his gym clothes and squirmed. He was covered head to toe in grass stains and mud. "Do you have any idea how many different kinds of bacteria we've just exposed ourselves to?" he demanded. Mal pretended to have a seizure and dropped back into the grass, further defiling her gym clothes. Leo snorted at her theatrics and gingerly sat up beside her while they both panted, trying to catch their breath. "You can't keep making me do this. I'm an old man, dammit."

She laughed and propped herself up on her elbows. "You're only four years older than I am. You hardly have to start applying for nursing homes." She grinned up at him. "Come on, this is fun."

Leo just grumbled. "If you say so."

Mal shrugged. "Well, if you want to do something else, I'm open to suggestion." Leo choked on whatever reply he was preparing, his mind immediately coming up with another cardiovascular activity they could do together. Thank God Mal couldn't read his mind. Mal continued, seemingly oblivious to his internal struggle, even though he knew better. She was blushing right along with him, but as always, she politely ignored whatever she was feeling from him. "I hardly get to see you anymore. Between the labs, the infirmary, and classes…"

"Your mysterious weekends off-campus…" Leo added crossly. The two days a week that Mal left the Academy always made the campus feel dead and lifeless to Leo. He hated it. Most of the time Mal came back exhausted, bruised, and in a foul mood and it would take damn near every trick he and Jim knew to get her to relax again.

Mal ignored his complaint and lay back on the grass again. "What do you want to do?"

It was too easy for Leo to say the wrong thing, so he opted to stay silent. Mal didn't mind. Unlike Jim, she wasn't one of those people that needed to fill every moment with pointless chatter just for the sake of it. She was staring up at the sky, completely relaxed, fiddling with the drawstring on her shorts. "You know what I miss?" she asked suddenly. "When I was a kid, my sisters and I would lay out in the yard and look at clouds. We'd try to figure out what they were shaped like."

"You expect me to lie down in the mud?" Leo was looking at her like she was crazy, but that little smile played on her lips and after a few steadying breaths Leo stretched out, his head resting on his arm.

Mal giggled next to him. "Don't have a panic attack," she admonished. "This is supposed to be relaxing. Here…" she slipped her hand into his and he immediately felt a reassuring calmness well up out of nowhere. Delightful tranquility. Mal was projecting her own emotion into him. Slowly, she backed off, letting him hold onto the feeling for himself.

He kept hold of her hand. Without his usual anxiety, he didn't see a reason not to.

"That one looks like a horseshoe," he said pointing toward a fluffy white cloud.

"Too easy," Mal scoffed. "Use your imagination. That one looks like Jim after a run in with his buddies in security!" She pointed to a particularly lumpy cloud and Leo erupted into laughter. "And that one looks like…" she stopped and giggled. "Guess."

Leo squinted and followed the direction she was pointing. He saw the cloud in question and groaned. He rolled to his side and shook a finger in Mal's face, pretending to be annoyed. "How the hell did you find a cloud that was shaped like a _bulldog_?" he demanded.

His only answer was Mal dragging her muddy palm down his cheek.

"You know what, cowboy?" she said, smirking while he tried to rein in his Automysophobia. "I kinda like you when you're dirty." She rolled up to her feet while Leo sputtered, torn between telling her off, paying her back for the face paint, and letting her innuendo make him brain dead.

Normally, fear would have won out and Leo would have simply told Mal she was a pain in the ass, but he was still humming from the calm, peaceful, buzz she had projected into him only a few minutes ago. Mal was just as surprised as he was when he grinned and lobbed a handful of mud at the back of her head.

"Darlin', you ain't seen nothing yet."


	7. A Pointy Eared Visitor

**Star Trek is property of its respective owners. I only own Mallory.**

It had taken an hour to get all the mud out of her hair and her skin scrubbed clean again but it was totally worth it. Mal had known all along that Leo was just a big kid behind all of that hostile, broken, aggressive armor. With his anxiety overpowered by Mal's calming projection, Leo had managed to let his guard down. He had even begrudgingly thanked her for the 'voodoo' squeezing her hand one more time before letting it go.

She was late to the lab, but no one was there to chastise her when she finally made it through the doors. It was going to be one of those peaceful, quiet nights. Just her and the proteins. Mal shrugged into her lab coat, yanked on her gloves, and pulled a tray of Petri dishes she had been cultivating out of cold storage. Humming quietly to herself, Mal settled down at her microscope with a relaxed sigh.

What a great day.

She felt the intruder before she saw him and nearly put her eye out with the microscope. Mal turned, unleashing a litany of insults and swear words upon her unexpected guest. There was an unfamiliar officer standing tall in the doorway to the lab. He was perfectly smooth, pale, and angular. Mal took in the tidy hair, the strict stance, and the no nonsense eyes. Her gaze lingered on the upswept eyebrows and those tapered ears. His expression gave away nothing but Mal was nearly floored by the depths of his emotion. It was like concentrated feeling, painfully acute and gratingly clear. Mal reeled in her empathy and tried to sooth her burning senses.

Well, fuck.

"Who the hell are you, and why are you in my lab?" Mal demanded when she was able to put together a sentence without the word 'fuck' in it. She rubbed her tearing eye dolefully.

"I am Commander Spock."

"Do you know what a bad idea it is sneaking up on me like that while I've got my face pressed to a microscope? Were you going to help me find my eye after I poked it out?" She drummed her fingers against the table angrily. "That was not a rhetorical question, Commander."

If it was possible for a Vulcan to be surprised, Mal had just achieved that. Even with her empathy muted, she could feel it like a jab in the stomach. "I apologize, Doctor. It was not my intention to startle you."

Mal waited for him to say something that would indicate the reason he had invaded her turf, but he stayed silent for a long while. Mal, not being particularly patient, went back to her research, purposefully ignoring him. He continued to stand there silently while a steady pressure built against the backs of her eyes… Mal looked up curiously to see him staring at her and quickly threw walls up around her thoughts. The pressure lessened substantially. What little Mal knew about Vulcans warned her that they were touch-telepaths, just like Betazoids, but they were not natural empaths, choosing logic over emotion. Still, he was standing close enough to try and poke around her mind.

"That was rude," Mal bit. She shook her head slightly, trying to shake the feel of his mental assault away.

"It is also rude to address a commander without due respect," Spock said, his head bent to the side as though she were some sort of a puzzle.

She could feel the curiosity that burned through him and twitched. "What? You expect me to give you a cookie just because you beat me into the Academy? You're my age, Commander, and you _hardly_ outrank me. I'm might be a cadet, but I'm a doctor. That means instant Lieutenant Commander status. So, you know, forgive me for not doing a cartwheel for you."

"I expect no baked goods or acrobatics, Doctor. I only wish to have a word with you."

Mal nodded. "Then by all means. Have it." She rested her chin in her hands and waited for him to explain his presence. She was genuinely curious what had brought 'The Vulcan' into her lab. Mal had never spoken to Commander Spock, had never even _seen _him before, though Nyota often gushed about him behind the privacy of closed doors. Ny knew that Mal would keep her secret. Mal was the goddamn _master_ secret keeper. Between her father and Ny, there was only one useful thing she knew about Spock. The commander liked logic, structure, discipline… in short he liked rules.

She had never been good with rules.

"Last night at 0420 hours you participated in a telepathic link. It was broad enough to disturb my meditation." Spock stood there with his hands clasped behind his back, his dark eyes heavy on Mal, demanding an explanation.

The corner of Mal's mouth ticked into a slight smile. "Not that it's any of your business…sir…but I was talking to my baby sister. She is assigned to a ship somewhere in the Beta Quadrant. It's all very hush hush. No transmissions allowed. I'm sorry, but don't commanders have better things to do with their time than track down wayward telepaths?"

An imperceptible sign of amusement appeared on his face. A slight smirk that could easily have been missed. "Usually that is a correct assessment. However, I did not track you down. I mentioned the interference to a mutual friend of ours. She told me where to find you."

Ah. Nyota had ratted her out. Mal had to remember to _thank_ her.

"I was impressed by the sheer scope of your telepathic reach. Should you feel the desire to fine tune your approach, you are welcome to sit in on my meditations. You would be doing everyone a favor by organizing your mind and learning control. A disciplined mind is a controlled mind."

Mal nearly flinched. That was what her mother always said.

"Listen, Commander Spock. That's nice of you and all, but—"

"It is not out of kindness that I extend this offer, cadet," Spock cut in smoothly. "But because you are a potential danger to yourself and others. I looked at your file. Emotional projections can cause serious harm. You of all people should know that."

Whatever pretense of civility dissolved in an instant. "When you say you read my file…"

"Your genuine file, yes. Not the one that Captain Pike fabricated to allow you an unbiased Academy career."

Mal stood up slowly. "I think you should leave, Commander."

"Doctor—"

Mal didn't give him a chance to say anything else. She snapped her gloves off and slammed her jacket back onto its hook as she stormed out of the lab with a snarl.

Commander Spock stood in the empty research lab, his eyebrow arched up. Carefully he put away the tray of Petri dishes and the PADDs, his mind working furiously.

Humans and their emotions.

He would never understand.


	8. Easy When You're Evil

**Star Trek is property of its respective owners. I only own Mallory.**

The two girls that were bent over their dinner trays both had huge smiles on their faces while they conspired. Gaila had always been in awe of Mal's ability to plan a prank, but the Orion was about two seconds from erecting a statue in the other girl's honor. Mal wasn't just brilliant, she was a downright _goddess_ of vengeance.

_Note to self : don't piss off Mallory Parker,_ Gaila thought amid their laughter. She leaned across the table, her eyebrows raised and Mal responded with a wicked grin.

Gaila and Mal had been close friends since Nyota introduced them Mal's first year. They bonded over their alien ancestries and their love of all things illegal and inappropriate. When she wasn't with the boys, Mal was with Gaila, enjoying their desperately needed girly time together. More than once, Leo or Jim had to pick the girls up from Academy lockdown, the two of them completely unremorseful for their 'crimes'. If she had to claim another living woman as her friend, Gaila would be the first name to pop into Mal's mind. Even if her freaky Orion pheromones gave Mal a headache sometimes, Gaila reminded Mal of her sisters, and their friendship was an easy one.

Gaila was also one of the very few that Mal let in on her little secret intentionally. She could count on Gaila not to go blabbing that she was a Pike.

"Did she really _tattle_ on you? You're sure?" Gaila leaned across the table, keeping her voice low.

"Yes," Mal huffed indignantly. "She ratted me out to that green-blooded bastard she's been simpering over this semester. He came into the lab this morning and practically ordered me to start meditating. Meditating!"

Mal sounded so insulted Gaila snorted into her soda. Mal didn't meditate… She exploded. There was nothing but raw energy and electric power at her core but the doctor was better off running until she collapsed or hitting the punching bag in the weight room until she her knuckles bled. Maybe not the healthiest way to work off her anger, but meditating? That didn't suit Mal in the least. Anyone that knew her would know that. "How bad did you hurt him?"

Mal grumbled at her plate, too mad to eat. "I left."

Gaila's eyebrows disappeared into her copper hair. "Wow."

"What was I supposed to do? Fight him? He's a Vulcan for crying out loud. Faster, stronger…he's the Goddamn six million dollar man, G."

"You forgot smarter," Gaila said, twirling her straw. "I've read about those learning pods the Vulcans stick their kids in. They breed freaky little geniuses. It's sick."

"Who says that asshole's a genius?" Mal demanded, finally giving in and attacking her cheeseburger. "He was just a cold, calculating _Vulcan_." She spat the word, and a piece of pickle, across the table and Gaila chuckled. It took a lot to get her easy going friend this agitated.

"Well, he's the youngest professor on campus. He's a computer prodigy. He developed a bunch of the different simulation exams, helped Admiral Archer with the data from Percei Seven, he single handedly built—"

Mal put a hand up to stop Gaila from further listing Spock's accomplishments. "Simulation exams? Which ones?"

Gaila tapped her mouth in thought. "Um…the engineering exam, the surgical exam, the captaincy exam—"

"Spock programmed the Kobyashi Maru?" Mal let that information settle. "He's responsible for the unbeatable test?"

Gaila could practically see the cogs in Mal's brain turning, her blue eyes positively gleeful. "Yeah, I think so."

"Gaila, I might kiss you," Mal started gathering her things, shoving the last bit of burger into her mouth and grabbing her books off the table while Gaila made a kissy face at her. Mal checked to make sure she had Leo's dinner in her pack. She was headed to the infirmary to feed the grouch and if she forgot his sandwich he'd probably use her as a guinea pig for a new vaccine. She knocked on the table with a reminder. "And don't forget to call Jim. For purposes of revenge, I give you permission to be dirty together." She winked at Gaila while the redhead laughed.

"I did promise Ny I would stop bringing guys back to the room," Gaila pointed out, a wicked twinkle in her eye.

Mal gave her green friend an equally wicked look. "Ny _promised _she wouldn't 'out' me but she did. Consider it turnabout."

With a delighted squeal, Gaila clapped her hands. "And turnabout is fair play. No wonder they call you the bulldog, Mal!" Mal flipped Gaila the bird and left the mess hall at a run. She could hear Gaila laughing until the doors shut behind her and Mal was outside.

She headed to infirmary, thinking hard.

So, Spock had programmed the Kobyashi Maru?

Mal knew exactly how she was going to pay that pointy-eared elf back.


	9. The Countdown

**Star Trek is property of its respective owners. I only own Mallory.**

A cadet nearly knocked Mal down as he fled the infirmary in tears, Leo on his heels. "The next time you come in here, your insides better be on the outside! Do you hear me?" He stopped when he saw Mal smirking at him from the sidewalk. "What the hell are you looking at?"

Mal made a face. "You need to be isolated."

"No, I need food. You're late."

"And you're crabby." Mal dug into her pack and handed over Leo's sandwich before he could say anything else. "Put that in your mouth and be quiet, Dr. Mengele."

With a weary sigh, Leo did as he was told, taking his short break to enjoy the turkey sandwich and Mal's company. She was wearing her usual half smile, her eyes hooded against the bright florescent lighting of the spotless infirmary. Her dark hair was loose for the moment, which meant she was done in the labs for the day. Her red jacket was unbuttoned, and the obligatory turtle neck hugged her slim shape. Leo forced himself to stop staring at her. "Mengele," he murmured throwing one of his crusts at her. It bounced off her nose and landed in her lap. "I'm not that bad."

"Yeah. You're _that_ bad."

"Says the woman that was banished to the labs for practicing guerilla medicine," Leo snapped back. "You can't just sneak up on a person and medicate them, darlin'. It's bad for morale."

Mal laughed. "If he didn't want to be doctored he should have stayed out of the infirmary."

"You injected an admiral with Dylamadon, Mal. You're lucky he lived. They should have chucked you out of the program."

"Listen here, cowboy. When someone comes storming into medical, armed and screaming that there are flying purple people eaters trying to wing up his nose, you sedate the son of a bitch." Mal kicked lightly at Leo under the table, leaving dusty footprints on his uniform pants. "Besides, he was fine. He just took a nap."

"A coma," Leo corrected.

Mal grinned. "A really long nap."

Leo shook his head. Was it really any wonder that he was half in love with the girl? Mal looked up at the clock and sighed ruefully. "I'd better let you get back to work. You'll come by Grisham's tonight?"

Leo made a face. "When exactly am I supposed to sleep? Or study for that matter? You and the boy wonder go and have fun without me."

Mal's smile only broadened.

"I mean it, Mal. You dragged me out at dawn to go running, it's your own fault I'm too tired."

She stared at him, patiently.

"No."

…

"I said no."

…

"You aren't going to leave unless I promise to show." It wasn't a question, it was a realization.

"Nope."

Leo sighed. "I'm off at 2300 hours."

"Then we'll see you at 11:30," Mal said, using civilian time as she was wont to do. "Later, Leo." She ruffled his hair as she practically danced out the door.

* * *

"I bet you anything Jim's going to get slapped."

"No way. That idiot is going to fall for it."

Mal and Leo were tucked into a booth watching Jim prowl through the bar. It was a common game for them, betting chores and homework on Jim's prowess or, as Mal put it, the stupidity of his prey.

"Loser cleans the winner's room?"

"In costume," Mal added. Leo had a terrible habit of striking bets when he was delightfully inebriated and Mal liked nothing more than to take full advantage of it. "Winner's choice."

"Darlin', you're on." Leo shook her hand, sealing the bet. "I'm thinking Wonder Woman." Mal rolled her eyes and elbowed him lightly in the ribs as they both turned back to the game at hand.

The blonde girl talking to Jim started to giggle and Mal grinned, already tasting victory. "There's the hook," she said, wiggling in the booth happily. They watched the blonde press into Jim seductively. "There's the line…" The next second Jim and the blonde were making a display of themselves, sucking face in the middle of the bar. "And the sinker! Tough break, cowboy. Enjoy doing my laundry!"

McCoy grumbled as Jim steered his conquest out the door, throwing a wink in their direction. "I haven't even had time to clean my own clothes, and now I have to do yours, too? Bullshit."

Mal snickered and dragged him up to the bar. "I'll tell you what. Since you were such a good sport, you're going on my tab tonight." She flagged the bartender. "Hey, Boss. Put the old man's drinks on my bill and give us one for the road." The bartender rolled his eyes but did as she asked.

"And which of your friends do you want tonight? Jack, Jim, or Johnnie?"

Mal laughed while Leo's intoxicated smile made a rare appearance. "Since the kid is paying, how about some SoCo?"

A bottle of Southern Comfort and a glass appeared in his hand and he left Leo to pour his own drink. Mal went to work immediately handing Leo his glass and raising her own tumbler of seltzer. "To the month's worth of dirty clothes that is on my floor!" she said delightedly while he groaned. "And to the cutest little French maid that gets to clean it up."

Leo nearly choked on his drink. "Dammit, Mal! I'm a doctor, not a cross dresser."

Mal's eyebrow popped up mischievously. "You aren't backing out of a bet, are you, cowboy?"

Leo shook his head quickly. People who failed to follow through on bets with Mal tended to show up around campus sans eyebrows.

"Forget the costume," Mal said with a smile. "Just walk me home."

"Now that," Leo looked down at Mal and returned her soft smile. "That I can do."

* * *

Jim woke up early the next morning with a fuzzy tongue and a post-it stuck to his forehead.

_What the hell did you do last night, farm boy?_

_You smell like funk and low tide had a smelly baby._

_Take a shower and meet me in the lab._

_- M_

How the hell had Mal gotten in? Leo had stopped giving her the key codes to the room after Mal stole all his clothes during the Egg Bowl their second year. He glanced over at his snoring roommate and spotted a post-it planted squarely between his eyes, too. Jim crept over and read the note, grinning ear to ear.

_Practice saying this:_

_Mon nom est Léo et je suis la chienne de Mallory._

_Sorry about the roomie, cowboy, and thanks for letting me crash._

_Feel free to trash her side of the room while you're cleaning mine!_

_- M_

So Mal's roommate had tossed her out again. That explained Leo's almost peaceful expression. Nights that Mal had to crash in their room always ironed the scowl off his face.

Those two…

If one of them didn't touch the other inappropriately soon he was going to pull his own hair out with frustration. Mal was crazy about Bones. She hid it well, but Jim was very clever. He knew that Mal occasionally retreated to Gaila's room to mope. She refused to talk to Jim about it, try as he might to drag it out of her. Mal would just shrug and say, 'when he's ready'.

Like Bones would know whether or not he was ready. Leonard McCoy was crazy about Mal. That was obvious from the beginning. He was just too damn stubborn to admit it and he was wasting time. She wasn't going to wait around forever.

"Idiots," Jim said with a fond roll of his eyes.

Jim showered, dressed, and left the room without waking up Leo. His trek to the labs was uneventful. It was still too early for most of the campus to be active yet so he went unnoticed through the medical labs, a place he normally avoided like the plague.

Mal was bent over a microscope in her usual lab, her eyes narrowed in annoyance. She didn't notice his entrance as she ordered the computer to take her dictation. "Proteins in Variable-C group still not reacting as desired. Adding two parts Mylicton, one part Dyforasien."

"Sounds like that would burn," Jim said taking a seat on the stool next to her. Mal glanced up and smiled.

"Computer, stop recording and store all data." The computer did her bidding and Mal turned her full attention to Jim. "You love me?" she asked, her smile going from its usual half quirk to a full blown wicked leer.

Jim smirked. "Oh, baby, do I," he said with enthusiasm. When Mal got excited he did, too. Or maybe some of her happy emotions were leaking out onto him. He didn't know and he didn't really care. "What did you do?"

"Mission accomplished."

It took Jim a moment to absorb the importance of her words. Grinning like a Cheshire cat, he looked down at his watch. "And with a whole twenty-six hours to spare. You're amazing."

Mal took a bow and gestured for him to keep his voice down. "I had to get a little help from my sister, but it's ready to be installed. Now, Jim," she paused and took a deep breath, "there is no way this will go unnoticed. They _will_ realize that someone installed a subroutine. They will nail you to the wall."

Jim scoffed. "So I get a spanking from the academic board. No sweat."

"It might be a bit…grander than that. We're talking suspension or serious community service here to work off the black marks we're going to rack up this time."

"Cold feet, Mal?" Jim's voice held a hint of a challenge that wasn't necessary. The truth was Mal was going to install the new program regardless, and if Jim didn't want to take the fall for it, she would. Mal was going to show that green-blooded _genius_ that he had made a serious oopsie when he invaded her lab and her privacy.

"As long as you're sure," Mal said, giving him another opportunity to bail.

"Are you kidding?" Mal's feet left the ground as Jim spun her around in a hug. "We're going to beat the Kobyashi fucking Maru!" he said, his grin back in place.

Mal burst into laughter and shoved Jim away. "Easy, tiger. I've still got to get in and install this thing."

"Yeah?" Jim didn't like the sound of that. Mal could hardly replicate toast, forget programming a computer. There was a reason the woman worked with viruses, not machinery. "Tell me you've got some science geek to help you?"

Mal just shrugged. Jim was about to question her further, but his PADD beeped, alerting him to a message.

_Jim._

_I thought you might want to…study._

_Come by after class._

_I'll be waiting._

_- Gaila_

Best. Day. Ever.

"Pinch me," Jim muttered, "I'm dreaming. Or Bones has finally killed me and this is heaven."

Mal snorted. "If your heaven is the medical lab, than you're more disturbed than I thought." She looked over his shoulder and read the message on the screen. "Studying? Is that what you kids are calling it, now?" She saw the goofy grin on his face and rolled her eyes. "Get out of here, Jim, before you're late for class."

Jim left the lab and Mal went back to her proteins. Her blissfully quiet, emotionless proteins that didn't require supervision, or guidance, or even patient understanding. She watched Jim out the window as he swaggered off.

Lucky son of a bitch.


	10. Musical Beds

**Star Trek is property of its respective owners. I only own Mallory.**

"Hello, ladies." Jim paused to leer at two women as they jogged up the library steps. He had just finished up with classes and had stopped by the library to fetch his grumpy friend. The doctor had been plastered to a screen, learning some surgical technique called an insectoscopy. All Jim saw was a giant bug and an exposed spinal cord before he nearly ralphed on Leo's shoes and dragged him out of there. "I'm taking the test again."

Leo made a face.

So that's what the kid was planning. Jim rarely went anywhere without that shit-eating grin, but it had been worse than usual all day. In fact, Leo's face hurt just _looking _at that smile. "You've got to be kidding me." Either the James Kirk was a masochist or he was dumber than a rock.

Leo was inclined to think he simply had no blood north of his hips left for his brain to use.

"Yeah," Jim answered happily. "Tomorrow morning, and I want you to be there."

Leo briefly entertained the idea of having Jim committed. "Look," he said angrily, preparing to go through the 'I'm a doctor' speech, "I have better things to do than watch you embarrass yourself for a third time. I'm a doctor, Jim, I'm busy."

Jim stopped his agitated friend at the bottom of the steps. "Bones, doesn't it bother you that no one's ever passed the test?" Leo's eyes widened.

"Jim, it's the Kobyashi Maru. No one passes the test. And no one goes back for seconds, let alone thirds."

That only seemed to make Jim's self-assured smirk all the more annoying. "Well, I got to go study."

Leo watched him walk away with a shake of his head. "Study, my ass," he grumbled. Although, if his suspicions were correct, ass was _exactly _what Jim had in mind.

* * *

_Ping_.

_Ping_.

"Shit sake, Parker, pick up that damn PADD before I make you eat it."

Mal only twitched in her sleep. She was a notoriously heavy sleeper and things like PADD messages, alarm clocks, nuclear blasts…they were useless when it came to waking her up. Her roommate, Averie, had realized within a few months of living with the off color doctor that threats and a well-aimed boot were the way to get things done.

There was a thump in the darkness and a startled yelp.

Three years and so far Averie's aim was only improving.

"Ow! No stilettos, Averie!" Mal woke up clutching her forehead and groping about for the source of the irritating noise. Her fingers closed around the PADD and when she read the message she nearly wet the bed laughing.

_Did you pimp me to Gaila just to get back at her roommate?_

_Because we should have thought of this YEARS ago._

_Let me in._

Mal opened the door to her room while Averie hid under her blankets from the offending light streaming in from the hall. Jim stood there, in nothing but his briefs, smiling broadly enough that she could have counted each of his teeth if she wanted to. "Typical farm boy, rolling in the hay."

Jim looked her up and down. "Nice jammies, Mal. Why don't you wear those when you crash in our room?" Mal rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and looked down. She was in a Starfleet black undershirt and a pair of gray boy shorts. "That would be an excellent way to give Bones a stroke."

She scowled. "Get in here before someone sees you and—"

"Mallory!"

Jim took one look down the hall at the very pissed of xenolinguist storming toward them and ducked into Mal's room, closing the door behind him and leaving Mal in the hall to deal with the fallout alone.

"Coward!" she hissed at the closed door. Mal put on a perfectly innocent face as Uhura stopped in front of her fuming. "Something I can help you with, Ny?"

Uhura drew herself up to her full height and glared at Mal with contempt. "This was a _stunt_?" she demanded. "You let that hick _befoul _my roommate to prove a point? What the hell is the matter with you?"

Mal rolled her eyes. "Hey, G? Are you feeling used or otherwise tainted by sleeping with Jim?"

Gaila stuck her head out the door of her room, pouting. "We didn't even get that far. Party-pooper came back."

"Are you in anyway angry with me for facilitating?"

"Nope! I was wondering…" Mal sighed. She knew her Orion friend well enough to know that look. She nodded and opened the door to her room as Gaila ran down the hall in her underwear. "Don't be mad, Ny. His ass is totally perfect!" She hugged them both before she darted into Mal's room.

Uhura made a frustrated sound. "We're friends, Mal!"

"Yeah, we are," Mal consented. "Which is why I don't understand why you would tell the _Vulcan _about me. I'm not exactly open about my heritage, and you _know _I keep my name to myself. How could you let him ambush me like that? He came into the lab talking about meditation and how I 'of all people' should know the dangers of projecting." Mal's cheeks were red with anger. "You sold me out to your creepy boyfriend. Not fair and not right."

Uhura started several times to speak. Spock had stumbled over something that was best left buried and forgotten, and _she _had put him on that path. No wonder Mal was so pissed off. Uhura suddenly felt terrible.

Mal felt Uhura's mood shift and softened her features.

"Come on, Ny. Getting you in trouble is not my jam. You belong here. Hell, you work harder than any of us. But if I am so capable of carrying your secrets…you should be able to return the favor. I've never even told Jim your first name, and that's just a joke. But you told Spock about…" Mal hesitated and Uhura gave in.

"I'm sorry."

Mal shrugged her apology off, not quite ready to forgive.

The door behind Mal opened up and Averie stumbled out of the room, wrapped in her comforter and lugging her pillow. Her eyes were wide from seeing things best left to the imagination. "I hate you, Mal." She yawned and dragged herself down the hall, disappearing into Uhura's room.

"Spock isn't going to say anything to anyone," Uhura whispered quietly.

"Then it seems I trusted the wrong person, didn't I?" Mal stuck her head inside her room, her hands over her eyes. "Computer, wake this idiot up in time for his exam, please. Eight AM."

_Ongoing alarm set for 0800 hours,_ the computer confirmed.

"If it hasn't already been compromised, can one of you toss me my pillow?"

Someone in the room giggled. "That ship has sailed."

"The lengths I go to for my friends," Mal groaned and let her door slide shut. She might be homeless for a night, but all in all it was a pretty decent prank. Uhura was scolded, Jim and Gaila were happy, and Averie was kicked out of the room.

Win-win.

"So, is this it, or do I have to be looking over my shoulder all semester?" Uhura asked nervously. Mal's version of justice was usually swift and final. Uhura had never known her to really hold a grudge, but this time…

Mal smiled slowly, that half smile that could either be comforting or terrifying, and shook her head. "This was it, Ny. For you, anyway. Your commander is still on my shit list."

The look on her face was priceless. Mal wished she had her PADD set to video mode. "Mal, don't. He doesn't understand things like dirty little secrets. To him they aren't logical. They don't compute."

"Well, time to reprogram the Vulcan. Or shave his eyebrows. Is he a heavy sleeper or will I wind up in a body bag?" Mal teased.

Uhura fought back the smile at the thought of Spock losing his eyebrows to Mal's quest for vengeance. "He'd kill you before he even woke up properly, Mal. And I'm not helping you. I'm not even encouraging you. Spock is a good person, even if he is socially…"

"Handicapped?" Mal supplied. "I mean it. He must have been raised by bookends to have a personality like that."

Uhura snorted. "Where are you going to sleep?"

"Leo," she said simply. Uhura raised an eyebrow and Mal scowled. "You got that from _him _didn't you? That goddamn eyebrow twitch."

"Good night, Mal. And I _am_ sorry."

Mal sighed. "I believe you, Ny. And…wash your sheets before you get in them."

Mal had to run or suffer an inglorious defeat at the hands of her furious friend. Uhura was still a master at hand to hand and Mal…Mal was a master at being dumped on her ass. Speaking of which…she glanced down once she was outside. She was barefoot and still in nothing but her 'pajamas'. Thankfully the campus was blissfully empty as she padded along across the quad. She could probably spend another night on the floor in Jim's room. She knew perfectly well that Leo wouldn't throw her out.

Still, as long as she was up…Mal looked down at the PADD clenched in her hand.

She had an exam to sabotage.


	11. Kobyashi Maru

**Star Trek is property of its respective owners. I only own Mallory.**

Leo found Mal the next morning when he almost broke his neck tripping over her on the way to the bathroom. She didn't so much as twitch while he cursed to high heaven and resurfaced from a pile of Jim's dirty clothes. He took a few minutes to stare at her, the vein in his neck pulsing spastically, while he tried to figure out what the hell Mal was doing in his room in her goddamn underwear, and if it was some sort of trick. He cocked his head to the side…Who knew she had a tattoo on her hip?

Not to be distracted, Leo fidgeted. First things first, he had to get her off the floor. The room was too small for her to constantly be curled up on the carpet like a pound puppy. He was tempted to put her in Jim's bed since it didn't look like the kid had even come back last night, but he wouldn't wish Jim's germy, filthy sheets on anyone. Instead, he scooped her up and tucked her under his blankets while he went and showered.

When he came back out, she was still there, wrapped around his pillow, a giant bruise on her forehead. He recognized Averie's handiwork immediately.

What the hell had happened last night?

"Mal?"

She didn't even move.

"Come on, darlin' time to wake up." Leo sat on the edge of the mattress and pulled on his boots. Mal just burrowed deeper in the blankets with a squeak of sleepy distress. He brushed a dark curl away from her cheek without thinking. The second he touched her skin he felt nothing but delighted contentment. Mal was projecting lightly in her sleep, perfectly happy where she was and at the offhanded contact. Leo could tell that it was _him _making her happy and he snatched his hand away like she had burned him.

Had she been awake, he never would have felt that hint of cheery satisfaction. She would have kept it carefully hidden away so he didn't have to tell her no. He shook his head. Even after all this time, it was still him.

It wasn't fair.

Tentatively, Leo ran a finger along her jaw, pouting like a petulant child when he felt the affection practically seeping from her skin. He should stop. He should break the contact and the link before he drove himself crazy. It was like he was teasing himself, looking at something he could never have. Seeing what could be instead of staying focused on what _was_. Mal, and every other woman for that matter, was off limits. Sure, she was sweet, smart, and funny, now…but all that could change in a heartbeat. Leo had a habit of turning women into evil, malignant harpies vomited straight from the depths of hell.

He didn't like the thought that he could end up hating Mal as much as he hated Jocelyn.

Not for the first time, he wished that he had met Mal first, back when he believed in things like redemption.

"Mal?" She growled in her sleep and went back to snuggling his pillow. Chuckling at her determination to stay unconscious, Leo shook her open acceptance of him and his own miserable thoughts out of his head.

How the hell was he supposed to wake her up without giving her another bruise? She was the sleeping dead…

He might as well take this opportunity for a little payback.

"Computer, play Hottie Toddy, maximum volume."

Leo covered his ears just in time. His alma mater's fight song boomed from the speakers, and Mal nearly hit the ceiling. "Computer, knock that the _fuck_ off!" The chant stopped and Mal struggled to steady the heart palpitations she seemed to be suffering through. "Leonard McCoy, do you think you're _funny_?"

Leo smirked and drew a point in the air for himself. "Hi-larious," he answered, stretching out the word. "Now get up, Jim's exam is this morning. I hope he remembers. He didn't come back last night."

Mal stretched languidly and tried to rub the sleep out of her eyes. "We played musical rooms. Averie wound up in Gaila's bed, Gaila and Jim wound up in mine, and I apparently wound up in yours," she said looking around. "I'm pretty sure I started out down there, didn't I?" She pointed to the quilt on the floor and stood up. She wasn't in the least bit embarrassed about being in front of Leo scantily clad.

Leo was having a more difficult time with it. She noticed and snickered. "I wouldn't have guessed that you were an ass-man, cowboy."

"Just put on some damn clothes," he said without any heat. Leo threw her a pair of the scrub bottoms that he normally wore in the infirmary and waited while she tugged them on, pulling the drawstring as tight as she could so they wouldn't slide down.

"So I showed up here in my underwear and I'm leaving in your pants…what will people think?" She asked mischievously.

Probably not the same thing that Leo thought.

That he had just missed a golden opportunity.

* * *

"Remember, Jim. Don't do anything until the encryption kicks in." Mal kept her voice low, giving him last minute instructions while no one was listening. She was fussing with his hair, trying to get it to do something other than stick up like he had licked a car battery. He smirked at her nervous fussing. She was worse than Bones.

"Where'd you go last night?" Jim questioned. He eyed the scrub bottoms with delight. "You filthy girl, did you play doctor with Bones?"

"I stayed in your room," Mal answered, pinching his nose tersely, "on the _floor_." She didn't mention that she had woken up in Leo's bed. The kid would take a little information like that and run with it. "Now, I mean it. Don't do anything. The program will hiccup and then the War Birds won't have their shields. After that, it's up to you. Maybe you should—"

Jim caught her wrists and pulled them slowly away from his hair. "You worry too much. Hey, Bones! Can you please make this woman relax?"

Leo grumbled and worried at his simulation suit. Every one of the people in the exam had to wear the stupid blue uniform with its high neck and pinching sleeves. "This is the last goddamn time I do this, Jim." He handed Mal an apple he got from the replicator down the hall and she shot him a grateful look.

"_Will all nonessential personnel please leave the exam area. Testing will begin in five minutes. Everyone to their stations._

Mal sighed. "Well, that's them telling me to get out. Good luck, Jim." She hugged him quickly. "See you guys after." She squeezed Leo's hand before she left, giving Uhura a wink as she went through the door.

She didn't even realize until she was in the hall that her apple was missing.

"Dammit, Jim!" she scowled and stalked down the hall to find the replicator and replace her stolen breakfast.

Once again Mal felt him before she saw him. She walked into the break room and had to rapidly rein in her empathy before she was sucked into the eddy of emotion that was Commander Spock.

"You know for a guy that feels _that_ strongly, you are remarkably good at hiding it," Mal went to the replicator. "Hot chocolate. Hot, do you hear me?" As usual the machine gave her a melted candy bar and Mal kicked it once before the sloppy mess was recycled and her drink appeared. "Fuck you, machine," she grumbled.

_Command not recognized._

"Smart ass." Mal grumbled at the replicator before she accepted her drink. She could feel Spock watching her, highly amused, but when she turned around, there was no expression on his face save his usual bored grimace.

She was almost to the door when Spock cleared his throat. "Is it true that you plan on forcibly removing my eyebrows from my person?"

Mal swore as she choked on her drink, nearly shooting it out her nose and burning the back of her throat in the process. She glanced back at him, her lopsided smile still in place. "It crossed my mind, Commander."

Said eyebrow twitched up. "I would advise against that, cadet. You would be unsuccessful."

"Then maybe I'll just mess up your hair," she said with absolutely no regard for his rank.

He was puzzled, though it was natural for him to not show it. Most people were afraid of him, including those that outranked him considerably. Larger, older men, hardened officers of Starfleet that had seen some of the most terrible things in the universe, still thought twice before crossing paths with the Vulcan, and yet in one year he had met two young women who were no more afraid of him than he was of the dust bunnies under Nyota's bed.

"If your attempt is to make me feel in any way threatened you are failing miserably," Spock said carefully. Mal was similar to Nyota, though drastically different. Words were heavily important to both cadets, the way things were phrased had great meaning. He noticed the way Mal spoke, quickly and erratically, but intelligently. She swore unreservedly and with enthusiasm, though with purpose. It was, in itself, a trick and he knew it. She forced the listener to pay attention for fear of missing something drastically important. Something that would make a difference in the long run. It was illogical that he would notice that, but then again…Doctor Parker was clearly an illogical being.

Strange.

Mal watched him and went through a number of emotions right along with him. She couldn't help it, she was dragged along for the ride. He landed finally on baffled tolerance. "Again, any attempt you would make to affect my personal appearance would be unsuccessful. You lack the power and stealth skills necessary to apprehend someone of my size and strength. In addition, you would be expelled for an attack on a ranking officer."

"Heh," Mal didn't try to hide her laughter. "You aren't familiar with the concept of a prank, are you?" she asked, blowing the steam away from her coco.

"Explain."

Mal shook her head. "I wouldn't know where to begin. I think you'll get the picture sooner rather than later."

His head tilted to the side. "Am I to understand that you have already commenced in an act of retaliation against me for my intrusion on you yesterday?"

Mal grinned. "Commander, if I didn't know any better, I would say you were worried."

He paused, those dark eyes burning Mal with their intensity. And she thought Leo had emotional baggage. This guy was completely at odds with himself. A walking contradiction, an emotionally detached emotional being. He gave her a headache. "I have no reason to fear you."

"That's good," Mal said, sipping at her drink. "Because I'm not trying to scare you. I don't hurt people, Commander, regardless of what you gleaned from my file proper, which by the way you had no right to even look at, considering none of my Academy transcripts are in it. I am more of a… mind ninja. Mess with me and I rock your world."

"You are under the delusion that you can move the terra firma of Vulcan?"

Mal was about to correct him when she felt his amusement again. "You're teasing," she said uncertainly. "So you _do_ have a sense of humor. Good. You're going to need it, Commander." She looked down at her PADD. "Excuse me, sir, my friend is taking the Kobyashi Maru. I promised I would cheer him on from the tank."

Spock stood. "I am also required to be present at the exam. I warn you, Doctor Parker. I am not likely to fall prey to any of your…pranks, and should you be caught, I will show no mercy."

Mal only smiled as they walked down the hall and back toward the observation tank. "Neither will I, sir."

* * *

"How the hell did that kid beat your test?"

Spock stared down into the simulation room, his eyes angry, even if his face was impassive. "I do not know."

It was the truth when he said it. He had built the program to very precise specifications. It was meant to instill, as so many had phrased it, the fear of God into the usually arrogant cadets in the command track. It was meant to teach them humility, to weed out the weak, and to infuse them all with the gravity of their decisions. No captain ever went unscathed. People would be lost. The sooner they learned that lesson, the better.

The program could not be beaten and yet this unimpressive youth from Iowa had somehow managed to do just that.

It was inconceivable.

It was a travesty.

It was…he turned back to the wall where he had left Doctor Parker standing so she could watch her friend's exam. She was gone.

No. She could not have tampered with the test. She was a researcher, a doctor, not computer scientist. It was altogether illogical to assume that she had anything to do with this. There were no facts to indicate her involvement.

Spock struggled to control his temper while he watched the smug Cadet Kirk accepted stunned and excited congratulations from his peers. Even Nyota went over and offered her words of praise. Kirk was nearly knocked over, though, when Doctor Parker charged in and jumped into his arms, her face absolutely gleeful. She mussed his hair and Kirk threw her over his shoulder impishly.

Spock heard every word that passed between them through the microphones in the exam room.

"Piece of cake, huh kid?" Mal said.

"Yeah, thanks coach. Hey, Bones, hold this would you?" Mal was unceremoniously dumped into Leo's lap where he still sat at the helmsman station. Mal grinned up at him happily even while he scowled.

"What the hell am I supposed to do with this?" he demanded.

Jim smiled wickedly. "Get creative. Now, come on, Bones. You know you want to congratulate me. The Kobyashi Maru…it's alright to be impressed. I am all things that are awesome." Mal snorted and Jim dropped into her lap so they were both sitting on Leo. "And Doctor Awesome. You are my hero, Mal."

"Do I look like a goddamn sofa to you two?" Leo snapped standing up and dropping them both. He kept an arm around Mal so only her feet hit the floor instead of her entire person. "I don't know how you did it, Jim, but it don't smell right."

Jim flashed his teeth. "Yeah, sorry about that. I didn't have a chance to shower before the test. Gaila wanted to wish me luck…"

Whatever else he might have said was drowned out by Leo's growls and Mal's howling laughter. The three of them headed out the door as Spock watched. Doctor Parker was the last one out and he couldn't help but notice her wink up at the tank as though she knew he was watching.


	12. The Conditions of Freedom

**Star Trek is property of its respective owners. I only own Mallory.**

They were busted.

Mal knew it the second her PADD woke her up with an alert from the administration. Morning classes were canceled and all cadets were to report to the academic advisory hall at 1100 hours.

"Computer, place transmission to Cadet James T. Kirk," she ordered with a groan. Mal had to admit, she was impressed. She knew that Spock would locate the subroutine and trace it back to her, but she did think they would have a bit more time. Spock must have been very good at paperwork to get the Academic Board to convene so quickly and over something as insignificant as cheating. True, cadets were supposed to be above reproach and ethically sound, but their stunt was more about defeating the giant than actually cheating…

But it was unlikely that the board would differentiate.

"I guess it's time to face the firing squad." Jim's face appeared on the screen and he looked perfectly at ease in his crumpled undershirt and pajama bottoms. "We knew this was coming, Mal, but holy shit they moved fast."

"Yeah, Jim, I noticed. I hope you're ready."

She could see Leo tearing across the background, trying to stay off screen while he got into his uniform. "Are you two insane?" he demanded when he was decent. He practically shoved Jim out of the way so he could yell at Mal unimpeded. "What would possess you to jigger with the goddamn Kobyashi Maru? If you two get expelled and I'm stuck here by myself…" His southern accent was exacerbated from the stress. "You're idiots, the two of you." He threw his hands up and went off screen.

Jim came back into view, smiling. "I think we upset his delicate internal balance." Mal laughed and shook her head.

"Always on the dark side looking at the bright side, huh?"

Jim nodded. "See you soon, Mal. I'll be the one with the blindfold and cigarette."

She only smiled in return. "In a blaze of glory, Jim. It's the only way to go down."

* * *

Mal was intercepted on the way to the administration building.

Honestly, she had forgotten that her father would have something to say about her being brought up on cheating charges. She really would have to start remembering that somehow Captain Pike knew all, even if he was human.

"Cadet? A word?" Before she could avoid him, Captain Pike lightly caught Mal's arm and steered her back toward the dorms. He didn't look angry, but she could sense his displeasure. "Really, Mallory? You tangled with the Vulcan?"

"Not directly," Mal said, hoping to defuse his frustration with humor. She could hear the session bells tolling. "Pop, I've got to—"

Pike shook his head and held up a hand to silence her. "All you've _got_ to do stand right here until the hearing is over. Those are the conditions."

"Conditions?"

Mal did not like the sound of that.

At all.

"What do you mean conditions?"

Pike snickered. "I don't think even you realize how well you read people sometimes," he said lightly. "You always seem to know exactly what to say and do to infuriate people. Explain to me why you reprogrammed that exam."

Mal hesitated. "Are you my dad right now or a Starfleet captain?"

"We'll keep it couched, Mallory."

"Jim," she said simply. "We were bored. We thought it would be funny. But then Spock came into the lab, and…" she hesitated.

Pike shook his head. "And you thought you'd go head to head with the Academy's resident genius. You hurt his pride, I think. Probably the worst thing you can do to a Vulcan is shame them and you went and embarrassed Spock in front of a room full of his superiors. What would possess you to target the Commander?"

"He got into my proper file, Pop."

"That's no excuse. It isn't like he…" Pike's eyes cooled considerably as he realized exactly what Mal was insinuating. "And he brought up Thom?"

Mal scuffed the sidewalk with her boot. "He brought up the dangers of projection. Same thing, really."

"That explains his other demands," Pike said slowly, watching for Mal's reaction. "He said he wouldn't file a grievance against you so long as you agreed to start meditating with him and learning control." Pike tapped his temple, indicating her mental abilities. "I told him that was acceptable but he seemed to think you would be opposed to the idea."

Mal just stared at her father for a long, silent moment. "Are you _kidding_ me? You want me to let Spock poke around in my head? No. No way. I'll take the hit with Jim."

"Sit." Pike pointed to a bench and, miserable, Mal obeyed. "I know you are resistant to your mother's heritage, Mallory, but Spock told me about the subroutine he found, and I know that _you _didn't reprogram the Kobyashi Maru. You were talking to your sister, weren't you? Emulating?"

Emulating. It was a nice way of saying telepathic possession. All it meant was Kadence had taken the reins and written the program. Mal had essentially been a passenger in her own body while Kadence had control. It was something the two of them did back and forth often, but it was frowned open for obvious reasons. Most Betazoids couldn't manage it. It was such a strong projection, it was usually not even attempted. But, as Kadence pointed out, it was a good way to be in two places at once.

Mal looked up at her father. The look on his face was enough to make her flinch. Disappointment. She'd rather he be angry. "She's my sister."

"Yes, but she's also SI. What if she had been in the middle of a mission? What if she had gotten hurt because you wanted to play some vindictive game with Spock? You should know better." Pike watched Mal stare at her boots. "You are going to accept Spock's offer. You are going to learn to control your empathy and you are going to _stop _emulating Kadence. Honestly, the two of you... thank God Darby never picked up on any of this…"

"This what?" Mal snapped suddenly defensive. "If you didn't want half-Betazoid kids, maybe you shouldn't have married a _Betazoid._"

Pike frowned. "That's not what I meant and you know it."

There was a flood of Reds coming out of the administration building and Mal stood up, angry. "She's fine by the way."

"Excuse me, Cadet?"

"Kay." Mal did her best impression of Leo's scowl. "She's fine. She misses us. She's in the Alpha system. She pierced her nose. And she's fine." With that she turned on her heel and disappeared into crush of red uniforms, looking for Jim and Leo.

Pike watched her go and, not for the first time, wondered how she always knew exactly what to say to make him feel like _he_ was the child.


	13. USS Enterprise

**Star Trek is property of its respective owners. I only own Mallory.**

Jim stomped out of the administration building with Leo a step behind. It took him all of three seconds to spot Mal on a bench across the quad, her head in her hands while a uniformed officer stood over her like a prison guard. There was no mistaking Pike, even at that distance.

"Him again," Leo groused.

"Forget him, I want to have a little chat with _her._" Jim didn't want to see his friend in trouble, especially since he was the one to convince Mal to get her hands on a subroutine in the first place, but it would have been nice to have a _little _support while Spock was tearing him apart. She hadn't even been there to lend that calming presence she was so well known for. His anger dissipated, though, when he saw her turn her back on Pike and walk away, her face furious. Apparently she had been receiving her punishment as well, even if hers wasn't in the style of a public humiliation. "Mal!" He waved her down and she immediately fell into step between him and Leo. "What happened to you?"

"I'm sorry, Jim. I should've been there. I got… hung up." She glared at Captain Pike where he was listening to a nervous looking commander. "Well? What's the damage? They didn't boot you did they?"

Jim pointed through the crowd of Reds to a tall and irritatingly familiar rigid form in black several feet ahead of them. "That bastard tried to lecture me on 'no win scenarios," Jim said angrily. "Said that even though I beat the exam I failed since I missed the point. Said that I of all people should know that a captain cannot cheat death."

Mal was indignant. "He didn't?" She immediately slipped an arm around Jim's waist and squeezed, trying to fill him with warmth and contentment. "Don't listen to that pointy-eared bastard, Jim. He pulled the same line on me a few days ago. 'You of all people.' What a dick."

Jim was looking down at her curiously. "Why did he say it to you?"

"No reason," she said quickly. Jim glanced at Leo over her head but Leo just shrugged. He had no idea, either.

Mal finally picked up on the nervous energy in the air. Excitement and fear oozed off of the cadets as they were herded toward the shuttle hangers. "Where's the fire?" she asked gesturing to the anxious, energized faces around them.

"Vulcan, apparently," Leo said. "The whole hearing was interrupted because Command got a distress call. The fleet's somewhere else so they're sending us up instead."

"Us?" Mal looked between them, confused. "Us who? You mean _us?_"

They didn't get a chance to answer her. "Mallory Parker!" They turned to see Uhura coming toward them and Mal cursed. Was the universe out to get her that morning or what?

"Gotta go!" She gave Jim a last squeeze and threw a haphazard wink at Leo before she darted off, Uhura on her heels.

* * *

Uhura caught up with Mal in the hanger as the commanders called them all to attention. They stood in blocks of twenty while the commanders read off the rosters which cadet was assigned to which ship. Mal was trying to wrap her mind around the fact she was being sent into space. _Space _space. Somehow, even after three years at the Academy, she couldn't picture herself on a ship. She was a doctor, not an astronaut. Still she stood there quietly while she listened for her name.

When it came, she nearly had a fit. "Pike, USS Enterprise… Quinn, USS Hood…"

Uhura and Gaila both shot Mal surprised looks. Apparently an official mission meant her real name came up on the dossier. That wasn't what had Mal seeing red, though. Enterprise. She had been assigned to the Enterprise. Her father's ship.

What the fuck?

"Uhura, USS Farragut..."

Anger slammed into Mal, making her own frustration all the more unmanageable. Still, she had enough of a grip to search for the source when the commander dismissed them. Uhura was grinding her teeth furiously. "Ny? Are you alright?"

"I will deal with you later, Mal." Uhura stormed off, and Mal whistled.

"She's mad."

Gaila smiled brightly. "Don't sweat it, Mal. Sit on the shuttle with me?"

Mal shook her head. "I have to go yell at someone." They gripped each other's forearms tightly for a moment. "See you on the ground," Mal said with a smile. "Godspeed, G."

* * *

For a military operation, it was chaos.

Within fifteen minutes, Uhura had hunted down Spock and gotten him to change her assignment, Leo had smuggled Jim onto one of the shuttles by abusing medical codes, and Mal was in a heated argument with her father... Again.

"I do not need a babysitter!" Mal insisted even as she was led onto the shuttle. "Put me on another ship. _Any _other ship. I'm not picky. Please, Pop."

Pike smiled lazily and shook his head. "Sorry, Mallory. You are officially a senior medical officer aboard the USS Enterprise. Congratulations. Now go sit down."

Mal bit her tongue. "Aye, Captain." She grumbled angrily as she buckled into her seat.

One thing was for certain. Captain Pike was going to look ridiculous without his eyebrows.


	14. Poor McKenna

**Star Trek is property of its respective owners. I only own Mallory.**

**But if someone wanted to...I don't know, lend me Karl Urban for a few hours, I wouldn't say no...**

14

"Do I look like I want to hear you whine, McKenna?" Mal brushed past a biobed where a groaning helmsman was trying to get her attention. She was about two seconds away from knocking him out the good old fashioned way…with a fist to the face. "If you don't want to pick up parasites then maybe you shouldn't eat month old Cardassian egg salad. Now, cork it."

She had already changed into her new blue uniform and was hard at work in medical bay. The CMO, a miserable old jackass by the name of Tam Puri, had ordered her to deal with the over anxious cadets that were throwing up into their own laps because of the hasty shuttle rides and their nerves at suddenly finding themselves onboard an active starship. She spared a second to scowl at the computer when she heard her father's voice over the ship-wide communication system announcing they were about to leave the space dock, but she had to admit…he sounded completely at ease. Beneath her irritation she felt her usual pride for him bubble up. Her dad was the captain of Starfleet's brand new flagship. Even if he was making her life difficult, she was lucky to be serving under him.

She would just have to keep reminding herself of that.

With a sigh, Mal looked up from the tricorder in her hand to the panicked cadet hyperventilating in front of her. "Try to remember that we've been training for this," she said patting his arm and projecting a touch of resolution into his subconscious. She knew without a doubt that when push came to shove now, he would be able to keep his head. "Now, go do your job."

Someone grabbed her as she bustled past the nurse's station. "Dammit, McKenna, quit wheezing on me! Christine, please sedate this moron before I knock his teeth in!"

"Yes, doctor." Nurse Chapel hurried to take the helmsman back to his biobed and Mal immediately loaded a hypo with the vaccination for lung worm and pressed it to her thigh. She flinched as it was forced into the muscle but breathed a little easier. Clearly she spent too much time with Leo. She was starting to get skittish around germs.

Mal was about to move on to the next person clamoring for attention when she heard a familiar, albeit distressed, voice. "Where're we?"

Jim?

"Medical bay," came the gruff reply.

Leo?

Her frustrated scowl evolved into a relieved smile. The powers that be saw fit to keep the team together. She saw Leo practically dragging Jim over to a biobed while the younger man sloppily turned every which way to leer at the nurses. Jim didn't look so good. He was sweating and stumbling, breathing too heavily, his face flushed. Leo propped him up on a bed and dosed him with what Mal assumed was a sedative, considering he passed out two seconds later.

"Unbelievable," Leo grumbled.

"What happened to him?" Mal extricated herself from her place among the heaving personnel to stand by Leo. He was still in his Reds and he seemed confused at seeing her in a medical uniform, tricorder in hand.

"How did you…did they just _let _you onboard?" he demanded. Mal gestured for him to follow her and she led him to the line of medical personnel waiting for uniforms, and though she was already changed, Mal waited with him.

"Why wouldn't I be let onboard?" she asked, confused.

Leo received his uniform from a bored looking orderly and ducked behind a curtain while he changed. It wasn't that he wasn't thrilled to see Mal on the Enterprise. If anyone deserved to be on that ship it was her, but a part of him had hoped that Pike had grounded her, too. He would have felt better knowing she was safe on the ground. God only knew what sort of contaminants they were going to run into on a foreign planet. His mind was already rolling over all of the Vulcan diseases he could remember. As far as he knew, they didn't get sick much.

That was a small blessing.

"Jim was grounded because his goddamn hearing hadn't been ruled on," he said through the curtain. "They were going to leave him behind. I had to give him a vaccination for Levaran mud fleas to make him sick enough to smuggle onto the shuttle."

Mal snickered. "I knew we were rubbing off on you. Way to think on your feet, cowboy."

The curtain was yanked back and Leo towered over her, hazel eyes not amused in the slightest. Mal audibly swallowed as she looked him over. He looked _good_ in his medical uniform, put together and capable. _God bless Starfleet,_ Mal thought to herself as her throat went dry. "Well, hello doctor," she said with a grin.

"What?" He self-consciously tugged on his collar and smoothed his hair. Mal's fingers itched to reach out and touch him. That was the Betazoid in her. She was picking up on Leo's insecurity and all she wanted to do was reassure him. Still, she couldn't trust herself not to get swept up.

Crap. Maybe she _did_ need to start meditating.

"Nothing," she said softly. "It just…suits you." She traced the Starfleet insignia over his heart and tried to ignore the way he emotionally recoiled from her touch even while he leaned cloesr to her.

"Hey!" Doctor Puri emerged from his office, looking extra pissy. "Are you my last senior medical officer?" he demanded, coming up between them. Leo nodded and Puri grunted. "Great. You stay here with Doctor Allen and do what you can for these squeamish kids. Watch that man like a hawk. He's a wreck. I don't know why they keep sending me babies." Puri pointed to a nervous looking young doctor, holding a tricorder with a shaking hand. "I have to go to deck six. Someone had a panic attack and passed out in the hall. And you," he glared at Mal, "you're coming with me until we have a chance to discuss your bedside manner. I don't care what he did to you, you had no right to make that poor sot with lung worm cry."

Mal smirked. If Puri thought she was bad, just wait until he caught Leo in action. Leo seemed to be having the same thought. He smiled slightly as she sent him a knowing look. "Take care, cowboy," Mal said, turning to follow the impatient CMO out of the bay. "I'll see you soon." She left with a wink.

Leo picked up where Mal had left off, scaring the handful of anxious cadets back to their posts. The unknown they could face. An aggravated Doctor McCoy…not so much. Leo didn't pay much attention to the mission broadcast. It was some tweeting, young voice, heavily accented and difficult to follow. Something about…Wulken? And he certainly didn't think about how Mal looked in that blue minidress, her curls spilling down from her messy ponytail, her hand on his chest...

"Lightning storm!" Jim sat up with a groan and Leo ambled over.

"Ah, Jim. You're awake. How do you feel?" Leo took one cursory glance at his friend and his eyebrows shot up into his hairline.

"Good God, man!"

**Reviews are love...**


	15. Cadet Kirk Knows It All

_Alright...I did my best with this and I really hope it came off alright. I just noticed (while watching my ST09 Dvd) that Bones just sort of stands there on the bridge while everyone else is freaking out. I gave him something to do... -Ace_

**Star Trek is property of its respective owners. I only own Mallory.**

15

_Bridge to Doctor Pike._

She had only just stepped into the turbolift when her communicator chirped at her hip. Mal glanced at Puri, but he only spared her a brief look over his shoulder. "P-Pike here," she stuttered, not quite used to her own name anymore. "What's up, Captain?"

_Were you aware that you are the highest ranking medical _researcher_ onboard, Doctor? _

Mal's stomach plummeted into her boots.

"Please. Please don't take me out of medical."

Puri smirked. "Captain, you can have her," he barked into Mal's communicator. "She's been terrorizing my sickbay."

Mal fixed the old man with a withering glare before she spoke again. "It's bad enough I have to be on the same ship as you, Pop. Do I really have to work on the bridge? I am a grown woman, dammit!"

_Then behave like one. Report to your post, Doctor._

The communicator crackled once then went silent.

"Motherfucker!" Mal erupted and stomped her foot. "Computer, take me to the bridge so I can kill my father, please."

Puri rolled his eyes. "Nepotism makes the world go 'round, Pike."

"No offense, sir…but shut up."

Puri cracked the first genuine smile Mal had seen him give and patted her back. "Just keep this in mind, Pike. Even captains need vaccinations and physicals. We doctors always have the last laugh."

Mal grinned.

Maybe Puri wasn't _that_ bad.

* * *

"So that's what warp speed looks like," Mal muttered in awe, stepping off the lift. The view screen at the front of the bridge was lit with streaks of light, stars that were passing by in the blink of an eye. She stood there a moment, stupefied by the majesty of it. She was forced out of it when she felt a hit of amusement like a kick to the stomach. "No, not _you_." She dragged in her empathy, to lessen the impact of the Vulcan's emotions.

Clearly, this was going to be one of those days.

Spock never even took his attention from his screen. "Doctor Pike. I believe you are stationed at the second science consul."

"Go ahead and take your seat, Mallory." Captain Pike smiled languidly at Mal from his seat. She focused on him and let out a tentative thread of her empathy, careful to keep Spock out as much as possible. Pike was…proud. Fiercely so. He nodded to Mal and she opted to keep her mouth shut for a change. She took her place directly to the left of the helm, and brushed her fingers over the smooth glass of her consul.

"I guess I get a promotion," she said to herself. This was essentially the same thing as working in the lab. She would be scanning planetary masses and identifying different materials and elements as Enterprise acquired them. It wasn't trauma medicine, or even viral research, but it would be interesting, and that was all she could really ask for.

Mal took a moment to glance around the bridge. The helmsman was watching her with a smile on his cheery face. "Hikaru Sulu," he said, indicating himself.

"Mallory Pike," she responded, managing a lazy smile that matched her father's exactly.

Sulu's eyes widened and Mal noticed the navigator beside him gaze toward her and away again quickly. "Pike?" Sulu repeated, glancing behind him where the captain was lounging in his chair watching their interaction carefully.

"Eyes on the road, Lieutenant," Pike ordered lightly. Mal stuck her tongue out at her father and Sulu grinned nervously when the captain rolled his eyes.

Mal leaned over her consul and whispered, "Here's some insider information on the captain, Sulu. His bark is worse than his bite." Sulu relaxed a bit at her reassurance.

"Is this your first time up?" Sulu asked, glancing over at Mal again. She was staring out of the screen with a completely mystified expression. She shook her head.

"I've been on a transport ships to visit my grandparents, but I never got this view before." Mal faced him and smiled. "It's pretty spectacular. It sure doesn't look this way from home." She caught the navigator staring again and winked. "Who's your friend, Sulu?"

The young, curly-haired boy straightened up proudly. "I am Pavel Andreievich Chekov. Pleased to meet you. Ms. Pike."

Mal blinked several times as she let his heavy accent sink in. "Latvia?" she asked. She wasn't very good with accents, even American ones. She still had a hard time listening to Leo when he got especially tired or stressed.

She knew she had made a mistake when the boy frowned. "Russia!" Chekov corrected, sounding highly affronted.

Mal shrugged off her error with a small smile. "Same thing, isn't it?"

"Necht!" Chekov was floored. "Ze could not be more different! Russia is a place hoff honor, hoff dignity, and tradition! Vhat is Latwia but a cheap imitation of my motherland?"

"What did he just say about my mother?" Mal was terribly confused.

Before Sulu could stop laughing and translate, the door to the bridge slid open, letting in angry shouts and confused implorations. Startled, everyone turned to look. Three bodies hurtled onto the bridge and Mal spun around in her seat completely. Apparently, she had left medical too soon. Uhura, Leo, and Jim skidded to a panting, gasping stop in front of Pike.

"Captain? Sir, you have to stop the ship," Jim pleaded, while Leo tried to drag him back out into the corridor.

"Kirk?" Pike stood up. Mal was still tied to him by that sliver of empathy and she felt keen irritation along with a begrudging amazement. Pike was impressed despite himself. "How the hell did you get onboard the Enterprise?"

Leo looked like he was going to murder Jim where he stood. "Captain this man is under the influence of a severe reaction to a vaccine," he grated out while Jim tried to talk over him. "He's completely delusional and I take full responsibility."

"Vulcan is _not _experiencing a natural disaster," Jim finally managed to make himself heard. "It's being attacked by Romulans."

Mal felt her jaw go slack. She hadn't been expecting that.

Slowly, she got up from her station and smoothed the creases out of her skirt. "This had better be good, Jim," she muttered as she moved to stand beside him. Mal threw a questioning look to Uhura, but her friend only shrugged, looking as baffled as the rest of the bridge. With a sigh and a small smile to Leo, Mal pulled out another thread of empathy and attached it to Jim. With a frightened gasp, she immediately broke the link. Jim was terrified. She had never felt him like that. Ever.

Leo saw the blood rush out of her face and moved behind her protectively, his steadying hands on her shoulders. He didn't miss Pike's sharp eyes follow the small gesture and Leo couldn't help but feel like he had gained some small victory there.

Mal tried to stop her own hands from shaking. "Listen, Captain," she said, holding her reeling head. He father spared her a cool glance, but his jaw was stubborn. "Just listen. He's telling the truth."

Pike shook his head in disbelief. "Not now, Mallory. Cadet Kirk. I think you've had enough attention for one day." Mal glowered. Not now? Like she was asking him for the keys to the car instead of interceding on behalf of the entire starship? "McCoy, take him back to medical. We'll have words later."

"Aye, captain."

Mal stopped Leo as he moved toward Jim. "I said _listen_ to him!"

"Sir—" Jim threw her a grateful look, but it was premature. Everyone was determined to ignore what he had to say. Mal flinched away as Spock decided he was going to join the conversation. She threw walls up around her mind, but it did nothing to sooth her burning sixth sense. She felt his anger as surely as it was her own. Suddenly she hated James Kirk. He was arrogant, presumptuous, and irreverently illogical. Men like him had to be educated, taught respect… Mal jerked back, eyes wide.

Spock was _pissed._

"Mr. Kirk is not cleared to be aboard this vessel," Spock said loftily, adding fuel to Pike's anger.

Jim and Spock were both doing their best to talk over the other, grappling for Pike's attention and Mal took that opportunity to interrogate Leo. "What the hell happened? I leave you two alone for five minutes and you let him stage a coup?"

Leo fixed his exasperated gaze on Mal. "One of you is going to kill me, do you understand that?" he griped, holding on to the back of Jim's shirt to keep him from lunging at Spock. "One of you is going to give me a goddamn aneurism." Mal only smiled. That was her Doctor of Doom.

Spock was quoting one regulation after another and his clipped monotone caught Mal's attention again. "I can have the cadet removed from—"

"Try it!" Jim barked at Spock. "This cadet is trying to save the bridge!"

Spock's face was perfectly calm but Mal _felt_ him sneer. "By recommending a full stop mid-warp in the middle of a rescue mission?"

"It's not a rescue mission. Listen to me, it's an attack!" Jim insisted.

"Based on what fact?" Spock's words seemed to be echoed in the expressions of those on the bridge.

Mal had had enough. They weren't getting anywhere this way, with everyone yelling at everyone else. All they were succeeding in doing was wasting time and crushing each other's feelings. She knew…she could feel it. Her eyes turned black as Mal dropped her defenses and let her empathy lash out like a whip. She didn't know exactly how to aim, but she did her best to remember her mother's lessons and focused on the three bristling men in center ring. She stumbled back into Leo, the flame of emotion that was Spock making her whimper from the impact. Mal forced a blanket of serene calm over the combatants and struggled to keep it there. _Let's see you keep fighting, now_, she thought bleakly.

"Dammit, Mal!" Leo held onto her as she labored to maintain her projection. "I'm sure that's not going to get you in trouble at all." He carefully wrapped an arm around her to keep her upright. Without her walls up, Mal's projection affected him too, moving slowly up through his hands to warm him as completely as a glass of bourbon. He sighed, aware he was being indirectly manipulated, but as usual, he didn't care. He was along for the ride. Leo was about to admonish her, but Mal's pupils were completely dilated. Mentally, she was checked out. All he could do until she snapped out of it was be a good friend and make sure she didn't fall on her face.

Spock raised an eyebrow in their direction but he did not comment on what was clearly a psionic attack. He was right about her having impressive strength behind those icy blue eyes. Black eyes? He would puzzle that out later. As it was Spock could not afford to be distracted by Mal's interference or Nyota's presence.

The fight continued…calmly, thanks to Mal's persuasion.

"That same anomaly, a lightning storm in space that we saw today, also occurred on the day of my birth." Mal slowly pulled her senses back, freeing the three of them from her influence. There should be enough of a residual buzz from her meddling for Jim to get out whatever he had to say. She just hoped that whatever it was, it was worth it or the both of them might as well fling themselves out of the first available airlock.

Leo felt Mal sway on the spot. Connecting with others like that was dangerous, and Mal was feeling the effects like she had just gone ten rounds with Uhura in hand to hand. She came out of her trance with a groan and labored to wall up her mind again. "Well, that sucked," she whispered as she turned to rest her cheek against Leo's chest, hands fisting into the fabric of his uniform. "Got anything in that med kit for a migraine?"

Mal listened closely to Jim while Leo dug around hastily for a hypospray. She was impressed. Jim was far more eloquent and believable when he wasn't panicking and frothing at the mouth like a rabid dog. His smooth words filled the stunned silence while the entire bridge listened intently. "At 2300 hours last night there was an attack. Forty-seven Klingon war birds were destroyed by Romulans, sir. It was reported that the Romulans were in one ship. One massive ship."

Pike glanced at Mal where she was being doctored and frowned before looking back at Jim. "And you know of this Klingon attack how?"

Jim turned to Uhura and slowly Pike and Spock followed his gaze. She grimaced but took a deep breath. "Sir, I intercepted and translated the message myself. Kirk's report is accurate."

"We're warping into a trap, sir. The Romulans are waiting for us, I promise you that."

Everyone on the bridge held their breath. Mal felt her father's uncertainty, but Christopher Pike was nothing if not a fair-minded man. He believed that Kirk thought they were in danger. Whether that was the truth was another matter entirely, but…

"The cadet's logic is sound." Spock's simple statement stunned them all, none more so than Mal. She could feel his utter loathing for Jim. A small smile ticked up the curve of her mouth. Logic trumps hatred. She'd have to ask him about that. "And Lieutenant Uhura is unmatched in xenolinguistics. We would be wise to accept her conclusion."

And just like that, it was resolved. Pike straightened up and with one glance around the bridge had everyone alert and awaiting his orders. "Scan Vulcan space. Check for any transmissions in Romulan."

"Sir, I'm not sure I can distinguish the Romulan language from Vulcan." A nervous looking lieutenant peeked up from the screen and into several pairs of impatient eyes.

Mal sighed. "Get Uhura to try," she said quietly as Pike walked past her. He put a reassuring hand on her head and mussed her curls, much to Leo's annoyance.

"You're alright?" Pike asked quietly. When Mal nodded he turned his attention to Uhura. "You can speak Romulan, Cadet?"

Uhura straightened up proudly. "All three dialects, sir." At Pike's request, she took over the communications station and started scanning the frequencies.

"Ow!" Mal yelped as Leo pressed a hypo to her neck. She got looks from around the bridge and she blushed, but the hypo did its job. The stabbing pain behind her eyes faded to a dull thud. She felt like she had just been wrung out. "Thanks, Leo," she muttered into his chest. She really didn't feel like supporting her own weight at the moment.

"No problem, darlin'." He was still holding onto her, though it was unnecessary at this point. Leo couldn't help but notice that her uniform made her eyes look even brighter.

Probably not the best time to imagine her _out _of uniform…

Jim was pacing the bridge, Mal's calming effect starting to wear off. "That's because they're being attacked," he said simply in response to something Uhura had said. Leo hadn't been paying attention.

Neither had Mal.

Pike went slowly back to his chair, his eyes narrowed in thought. "Shields up," he ordered. "Red alert." Mal didn't need to use their link to sense his apprehension. It was all over his face and mirrored by his crew. Mal clung to Leo and she felt his hold on her tighten slightly. They were the two useless crewmen on the bridge as the alarms started to go off and everyone sat poised at their stations. Mal supposed she could go to her consul but what the hell good would she be? Somehow she doubted she'd need to analyze any dirt samples or unknown life forms during whatever was awaiting them up ahead.

"Doctor." Mal winced at the chill in Spock's voice.

Leo and Mal both turned as Sulu started a countdown to their arrival in Vulcan air space. "I am not referring to you, Doctor McCoy." His heated glare was trying to melt her skin and Mal cringed when she felt his extreme displeasure crash into her. "When we return to the Academy you and I will be having a very detailed conversation about the ethical codes you violated by forcing your will onto your commanding officers."

Mal glared and moved closer to Leo. "Blow it out your ass, bowl-cut."

Spock looked like he was about to say something else, but they were all immediately distracted when the Enterprise came out of warp…

And into a nightmare.

**Reviews are love...**


	16. Can Chris Come Out and Play

_Best Review Award goes to **Go Suck On A Lemon** for the following : "_Puri can suck it. Seriously."_ I almost wet myself laughing. Thanks for that. Really, thank you. –Ace _

**Star Trek is property of its respective owners. I only own Mallory. **

16

There was an agonizing moment of incomprehension while everyone tried to understand what they were seeing. Hulking blocks of scored, twisted metal floated effortlessly past the hull. Bits of blackened debris filled the void between planet Vulcan and the Enterprise and desperate disruptor fire cut across the darkness.

"Emergency evasive!" Pike gave the order, snapping his bridge back to their senses. Everyone began talking at once, calling out the status of the ship and reports from other departments as they came in. Those unfortunate enough to be standing were nearly thrown off their feet as the ship rocked violently. Mal bolted to her station and immediately started scanning the wreckage for signs of life. A shuttle, an escape pod …she'd settle for a cardboard box with a Hemi and an air tank. She wasn't about to get picky.

She upped the scanner's sensitivity, her eyes glued to her screen. Seven ships. There had been seven other ships that had gone on ahead of them, each averaging at least three hundred people on board, some of them friends. And now?

Now there was only space junk.

She'd melt down later.

"Drop us down underneath them, Sulu."

The helmsman had already performed some remarkable aerial acrobatics to keep them from colliding with the debris that only moments ago had been their armada, but there was no opportunity to praise his skill. The ship protested loudly as Sulu steered the Enterprise beneath the heavy, broken disk of a ruined ship. Mal monitored the scanners, hoping to pick up something… anything from the burnt out shell.

"Please," she whispered to herself. "Please let somebody be out there."

"Captain, they're locking torpedoes," Spock alerted Pike from his station. In the back of her mind, Mal was impressed by Spock's control, even in a horrifying situation. Personally, she wanted to crawl under her station and suck her thumb, but she knew that wouldn't fly with the captain. Instead, Mal bent over her consul and picked through the readings as they flashed across the screen. There was no life. Nothing had escaped.

And they were next.

Her father's command was instantaneous. "Divert auxiliary power from port nacelles to forward shields." There was no hesitation or uncertainty. There was only cool authority and level-headed confidence. That was why Captain Pike was the best.

Mal was thrown forward into her consul when the ship was hit. She struggled to right herself and saw the crewmen around her doing the same as damage reports started pouring in. "Decks seven and six are compromised," she said as the alert came up on the screen. There were science offices there. People she would have worked with… She spotted Jim pulling himself off his knees, looking a bit stunned. He caught her eye, but this time there was no supportive wink or comforting smile. There was only the grim realization that this was not a simulation and there was no way for them to cheat their way out of it.

Something heated dripped down from Mal's forehead and she pressed a shaking hand to the source. There was an ache and when she lowered her hand, her fingers were sticky with blood. "Fuck!" Mal brushed the blood off her face with an impatient swipe and turned back to her readings. Her screen had just gone crazy. "We just lost cargo bay two!" She tried to remember what had been loaded there and why the alert would come to the medical science station…

"Son of a bitch!"

Their entire reserve of overflow medicinals was gone. That meant they only had whatever was stocked in the sickbay to last them and by the looks of things… well, it wasn't going to be enough. She tapped the buttons on the screen. "Doctor Pike to Medical."

_A-A-Allen here. _

Allen? The nervous kid with the print out medical degree? That didn't bode well. "Allen, where's Puri?" Mal demanded.

_I don't know._

Did he have to sound like he was about to burst into tears? Mal's fingers moved over the consul as she tried to lock down whether or not the sickbay had supplies stashed anywhere else on board. "What's the situation down there, Doctor?"

Mal heard him sniffle. _There are casualties from all departments and too many injured. I can't do this all by myself._

"Listen to me, kid, McCoy and I are on the way, just do what you can, and go easy on the inventory, it's all we've got. Pike, out." She groaned and spun in her seat. Mal spotted Leo doing a patch job on one of the bridge crew and flagged him down. "Saddle up, cowboy, we're moving out."

Leo looked up from the tactical officer that had chipped her front teeth in the first barrage of torpedoes. He nodded and closed up his kit while Mal stood and diverted all alerts to Spock's station. The Vulcan glanced up when his screen started working double time, his eyes annoyed, and Mal gave him the finger. She thought she'd gotten away with it, but her father frowned and shook his head.

"It's not the time, Mallory."

"Captain? We're being hailed." Uhura gestured up to the view screen as she jiggered with the prompts at her station. The carnage was suddenly hidden from view as a sunken, tattooed face appeared. Dark circles were under his calculating eyes, and his mouth twitched a bit as he chewed on his tongue and looked over the bridge with interest. His eyes paused on Jim, on Leo, on the helm, even on Mal before settling on Spock for an eerily long time. Finally, he looked at Pike, thoughtful.

Mal surreptitiously took stock of the emotional state of the bridge. The stress levels were dangerously high. With a steadying breath, Mal tried to gently project courage and composure. It wasn't a forceful, huge effort like her earlier projection. It was more like a suggestion that wrapped around each person, soaking into them and protecting them from their own nerves and the creepy Romulan's intimidation.

It wasn't much but it still left her lightheaded. Mal panted a bit. She had never been comfortable with her Betazoid half and yet how many times had she used it already since her arrival on the bridge? Maybe her mother was right. Eventually, the blood will tell. Hers was currently telling her that she had better knock it off before she fainted, and in that short uniform...well, best remain upright.

"Hello," the Romulan greeted, almost pleasantly.

Pike waited to see if he would go on but after a few moments of silence, he opted to continue the conversation himself. "I'm Captain Christopher Pike. To whom am I speaking?"

The Romulan on screen smirked. "Hi, Christopher, I'm Nero." He sounded like a preschooler introducing himself to a new friend.

"You've declared war against the Federation," Pike said. "Withdraw and I'll agree to arrange a conference with Romulan leadership in a neutral location."

"I do not speak for the empire. We stand apart as does your Vulcan crew member. Isn't that right, Spock?" Nero sneered.

Spock looked over the Romulan swiftly, his head tilted with uncertainty. "Pardon me. I do not believe that you and I are acquainted."

Nero's eyes fixed on Spock with utter detestation.

"Can't leave you alone for a second, can I?" Leo appeared at Mal's side. He planted a bit of gauze against her forehead none too gently and held it there. "What did you learn?"

Mal smiled at him before answering. "In the event of a collision, the screen wins," she said softly. "You alright, cowboy?"

"I'm not the one trying to split my head open like a goddamn coconut," he muttered irritably. "Don't do it again." He ran a surgical sealant along the wound and it scabbed over immediately. There wasn't time to do a more thorough job. That would have to wait for later. If there was a later. "How's that feel, darlin'?"

Mal brushed her fingers over the slight injury and nodded. She quickly filled him in on the reports her station had gotten. "And on top of that, Allen is the only senior medical officer down there. I'm all for baptism by fire, but this is a bit more like an inferno and that kid can't handle it."

Leo cussed under his breath. "What's bridge etiquette? Can we leave during a transmission?"

"We're doctors, we can do whatever we want," Mal said and the two of them started toward the lift.

Nero was still chatting away with gleeful malice. "Captain Pike? Your transporter has been disabled. As you can see by the rest of your armada, you have no choice. You will man a shuttle and come aboard the Narada for negotiations. That is all."

The transmission ended and Mal froze on the spot. That tattooed crackerjack wanted her father to do _what_? "Don't" She said it before she could remind herself that ordering the captain around on his own bridge was probably not the best idea. "Don't even think about it."

"He'll kill you. You know that." Jim agreed in a heartbeat. He would still be in Iowa if it wasn't for Pike. He owed the captain everything.

"You're survival is unlikely," Spock added placidly.

Mal's raced to figure out her options. There wasn't a whole hell of a lot she could do. She was a doctor, not a strategist. She knew very well that she would never be able to manipulate her father without his knowing. After living thirty years with a Betazoid, Captain Pike was very perceptive of people playing with his emotions and mind. He'd know what Mal was up to before she could make anything stick. Besides, her brain felt like taffy after all of the 'mind games' she'd already played.

"Captain, we gain nothing by diplomacy," Jim pointed out. "I'm telling you that going over to that ship is a mistake.

"I, too, agree. You should rethink your strategy," Spock discouraged. His dark eyes were tense and Mal could feel every bit of his confused discontent. What had the Romulan said to him? She couldn't remember. She'd been too busy trying to sneak onto the lift.

Crap. They still had to get down to medical…

"I understand that," Pike said calmly. "I need officers who have been trained in advanced hand to hand combat."

Sulu was the only one to raise his hand. "I have training, sir."

Pike nodded. "Come with me." He spared his daughter a brief glance before he turned to walk off the bridge. "Kirk, you too. You're not supposed to be here, anyway. Chekov, you have the con."

"Aye, Keptin."

Pike paused on his way out. "Mallory, walk with us."

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	17. Say My Name

**Star Trek is property of its respective owners. I only own Mallory. **

17

"Without transporters we can't beam off this ship, we can't assist Vulcan, we can't do our jobs." Pike was walking through engineering with Jim, Sulu, and Spock. Mal stuck close to Jim and more or less ignored what her father was saying. Her mind was otherwise occupid. She wasn't sure if she could do a projection when her brain felt like oatmeal sloshing aroud a sieve, but she was going to try. "Mr. Kirk, Mr. Sulu, and Engineer Olson will space jump from the shuttle. You will land on that machine that they've lowered into the atmosphere that's scrambling our gear. You'll get inside, you'll disable it, you'll beam back to the ship."

Mal shuddered. It wasn't working and the effort was making her vision go all wobbly. She sucked in a deep breath and did her best to wrap Sulu and Jim in layer after layer of encouragement, confidence, and caution. _You've been trained for this,_ she whispered briefly through their subconscious._ Be careful, be smart, and take care of each other. _

Mal carefully reinforced her links with Sulu and Jim and blinked her weariness away. There was no time for discomfort. She had things to do.

Her father would be a bit harder to maneuver so Mal kept it simple. Clarity, courage, and love. Mal stuck to those three simple impulses and made sure each one clung to her father before she added. _Be strong. Come back to us._ He looked over his shoulder at her, his lazy smile in place. He nodded once, agreeing to adhere to her unspoken sentiments. She hadn't gone unnoticed, but she hadn't gone unappreciated, either. Mal would consider it a win. Smiling in return, Mal strengthened their link and the fatigue settled over her again, even worse than before.

She needed a nap.

Maybe after the mind numbing terror was resolved.

"Mr. Spock," Pike said as they reached the lift that would take them to the shuttle bay, "I am leaving you in command of the Enterprise." Mal snorted and Spock shot her a look. "Once we have transport capabilities and communications are back up, you will contact Starfleet and report what the hell's going on here. And if all else fails, fall back and rendezvous with the rest of the fleet in the Laurentian System…Kirk I'm promoting you to first officer."

"Captain, please, I apologize. The complexities of human pranks escapes me," confessed Spock. Mal snickered and shook her head, earning a disapproving glare from her new captain.

Pike smiled, amused at the pair he was leaving behind. "It's not a prank, Spock. And I'm not the captain. You are. Let's go." He got onto the lift, flanked on either side by Jim and Sulu.

"Sir, after we knock out that drill what happens to you?" Jim asked. He and Mal both waited for Pike's answer, their matching baby-blues worried.

"Well, I guess you have to come get me," Pike made an attempt at humor. "Mallory." He held her gaze. "Tell your mother…"

"I know, Pop." She tried to hold it in, but a tear slid down her cheek, followed by another. Mal wiped her eyes with the heel of her hand. "Dammit, Dad, be careful." She stepped forward and threw her arms around his neck. He hugged her hard enough to make her ribs ache, but Mal held on. She knew very well that she might not see him again.

Jim's eyes nearly popped out of his head as Captain Pike held onto his friend. Pop? Dad? Did that mean Mal was… oh, boy. Distractedly, Jim tried to count up all the times he had made inappropriate comments or gestures towards Mal in Pike's presence. The answer made him shift uncomfortably and stare at the floor.

Pike slid off his wedding band and pressed it into Mal's palm. "I'll be back for that."

Mal's fingers curled over the warm piece of platinum and she had to turn away before she fell apart. "You'd better be. Jim, you get your ass back to this ship, do you understand me?"

"You got it…Pike." He smirked at her and Mal grinned shakily.

"Lieutenant Sulu," She winked at him and the pilot stood a bit taller beside her father. "Godspeed, gentlemen," Mal said quietly. "I've got you all up here so…you know, keep it clean." She tapped her temple and Jim rolled his eyes while Sulu managed a confused smile.

"Keep my girl safe, Spock," Pike ordered. "And careful with the ship, she's brand new."

The door closed and Jim took a moment to regain his senses. "So Mal's you're…"

"Yes," Pike answered before Jim could even get the rest of the question out.

"Huh," Jim said leaning against the cool wall of the lift. He should have been thinking about the mission at hand. He should have been worried about being dropped out of a shuttle with nothing more than Starfleet regulation parachute between him and a speedy death. He should have been concerned with all the things that could go wrong, but that wasn't Jim Kirk's style. He grinned, only one thought really on his mind.

_I hope I'm around when Bones finds out. _

* * *

"You fucking idiot! What part of 'low on supplies' didn't you understand?" Leo dodged a live wire hanging down from the bay ceiling to shake Doctor Conner Allen stupid. Not that it required much shaking, but still, it made Leo feel better. The kid was pretty much just dosing everyone that came into Medical with a 'happy hypo', a pharmaceutical cocktail that knocked anyone injected straight on their ass. It was also completely unnecessary and a drain on their limited provisions.

The lights flickered ominously. "Get your ass to the door and try and organize the people coming in. Those with superficial injuries to the left with the interns, those with severe to critical injuries, over here to Chapel and me." Allen stood frozen in place. "What the fuck are you waiting for, kid? Move it!"

Allen squealed and ran off to obey. "Hey, Pengler!" Leo stopped a nurse that was running past. "Give the interns laser sealers and remind them that those are sophisticated pieces of equipment, not toys, and they _will _burn their retinas out if they play with them."

"Yes, Doctor."

Leo looked over the madness that was the medical bay and shook his head. He had an engineer with a piece of paneling in his stomach, another that was severely burned, a third that had been almost crushed by his machinery during the torpedo hit…there were too many critical cases and only one Leonard McCoy to deal with them.

Leo rolled up his sleeves and went to it. It was slow, bloody work, and he was accutely aware that the large steel cabinet that housed their inventory was beginning to look a bit pitiful. "Computer, locate Doctor Puri."

_No such person onboard,_ the computer chirped.

Leo cursed. He had been afraid of that.

Nurse Christine Chapel was assisting him and she shook her head sadly. "He was on deck six when the ship was hit. I don't think he can help us, now."

With a tense scowl, Leo nodded. "How do they expect four doctors to take care of three hundred people when one of them's a goddamn kid, one gets himself blown to shit, and another one wonders off… computer, locate Doctor Parker."

_No such person onboard._

Leo nearly zapped a new hole into the unconscious man on the biobed in front of him. Maybe had hadn't been clear enough. "Computer, locate Doctor Mallory Parker," he commanded again.

_No such person onboard._

"Holy shit." Leo's face paled. "No. No, no, no."

Christine glanced at Leo over the open abdominal cavity between them, her mellow, brown eyes concerned. She started reconnecting arteries and closing the wound while Leo stared blankly at the wall. "Are you talking about Mal, Doctor McCoy?"

Leo nodded mutely.

She was dead. Or, if Pike took her over to that Romulan ship, she was as good as dead…he was going to be sick. This was even worse than a divorce. Jocelyn had _wanted_ to go, and good fucking riddance, but Mal… Mal had been taken away. Leo pushed his knuckles against his eyes, trying to relieve the burning sensation prickling his corneas.

"Don't get upset. You just need to say the command properly, Doctor," Christine chided. "Computer, locate Doctor Mallory Pike."

_Current location : Turbolift three._

Leo froze, his hands still balled into fists as he slowly looked up. Chapel took a step back when she saw his expression, like a tornado about to touch down. Leo's hazel eyes flashed dangerously. "Say that name again?"

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	18. Permission to Hit you, Sir

**Star Trek is property of its respective owners. I only own Mallory.**

18

Spock was not amused.

Pike was going over to the Narada despite it being completely illogical to do so. He had also made James Kirk the first officer, which was another highly irrational decision. And he had ordered Spock to keep tabs on Mal as though the Vulcan were some sort of babysitter. Spock was not sure what one had to do to keep a woman like Mallory Pike 'safe' but he imagined that a potent sedative and a secure facility of some kind would be imperative.

No, Spock was not amused.

The Vulcan glanced down at Mal and a small crease worked its way between his upswept brows. She had a rather peculiar expression on her face. She looked…

"Do not cry," he ordered swiftly. "Under no circumstances do you have permission to cry."

Spock's impatience smacked into Mal and she hissed in pain, snapping back to her senses. "What's your fucking problem?" she bit. "Don't you have to get back to your tree and bake cookies?"

"I wish to return to the bridge as quickly as possible," Spock answered evenly. A swirl of disapproval washed over her but Mal shook it off, pressing her fingers to her throbbing temples. "We cannot help the Captain if we remain standing in engineering." He turned on his heel and left Mal standing there struggling to resurface from the smug superiority that he left in his wake.

Fuck Vulcans and their goddamn emotions,Mal thought bitterly. She debated throwing her boot at the back of his stupid Vulcan head, but decided against it. Maybe later.

After a nap.

And after she had Leo stick a pain hypo between her eyes.

"Wait up!" She caught up to him in the corridor and struggled to keep pace with Spock's long stride. "What's your plan?" she asked. The words hardly more than a guttural rasp. Mal stared up at him with over bright eyes, her gaze feverish.

Spock's eyebrow twitched. "I intend to follow Captain Pike's orders."

"No shit, sir." Mal rolled her eyes and then pinched them shut as though the small maneuver had caused her no small amount of pain. "I mean what's the backup plan? Nero didn't look like he really planned on cooperating. The dude was a crackerjack. It's going to turn into a dogfight sooner rather than later. We have to be ready for the shit to hit the fan."

Spock looked down at her impassively. "You are a deeply disturbed creature."

"I bet you say that to all the girls," Mal said sarcastically following him onto the turbolift. "Deck five," she ordered. She slumped against the wall while the computer chirped an acknowledgement.

"Do you feel that you will be effective in the medical bay in your current condition, Doctor? Perhaps you should return to your station on the bridge." Spock was not particularly keen on that idea, but he stared ahead blankly, his hands clasped behind his back.

Mal scowled. She was tired, not dead. She could still help. If she knew Leo he probably had things well in hand in medical since he was at his best in a crisis, but God help the people that didn't move fast enough for him or got in his way. Her particular calming qualities would be invaluable in the sickbay, even if she couldn't actively participate until she stopped shaking like a damn leaf in a blizzard. "I'm not going back to the bridge, Commander. I'll have nothing to do but pick my nose."

"The position does not require you to manipulate your nasal cavities in any way." Spock said, deadpan as usual.

"You're not funny." Mal pressed her cheek to the cool wall and closed her eyes again. For a second she thought she was going to throw up all over Spock's shiny boots. Mal released a gasp of pain when she felt the threads connecting her to the away team tug. "I think the shuttle is on course," she murmured. "They've just left the Enterprise."

Spock nodded in acknowledgement. "You look unwell."

Unwell? Mal felt like her brain was about to boil out her ears. Sustaining her threads with the away team was more difficult than she thought it would be. The further away they got, the more she struggled to keep the threads active. It was bordering on painful, but Mal held on like the bulldog she was. She noticed Spock watching her, his eyebrow spiked up in question.

"This is…harder than I remember," she said, panting. "I haven't done this in a long time. Not since…" she halted. She didn't need to tell Spock. The nosey bastard had read her file. He knew all about Thom already. She frowned and felt a bit of sweat drop off the tip of her nose. "It used to be easy." She focused on her breathing. For some reason each greedy gulp of air was ragged, her lungs aching with the effort.

"Perhaps you simply need more practice," Spock suggested. "As I have already stated to you, meditation helps—"

Mal held up hand to silence him. "Don't want practice. I don't want to learn to do this, Commander. The second those men are back on this ship, I let them go and forget this ever happened. I will not play games with people's emotions."

Spock was silent a moment. "You are afraid of repeating your earlier mistakes with Thomas Price?"

"Permission to hit you, sir?" Mal was furious and she felt a hint of a question come through the thread connecting her to the Captain. Spock's an ass, she told her father privately. She felt the thread shrug, her father plainly telling her to deal with it.

"Denied," Spock answered squarely.

The door to the lift hissed open Mal staggered into the corridor, tossing a middle finger over her shoulder. Spock merely closed his eyes for a moment and Mal felt annoyed resignation. She was going to be a thorn in his side and there was no getting around it. "Doctor Pike…" The lift door hissed shut and his admonishment went unfinished.

* * *

Mal entered the sickbay and whistled. It was a war zone. It looked like a warp reactor had gone off. Lights hung down from their fixtures blinking ominously. Panels sparked, their wires spewing out like they had been violently gutted.

"Thank God." Doctor Allen grabbed her before she'd even gone two steps and shoved a tricorder into her chest. "I can't do this. He's a madman." There was no need to ask who he was talking about. 'Madman' was a fantastic descriptive word for Leonard McCoy.

"Wait, where are you going?" Mal demanded.

"Anywhere. Anywhere else!" He fled the bay, hysterical and Mal snorted in disbelief.

He was so fired.

Mal headed toward the anxious interns and situated herself among them. "Hey!" she barked. "This isn't a goddamn picnic. Grab a patient, grab a med kit, and pretend to be doctors instead of rubberneckers. The last person done gets to give their case reports to Doctor McCoy personally." The looks of horror on their collective faces was gratifying. "Move!"

Once they were hard at work, Mal staggered to the medical cabinets to take stock. They were low on antiseptics and anesthetics, but that was to be expected. The dermal regenerators and laser sealers were looking abused, but they would keep. Even the sedatives were scarce. Mal shook her head. They were in trouble. She dragged a painful breath through her nose and floor spun dangerously beneath her feet. She was letting her empathy get away from her…

Maybe she did need to start meditating.

"Mal, honey, where have you been?" Christine Chapel appeared at her side, her nurse's cap askew. "Sweetie, you'd better get out of here. If McCoy gets his hands on you before he has a chance to calm down…" she paused and scrutinized the young Doctor. "Are you alright, Mal?"

Mal felt like she was coming unglued, mentally and physically. Her limbs were too heavy, her head pounding. She could feel several conflicting emotions at once. Fear, exhilaration, panic, excitement, and none of those emotions were hers. Somewhat vacantly Mal realized that boys were about to jump.

Be strong, she pushed the thought along the threads and felt what could only be described as a Yehaw in return. Blood roared in her ears even from that small effort, but she couldn't help smiling. Mal had no doubt that the joyful exclamation had come from Jim.

Only he would get a kick out of dropping from orbit like some sort of suicidal comet.

"Doctor Pike, are you ok?" Christine's face swam in front of her.

"Sure, Christine. Just…" she slurred. "Just falling apart." Mal giggled hysterically. Her eyes fluttered shut, her body screaming and her mind burning. She was on fire. She was sure if she looked she would be crispy and blistered. Or maybe it was all mental pain. She couldn't tell. The threads yanked roughly against her mind and she felt supreme exhilaration and excitement. Go get'em, boys, she tried to send her wishes along, but she knew it failed utterly. She didn't have the strength.

Nurse Chapel saw Mal's eyes roll back a split second before the woman crashed to the floor. "Doctor McCoy!" she screeched, dropping down to her friend's side. "We need you over here!"

* * *

Other doctors might have found blinding fury distracting, but Leo used it as a motivator. The sooner he stabilized the worst of them, the sooner he would be able to hunt down Mal and kick her ass into the Delta Quadrant. He moved through the critical cases in record time, spurred on by his anger. Somehow even Doctor Allen had managed to rally since the interns were suddenly being useful.

As always, the engineers were the worst in the lot. They were the first to get hurt and the last to admit it and he wasn't in the mood to deal. Leo considered giving them the 'what did you learn' speech, but with engineers…they probably didn't learn a damn thing.

Idiots.

They wouldn't be happy until they were in twenty different pieces and scattered throughout the sub-decks.

Leo struggled not to bash a few heads in when the injuries went from burns and explosive wounds to people who had tried to play hero and gotten hurt in the process. He gave those morons over to the interns with orders not to waste the local anesthetics. With the worst of it over, Leo started to supervise the remaining procedures as the nurses and residents worked through the less severe injuries.

Pike, he gritted his teeth as he tore through sickbay barking orders and scaring those with superficial injuries out the door. She's a Pike. For three years she's been lying through her goddamn teeth.

Leo knew it was just a name, that it hardly mattered in the grand scheme of things, but he was still furious. What else did she lie about?

"Doctor McCoy!" Chapel's high pitched scream had him clapping his hands over his ears. "We need you over here!"

Leo followed the sound of her voice and found Chapel on the floor, cradling a familiar body. "What the fuck happened?" He didn't wait for an answer. He just scooped Mal out of Christine's arms and started looking for an empty biobed. When none were vacant he gritted his teeth. "If you can stand, I suggest you fucking do it now!" he barked furiously.

Several beds became available immediately.

Leo put Mal down. She was burning up, her breathing labored. He waved the tricorder over her and let out a string of swear words that had everyone in the bay staring at him with their mouths open. Mal was on the verge of a complete mental breakdown, an overload of her higher capabilities. Leo pressed a 'happy hypo' to her neck and pulled the trigger, hoping that would be enough to shut her down before her brain snapped like a rubber band.

Slowly her heart rate slowed and her body temperature began to come back into the safe zone. Leo stood over her a moment as her face relaxed. When he was certain that no one was looking, Leo leaned down and whispered in her ear. "You had better be alright, Mallory Pike," he said, anger and affection making his tone distinctly choppy. "I can't yell at you until I know you're alright."

"Doctor McCoy?"

Leo squeezed his eyes shut. When he turned around, he glared at the interns that were standing nervously by. "What the hell are you all standing around for?"

He'd never seen people scatter so fast or try so hard to look busy. Leo grinned grimly and patted Mal's hand.

"We're going to like it here."

**Reviews are love...**

_I am well aware this chapter's a bit of fluff, but it gets us past a bit in the movie where Mal would really have no place otherwise. Sorry for the delay. It took me a few days to figure out how to proceed. The next bits are...well, let's see. Spock Vs. Mal: the showdown and Delta Vega. Yay, fanfiction! - Ace_


	19. Mallory Geneva Pike

**Star Trek is property of its respective owners. I only own Mallory.**

19

Commander Adam Price had been in the transporter room when that runty little Russian had practically knocked him out of the way in his haste to get to the controls. Jim Kirk and some other idiot Price didn't know were beamed aboard, landing on their backs in a pile of limbs and gasped expletives. He glared from the wall, unnoticed and unimplicated. He'd had plenty of run-ins with Kirk and had not come out the victor in any of them. Price knew who Kirk spent his time with.

_Bastard,_ he thought angrily.

Spock immediately beamed off the ship only to return shortly with a small herd of Vulcans and a severely stricken expression. It seemed the arrogant Russian wizard wasn't as wonderful as he thought. Price sneered. He hated people who exhibited even the slightest bit of promise and delighted in their failures. He secretly hoped that Spock would pop the kid's head off like a bottle cap, but it seemed even the death of his mother was not enough to provoke more than a grimace of pain out of the Vulcan.

The entire group of them was urged to visit medical. There was a scramble to avoid the command, and Price heard several people muttering about the maniac that was running the sickbay. "Wouldn't go down there if I was on fire and being eaten by Kunkles," someone muttered darkly.

Jim and Sulu passed by Price on their way out, oblivious to his presence. "Did you feel Mal disconnect during the freefall?" Jim asked, sounding anxious.

The pilot nodded and both men rushed toward deck five ahead of the others.

Price felt an angry heat rise to his cheeks. Mal? _She_ was on Enterprise? He should have known. Of course her father would make sure that his precious little _freak _was assigned to the best ship there was. The commander slammed a fist into the wall, his eyes blazing and his mind working quickly.

He slipped into the hall in the general direction of medical bay.

Surely in all the chaos no one would notice one woman going missing.

* * *

Before Mal even opened her eyes she was crushed by a smothering grief. It wasn't hers and it wasn't singular. It was all-enveloping and the scale of it frightened her.

_Fascinating. _There was another presence in her mind, soothing and careful, though broken with sorrow. _You 'feel' before you even consider your other senses. For a person that strives to distance themselves from their gift, you rely on yours utterly._

Mal felt the rise of panic start to turn her stomach.

_There is no reason to be alarmed. This contact was necessary to quiet your mind. Your doctor correctly diagnosed you with CPD. Had there not been a telepath to assist, you would certainly have had an adverse reaction. _

Mentally Mal cursed herself. CPD. Critical Psionic Distress. It was a nice way of saying explosive insanity. Mal had had a run in with the condition once before when she was fourteen. The end results involved a formal inquiry, a clean up crew, and a funeral. It wasn't something she wanted to experience on a starship. All that would be left would be a burnt out shell of a ship and her boots at ground zero.

'Adverse reaction' didn't even cover it.

_Who are you?_ Mal asked. There was a strangeness to this mind. It certainly wasn't Betazoid. It was too oppressive. Too regimented. Too… _Aw, crap. You're Vulcan._

_Indeed. I am Sarek, a member of the Vulcan High Counsel. I am pleased that I was able to assist in your recovery, Doctor Pike. I believe you are sufficiently improved and that I may withdraw with no danger to you._

_Wait. _Mal saw something. Not moods or sensations, but thoughts. She saw a dark place underground, full of meaning and history, thought she could not understand it. She saw Spock, filthy and frightened appear out of the shadows and begin to lead away a woman, urging them all to move quickly. She felt nothing but overwhelming, irrational love for the delicate creature that Spock led gently but hurriedly along. She saw the surface of Vulcan crumbling around her and she felt fear, and rage, consuming and powerful. She saw all that remained of a once mighty Vulcan Counsel, standing in the Enterprise's teleportation room, with one glaring oversight. The woman was gone. And Spock looked…broken.

_This is private grief._

Mal was turned out of the images too late. She was stunned by what she had witnessed second hand through Sarek. _Vulcan is…gone?_

The response was brief. _Not so long as there are Vulcans._

The presence slipped out and Mal clawed her way back to consciousness. A soothing hand brushed through her hair and dampened the misery that permeated the air and replaced it with exuberant charm. Blearily, she opened her eyes and found herself staring into a familiar pair of baby blues.

"Hey, gorgeous. Did you miss me?"

"Jim?" She blinked up into his warm smile, confused. She knew by the irritating beep of the heart monitor and the smell of disinfectant that she was in medical. But she had no idea how she had gotten there.

"What happened?" Mal asked, groggy. She looked Jim over slowly. His left eye was swollen, the skin broken. He was covered in a layer of fine, red dust, his hand bandaged, and his lip split. He looked like he'd had another run in with the boys in the security department. Poor Jim. He could never stay in one piece for long. "You look like hell."

Jim laughed. "Babe, I just jumped out of a space shuttle, got the crap knocked out of me by an irate Romulan, and was nearly pancaked against a fucking cliff on…" he stopped and looked around nervously. "Anyway, excuse me for not looking daisy fresh." Mal started to get up but Jim gently pushed her back into the biobed, his crooked smile reassuring. "Don't get up. In fact, you should probably play dead. Bones is on a tear."

"Jim, is it true about Vulcan? Is that why people are… are so sad?" Mal looked around and spotted a half dozen tall, rigid figures that were sitting stiffly while the interns and nurses looked them over, clearly intimidated. Vulcans. Twelve dark eyes slide in her direction, but she felt absolutely nothing coming from them. They either had no emotions or had them completely concealed from her sixth sense. One of them nodded to her discreetly, and Mal guessed he was the one that she had been speaking to.

"How did you know about Vulcan?" Jim asked. "You were out the whole time."

Mal pointed to her head as if to say 'Duh. I know all and see all'.

"What about Pop? Is he…" The question died in her throat when Jim shook his head, eyes downcast. She looked down at her father's wedding band that was loose around her thumb. She was going to have to tell her mother…her sisters… Mal's lip quivered. "What happened?"

Jim shook his head. "I don't know. But Nero dusted Vulcan and then he warped the hell out of here."

The silence that fell between them loaded. "And the Captain?"

"With Nero."

That was all it took for her heart monitor to start going berserk. Mal hung her head and closed her eyes, trying in vain to feel for some shred of her father, but her stressed brain wouldn't cooperate. She was mentally tapped out. She wouldn't be projecting again for a long time and even her empathy was limited to the people located directly near her.

"We'll get him back, Mal, I swear it," Jim said quickly. "Please calm down before..."

Too late. Leo came out of the CMO's office with his tricorder in hand, his expression carefully schooled. He pointed an accusatory finger at Jim. "What did I tell you?"

"To come get you when she woke up?" Jim's answer came out as a question, like he wasn't sure if he was correct or not.

"Bingo, Jimboy." Leo glanced at Mal, his eyes flashing dangerously. "You. Get. In. This. Office." Leo didn't wait for her. He just stormed back into Puri's office and out of sight.

"What…" Mal said, bewildered. "Who pissed in his coffee?"

"That would be you." Jim smirked and helped Mal hop off the bed. "He's a lot calmer now than he was. I thought he was going to stroke out before."

Mal shook her head. "He's mad at me? What for?"

"_Mallory Geneva _Pike_, get your lying ass into this office!" _

Jim thought maybe if the situation had been different, the look on Mal's face would have been hilarious. Her jaw went slack and her blue eyes widened in surprise. "Did he just say what I think he did?"

"Yup." Jim couldn't hold back a snort of laughter as he gave her a little nudge toward the office. "Better not keep him waiting. Oh, and a bit of advice?" She looked up at him. "If he starts frothing at the mouth, show him your tits or something. That ought to calm him down."

Leo's bark interrupted whatever retort Mal might have had. "I said _now, _Mal!"

Mal stuck her middle finger in Jim's face and stomped into the office. Jim watched her go grinning like the big kid that he was until leggy, blonde nurse brushed past and he was immediately distracted.

"Hey, beautiful, wait up!"

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	20. Redacted

**Star Trek is property of its respective owners. I only own Mallory.**

20

Leo had done a bit of digging while Mal was unconscious. He couldn't help it. He was a doctor and to the best of his knowledge, his patient had a manipulated personnel file. He couldn't trust the medical records he had on Mallory Parker since no such person technically existed, so Leo felt completely justified going into the system and having the computer locate her real files.

Far from answering his questions, the dossier further confused the shit out of him.

With the exception of her last name, everything Mal had ever told him was true. She was born in Mojave, California in December of 2231 to Christopher Pike and Marlow Pike, formally Marlow Ral of Betazed. Older sister, Darby, younger sister, Kadence. Distinctive empathetic traits… the list of things he already knew grew.

Then, like some sort of cruel joke, nothing.

With the exceptions of the words 'and', 'but', and 'it' her entire file was redacted starting in 2245. Her whole goddamn file, a fucking novel compared to his own, was a mass of black lines. He was no more informed now than he was when he began.

He had hoped to be able to confront her armed with information. Without that, Leo had only his anger and the foulest mouth in the medical bay.

They would have to do.

* * *

The door to the office slid shut behind Mal and she stood unashamed and grinning as Leo sat down behind the desk reserved for the CMO. He saw her eyebrows shoot up, surprised, but she didn't comment.

"Sit." Leo gestured to one of the hard plastic chairs opposite him. Mal ignored the suggestion and sat on his desk, dead in front of him. There was only a hairsbreadth between them and, as usual, he shifted uncomfortably first, leaning back to glare up at her. "What the fuck are you smiling about. You're in trouble with me, kid."

"Yeah right," Mal snorted and poked at him with her boot. "I've seen you nuclear one too many times, cowboy, so you'll have to excuse me if I don't pee my pants when you start yelling."

Leo folded his arms across his chest, displeased with her obvious amusement. "Quit the bullshit. What makes you so fucking special that you get to _lie_ to the people that care about you?" His tone was dangerously low. "Or were Jim and I the only assholes that didn't know you were Chris Pike's goddamn daughter? Were you planning on ever telling me? Or was it fun for you, making the backwoods yokel think—" He cut off his own sentence. _Think he had a chance, _he almost said. That was stupid to even think. He looked up at her face quickly to see if she knew where he was going, but Mal was staring quietly at her boots.

_Look, don't touch, _he reminded himself automatically.

"I think you know me a bit better than that." Mal's voice was light. "Whatever my last name is, it hardly affects my actions or my person. Names are…interchangeable. You want to know what I went by in med school?" She was grinning at him again, that enticing half smile nearly deflating his mind.

Why was he mad again?

"I don't like being lied to," Leo said sternly.

Mal sighed. His hard hazel glare was slowly weakening her resolve. She wanted to tell him the whole truth. Really, she did. She just didn't want to see the horror, the pity, or the eventual and inevitable disgust. "Leo, I don't expect you to understand, but…I did what I had to. Once we get back to the ground, I go back to being Mal Parker. After graduation… we'll see. Pike might stick. It might not."

"Why change your name?" he growled. He was still mad, but now he was curious, too. "What happened when you were fourteen that's such a big secret?"

The smile vanished, her eyes hardened, and Mal was on her feet.

"What did you just say to me?"

There was a dangerous edge to her voice that Leo had never heard before. Ever. It was almost sinister. He wisely chose to remain silent while Mal's blue eyes raked over him icily.

She exhaled roughly and her eyes narrowed furiously. "You went into my dossier…"

"Yes, but—"

"You had no right," Mal hissed through her teeth and made for the door. Leo was on his feet in a heartbeat and snagged her arm before she could get away. "Let go!" Mal tried to shake him off, but Leo's hand was like a shackle around her bicep. He wasn't hurting her, but he sure as hell wasn't letting her leave. "Leo, I mean it!"

"What the hell are you mad at me for?" He demanded, angrily. "You're the liar."

She snorted, almost finding that humorous. _Yup, _she thought darkly, _huge fucking liar. _"Irrelevant," she bit. "You fucking snooped into my file…I ought to kick your hick ass back to Georgia!"

The venom in her words very nearly had Leo crawling under his desk. "What's the matter with you?" he demanded. "I didn't read your damn file."

Mal blinked and stopped trying to wiggle free. "Excuse me?"

"I couldn't." Leo dragged her back to the desk and shoved a PADD into her hand. "Take a look, darlin'. Your entire life has been turned into a continuous black smudge." He watched Mal's face carefully as she looked over the PADD in her hand.

"Well, I'll be damned," she said. She looked…relieved. "You…don't _do_ that to me!" Mal smacked his arm before slumping over, clearly shaken by her own reaction. "You scared the shit out of me, cowboy."

With a scowl, Leo let her arm go. "Cowboy? What we're friends again?" he demanded coolly. "No more plans to kick my 'hick ass'?"

Mal grinned and threw her arms around his neck, planting a kiss on his cheek. He was damn near struck brain dead by the subtle scent of apples that clung to her skin. He had to remind himself the biting her would be a bad idea and so he kept his lips and teeth to himself.

"None whatsoever." Mal whispered quietly into his ear. "Now hug me back, idiot," she ordered cheekily.

Leo slowly let his arms wrap around her. He didn't like that she had been so upset, so _livid, _by the thought of him in her file. Mal was hiding something.

He saw the dossier lying on his desk.

And someone was helping her.

"Mal…"

She looked up at him and there was fear in her blue eyes. "Not now. Please just let's get home before I have to… I can't tell you on a goddamed starship."

He was silent for a moment. "Is it that bad?" Leo tightened his hold on her slightly as she nodded into his neck. That answered that. "Fine. One last question…for now. Look at me."

His voice was rougher than usual and had no choice but to look up when his hand gently cupped her chin and forced it upwards. His gaze froze her in place. He was the goddamn master of the paralyzing glare, and Mal cursed herself for getting swept up in the hazel depths of his eyes. She'd tell him anything and she'd do it with a smile.

"What?"

"Are you in trouble?"

Mal's eyes slid to the PADD. "Not anymore."

Leo hissed, giving her chin a little shake. He wasn't fooling around. "You know that isn't what I meant. Are you in _danger_?"

Mal pressed her lips firmly together, thought better of it and shook her head. "No more than usual. I swear." She held up her fingers, imitating the Boy Scout salute.

It wasn't what he wanted, and the conversation hadn't gone exactly as he had planned, but it was probably the best Leo was going to get from her. "Excuse me if you _swearing_ doesn't exactly set me at ease," he said dryly. "I can't exactly note you for your honesty anymore."

He was torn between regret and satisfaction when a hurt look crossed her tired features. "Please, Leo. _It's my job._" She said it so forcefully that Leo couldn't help but think she was trying to tell him something. Mal looked pointedly down at the redacted dossier and back to him, but he didn't understand.

With a frustrated sigh, Mal nodded. "Keep this between us, please." She slowly released him, her hands trailing from his shoulders to his elbows before falling limply at her sides.

Leo nodded. He still had her chin and almost without thinking, his thumb ran along her bottom lip in a gentle movement. _Look, don't touch, _something inside him scolded. But…touching didn't seem so bad. Mal was the singularly most frustrating and impossible woman that he knew, but she was also one of his best friends. She talked him down from his terrible temper tantrums and pulled him out of his darkest days. She had seen him at his worst…

Why shouldn't he touch?

Mal let out a small sound of surprise when she suddenly found her back against the wall. One of Leo's arms was still wrapped around her, and his other slid slowly from her face to hold the back of her neck. She looked up at him, eyes wide. She felt it. At long last she felt something from him other than bitter denial and fear of what he had always felt for her. There was only want, affection, respect, and…Mal wouldn't even tease herself with _thinking_ she felt the sort of romantic love she'd been craving from Leonard McCoy for three years.

It was there and it warmed every part of her down to her heels of her feet. _Imzadi, _she thought fiercely. All it took was a near death experience and her secrets nearly being revealed…

"You're trouble," McCoy said idly, his forehead pressed against hers. There was a smile in his voice for the first time since she had woken up in medical and Mal smiled back.

"Nice of you to notice."

His eyes were on her mouth.

_Doctor McCoy, report._

The comm. on the desk let out a cheery ping followed by Spock's voice.

"What is it?" McCoy barked, not moving.

_Report to the bridge immediately. Spock, out. _

Leo looked at her in disbelief. "I think I hate thatpointy-eared bastard," he said matter of factly. His eyes were still intent on her mouth and Mal felt him pull her closer. She could feel the ghost of his breath over her lips…

Mal's comm. went off and she swore colorfully as she disentangled herself from Leo. "What the fuck?" she demanded angrily.

_That is hardly an appropriate greeting._ Spock sounded bored, as usual.

"You are under the false impression that I wanted you to feel greeted," Mal snapped. "What do you want?"

_Report to your station at the bridge. That is all._

Leo and Mal took a step toward each other...

And the door to the office hissed open. Jim stood there grinning while Bones glared daggers and Mal walked past smacking him in the head.

"What'd I do?"

**Reviews are love...**

_Alright...NOW comes the showdown and Delta Vega ::giggle:: My chpts always turn out longer than I expect. Sorry. Cheers! –Ace_


	21. Left Behind

**Star Trek is property of its respective owners. I own only Mallory.**

21

"Alright, good news and bad news," Mal announced, going over the scanning logs. She and Pavel had their heads together over his station. He was doing some bit of computer wizardry that Mal could not begin to process, and she had just finished deciphering the chemical readings and biological findings from her scanner that might have had him spinning. Pavel might be a computer genius and a physicist extraordinaire, but she was a biochemist and a doctor, thank you very much, and if there was one thing she knew, it was life forms.

"Start with the bad news," Leo muttered. He was feeling useless on the bridge, and it was putting him in a cranky funk. "Get it out of the way."

Mal snorted and shot him a look. "Buck up, cowboy, or I'll send you to your room." He smirked back at her and Mal got the tingles all the way down to her toes. She looked away, a blush rolling up her cheeks.

Thankfully no one but Leo noticed. "Give us the good news." Jim was draped over the captain's chair, his head lolled back, bored. "I think we could all use it."

"Vell, ze good news is Captain Pike vas alif vhen Nero vent into varp. Bio-scanners show one Terran aboard ze Narada." Pavel gestured to Mal, giving her the credit for figuring that out.

There were hopeful murmurs around the bridge and Sulu nodded grimly. Captain Pike was a tough, stubborn man. If anyone could survive Nero, it was him. And from the look of determination on Mal's face, if anyone was going to track Pike down, it was his daughter.

"Bad news is the douche is in warp… eleventy billion or something ridiculous, heading straight for Earth." Mal pointed to a line of mathematical gibberish lit up on Pavel's screen. Nero's ship was _booking_ it out of there_. _"I guess if we rearranged some personnel…got some of the engineers to take a whack at our warp core, we might be able to catch up, but—"

Spock interrupted. "Have you confirmed that Nero is heading for Earth?" She had in fact _not _confirmed it, but where the hell else was Nero going to go?

"His trajectory suggests no other destination, Captain." There was a hint of defeat in Uhura's voice, and Mal knew what she was thinking. Nero was going after Earth next. Their homes, their families… Mal's stomach twisted painfully and she saw Uhura's lip tremble.

Whatever Leo had dosed her with in the sickbay had saved Mal's life, but it had also left her mind tapped out. She could barely feel her own emotions, let alone anyone else's and she certainly couldn't project, but Mal could still comfort Uhura the good old fashioned way. She moved from behind Pavel to Uhura's side, squeezing her friend's hand. "We've got this, Ny," Mal whispered. Uhura looked up at her and smiled faintly.

Jim was looking thoughtful. "Earth may be his next stop but we have to assume that every Federation planet's a target."

Spock glanced at Jim and the corner of his mouth turned down a fraction. "Out of the chair," he said evenly. Jim vacated the captain's chair with a roll of his eyes.

"Can't take him anywhere, can we?" Leo asked as Mal went to stand by him. She smirked and shook her head. Leo was listening closely to the banter and he draped his arm around Mal's waist, pulling her into his side. "How the hell did they do that, by the way?" Leo demanded of something Spock had said. "Where did the Romulans get that kind of weaponry?"

"The engineering comprehension necessary to artificially create a black hole may suggest an answer. Such technology could theoretically be manipulated to create a tunnel through space-time."

There was a moment of silence on the bridge while everyone absorbed his words.

Leo was the first to call bullshit. "Dammit, man, I'm a doctor! Not a physicist! Are you actually suggesting they're from the future?"

"Believe me when I say there are stranger things in this universe than time traveling sociopaths," Mal interjected before she thought better of it. "Comparatively, an angry, future Romulan is a piece of cake."

"Comparatiwly?" Pavel asked, confused. "Compared to vhat?"

Mal opted to just stare at her boots.

It didn't even faze Jim. "Ok, so what would an angry, future Romulan want with Captain Pike?"

Sulu frowned. "As captain he does know details of Starfleet's defenses."

With an indomitable glint in his eyes, Jim nodded. "What we need to do is catch up to that ship, disable it, take it over, and get Pike back."

_Finally,_ Mal thought to herself. _Someone's making sense…and I can't believe it's Jim. _

Spock stopped abruptly to stare at Jim.

This was the first time in their short acquaintanceship that Mal wasn't cringing in Spock's presence. He was certainly more tolerable when they weren't playing emotional dodge ball, but she didn't need to be an empath to see the disdain in the Vulcan's eyes, and the ever so slight curl of his lip. "We are technologically out matched in everyway. A rescue attempt would be illogical."

She took it back. Spock wasn't tolerable at all. He was un-fucking-bearable.

Leo felt Mal stiffen up next to him. If it wasn't for his arm around her, he was fairly certain that Mal would have lunged at Spock and shaken him by his pointy ears. "Are you suggesting that we leave my father behind?"

"Nero's ship vould have to drop out of varp for us to overtake it." Pavel started, and Sulu quickly quieted his fellow helmsman with a quick shake of his head. Everyone else on the bridge seemed to sitting as still as possible, Uhura included. She knew in an angry moment, it was best not to draw Mal's attention.

"We can catch up to them, we just have to _think_," Mal growled. "We have the best and brightest minds on this ship, there's no reason why we shouldn't—"

"I apologize for requesting you to the bridge, Doctor. I should have realized that you were emotionally compromised—"

Mal stormed forward. "We're all emotionally compromised you green-blooded _computer_! We just watched our classmates blow up and a planet implode. The only one pretending that it doesn't matter is _you!_"

Spock stared down at the furious, shaking woman that was jabbing her finger into his chest. It wasn't painful so much as it was irksome and the tears streaming down her cheeks were making him rather uncomfortable. "Your loss is regrettable—"

"My loss?" Mal was toe to toe with Spock as she shouted in his face, tears rolling down her cheeks. She was rather tired of crying, but it had been one of those days, and her kind were an emotional breed as it was. "You foul, loathsome…he isn't lost yet! What is it, misery loves company? You think we should all lose a parent today? I'm not going to let you leave him. I'm not going to fail him just because you failed her!" The implication in her words was glaring and she succeeded in getting a reaction. Spock grabbed her wrist to keep her from poking at him and they both fliched when the contact opened up a telepathic link between them.

_You have no right._

_One life or many. It is logical to save the ship, not your father. _

Mal was drowing in the guilt and the anguish Spock was feeling as it tunneled straight into her through their contact and she realized how badly she had just hurt him. Good. _You have no heart_, she told him angrily. _There is nothing human about you._

"I will have you removed from the bridge," Spock's jaw was clenched.

Jim pulled Mal away from Spock and the moment their contact ended, so did their link. Jim held onto his friend protectively. "What about assigning engineering crews to try and boost our warp output?" he asked, not about to be distracted from the topic at hand. Mal was sobbing into his shoulder, angry tears soaking into his shirt.

"Remaining power and crew are being used to repair radiation leaks on the lower decks." Spock appeared completely unperturbed by Mal's sniffles and Jim's protests. "We must gather with the rest of Starfleet to balance the terms of the next engagement." Spock's tone left no room for argument.

Jim and Mal _made_ room.

"There won't _be _a next engagement!" Mal snapped dragging her hands down her cheeks in frustration.

Jim immediately agreed. "By the time we've gathered it'll be too late. You say he's from the future and he knows what's going to happen? Then the logical thing is to be unpredictable."

Spock clasped his hands behind his back. "You are assuming that Nero knows how events are predicted to unfold. On the contrary, Nero's very presence has altered the flow of history beginning with the attack on the USS Kelvin, culminating in the events of today, thereby creating an entire new chain of incidents that can not be anticipated by either party."

"An alternate reality."

Mal stared at Uhura when she said it. The entire bridge did. Some with fear, some with disbelief. Only Mal looked nervous, and it didn't go unnoticed. The small crease that seemed to be reserved for moments he spent with the troublesome doctor reappeared between Spock's brows as he studied Mal's sudden fascination with her boots.

"Precisely." Spock said haughtily. "Whatever our lives might have been, if the time continuum was disrupted, our destinies have changed."

"And you think it's the captain's destiny to be abandoned and killed?" Mal asked acidly.

Spock ignored her completely as he sat in the captain's chair. "Mr. Sulu, plot a course for the Laurentian System. Warp factor three."

Mal was in disbelief. "Spock, please…don't do that."

Jim could feel Mal falling apart. She was clutching his shirt like it was the only thing in the world keeping her upright. Her blue eyes were rimmed with red and moisture clung to her eyelashes. He hated when pretty girls cried. Seriously. He hated it. Gently he nudged Mal back toward Leo and she practically fell into his arms. For a minute Leo looked slightly panicked, but he settled on just murmuring to her quietly and holding her.

"Running back to the rest of the fleet for a…a confab is a massive waste of time!" Jim snapped.

"Those were the orders issued by Captain Pike when he left the ship—"

"He also ordered us to go back and get him!" Jim was rapidly loosing patience with the whole conversation. Mentally, he was sizing Spock up, trying to decide if he could kick his ass or not. "Spock, you are captain, now, you have to—"

Spock glanced at Jim as though he were a gnat, an annoyance hardly worth his attention. "I am aware of my responsibilities, Mr. Kirk."

"Make them stop," Mal whimpered against Leo's shoulder. "Just make them stop. I can't…I can't listen to this."

Leo closed his eyes against the pain in her voice. "Come on, Jim, he's the captain…"

But Spock had had enough. "Security, escort him out."

Mal practically growled as two red shirts came forward to lead Jim off the bridge. They both cast her nervous looks and for good reason.

One of them had no eyebrows.

When Mal made no attempt to intercede, they grabbed Jim roughly by the elbows and walked him away from the indifferent Vulcan. They didn't get far when Jim decided he didn't want to be handled. He smashed his elbow into the face of one security guard and head butted the other.

"Enough, Jim!"

"Jim, quit!"

Leo and Mal both darted toward their friend, though they had different intent. Leo was going to drag Jim out of the fight, Mal was going to jump into the middle of it to help, but they moved too slow for Spock. The Vulcan beat them to it and caught hold of Jim's neck via nerve pinch. Jim slumped to the floor unconscious.

"Get him off of this ship."

Jim was dragged out and Mal turned on Spock again. Leo caught her arm and pulled her back. "Don't even," he warned. "It's bad enough Jim just got knocked on his ass, I'm not about to let you try and take on a goddamn Vulcan."

Mal snorted her eyes on Spock. "Your mother…she was human?"

Spock froze. "Doctor Pike, this is a completely irrelevant and inappropriate topic—"

"It's really just a yes or no answer there, bro. Fuck it. I know she was. And I can tell you right now, based on pure, instinctual, _base _human emotion…If she were here she'd be ashamed of you."

Mal stormed off the bridge.

Leo turned to follow her but Spock stopped him. "You will remain on the bridge Doctor, unless you feel that those in medical are unable to perform their duties without you."

Leo glared but took a seat at Mal's station.

Mal would cool off.

And _then _he would go find her.

* * *

Lieutenants Ballard* and Eomer* were being far from gentle with the unconscious Cadet Kirk. That is, until they heard an angry hiss behind them. Both men turned to see Mal coming down the corridor and they promptly stopped dragging Jim's head on the ground.

"Seriously, what is the matter with you two?" Mal snapped as they settled Jim into an escape pod. "You think you're being funny, but just wait until he wakes up and decides he doesn't feel like laughing. Then he'll be using _you_ to mop the floor." She quickly dug into her medical satchel and pulled out a dermal regenerator, passing it over Jim's scraped forehead. In a moment he was perfectly fine, albeit, still unconscious. "I've got it from here, thank you."

Ballard crossed his arms. "We both know you ain't going to send him off this ship and then its us with our asses in a sling, not you. We'll wait right here 'til your done."

Mal straightened up. "I believe I outrank you, Harry Ballard. I can make it an order if you like. Get. The fuck. Away."

"Is there a problem here?"

The three of them all turned to see a red shirted commander walking briskly down the hall. Mal's eyes darkened considerably as she recognized him and she took a step back.

"Commander Price," she muttered bleakly.

"Parker..." He sneered. "Aw, did your stupid ass boyfriend get himself hurt again?" Price asked, looking Jim over.

Mal's held her head up arrogantly. "First of all…sir, that stupid ass has tested higher in all of his exams than you ever did, so insult him at your own risk." Mal turned back to Jim only be jerked back, a hand fisted in the hair at the nape of her neck.

"Was that a threat, Cadet?" he hissed into her ear.

Mal shrieked furiously at the indignity of being grabbed. She tried to pull away, but Price just tightened his grip, shaking her like terrier shakes a rat. "What the hell are you doing, Price? Get _off _me!"

"Commander Price," Ballard was looking up and down the corridor nervously. "You can't. You know who her father is."

Price gave Mal another shake for good measure, his other hand going over her mouth to stifle her angry sounds. "But Pike is dead, isn't he? Her immunity is gone. Her _protection_ is gone."

The cruel smile that played on his lips had both Ballard and Eomer backing off slowly. They weren't bad men, just stupid and angry. It was the _smart _and angry people that were the dangerous ones.

Adam Price… he was smart.

"Maybe you should just let her go, sir. She seems plenty scared." Eomer suggested.

"Maybe you should shut up," Price retorted. He was looking over the escape pod, his eyes glinting meanly. "What were you doing with him?"

Eomer shifted uncomfortably. "Acting captain Spock ordered him off the ship. Only place to send him is a miserable block of ice just there," he jerked his thumb west. "Scary place, that is, but there's an outpost there. Kirk'll be frozen solid, but he'll be fine."

"Hm." Price looked over the cramped shuttle. With one hand he reached into the circuitry and yanked out a handful of hissing, spitting wires. Mal made a furious screeching sound behind his hand. She wasn't computer literate, but she was fairly certain you weren't supposed to do that to highly sophisticated electronics. "Don't worry, pretty," Price hissed in her ear. "He'll be fine. He'll have _you _to take care of him."

Price shoved Mal into the shuttle while Ballard and Eomer exchanged nervous looks.

"It's less than you deserve, you murderer," Price snarled in her face while Mal struggled to free herself, "but it will have to do." He closed the pod door and sealed the airlock.

"Shit, I hate these things!" Mal very nearly had a panic attack. The escape pods were hardly big enough for one let alone two. Her fingers scrambled over the harness that had Jim strapped down safely, struggling for purchase. Too late. The pod was ejected from the ship and Mal was thrown into the door.

_Always the head, _she thought bitterly as stars exploded in her vision. Mal slid down the door with a weak whimper, a bloody smear left on the door. She slumped at the feet of her unconscious friend, and the pair of them hurtled down into a world of ice.

**Reviews are love...**


	22. Luck

_Alright, I owe y'all an apology. I think it might have been one too many cups of eggnog, because I don't know WHAT the hell I was thinking with the first draft of this chapter. Ignore my other lame ass attempt and let's just go on with the show. I'm seriously cracked sometimes. My apologies. Holidays, family, and chaos make me loony. Thank you for bearing with me...and for the handful of you that read my bonkers chapter...I promise it will never happen again. -Ace_

**Star Trek is property of its respective owners. I only own Mallory.**

22

Leo was called down to medical twice, and he didn't see Mal either time. Chapel seemed to be keeping the interns and residents in line, but he was annoyed that Mal was off pouting instead of doing her job. They didn't exactly have enough senior medical officers for her to skive off work and that wasn't like her…at the same time, Leo understood. They were leaving her father at the mercy of a madman while they turned tail and ran off for back up.

He stayed among the chaos of the infirmary as long as he could, supervising, monitoring the badly injured, and tending to the smaller hurts that were common place on starships, but inevitably the acting captain called him back to the bridge.

The moment Leo stepped off the lift, Spock was waiting, his hands clasped firmly behind his back and his face completely smooth and unaffected by their current situation. It was unnerving for Leo, especially after spending so much time with Jim and Mal, two of the most expressive and enthusiastic people he'd ever known. To see someone so blank…

It gave him the heebie jeebies.

"You wanted to see me?" he asked gruffly.

Spock nodded minutely. "Yes. Doctor, I am aware that James Kirk is a friend of yours. I recognize that supporting me as you did must have been difficult."

Support? Leo hadn't supported Spock. He had only tried to get Jim to shut up. The two of them had been torturing Mal with their bickering. He had been supporting _her._ "Is that a thank you?"

"I am simply acknowledging your difficulties." Spock, if he had to say so himself, was being very gracious. It was not in his nature to attempt these sorts of connections. There was no _logic_ in praising the gruff doctor, but there was the hope that he maybe had someone in his corner. The others… they did not seem to care for him.

Leo ground his teeth, annoyed that he had been called to the bridge for this. "Permission to speak freely, sir?"

"I welcome it."

"Do you?" Leo snorted. Clearly Spock needed to get to know his crew better if he thought he would _welcome _anything Leo had to say. "Okay, then. Are you out of your Vulcan mind?"

Spock's eyebrow shot up.

"Are you making the logical choice sending Kirk away?" he hissed, "Probably. But the right one?" When Spock made no indication that he understood what Leo was trying to say, the doctor tried again. "You know, back home we have a saying. If you're going to ride in the Kentucky Derby you don't leave your prize stallion in the stable."

All in all, Leo was rather proud of getting through an entire conversation without cursing. He was to the point, something he thought Spock would appreciate, but he had also made it clear that his loyalties were with Jim. Leo wasn't a soldier, after all. He was a doctor, and everyone else could kiss his ass.

Spock seemed to pick up on what wasn't being said. "A curious metaphor, Doctor, as a stallion must first be broken before it can reach its potential."

"My God, man. You could at least _act _like it was a hard decision," Leo growled.

"I intend to assist in the effort to reestablish communications with Starfleet." The slightly snotty lilt was back in Spock's smooth voice, the barest hint of arrogance, so subtle that Leo missed it completely. "However, if crew morale is better served by my roaming the halls weeping, I will gladly differ to your medical expertise. Excuse me." Spock wandered off to speak to some of the Vulcans that had just entered the bridge.

As the master of sarcasm, Leo recognized a snide remark when he heard one. He scowled as Spock stepped away. He sat down at Mal's station with an angry grunt. "Green-blooded hobgoblin."

* * *

It was not customary for a Vulcan to be riddled with guilt. They were a highly evolved, highly _disciplined _species, and being riddled with _any_ sort of sentiment was appalling. Emotions were those pesky things that had to be controlled, closely monitored, and crushed into dust so they could do no harm. That was the Vulcan way. Logic ruled and _feelings _fell by the wayside, sacrificed up to serenity of higher reason.

So why couldn't he stop thinking about those blue eyes boring into him, pleading for his compassion and his compliance? A pale emerald blush crept up the back of his neck as he thought about the way those same eyes had turned to dark chips of ice disgusted and pained. Spock forced it back, stomping on his feelings of inadequacy and cowardice until they were only so much emotional pulp in his mind.

In the last twenty-eight minutes and eleven seconds he had done nothing but sit in the captain's chair and stare out at the universe as it warped past them. The bridge had fallen completely silent, slowly tensing under his empty stare. He was not empathetic like Mallory, (the very thought of her made Spock's jaw clench angrily), but he _was _telepathic. The combined sorrow and loss his crew was feeling was strong enough for him to sense. It was logical, he concluded, that they grieved. 83.6 % of the Academy's cadets had been killed before they had even reached Vulcan. They had lost friends and acquaintances and there had not yet been time to mourn them. There would not be time to do so for a long while yet. If they were not distracted from their inner turmoil soon, people would begin to break down and Enterprise could not afford to lose more crewmen to something as avoidable as emotional stress.

Just because Spock did not trifle with emotions himself, did not mean he was unaware of them. The humans lacked the control to compartmentalize for long. They would crack sooner rather than later…

He suddenly understood Captain Pike's desire to have Mallory on the bridge. Her presence was automatically soothing and cathartic even if she was a troublesome monster of a female.

He gave a very unVulcan-like snort.

Yes, he was sure that Mallory was cathartic when she wasn't _terrorizing_ people.

Spock saw Uhura give him a questioning look and he shook his head, ever so slightly. He was furious, murderous even, behind that blank expression and calm façade he showed those working the bridge. He was beginning to wonder how long _he _could compartmentalize himself…

Nero had taunted him, forced him to watch while his home planet was destroyed and his mother was killed.

His mother…

He felt undeniably alone. With her death, Spock was left with the knowledge that there was no longer someone out there who took him wholly for what and who he was. His mother had never been anything but proud of him, sincere and accepting…

Which led Spock back to the bubbling fury that refused to submit to his logic. Mal had once again struck at the very heart of him. First she had demolished his pride, finding a way for the arrogant James Kirk to beat his test. Now, she picked at his very heart. Mal had located his greatest insecurity and exploited it.

She'd told Spock that his mother would be ashamed of him.

The thought of it made Spock's heart skitter uncomfortably in his side.

Everything he had ever done, he had done it with his mother in mind. He had striven daily to make her proud, valued her counsel, and loved her deeply, and Mal had used that bond to hurt him.

_No more pain than she felt when you left her father for dead, _some nagging part of him said logically. _It is natural for a wild animal to become all the more vicious when it is frightened or injured. What made you think humans would respond less passionately_? Spock hated to admit that small part of him was right.

It was never wise to corner a scared animal. Logic proved they would strike out.

That is precisely what Mal had done.

"Bridge to Doctor Pike," Spock said with a tap at the controls on the arm of his chair. He would not be able to focus on the problems at hand until he was settled with the young doctor, therefore it was logical that he speak to her immediately so he could return his attention to his post. "Bridge to Doctor Pike."

Nothing.

He was minutely aware of Doctor McCoy adjusting in his seat to listen for the response that simply was not forthcoming.

"McCoy, to Pike." McCoy pulled out his own comm. but received nothing but static in return.

The two men regarded each other levelly. "Is it customary for Doctor Pike to not acknowledge an incoming call?" Spock asked evenly.

Leo shook his head, a prickling sense of fear settling into his stomach and making itself at home. "Mal, you answer me, dammit," he tried again and received the same answer.

None.

Sulu and Chekov both twisted in their seats to look back at their acting captain, their eyebrows raised. Uhura was leaning over the railing that separated her station from the rest of the bridge, her dazzling, dark eyes frightened. Spock glanced around casually at the response the girl's silence was invoking. It seemed that her small connections to the crew inspired protective tendencies in all of them. He even found himself fractionally concerned as to the reason she would not answer. He immediately crushed the feeling.

"Computer. Locate Doctor Mallory Pike."

Something inside him curled up and died when that chipper automated voice rang through the tense silence on the bridge.

_No such person onboard._

* * *

When Jim opened his eyes it was with a hiss of pain followed quickly by an annoyed expletive. He was in an escape pod, and that could only mean that Spock had ordered him thrown off the Enterprise. "Son of a bitch," Jim groaned. His head felt like someone was standing on it, a large someone, wearing cleats. On top of that, Jim was hallucinating. There was no other explanation for the pale, shapely leg draped across his lap. That it was attached to a rather battered looking Mallory Pike only added to his confusion. Well, there were worse hallucinations he could have had. Still, usually when he envisioned women there were less clothes involved and they were decidedly more conscious.

"Mal?" He gently prodded her shoulder with the toe of his boot since he was still stuck in his harness and couldn't quite reach her otherwise. She let out a guttural moan and smacked his foot away. "Hey, babe, you alive?"

"No."

Jim chuckled at her response. So she wasn't a hallucination. That begged the question as to why Mal had been tossed off the ship, too. He spotted blood smeared on the door and frowned. She had put up a fight. "That's my girl," he muttered proudly. "Computer, where are we?"

_Location: Delta Vega. Class-M planet. Unsafe. There is a Starfleet outpost fourteen kilometers to the Northwest. Remain in the pod…_ the computer chirped pleasantly, detailing their position.

"You've got to be kidding me," Jim muttered. Delta Vega. Spock had stranded them on a hunk of floating ice. "Come on, Mal. Up and at'em." He unbuckled his straps and tried to pull Mal out from under his feet. She blinked dizzily up at him, perfectly stuck and of no help.

"Oh… 'Lo, Jim." She touched the side of her head, still tacky with blood and winced. "I think I might be a bit concussed." Her words were halting and a bit thick. Needing some of Jim inexhaustible energy, Mal reached for him with her empathy, but came up empty. Mal frowned and tried again, but she was unable to feel anything from him.

With a defeated sigh, Mal rubbed at her eyes. She was never going to let Leo near her with a hypospray again. It was like she was blind. The ribbons of emotion that always colored the people around her were gone, her own emotions seemed almost hallow, and she knew without trying that projection was out of the question.

Jim snorted. "You think? How did you even get down there?" He poked her with his boots again and Mal struggled to get out of her cramped position.

"Well, I'm very talented," she muttered petulantly. Jim tried again to help Mal up but only succeeded in wedging her further under his feet. "Can you open the door without stepping on me?" she asked. "Might be easier if there's room to maneuver."

It was with a lot of cursing and shoving that the two of them struggled in the restricted space to get the door open. They were unprepared for the icy air that rushed over them and Mal gasped, nearly falling back into the escape pod. Jim steadied her, casting his eyes heavenward whether in amusement or to get a better look at their surroundings, Mal couldn't tell which.

"H-h-oly crap!" Mal wrapped her arms around her self and cursed the short sleeves and shorter skirt that made up her blue regulation uniform. "It's f-f-f—"

Jim smirked and pulled her closer to him for warmth. "Fucking cold?" he supplied, helpfully. He was still in his long sleeved black shirt and slacks, and had bit more protection from the cold than Mal. He could feel her practically convulsing from the frigid temperature and she curled closer against his chest. He immediately wrapped his arms around her protectively, trying to lend her some of his own fleeing body heat. She was from Mojave, a southern California girl, more acclimated for the beach than the snow.

"Gonna say f-freezing," Mal said with a roll of her eyes. "Check th-the pod. I was s-s-sacked out on a bag. Surv-v-vival kit."

Jim pulled a bag free from where it was stashed in the pod and slung it over his shoulder. "First things first, we get out of this hole," he told her, taking charge of the situation. Mal didn't mind. Jim was a natural leader. She trusted him.

Mal should have been amused that neither of them felt any inclination to obey the cheery automated voice ordering them to remain in the small vessel. If Leo had been with them, they _might _have obeyed him as the voice of reason, but together and without supervision… Jim and Mal had little common sense between them. Besides, Mal didn't like the idea of sitting around doing nothing any more than Jim liked the idea of waiting around to be rescued. They were take action sort of people…

Which is exactly why they had been tossed overboard to begin with.

The escape pod had punched a good twenty feet into the ice and Mal and Jim sighed heavily as they looked up the jagged crater created by their landing. "After you," Jim said giving Mal a mocking bow. She punched his arm and started to tug herself up the iceface. The crags made for easy toeholds and grips, but Mal's hands immediately suffered as the sharp frozen edges cut into her palms and fingers.

Jim was having similar trouble, but he was distracted from the frosty pain by a most unexpected grace. He grinned wickedly as Mal pulled herself up ahead of him.

"I see London. I see France…" he sang through chattering teeth. Mal cast him a furious look and climbed all the faster with bloody, frozen hands.

"Jim K-k-kirk, if you don't want-t me to wr-reck that pretty face of y-y-yours you'd better knock-k-k it off."

The smirk he cast up at her was enough to make her burn with a blush. "I'll have to tell Bones you still do black lace. That'll make him happy for at least a whole thirty minutes."

Mal made it to the top and shook out her burning hands. "Thirty m-minutes? That's all?" She pouted as Jim's head appeared over the edge. "I think I'm worth an hour of happy, at least." He breached the lip of the pit and stumbled to his knees. Mal dug into her medical satchel immediately while Jim opened the survival kit and threw her the warm coat that was rolled up in the lining.

"Think you can make it the fourteen kilometers to the outpost?" he asked sincerely. He was looking at her bare legs, bloody hands, and slightly dazed expression. They had had a terrible fucking day so far and it wasn't going to get better trudging through the snow.

Mal scowled at him as she bundled up and pulled a battered dermal regenerator out of her kit. She went to work on his hands while he poked around at the other things in the survival kit. There was a bit of freeze dried food, a communicator that had been smashed by Mal's landing on it, and various hats and gloves. "I can hold my own, farm boy," Mal reminded him.

He placed a gentle hand on the side of her head, careful not to cause her pain. "I can see that. What did you do to piss off the pixie?"

Mal smirked. "You mean Spock? Nothing. He's not a violent man, Jim. He didn't hurt me. I doubt he knows I'm even here. Other hand, please." Jim obeyed and Mal concentrated on closing up his small wounds.

"So how did you end up in the pod?" Jim's eyes narrowed when Mal twitched and stiffened.

"You needed me," was all she said, her eyes focused completely on his hands.

Jim stopped her ministrations and waited for Mal to look at him. Slowly her eyes drifted up to his face. He was was waiting patiently with an encouraging smile. It was the smile he used to get what he wanted and he was directing it at Mal. "Come on, Mal. Let's try the truth."

Mal's eyes dropped back down to the instrument in her hand. "I..." she paused. "It's not important."

"You're pants are on fire, Pike," Jim warned her. She resumed cleansing and closing up the gashes the ice had cut into his hands.

"First of all, _Kirk,_" she said with a smirk, "I'm not wearing pants. Second, shut up and let me do my job."

Jim laughed and gave up. Mal did things in her own time and there was no point in pressing her for information. "Fine, babe. Kiss it better."

The skin on Jim's palms was still a bit tender and pink when the poor instrument fizzled and died. Mal hung her head, fully aware that her own hands were still sliced and diced. With a frustrated snarl she threw the regenerator back into the hole they'd just climbed out of. She started packing snow into her palms and the numbing effect of the cold soothed her hurt. "Fan-fucking-tastic," she grumbled.

Mal was startled when she heard a loud ripping sound and she looked up to see Jim tearing strips off his undershirt. "Give'em over, Mal." She let Jim wrap her hands and he was surprisingly adept. When he was done she flexed her fingers.

"Thanks, Jimboy," she said with her small smile. "I just can't seem to catch a freakin' break."

"What are you talking about?" Jim asked, incredulous. "You're lucky is what you are."

Confused, Mal tipped her head to the side. "Lucky?"

You're here with me aren't you?" Jim asked, showing off every one of his teeth in a shit-eating grin.

Mal stared at him a solid thirty second with disbelief before she smacked him in the back of the head and stormed off without him. Jim grinned broadly, watching her trip through the snow. He quickly grabbed the other rolled up jacket from the bag and zipped himself into it.

"Hold on a second, babe, you're going the wrong way!"

**Reviews are love...**

_Again, sorry about the whole crazy random chapter thing. I think I eat too much sugar and it went to my head. Back on track. Thanks, loves. Cheers. -Ace_


	23. Bullshit

**Star Trek is property of its respective owners. I only own Mallory.**

23

"I spy with my little eye, something white."

Mal glared at Jim but she wasn't sure that he could see her huddled up in her coat as she was. At least, she _tried _to glare. She was certain that her face was frozen in a permanent squinty pout, snow on her lashes and windburn on her cheeks. Besides, the snow was too heavy for Jim to see _anything, _let alone her expression, so she vocalized instead_._ "I hate you, Jim."

"You love me," Jim retorted instantly. He had to shout over the howl of the wind. He had a death grip on Mal's wrist so he wouldn't lose her in the white powder that was whipping around them. The pair trudged blindly and resolutely forward but neither of them was certain that they were heading in the right direction anymore. Jim was doing his best to keep Mal from realizing how much trouble they were in. They were lost in a blizzard, rapidly turning to cadet popsicles.

Jim glanced back at Mal, the feel of her under his fingers the only indication that she was still with him, the snow fell so thick. He was going to protect her. Somehow, Jim knew that her being stuck on the ice planet was partly his fault. She refused to say how she ended up in the pod, but there was no doubt in Jim's mind that had he kept his kept his cool on the bridge, they'd both still be onboard the _Enterprise _and not freezing their asses off. "Come on, Mal. Something white."

Mal growled. "Gosh, I don't know, Jim. Could it be the snow?"

Jim pulled her along, smirking at her tone. "So clever. Your turn."

Mal could feel her heart rate slowing, her blood sluggishly moving through her veins. If they didn't get out of the snow soon, they were going to be very, very dead. She was aware of what Jim was doing, trying to distract her from their dire situation. Maybe he was trying to distract himself, too. Either way, she played along, thankful for his silliness. What the hell else were they going to do? "Alright. I spy with my little eye something slutty." She eyed Jim pointedly.

"Yeah, me too." He looked over his shoulder at Mal, grinning broadly.

"James Kirk, did you just call _me _a slut?"

Jim tugged her closer and threw his arm around her playfully. "It's alright, you can admit it. I saw you and Bones 'warming up earlier." Mal could hear the smile in his voice and she shook his arm off. "Oh, what?" he said feigning crossness. "I'm happy for you. It's about damn time. Do you know how long I've been waiting to tell people that you've jumped my Bones?"

Mal cracked up and tripped along behind him. "And you call _me _clever. You're worse than G…" Jim was forced to stop when Mal suddenly stopped moving, her laughter choking off. She was shaking again, but this time it had nothing to do with the cold. "Gaila," she muttered.

It was almost lost over the sound of the wind as it forced the frigid snow into their faces and down their collars, but Jim heard her none the less. "Mal…" There was an earnest gentleness in his voice that Mal had not known the troublemaker could possess. "We have to keep moving, babe. We have to." They didn't have time for Mal to meltdown.

Mal struggled to pull herself together. "Jim, I told her I'd see her on Vulcan. I told her, Jim!" She was pulled against her friend's chest, his arms crushing the misery clean out of her. He was no empath, but Jim did his best to put all of the security and love he could into that hug.

Jim allowed her a moment, but just one. He understood how she felt. Jim had had a chance to process, if not fully absorb, the lives that had been lost after he and Sulu were beamed back to the _Enterprise_. Mal…she had been unconscious, concerned for her father, furious with Spock, and then chucked onto Delta Vega. She hadn't had a chance to really think about what had happened and it was just now catching up to her.

"We have to keep moving, Mal," Jim said softly into her ear. "We keep moving and we get off this shit hole planet. Then we get your dad. I promise, I'll let you cry later."

Mal nodded and took a step forward, then another. They were jerky and forceful, but Jim saw the resolution on her face. _How did I _not _know she was Pike's daughter_? Jim asked himself. The steady baby blues, the stubborn jaw, even the way that Mal carried herself was reminiscent of their kidnapped captain.

"Mal? Do you hear that?" Jim tore his eyes from her and looked around, frowning. "Sort of like a…a…"

"A howl?" Mal's voice was high with fear. Jim spun around and followed the direction of her gaze. There was something moving across the snow in their direction. Every part of him was screaming for Jim to get the fuck out of there and take Mal with him. _Run, run, run…_a snarling, vicious looking creature came into hazy focus through the obscuring snow…_ RUN!_

He didn't need to tell himself again. Jim grabbed Mal's arm and bolted. Somewhere in the depths of his mind, Jim was thankful that Mal wasn't a normal girl. She wasn't panicking, wasn't slowing him down, and she wasn't screaming bloody murder. Mal was doing the exact same as him…

Running like the devil himself was on their tails.

The creature, all mangy, white fur, and sharp tusks, was gaining on them. Mal thanked the gods that Starfleet kept its cadets fighting fit, even as she struggled to run through the deep snow. The ground shook, pitching both her and Jim onto the ground. A monster erupted from the ice, like a foul spider. It had too many legs, and a clicking mouth… Mal went cold and not from the weather.

She hated spiders.

Especially when they were the size of a boat.

A _big _boat.

The monster caught their pursuer with one swift movement of claw and fang while Jim and Mal watched, transfixed in horror. Jim got to his feet slowly and tugged Mal upright. Her blue eyes were huge, her breath coming in frightened gasps. "Holy shit…"

The white, mangy beast was tossed aside as the new cause for concern turned its attention to the two intruding humans.

"What were you saying about you being _lucky?_" Mal tore off across the snow, Jim at her side. Fear was an excellent motivator, but they were not built to move across snow and ice at great speed. They were half frozen, tired, injured, and distracted by the monster bearing down on them. They looked back, just for a second, and the ground was suddenly gone beneath them. They dropped like rocks down a snowy incline that was more cliff than hill and skittered across the frozen lake at its base.

Inwardly, Mal was wondering how she got herself into these situations, even as the monster mimicked their mistake and started to fall down the overhang after them. With a groan muffled by her coat, Mal scrambled to her feet, ready to run away some more. It would be easier to just let the damn thing eat her.

"There!" Jim pointed to a break in the ice wall in front of them and yanked her across the ice.

"Jim, there's probably something worse inside!" Mal protested.

"Worse than that?" he fired back.

Well, he had her there. They made it into the cave, legs pumping doggedly, closely followed by the giant red spider…thing.

Jim's feet were pulled out from under him as something slimy black whipped through the air, wrapping around his ankle.

"Jim!" Mal went into blind panic as the monster started to draw Jim toward its sucking mouth. _Please, please help us. _Mal wasn't sure who she was talking to, or if anyone could even hear her, but Mal sent the prayer out and up regardless. She held on to Jim for dear life, playing a losing game of tug-of-war with the monster determined to make a meal out of her friend. Raw terror coursed through her, constricting her throat and making her screams stick painfully. She lost her friends, she lost her father, she'd been thrown off the ship and away from Leo…if she lost Jim, too there would be no recovery.

A tall figure wielding a torch hurried into their field of vision and Jim felt a shudder run through the black tongue that was inching him closer to his own demise. Waving the fire like a sword, their rescuer forced the creature back. The slick tongue released Jim's leg and Mal collapsed back, clutching at him like she was still afraid he might disappear.

"See?" Jim muttered against her neck, holding on just as painfully tight as she was. "Told you I was lucky."

Mal let out a shaky laugh but didn't loosen her grip at all until a velvety voice interrupted their hysterical relief.

"James T. Kirk."

Jim's eyes snapped away from Mal and quickly took in this possible new threat. Mal stared, bewildered as an ancient Vulcan approached her and Jim, the corners of his mouth ticked up in an almost smile. He took them in with avid interest, his dark eyes bright, smoldering…familiar.

"No way," Mal hardly dared to breathe. "Jim…"

"Excuse me?" Jim demanded, still panting from their run and their fear. "How do you know my name?"

The Vulcan took a step closer and Mal hissed, dragging Jim to his feet and back. "I have been, and always shall be, your friend," he said quietly.

With a confused chuckle, Jim shook his head. "Look, I don't know you," he said firmly.

"I am Spock."

Mal flinched, Jim stared, and the old Vulcan that identified himself as their tormentor remained motionless with a carefully schooled expression.

Jim snorted, that mouth of his unstoppable.

"Bullshit."

**Reviews are love...**


	24. No Matter the Reality

**Star Trek is property of its respective owners. I only own Mallory.**

24

"Are we buying this?" Jim whispered as he and Mal followed 'Spock' through the icy tunnels. He moved silently and proudly, but there was none of the stiffness, none of the tension, that they had both witnessed in his younger counterpart.

Mal shrugged. "I told you there were weirder things out there than Nero."

Jim looked down at her, showing off his teeth in an amused grin. "I can't wait to hear your story Mal. It has to be _good._"

"Shut up, Jim." She scowled, but couldn't keep the hard look on her face for long. Not with Jim grinning down at her like a large kid on Christmas.

Spock led them into a small grotto with a crackling fire. The walls were stone and ice, but the warmth in the cave was unmistakable. It seeped into Mal's core and spread through her limbs with languid deliberateness. She peeked out from behind Jim and struggled to make sense of what she was sensing. Her drained empathy was starting to override the drugs Leo had given her and the warmth that was slowly easing her frozen shivers wasn't from the fire in the center of the cavern. It was from the man settling himself beside it.

Mal stared blatantly even as the ancient Vulcan studied her and Jim with the same avid curiosity. She didn't doubt he was who he claimed to be, there was no mistaking that eyebrow, but she watched the elder version of Spock warily. He was a giant. Lean and trim and obscenely tall. But he was…different than their current acting captain. His face was more serene than the Spock she knew. It was the same deadpan expression, yet…there was warmth. He was exuding lovely and heartfelt devotion. Her dulled sixth sense was buzzing with the most pleasant impressions of greens, yellows, and pinks.

Friendship.

Trust.

Affection.

_Strong_ affection.

The Spock that had coldly left her father to his fate didn't seem capable of such genuine delight.

Mal realized he probably didn't appreciate her looking at him like he was something cultivated in one of her Petri dishes. She lowered her eyes, embarrassed.

"Mallory," Spock said slowly. His voice was crushed velvet, smooth and unblemished by pesky emotional tangles. "You are as I remember." Mal shifted uneasily when she realized that _she _was suddenly the one being stared at and dissected.

"I don't know if that's a compliment or not," she muttered, sitting across the fire from him and stretching out her frozen legs.

The swirl of warm colors intensified. "I assure you that it was. I learned long ago that one insults you at their own peril." He moved an elegant hand to brush over his forehead…no, his eyebrows. Mal's jaw dropped as he turned his attention to Jim. "It is remarkably pleasing to see _you_ again, old friend. Especially after the events of today."

Jim and Mal both flinched at the reminder. "Uh, sir, I appreciate what you did for me, but if you _were _Spock you'd know we aren't friends. At all." Jim saw the minute smile from Spock and shook his head, frustrated that the Vulcan wasn't listening. "You hate me. You marooned me here for mutiny."

The warm colors in Mal's mind dimmed, filmed over with confusion. "Mutiny?" Spock repeated. "You are not the captain?"

Jim exhaled loudly and rubbed his eyes. Mal put a gentle hand on the back of his neck and sent him reassurance. It was weak, but Jim looked up at her thankfully when he felt his mood shift. "No," he told Spock cheerlessly. "You're the captain. Pike was taken hostage."

Spock's eyes moved to Mal and the depths of his compassion swirled around her gently. Compassion… no, this was certainly _not _the Spock they had left behind on the _Enterprise_. "By Nero."

"What do you know about him?" Jim asked quickly.

Spock shook his head. "He is a particularly troubled Romulan."

"Yeah, we got that," Mal's blue eyes focused on the fire. "And troubled is hardly the adjective I would use."

"I believe your descriptive word of choice is 'crackerjack'." Mal's eyes snapped up to Spock's face and she smiled as he stood up and approached them. "Please, allow me." Spock reached for Jim's face and Jim moved back nervously. "It will be easier for both of us." He placed his fingers gently on the psi points on Jim's temple and cheek.

"Whoa, a mind-meld? You can't!" Mal smile vanished in an instant.

Spock stilled her with a glance. "It is well, Mallory. Now, Jim… Our minds, one and together."

With a startled intake of breath Jim's eyes shut. Spock showed Jim what was in his mind while Mal paced close by. She couldn't see what Spock was showing Jim, but she listened carefully to the Vulcan's words and monitored their emotions. Spock told them a terrible story filled with death and promises that had been impossible to keep. Mal bit at her lower lip, as guilt and fear rolled through the two men. When Spock broke the connection Jim staggered away, gasping. He leaned heavily against Mal, tears gathering in the corners of those blue eyes. "Holy…"

"It's ok, Jimmy. You're alright," Mal soothed quietly. She probed at him gently with her empathy, just to makes sure. "You're alright."

"Forgive me," Spock asked smoothly. Mal was the only one that could see the sincerity in his plea. "Emotional transference is an effect of the mind-meld."

"So you do feel," Jim grunted.

Spock's eyes moved to Mal. "Yes."

The two trouble makers stood facing Spock Prime, matching blue eyes fierce. Mal shook her head as she supported Jim. He was still panting from the stress of the Vulcan presence in his mind, but his breathing was steadying again. "Of course he _feels_, Jim, but Vulcans aren't allowed to cater to their emotions. They are the masters of repression." Mal checked Jim's pulse and brushed her fingers over the same psi points that Spock had touched. "Anything hurt?"

"I'm fine, babe." Jim straightened up and flashed his usual broad smile. He shook the echoes of Spock out of his head and looked at the ancient Vulcan huffily. "Going back in time, you changed all our lives."

"That is clear." Spock glanced at Jim and Mal standing protectively near each other. "You've both made different choices in this timeline. I can tell already."

Mal scowled. "Stop."

Spock took a concerned step forward. "I have made you angry. I apologize, Mallory. I only noted variations in your mannerisms."

"I don't want to know," Mal snapped. "_This _is the only reality I care about."

The corner of Spock's mouth ticked up. "As always, Mallory, I do as you ask."

Mal snorted and Jim laughed. "I like this one better," he said cheekily. "He knows what's up."

Spock's eyebrow twitched and Mal could feel his affection deepen. "We must go. There is a Starfleet outpost not far from here."

"Wait," Jim stopped Mal as she started to follow Spock, halting them both. "Where you came from, did I know my father?"

"Yes," Spock said kindly. "You often spoke of him as being your inspiration for joining Starfleet. He proudly lived to see you become captain of the _Enterprise._"

A small, stunned smile appeared on Jim's face. "Captain…" he rolled the word through his mouth, tasting it. He clearly liked the sound of it.

Spock shook his head good naturedly. "A ship we must return you to as soon as possible."

Mal smiled. "Yeah, we both know they're just sitting around up there. They need us to shake things up, Jimboy." She slapped him on the butt. "Let's go."

Spock Prime and Jim watched Mal walk off down the tunnel as though she knew where she was going. Spock sighed. "No matter the reality, Mallory is the same."

"Did she really get your eyebrows?" Jim whispered, watching as Mal retreated down a tunnel.

"Indeed," Spock said quietly, his dark eyes amused. "She is rather adept at sneaking and subterfuge. Jim, might I make a personal query?"

Jim frowned. "Shoot," he said with a shrug. They trailed after Mal, their voices kept low.

Spock's face was calm and smooth, his eyes glued to Mal. "What is your relationship with Mallory in this timeline?"

"My…" his face darkened a bit. "She's like my sister."

"That is interesting," Spock said carefully. "This place is truly different."

For once Jim didn't have a smartass comment.

* * *

The medical bay was quiet, the lights dimmed while those injured by Nero's attack on the ship slept and recovered. The interns had been left to identify the bodies of those that had not made it, and the residents filled out paperwork as the nurses took inventory of what remained of their supplies. Hopefully there wouldn't be anymore serious injuries until they met up with the fleet and got another ship to restock the bay. They wouldn't be able to handle another medical disaster until then.

"Hey, where are you going?" Christine Chapel stopped an intern from chiming into the CMO's office. "You don't want to go in there right now." She led the intern out of danger and looked back at the closed door. _Poor McCoy._

Leo sat in the dark office, his head pressed to the processed wood of his desk. His biggest problem when he had woken up that morning had been Jim's hearing. His priorities were a bit different now.

"Goddamn it, Mal." He tugged at the roots of his hair. This was worse than his divorce. Jocelyn had hated him, had wanted to go, had left in anger and bitterness. She had made him miserable. Mal was different. Mal always made things better for Leo, she went out of her way to tease him and make him laugh. She made sure he ate when he was busy, she kept him on his toes, accepted that he was a miserable, old man…

Not knowing where she was, what had happened to her… it was torment. Leo slammed his hand down on his desk, followed swiftly by his head. _This is why you don't touch,_ his mind told him harshly. _Because they all leave. Mal weaseled her way in and now she's gone. She's gone. Gone, gone, gone, gone… _

Just like Jocelyn, Mal had carved out a place in his heart and just like Jocelyn, she had had left and her absence left him hallow.

_Mal, where are you?_

He wasn't sure why the answering silence broke his heart.

But it did.

**Reviews are love...**


	25. Cheaters

**Star Trek is property of its respective owners. I only own Mallory.**

25

"Cold, cold, cold, _cold!" _Mal scrambled through the door and stomped out her boots before she pulled off her hood and let her dark hair loose. Jim struggled to close the door against the wind and when he did, Mal grinned up at him. "My hero," she said with a terrible impersonation of a southern accent.

"You know it." He pulled his own hood off and they all fell silent when they heard the echoes of tools dropping down the hall. "Hello?" Jim yelled.

There was a moment of silence before there was movement and someone shouted back in gibberish. Spock, Jim, and Mal watched a small alien jog up to meet them. He stood there a moment before he flipped up his goggles and blinked dolefully at them.

"Uh… can you help us?" Jim asked. He saw the bright interest in Mal's eyes and knew she was mentally cataloging the species so she could research it later. _Ever the scientist_, Jim thought with an eye roll. The little alien jabbered again and made a gesture for them to follow.

The beastie led them deeper into the outpost and Jim smiled when he caught sight of some man asleep with his feet on his desk. _Starfleet, hard at work._

The alien smacked the man's boots and he blearily pulled the towel that was covering his face away. "What?" He sat up and looked the three of them over hostilely.

"Fascinating," Spock said, humor in his eyes.

Jim didn't look particularly impressed. "What?"

"I'm sure yer just doin' yer jobs, but could ye not have come a wee bit sooner?" The officer dropped his feet from the desk and scowled. "Six months I've been here livin' off of Starfleet protein nibs and the promise of a good meal." Mal looked sideways at Jim, but there was no opportunity to interject. "And I know exactly what's going on here. It's punishment, isn't it? On going? For something that was clearly an accident."

"You are Montgomery Scott," the Vulcan announced when the Scotsman paused for air.

"Wait," Jim ordered, "you know him?"

Scott swiveled in his seat. "Aye, that's me. Yer in the right place," he groused. "Unless there's another hardworking, equally starved Starfleet officer around."

The little alien chirped up. "Me!"

"Get it…shut up! Ye dinna eat anythin'," Scott snapped, almost angrily. "Ye can eat, like, a bean and yer done. I'm talkin' about food. _Real _food. But yer here now, so thank ye. Where is it?" He stood up and approached them with a hopeful expression.

Mal's grinned up at Jim. "Oh, my God, I love this guy. Can we keep him?"

"You are, in fact, the Mr. Scott that postulated the theory of transwarp beaming?" Spock seemed to feel the need to double check.

Scott nodded. "That's what I'm talking about," he pouted. Mal tried to reach him with her empathy, but it was still too weak to pick up anyone other than Spock. His amusement swirled around her pleasantly and Mal couldn't help but smile lazily as the Scottish engineer ranted. Spock's influence was incredibly relaxing. _This must be how I make other people feel._

"The reason you have not heard of it, Mr. Scott, is because you haven't discovered it yet," Spock was saying coolly.

That seemed to stun Scott into silence. He started and failed to speak several times before he managed to force out, "Are ye from the future?"

Jim gestured to Spock. "Yeah, he is. We're not."

"Cheers," Mal said giving a little wave.

Scott looked between all of them. "Well, that's brilliant," he said without blinking. "Do they still have sandwiches there?"

Mal snickered. "How do we find these people, Jim?"

Jim slung his arm around her with a flash of teeth. "Haven't I already told you?" he asked, blue eyes dancing. "It's all about luck, babe."

* * *

It turned out Mr. Scott, or Scotty, fit in all too well with Mal and Jim. He flirted harmlessly with the girl that was a decade too young for him and poked fun at her two companions good naturedly. Mal's real fascination laid with Scotty's assistant.

"Keenser," the small creature said proudly, pointing to himself with a scaly, green hand.

"Mal," she mimicked the gesture, keeping it simple. He was obviously intelligent, but his handle on Standard was shaky at best. "If you don't mind me asking, Keenser, what manner of species are you? I've not seen anything like you before." She slipped into her doctor speak in her excitement and Keenser just blinked up at her.

Scotty smiled and patted her back with a cheeky wink. "Dinna think anyone knows what the wee bugger really is. He's a brilliant mechanic, though. Alright!" he led them into the hanger and thunked his wrench against the side of a junked out shuttle. "She's a wee bit dodgy, and her shield emitters are totally banjaxed as well as a few other things…on ye go."

Jim didn't hesitate, and Mal followed him without question. Spock was a step behind, watching them carefully with those burning dark eyes.

"The _Enterprise _has had its maiden voyage, has it?" Scotty asked cheerily. "She is one well endowed lady. I wouldn't mind getting my hands on her ample nacelles, if ye'll excuse the engineering parlance."

Mal shrugged a grin on her face. "Scotty, if you can get us back to the _Enterprise,_ I'll let you handle _my _nacelles."

The engineer winked roguishly. "Lassie, don't tease."

Jim hauled Mal past to the teleporter pad where Keenser was pulling himself up the framework. "Do you have a thing for old guys or what? First Bones and now Scotty. You're gross."

Mal giggled. "Jealous?"

"Well, I _did_ save you from two different snow monsters. If anyone gets goodies from you, it's me."

"And you think the cowboy's going to be alright with that?" Mal asked lightly.

Jim drew her up next to him and tugged on a hank of her dark hair gently. "He couldn't blame me. You're hot."

"Ye know we can hear ye, doncha?" Scotty called over his shoulder. "It's all in good fun, lad. And I ent that old!"

Mal laughed and patted Jim's cheek. "Poor Jimboy." She sighed and her smile faded off. "Jim?"

"Hm?"

"What do we do when we get back onboard? Spock has to be half way to the Laurentian system by now, and he isn't going to listen to us. He's too stubborn."

Jim smiled. "Luckily we won't need to do a thing. Spock Prime here can explain it all." He clapped the Vulcan on the shoulder as he stepped around the transporter pad. "You _are _coming with us, right?"

Mal felt a swell of unease and sadness and knew the answer. "He isn't coming."

"It is not my destiny," Spock explained.

Jim was incredulous. "Your desti— the other Spock is not going to believe me."

Mal practically growled. "He really won't. Other Spock has a stick up his ass. He doesn't feel like you do."

To their immense surprise, Spock chuckled. "He is young. He will learn. But under no circumstances can he be made aware of my existence. Promise me this."

"Are you telling me that I can't tell…you that I'm following your own orders?" Jim demanded.

Mal scratched at her head. "He's a stubborn ass. He won't listen to us."

"This is one rule you _cannot _break," Spock said sternly. "To stop Nero, you alone must take control of your ship."

Jim scoffed. "How? Over your dead body?"

Spock didn't miss a beat. "Preferably not."

"Jim won't be alone," Mal said defensively. "Leo and I will be there."

Spock inclined his head graciously. "I expect no less. In fact, you may be able to help Jim handle…my other self."

Mal smiled. "You have a plan."

"There is Starfleet regulation 619. It states that any command officer who is emotionally compromised by the mission at hand must resign said command."

Jim rolled that over in his head as quickly as he could. "So you're saying I have to emotionally compromise you…guys."

"Jim, I just lost my planet. I can tell you, I am emotionally compromised." Mal felt the utter sense of loss that washed over her. Disregarding everything she knew about Vulcan culture and ignoring the small voice that was reminding her that she didn't like Spock, Mal hugged the old man, letting loose with all of the hope and optimism that she could. The contact immediately opened a link between them.

_You will need to assist Jim. I will not crack without your…persuasion. Put a thread on my younger self and use it to push him to an emotional reaction. I know very well, Mallory, that you are an expert in aggravation._

Mal's eyebrow hopped up in a fair impression of Spock. _Correct me if I'm wrong, but you guys choose logic over emotions for a reason? _

_Yes, so I certainly hope your James Kirk is as resilient as the one from my timeline._

Spock stepped away and the link was broken. Mal looked at Jim worriedly. "I won't let you hurt him."

"You might not have a choice," Spock said evenly.

"Alright then, laddie," Scotty came around the side of the transporter. "Live or die, let's get this over with."

"Mallory," Spock suddenly grabbed her arm and put his hand carefully against the psi points on her face. "It would not be prudent to send you back at only partial strength."

Mal let out a shriek as what remained of the drugs seemed to leave her system on a wave of psionic energy. Her empathy whipped out, picking up Jim's determination and Scotty's genial delight. Spock Prime nodded to her solemnly and let go.

"It's cheating," she said adjusting her sixth sense so she wouldn't fry out again. "You're as bad as we are."

Jim nodded. "Coming back in time, changing history… _That's _cheating."

The corner of his mouth turned up just slightly. "A trick I learned from some old friends." Spock looked at them and Mal was warmed again by the friendship he felt towards them. He held up his hand in a traditional Vulcan salute. "Live long, and prosper," he intoned.

Smooth bands of light wrapped around Mal as her atoms broke down and she was shot out into the universe. They were going back to the _Enterprise._

Yehaw.

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	26. The Obnoxious Olympics

**Star Trek is property of its respective owners. I only own Mallory.**

26

It was instantaneous. One moment Mal was standing in the junked out shuttle next to Jim, the next she felt the cool tingle of her atoms scattering. It seemed like the world around her was fading away to reveal the engineering subdeck of the _Enterprise_. "Holy crap, it worked!"

Jim grinned, more than a little surprised himself. "Mr. Scott?" His smile faltered and they both turned around, confused. Scotty wasn't there. "Mr. Scott?"

There was a metallic clanging from behind them. Mal and Jim both froze in dread before they turned to the source. A frantic pounding echoed from inside a cooling aqueduct. "No…" Mal could _feel _Scotty inside panicking.

"Mr. Scott? Can you hear me?" Jim shouted against the metal as the banging continued.

"Jim, he'll drown!" Mal darted around the duct, looking for someway to release the man held inside, but it was solid. "What do we do?"

With a flurry of bubbles, Scotty appeared, sucked along by the current of the water. Jim and Mal followed after him, looking for someway to get him out. His emotions were getting fuzzy, his panic slowly turning to disinterest. "Scotty, don't you dare!" Mal banged on the glass. "Scotty!"

"No, no, no!" Jim swore when he saw where their new friend was heading. It was a cooling turbine. If Scotty got dragged into that…there would be no more Scotty to worry about. Jim traced the ducts backwards. There was a release hatch but…it was going to be terribly close.

As always, Mal spurred him into action. "Don't stand there like a corncob, farmboy! Open it!"

Jim scrambled over the controls for the valve release and in a whoosh of water Scotty dropped out of the duct, landing heavily on his chest. Mal and Jim went to their knees, fearful that it was too little, too late.

"You alright?" Jim shouted, trying to shake an answer out of the half-drowned man.

Scotty coughed up a few mouthfuls of water and gave them both a goofy grin. "Me head's buzzing and I'm soaked, but otherwise I'm fine."

Jim dragged Scotty to his feet and Mal grabbed him by the collar. "Next time, let's _aim_ a little better, huh?"

"Aye, lassie," Scotty answered, still grinning. "Next time…"

Mal and Jim abandoned their heavy coats and the three of them took off into engineering. They had a Vulcan to undermine.

* * *

On the bridge, an alert appeared on Pavel Chekov's station. "Captain Spock, detecting unauthorized access to water turbine control board," the ensign said smartly.

Spock excused himself from the conversation he had been having with his father and acknowledged Chekov with a nod. "Bring up the video." Chekov did as he was asked and a video tab opened. Spock caught sight of three figures darting off screen. Two of them were irritatingly familiar.

The Vulcan crushed down the overwhelming rush of relief that nearly made his legs weak. It was logical, he told himself, that he found Mal's reappearance agreeable. He had no idea what he would have told Starfleet if he had truly lost _both _Pikes. Spock distracted himself with sending an alert. "Security, seal the engineering deck. We have intruders in turbine section three." He replayed the image of Kirk running off with Mal on his heels. "Set phasers to stun."

Uhura turned in her seat when she overheard his petty order. _So much for superior logic_, she thought with a grim smile. She had seen Mal and Jim onscreen as plainly as Spock had. On the sly she pulled her PADD out of her boot and sent a message down to Leo.

_We've got her. Get up here, now._

* * *

Leo appeared on the bridge, stiff with worry. "Where?"

Spock's eyebrow hopped up at the doctor's sudden appearance, but he did not comment other than to say, "Security is escorting Doctor Pike to the bridge."

The words were no sooner out of his mouth than a small legion of red shirts trooped in roughly handling Jim, Mal, and an older man between them. Spock stood and made his way over to them, as stiff and unreadable as ever.

_I hope you're ready for this, Jim. He's going to be pissed._ Malhooked an empathetic thread around Jim so she could put her words directly into his mind. It was much easier to do this time, and Mal shifted uncomfortably. She didn't like being good at this sort of stuff. If it wasn't necessary to get her father back, she'd be couching her empathy like she had been for over a decade.

"I feel like we've been training our whole lives for this. It's like the obnoxious Olympics. Any advice?" Jim muttered before Spock closed in on them and Mal had to pay attention.

_Just… be yourself. That should do it. _His amusement tickled at her and she grinned back at him. Shame he couldn't talk mind to mind, the way she did. It would have made for easier conspiring.

When Mal caught sight of Leo standing behind Spock she let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. There was anger, relief, and confusion pulsing off from him, but they were undertones. Mal hardly bothered to register the stone gray of worry, mottled with ribbons of murky, yellow fear. She focused on the brilliant golds and pinks that dominated his feelings and warmed her to her toes.

"Imzadi_," _she practically growled when their eyes cleaved together.

Mal tugged away from the security guards and fell against Leo's chest with a happy sigh. "Miss me?" she whispered. Leo's arms closed around her securely. _Safe,_ she thought happily. _Finally safe. _

"If you ever put me through anything like that again, I will tan your hide, you hear me?" Leo said roughly. He didn't let go, and Mal was contented for a moment to just listen to his heartbeat. It was thrumming in time with her own and she looked up into those hazel eyes with unparalleled happiness.

"Sounds kinky," she whispered, and Leo scowled. He had wanted to tell her off for scaring him to death, but it was suddenly unimportant. She was safe. She was relatively unharmed, and the tense knot that had settled in his chest was relaxing. He breathed easier with Mal pressed against him, holding on to him just as fiercely as he held her. His fingers brushed down her arms and he felt her happiness sparking under his fingers. Leo couldn't read emotions like Mal, but he knew enough to recognize happy. "It's because of you," Mal admitted, correctly reading his expression. "I'm happy to see _you_."

She smiled at his light blush and turned her attention to her mission at hand. Mal forced Leo back a step, putting plenty of space between them and the two bickering men center stage. If it came to blows, and Spock Prime had implied that it would, she didn't want any extra injuries.

"Who are you?" Spock demanded of Scotty in a clean, clipped voice. His eyes swept over the man dripping water all over his bridge.

Scotty was a little taken aback by Spock's brusqueness, but he caught himself well enough. "I'm with him." He jerked his thumb at Jim.

Instant dislike burned against Mal's empathy and Mal coughed to cover a laugh. Scotty's association with Jim was enough to put Spock off him. Shame. Spock Prime seemed to genuinely be fond of Scotty when they had been speaking on Delta Vega.

Mal was going to wait as long as she could before she actually put a thread on Spock. Opening a link with the Vulcan was going to be like grabbing hold of white hot metal and she wasn't looking forward to the impending pain. Mal went to work slowly, doing what she could without the intimate contact of a thread. She gingerly sifted through the deep swirls that made up Spock's emotions. There was annoyance, pride, frustration, fear, confusion, conflict, and…there it was. Bright, pulsing fury. _Bingo,_ Mal thought to herself. She carefully opened a thread and Spock's eyes shifted to her as she pulled a breath in through her teeth.

Spock's eyes narrowed just slightly. "We are traveling at warp speed. How did you manage to beam aboard this ship?" Spock demanded.

Jim had a smile plastered on his face. Spock could have counted every last one of his teeth if he had been so inclined. "You're the genius, you figure it out."

The anger burned a bit brighter and Mal started to shuffle it carefully up through the other emotions. She had to make it dominant, make it all that Spock felt, all he could focus on. It scalded her mercilessly as she basically played mental hot potato, luring the ribbon to the top, drawing it to the front of his mind.

"As acting captain, I demand that you answer the question," Spock's voice was still calm and cool.

"Well, I'm not telling, _acting _captain," Jim mocked. Mal snorted back a laugh and held tighter to Leo when Spock glared in her direction. She was half drowning in the depths of Spock's feeling, but it wasn't unmanageable. After sustaining threads with the away team earlier, she doubted _anything _would be unmanageable again. Jim glanced at her and she nodded for him to keep going.

"What? What, now that doesn't frustrate you? My lack of cooperation? That _doesn't _make you angry?"

The ribbon of intense red flared again and Mal flinched against Leo's chest. The doctor frowned and looked down at Mal, her focus completely on Spock. "For Christ's sake, Mal. Don't you ever quit?" he asked when he realized what she was doing. "No more voodoo, woman."

"Now, don't distract me, cowboy," she said with a half smile. "We're trying to pick a fight."

"Of course." Leo heaved a sigh. "When are you _not_?"

Spock glared at poor Scotty who was trying to keep up with the verbal tennis match that was happening in front of him. "Are you a member of Starfleet?"

"Um…yes. Can I get a towel?" Mal couldn't stop the smile from creeping over her face at the engineer's answer. Scotty really _did _fit with her and Jim.

"Under penalty of court marshal, I order you to explain to me how you were able to beam aboard this ship while traveling at warp." Mal shifted Spock's anger again drawing it toward the surface of his mind. This wasn't a projection. Projecting would defeat the purpose. He couldn't be emotionally compromised if she _made _him feel that way. She only wanted to extract a feeling that was already present, albeit buried in the recesses of his control. She had to urge the emotion to break the surface of that perfectly smooth and collected Vulcan mind.

Jim smirked. "Don't answer him," he told Scotty.

Spock's jaw clenched. "You _will _answer me."

Mal smiled. There was almost an inflection in his voice. It was working.

Spock was cracking.

Scotty seemed to realize he had just become the tennis ball in this match and he chuckled nervously. "I'd rather not take sides." He flashed a smile over to Mal where she was curled into Leo's side. Mal winked in return.

_Qui playing around, Jim. This isn't exactly easy for me over here. Wrap it up._ Mal had shuffled the ribbon of burning red fury to the top of the emotional coil that was rolling through the Vulcan's mind. That accomplished, it had become a battle between Spock and Mal for control of his composure. His eyes went to her again in a clear warning. Mal just grinned. She was struggling, but so was he. As far as mental discipline went, Spock had the advantage, but Spock was vulnerable to something that Mal was not.

_Not to be cliché, farm boy, but it's time for the big guns. Hit low._ Jim shot her a confused look. _Not literally, you idiot... Try talking about his mother. _

Jim nodded. He had been waiting to chew into Spock since the Vulcan had brought up his father during the hearing. Jim had been nearly left behind, suffered partial blindness, swollen hands, and a numb tongue, been nerve pinched, chased by monsters, and had a phaser shoved in his face. Over all, he was ready to let Spock have it. "What is it with you, Spock? Hm? You're planet was just destroyed, your mother murdered, and you're not even upset."

"What is he doing?" Leo hissed in Mal's ear. She grinned up at him and he rolled his eyes. "Let me rephrase," he grumbled. "What are the _two_ of you doing?"

Mal only shushed him.

"Did you see his ship? Did you see what he did?" Jim demanded. His smile was gone replaced with chilly disdain.

Spock, for a moment, was unable to answer. When the words forced their way out, his voice lacked the smooth control that they were used to hearing. "Yes. Of course I did."

Jim pressed his mouth into an angry line. "What is it like not to feel anger?" he demanded, determined to get Spock to crack. "Or heartbreak? Or the need to stop at nothing to avenge the death of the woman who gave birth to you?"

"Back away from me," Spock grated out, his voice a dangerous growl.

"It must not even compute for you," Jim snarled, shouting in Spock's face. "You _never _loved her!"

That did it.

The ribbon erupted, and Mal's entire body jerked with the force of Spock's anger, like she had been physically stricken. The threads she had on him and Jim burned out in the flame of the Vulcan's rage and Mal let them go, pulling her empathy in before it burned to ash. Her influence was gone, but the floodgates had been opened. Spock was no longer in control of his rage.

With a scream of pure, animalistic fury, Spock lunged at Jim. It was a flurry of fists and grunts that immobilized the entire bridge in terror. Jim was a reckless brawler, but Spock was a Vulcan whirlwind. Mal hadn't been joking around with Gaila when she called him the six million dollar man. Spock was stronger than a human, his reflexes faster, his emotions so much more concentrated.

Jim was tossed around like a boneless cat, with none of the grace. Spock was lethal, terrifying. "Shit, he'll kill him…" Mal shook out of her paralysis and started forward only to find Leo's arms barricading her.

"Don't," he whispered in her ear. "He's out of his damn mind."

Spock was holding Jim by the throat, squeezing the life out of him while everyone stood by, transfixed. "Yeah, let's all just stare at them!" Mal barked angrily. She tried again to escape Leo's hold while Jim sputtered and gasped under Spock's unyielding grip but Leo held on. Be damned if he was going to lose her _again_.

Those blazing dark eyes slid to her and Spock snarled, his lips curling up over his teeth like a rabid dog. _What have we done?_ Mal questioned herself. This couldn't be what Spock Prime had meant by an emotional reaction. This wasn't going to put Jim in the captain's chair. It was going to put him in the morgue.

"Spock!"

The voice that cut the room was smooth and authoritative. It was cold. Mal tore her eyes away from Jim and Spock to look at the speaker. He was an older Vulcan, dressed in the sandy ceremonial robes of the Vulcan High Counsel. His face was schooled in careful neutrality and Mal felt nothing from him. He was either walling her out or he had complete control over his emotions.

Spock had stopped thrashing Jim, but he was still holding on to her friend's throat. "Do you have the juice to stop him?" Leo whispered. That he was asking at all spoke volumes. Leo shared Mal's opinion of the 'voodoo', but he hadn't spent the last three years keeping Jim in one piece to let him get snuffed out now.

Mal nodded and her pupils dilated, eyes turning black as her Betazoid half took over. Spock was forced to endure the soothing wash of calm that Mal released against him. Mal's projection settled the throbbing, swirling colors, the ribbons recoiled, neat and orderly.

The hand around Jim's throat unclenched and Jim slid to the floor, coughing violently as he dragged air into his swollen and abused throat. Leo let Mal go and both doctors dropped down to Jim's level, checking him over with shaking fingers and whirring machinery while he panted. Mal shoved his shoulder. "What did you learn?" she asked, looking over Leo's tricorder reading.

Jim rolled his eyes. "Not to listen to you," he answered with a shaky smile. "You are too good at causing trouble."

"Learned from you, you idiot." Mal pressed a painkiller hypo to Jim's neck and let loose. He didn't even flinch. Mal was a softer hand with those things than Leo.

Spock just stood there, trembling. She took the projection off him and her eyes returned to their normal, cool blue. The bridge was numb with fright. People had been through too much to fully process what they had just seen. Their captain had just flown into a rage and nearly killed their village idiot. Mal knew what they were thinking. Any of them could be next.

If they knew anything about Spock, they would have known better.

"Doctor?" Spock didn't look at Leo or Mal so it was anyone's guess who he was talking to. "I hereby relinquish my command based on the fact that I have been…emotionally compromised. Please note the time and date in the ship's log."

Spock moved off of the bridge. Uhura started to follow him, fear plain on her face, but he stopped her with a shake of his head. She immediately backed off. The door hissed shut behind him and the bridge crew all looked at each other, still too stunned to talk.

Almost.

"I like this ship!" Scotty said animatedly. He looked around, waiting for someone to agree with him. "Ye know, it's exciting."

"Well, congratulations, Jim." Leo stood up and helped his friend to his feet. "Now we've got no captain and no goddamn first officer to replace him."

Jim smirked and settled himself comfortably in the captain's chair.

"Yeah. We do."

**Reviews are love...**

_So I have the next chapter written two different ways. Who deals with Price? Leo and Jim or Spock? Let me know via reviews, loves! -Ace_


	27. Ribbons of Color

_Yikes. Sorry this took so long. I've been traveling and then pretty sick. Funny story real fast. On my way back to the states from Wales I was sitting next to this gorgeous man that looked just like Chris Pine (BLUE eyes ::melts::) so of course the first thing I do when we take off is throw up on his shoes. 14 hours in a plane with a pissed off dude in stinky shoes. FML. Anyhow, enjoy. - Ace_

**Star Trek is property of its respective owners. I only own Mallory.**

27

"Dammit, woman! Sit still!"

Mal _hated _being doctored. It was bad enough that the tricorders never knew exactly what to make of her genetic hodgepodge, but to have someone poking, prodding, and waving that damned wand in her face was infuriating. If it had been anyone other than Leo, Mal would have bitten their heads off and made a break for it. Leo seemed fully aware of his immunity as he checked over every injury with deliberate slowness and Mal ground her teeth.

He was pushing his luck.

"Today, cowboy." She all but begged, but Leo wasn't letting her out of his sight until she met his standards of health. Mal wouldn't have cared if she was spouting blood out of her ears... She wanted to get back to work, to participate in the planning, to _do something_. Her father had been at the mercy of that madman for too long already and if she didn't do something productive soon to distract herself, she was going to… going to… well, she didn't know what, but it was going to be something reckless and ill-conceived, she knew that much.

Absently she rubbed the spot on her hip where she had an unwanted tattoo.

Really, Mal was the sort of person that was best kept busy.

Leo saw the small movement and his sharp, hazel eyes narrowed. He knelt down in front of her ready to do battle with whatever new pain she was suffering. "What hurts?"

"I'm _fine_, Leo."

With a huff, Leo caught hold of her chin with firm fingers. "You are worse than Jim," he told her sternly. When Mal threatened to find a new and permanent home for the tricorder, someplace that would make it highly uncomfortable for Leo to sit down, he released her chin with a snort. "I doubt it would fit, darlin'."

Mal batted the wand away from her face yet again. "That's because you're a tight ass," she said peevishly. "Jim, make him stop."

Jim looked up from his conversation with Sulu and grinned. "Let Bones fix you up, Mal. That's an order."

"An order…" Mal grumbled but she stilled as Leo started to gently work through the blood tacking up her hair. Judging by the size of the lump he could feel under his fingers, and her uncharacteristically foul mood, she had a concussion. Mal leaned against his shoulder with a defeated sigh, surrendering to his healing hands. "Now Jim's giving _orders_. I'll give you all the credits in my bank account if you give him those giant, puffy hands again."

Leo rolled his eyes. "Speaking of hands…" He gingerly took hold of Mal's wrists and unwrapped the makeshift bandages that had started out as Jim's undershirt. Mal grimaced as the cloth pulled on her scabby palms, making them bleed all over again. With a disapproving hiss at the state of her hands, Leo pulled a dermal regenerator out of his kit. "Were you juggling knives?" he demanded crossly. "I can't let you out of my sight for a minute without you running off and getting yourself mauled…I'm just a doctor, you know. I'm not a miracle worker."

Worn out from resisting, Mal absently closed her eyes, brushing Leo's neck with her lashes. "I don't believe that," Mal said softly. "You've kept me in one piece this long. That's a bit of a miracle." Leo just grumbled, but she could feel his satisfaction at the small praise she had offered and his almost stupifying love. It seemed a silly reaction to have to something that was perfectly true. "I mean it, Leo. You don't get enough credit." Mal felt his blush before she saw it and she sighed happily. She supposed it wasn't _terrible_ being doctored, so long as Leo was the one doing it.

Jim watched his two friends from the captain's chair and couldn't keep the smile off his face. _So that's what it looks like,_ he mused. Leo complained and made faces as he cared for Mal's shredded hands, but his touch was gentle and lingering. Mal's blue eyes were almost shy as the southern doctor gently pressed his lips to her newly healed palms and then very gently to her forehead.

_About time,_ Jim thought, watching them idly. "Hey, don't make me separate you two," he teased, successfully ruining their innocent moment.

Leo pulled a hypo seemingly out of thin air and gestured at him with it. "Keep it up, kid. Numb tongue will be the least of your troubles."

"Mal? Are you just going to let him talk to your captain that way?" Jim asked, pretending to pout.

Mal just grinned. "Are you kidding? I'll be the one holding you down while he pulls the trigger. Hm…" she frowned and looked across the bridge. "I'll be right back, cowboy. Uhura needs me." She winked up at Leo and went over to the linguist. The two started whispering quickly back and forth.

Leo and Jim watched Mal with alert eyes. They were both breathing a little easier now that she was safe aboard the _Enterprise__. _

Of course, 'safe' would have a very loose definition until the Nero problem was taken care of.

"Is it any wonder I worry?" Leo looked down at Jim, a small scowl crinkling his brow. "The way that girl attracts trouble…she really is a disaster."

Jim just nodded. "Good thing she has us… has _you_." He poked his friend in the ribs. "I swear, you picked one hell of a time to get all gooey with her, Bones. Can't you wait 'til we're _out _of the intergalactic crisis?"

"There might not be a later, Jim."

That was all Leo had to say and Jim understood.

The _Enterprise_ was warping toward an uncertain future. One that could very well include their deaths.

* * *

"Chill out, Ny!" Mal had already told her friend this a dozen times, but for someone that specialized in languages, Uhura wasn't understanding plain, old Standard. "He's just pissed and he probably wants a little time alone. God, you're needy."

Uhura shot Mal a withering look. "Can't you go fix him? I mean, you _broke_ him after all."

Mal rolled her eyes. "He isn't a toaster."

"You're scared of him," Uhura accused.

"Hell yes, I'm scared of him. Did you see what he did to Jim?" Mal jerked her thumb at the blue eyed man that was brainstorming with the others. "I can take a hit, Ny, but I can't take a _Vulcan_."

Uhura pursed her lips. "I don't think I've ever met anyone in Starfleet _more _afraid of physical combat than you, Mal."

Mal waved off the criticism. "I'm a doctor, not a roughneck."

"That's such crap. Even Leo's thrown a punch or two in the last three years." Uhura pointed out.

"Well, yeah, look who he goes into bars with." Again Mal gestured to Jim. "It's sort of a given."

Uhura leaned closer to Mal and Mal could feel the anxiety rolling off her in waves. "Please, Mal?"

With a heavy sigh, Mal nodded in defeat. "But if he strangles me, I'm coming back from the afterlife to haunt you."

Grinning Uhura nodded. "Deal."

Mal slipped off the bridge unnoticed. The truth was, she _was_ afraid to face Spock. After the hell she had put him through, she wouldn't blame him if he keelhauled her. Her father had warned her only hours ago (was it really only hours?) that shaming a Vulcan was the worst thing you could do to them.

So of course her first instinct was to force Spock into a temper tantrum in front of the entire bridge crew and a member of the Vulcan High Counsel.

Mal was so distracted by the guilt nibbling at her that she walked headlong into the very Vulcan Counselor she had been thinking of. He was, like all his kind, tall, lean, and stern, his hands folded neatly under the arms of his robe. Impressively, he had complete domination over his emotions which explained why Mal hadn't noticed him until she had ricocheted off his chest. She would have made an inelegant landing on the floor if steady hands had not caught her by the elbows and returned her to her feet.

The contact immediately opened a link and Mal realized with chagrin that this was Sarek, the same telepath that had anchored her mind while she was in sickbay.

"Doctor Pike," he inclined his head respectfully.

"Sir." Mal returned the gesture, blushing at her lack of grace. "Sorry about that. I didn't see you."

Sarek nodded. "Then it stands to reason, that you were not looking," his face was void of humor, but she was certain there was a gentle tease in his tone. "I see that you are recovered from your earlier episode."

"Yes, sir." Mal couldn't help but blush at the reminder. "Thank you for your assistance. I… I have a history with overreaching."

"Perhaps you should learn your limits, Doctor. When we return to Earth, I would be willing to—"

Mal held up a hand. "Sir, if you are about to suggest that I meditate, I'll ask you save your breath. I don't, and more importantly, I won't. I have not intention of cultivating my empathy. After today, I go back to trying to ignore it."

Sarek's face was impartial and his eyes gave away nothing. "That is a shame. You could do great good if your chose to." He bowed his head again, excusing himself from her. He had only gone a few steps when he turned around. "If you are seeking out my son, Doctor, he is in the second transporter room."

"Your…" Mal's eyes fluttered shut as she comprehended the significance of Sarek's words. "Commander Spock is your _son_?"

Holy crap, she'd made Spock lose his mind in front of his father.

"That is correct." Sarek looked Mal over carefully. The guilt that had up to that point only bit nipping at her took a mammoth sized chuck out of her heart.

"Sir, what happened on the bridge…"

It was Sarek's turn to hold up a hand and Mal obediently fell quiet. "I am aware of your influence, Doctor, but what Spock did, he did defending his mother. I could not be more proud of him." His voice was laden with his conviction and Mal couldn't help but smile. "Good day, Doctor." Sarek moved gracefully down the hall and Mal made her way to the transporter room.

* * *

Spock sat on the transporter pad long after his father had left him, contemplating their conversation. It had not really answered any of his questions or waylaid his discomfort, but Spock somehow sensed that his actions on the bridge had been validated. His father had understood his anger, the sorrow and loss that he felt.

It was an unusual thought for Spock… his _father_ understood. That small truth was enough to put his hallow sense of loneliness to bed. His mother was gone, but his father still stood by him.

Spock really couldn't ask for more than that.

"Commander?" Spock looked up to see Mal in the doorway, her expression clearly nervous. "I… I came to make sure you were alright."

"Your concern in unnecessary, Doctor," Spock's tone was smooth and cool once again, not even hinting at the eddy of emotion that Mal could see swirling in the confines of his mind. "And as I doubt that it is sincere, I must ask that you leave me in peace. I require time to myself."

Mal frowned and leaned against the control panel, folding her arms. "Sir, trust me when I say that my concern is genuine."

His temper flared and Mal winced at the strike against her senses. "Therein lays the problem, Doctor. I do not trust you. You have twisted Captain Pike's orders and have underhandedly made James Kirk captain. You have stage-managed and manipulated the events of today in your favor with no concept of the cost or the collateral damage. You have put this ship and her crew in danger, and you have shamed me beyond repair. I will not ask you again to leave me be." He turned away from her, closing himself off from her physically.

Mal let his anger wash over her like a wave of fire. She knew she deserved it. "I did what I had to do to turn this ship around, sir. You would have done the same, were our roles reversed."

Spock shook his head. "I disagree." Of course he did. "It is not logical."

"Neither is beaming down to a crumbling planet to save your parents," Mal said gently. Spock looked up at her with furious eyes but there was nothing taunting or artificial in her face. Mal slowly moved to sit beside him on the transporter pad. "Love makes us do all manner of illogical things." She paused and looked at him intently. "You clearly love your mother as much as I love my father. You don't regret trying to save her, do you?"

"No, of course not," Spock said immediately.

Mal paused. "Even though the ship was in danger while it waited for you to beam back?"

Spock pressed his lips together. "It is not the same."

"You're stubborn," Mal bumped his shoulder good-naturedly without thinking. Spock stiffened against the contact and Mal scooted away, realizing her error. "Sorry. I forgot about the whole 'Vulcan-no-touchy' thing."

"Betazoids usually do," Spock responded dryly.

"Sir? I _am_ here for a reason." Mal looked up at Spock with an embarrassed smile. "Being what I am, I can offer a small amount of… support."

Spock's eyebrow twitched, disapproving. "Are you offering to manipulate my emotions _again_? That is hardly appropriate."

Mal sighed. She had expected resistance. "Commander, they need you on the bridge. I might think you're a prat, but you're a genius and the boys need all the help they can get their hands on. Sir, you aren't any use to anyone if you're all torn up inside." Mal forgot the no touching rule again and put her hand on his arm. His sleeve was all that kept their minds apart. "I can clean up the mess I made, and I can help you carry the…the hurt."

"Why would you offer something like that?" Spock demanded, his voice losing its cool, neutral tone. He sounded offended. Mal could guess why. She, the half-Betazoid, was calling _Spock_, the half-Vulcan, an emotional wreck. She might as well have kneed him in the crotch, the insult was the same.

"Because we can't stop Nero without you. Because I'll be damned if I'm going to let you lose the last homeworld you have. And because…" Mal stopped herself. She had almost said _we're supposed to be friends, dammit! _Her brief time with Spock Prime had shown her the potential that was beneath his cold exterior. She doubted she would ever forget the warmth and love that had come from the old Vulcan's emotions.

"Because I believe that we don't have to hate each other," she said quietly.

Spock looked away. "Vulcans do not hate. It is illogical."

Mal rolled her eyes. "You bullshit pretty good, sir, but you are as human as I am, like it or not." Mal scooted closer to him again. She put a hand tentatively up toward his cheek, but didn't touch him yet, waiting for permission.

Spock's eyebrow arched up. "It won't hurt," Mal said, certain. "My momma taught me to do this when my little sister and I shared a room. Kay would have nightmares. When I shared her fear, it was easier for her to handle."

"This is a mindmeld?" Spock asked, frowning. "I cannot agree to a connection that intimate."

Mal shook her head. "It _is _similar, but much less personal. I won't be in your thoughts."

"And where will you be?" Spock asked, cautiously.

"I can show you," Mal said. "Just…let me in." After a moment, he gave a small nod and her hand rested softly against his cheek. She stayed away from his psi-points and just kept her hand pressed to his jaw, allowing a link to open between them.

_I feel… unclean,_ Spock's voice was dripping with displeasure at the contact and Mal almost laughed.

_Live a little,_ she ordered. The contact immediately brought his sorrow to her attention, his grief strong enough to make her gasp. _Are you ready?_ Without waiting for his answer Mal slid gently into his mind. She skipped over his thoughts, just as she promised, and fell into Spock's emotions instead.

It was a disaster. The ribbons of feeling were knotted and tangled, hanging limply or balled up in chaotic spools. Her little games on the bridge had caused him more damage than she realized. She had her work cut out for her.

_Is this what emotion looks like?_ Spock was with her, using their link to see what she was seeing.

Mal mentally grimaced. _It isn't supposed to be like this. This is a shit mess._

A bright orange ribbon flared. Annoyance. _Well you have yourself to thank for the disorder._

_Oh, shut up._ Mal went to work, gently untangling the wreckage of the last few hours. She had told the truth about her mother teaching her this trick, but it had been years since Mal had employed it. After all, she had been only fourteen when she had last shared a room with her sister. It was certainly _not _like riding a bike and Mal struggled to remember her mother's instruction.

"You have to be careful, Mallory." Her mother had warned. "Emotions are harder to control than thoughts. What people feel and how they feel it…that's the soul, baby doll. That is the very essence of who they are."

_I feel strange,_ Spock said as Mal organized the streamers strewn about his mind.

Mal immediately stopped what she was doing. _Strange how?_

She could feel Spock nudging her toward the dazzling blue ribbon she had been handling a moment ago. _What is that one? That is the one that feels strange when you touch it._

_Oh, Spock,_ Mal felt pure pity for him and heard him growl when he sensed it from her. _Spock, that's happiness._

_And that one? _He started questioning her as she worked at the knots and tangles demanding that she explain each color she touched. She answered each question, lighting up the more pleasant emotions as she went, allowing him to feel without shame. Mal loosely coiled the ribbons into tidy piles. They would unwind on their own after she left and Spock experienced the emotions naturally. She was tempted to bind his anger and sorrow, but she knew in the long run he _had _to feel those things in order to heal. His mother's murder was not something she could protect him from, but it _was_ something she could help him carry. Mal kept both offending emotions loose and in her grasp.

Being in Spock's mind was easier than being out of it, she mused as she worked. His Vulcan control muted his burning emotions. Mal felt no pain as she handled the bright coils and soothed the frayed edges. When things were at long last neat and tidy she stopped Spock's ceaseless questions. _All finished, sir. You are officially more emotionally stable than anyone else onboard._

Disappointment flashed through the tidy portion of his mind where Spock kept his emotion behind his steely control. _But I still feel anger. Uncontrollable anger. This has not helped._

_You are so impatient. _Mal slowly began to back out of the well of his mind, taking the red and gray ribbons of fury and grief with her. _Don't rush this._ When they were simply connected again by their skin to skin contact, Mal shuddered as she slowly stretched their now shared sensations between them. They were strong, heavy, terrible…but they did not hurt her as they had only that morning.

Spock felt like he was being drained slightly, but in a completely wonderful way. He was still angry, but it wasn't the sort of mind-numbing fury that had nearly killed Kirk. And he still mourned his mother's passing, but it was manageable. The love he felt for her was more present than his grief, and that soothed him. That was what he preferred.

_You… this is your doing? _He asked Mal via their link.

_Yes, sir. _Mal started to withdraw, closing their connection and Spock hissed. She felt his hand at the back of her neck, holding her in place, holding their link together. _Spock, don't be a baby. I told you I would help you carry your pain and I will, but I don't have to keep touching you to do it._

When he didn't let go, Mal twitched nervously. _Sir?_

Her only answer was the gentle brush of finger tips touching the psi points on her face. _With your permission,_ he asked quietly.

_No._

_It is only fair,_ Spock countered. _It is logical. You were able to see how _I_ feel. I would like to know how _you _feel._

Mal shook her head, but his fingers remained in place. _You don't know anything, do you?_ she demanded. _We cannot trade anymore psionic energy, Sir. Not unless you want to be linked to me for life. I'm guessing you aren't particularly keen on that._

She sensed something akin to startled horror. _Are you implying that we have in some way just been bonded?_

Mall rolled her eyes. _Pretty damn close. I've always wanted a brother, sir, but somehow, I never imagined he would be Vulcan._

His hands moved off her face and Mal sat back, letting out a huff of air. Spock looked perfectly at ease and, to Mal's great surprise, the heat of his emotions was not nearly as uncomfortable as it had been in the past, reguardless that she still held a portion of his emotion in her mind.

"How do you feel?" she asked tentatively. If things felt different for her…

Spock reflected on her question for a moment. He felt…stable. "Doctor, I believe that I am once again fit for duty, and capable to assist in the apprehension of the war criminal known as Nero."

Mal grinned and patted his arm. Spock did not admonish her for the offhanded contact like he might have before. "Glad to hear it, Commander. Let's get to work."

He stood up and Mal followed him to her feet a bit slower. "Spock?" she started to speak, her face pinched with the level of her regret. "I am so sorry for what I did to you earlier... what I said, the way I acted..."

He dipped his head in acceptance. "I understand."

The two of them headed back toward the bridge, Mal jogging to keep pace with Spock's long stride. "I mean, I'd do it again in a heartbeat, but I'm still sorry about the whole thing."

Spock closed his eyes for patience, but struggled to keep his face straight. Mallory Pike was an emotional, troublesome, deviant, but she was also the only one that had bothered to look for him.

No, he didn't want to be bonded to her…

But Spock was more than willing to entertain the idea that they had just become friends.

* * *

Scotty had never felt more at home on a ship in his life. The crew was green and untried, but holy hell, they were fighters every last one of them, and clearly insane.

He'd fit right in.

Scotty headed quickly down into engineering, hoping that this ship was formatted like the last one he'd been on and there would be a handy closet in the Chief Engineer's office filled with warm, _dry,_ uniforms.

"Ye'll be wantin' to flush out that anti-matter relay 'afore ye close up that panel, laddie," Scotty said, passing by a team of red shirts working on a bit of the warp transducer. He clapped one of the men on the back and kept walking. He could hear them cursing their mistake and the clink of tools as they rushed to repair the error.

By the time the Scotsman made it to the Chief's office he was even more in awe of _Enterprise_ than he thought possible. _I love this ship,_ he thought warmly. _Hope Kirk doesn't scuttle her. _Scotty's finger was hovered over the door chime before he heard the raised, frantic voices inside the small room. Scotty was about to slink off and just get his uniform from the security office when he caught sound of Mal's name.

Slowly, he went back to the door and pressed his ear against the cool metal.

"…and now Kirk's acting captain! If we weren't in trouble before, Commander, we are now."

Someone snarled angrily. "How the hell did they get back on this ship? We're in warp!" The voice was heavy with venom. "I should have snapped that bitch's neck when I had the chance."

"Your feud with her ain't a secret, Commander Price," a third voice pointed out. "You hate her, plain and simple. I don't ask, I really don't want to know, but I ain't getting pegged for tossing the captain's little girlfriend overboard. I told you to leave her alone, and now the consequences are on you."

"If you don't shut up," Scotty didn't doubt that was the voice of Commander Price, "then I will make sure that _you _are the next person put out an airlock."

Scotty backed away quietly and got into the lift. He didn't know Mal very well, but he liked her. She was a good lass, a bit mouthy, but that's what made her exciting. He didn't like that some commander was making threats on her.

"Hold the lift!" Scotty ordered the doors to remain open as a young engineer joined him inside. He was tall with brooding, dark eyes and a sneer plastered on his face. "What happened to you?" he asked, glancing over Scotty's sodden appearance.

Scotty looked down at his still dripping clothes and smiled amiably. "Fancied a swim," he said with a laugh. "Montgomery Scott." He offered his hand, but the man didn't take it.

"Adam Price," he responded coldly.

"Are ye, now?" Scotty said, a bit surprised. He was expecting someone bigger. Somehow he thought it would take a giant to bully Mallory Pike. "Huh."

Scotty tried again to be friendly. "As soon as I get into dry clothes I'll be down to help with the repairs."

Price scoffed. "Repairs? This entire tin can needs to be scraped and sold off piece by piece. Shitty ship, shitty captain, shitty crew."

"Shitty ship?" Scotty repeated, his eyes darkening. "_Shitty_ ship?"

The lift opened a few moments later to reveal Scotty tugging a red shirt down over his ears. Scotty stepped over Price where he was sprawled on the floor in nothing but his Starfleet issue boxers and continued nonchalantly up the hall towards the bridge whistling to himself.

Threatening women was one thing, but nobody talked about his ship.

**Reviews are love...**

_I thought Scotty needed the moment more than the other three. Besides...they'll get him. Cheers! -Ace_


	28. Secrets Don't Make Friends

_In all honesty... I'm not sure how I feel about this chapter. I wrote it about a million different ways, including Spock figureing out Mal's "JOB", and Mal having a conversation with her sister via telepathic link... anyhow, I liked this version best so... here's hoping you like it, too. -Ace_

**Star Trek is property of its respective owners. I only own Mallory.**

28

"Whatever the case, we need to get aboard Nero's ship undetected," Jim gesticulated enthusiastically to accent his point. Sulu had the foresight, and the reflexes, to duck but Leo wasn't so lucky.

The doctor scowled, crossing his arms defensively. "We can't just go in there guns blazing, Jim."

"And I'm telling you, the math doesn't support this—" Sulu pointed to a string of numbers on the screen for the thirtieth time. Tempers were running high and patience was dwindling by the time Chekov interrupted.

"Keptin Kirk!"

Jim turned around, his head swimming with so many people talking at him at once, "Yes, Mr. Chekov, what is it?"

The kid was bouncing on the balls of his feet, reminding Jim very much of a puppy that wanted to play fetch. He briefly wondered what he could throw for Chekov before he decided he should probably pay attention to what the kid was saying.

"Based on ze _Narada's_ course from Wulkin, I projected zat Nero vill trawel past Saturn. Like you said, ve need to stay inwisible to Nero or he'll destroy us. If Mr. Scott can get us to varp factor four _and _if ve drop out of varp behind one of Saturn's moons, say…Titan, ze magnetic distortion from ze planet's rings vill make us inwisible to Nero's sensors." He beamed proudly at the group of older crewmen that he had just mathematically spanked and gave them an opportunity to fully digest his genius. "Once zere, as long as ze drill is not actiwated, ve can beam aboard ze enemy ship."

"Aye, that might work." Scotty joined the brain trust, trying to bat the water out of his ears.

Leo gaped at the navigator. How the hell had he figured all that out? He was pretty sure that Chekov wasn't even old enough to shave yet. "Wait a minute, kid. How old are you?"

Chekov straightened up a bit. "Sewenteen, sir."

"Oh, good," Leo muttered to Jim, incase he didn't fully grasp that they were taking direction from a minor. "He's seventeen."

"Doctor." The small group turned to face the door as Spock and Mal came on the bridge. She was grinning, and there seemed to be far less tension in Spock's shoulders for all that he was carrying himself as tall and stiffly as ever. "Mr. Chekov is correct. I can confirm his telemetry." Pavel could not resist grinning up at Leo and the doctor rolled his eyes.

"If Mr. Sulu can maneuver us into position, I can beam aboard Nero's ship, steal back the black hole device, and if possible," Spock looked down at Mal, "bring back Captain Pike."

Jim blinked, a bit stunned by Spock's sudden desire to cooperate. He glanced at Mal as she brushed past him to stand beside Leo, hiding a smirk. That woman… he shook his head. The day he had sat down near her on the shuttle out of Riverside was the luckiest day of his life.

"I won't allow you to do that, Mr. Spock." As much as Jim appreciated the change of heart, the last thing he needed was Spock getting himself killed, especially considering there were now so few Vulcans left. Jim might be unnaturally fortunate, but he doubted that his powers of dumb luck extended to the Vulcan, as well.

"Romulans and Vulcans share a common ancestry," Spock insisted. "Our cultural similarities will make it easier for me to access the ship's computer to locate the device."

Spock's eyes went to Mal again, and his lips quirked up briefly into a smile before he schooled it away again. "Also my mother was human which makes Earth the only home I have left."

"Did he just appeal to Jim's _feelings_?" Leo whispered. She shivered when his breath ghosted over her ear and looked up into his perfectly incredulous face.

"Well, duh," Mal said with grin. "With Jim it's _logical _to appeal to his illogicality."

Leo couldn't help but look at Mal with a combination of awe and suspicion. "What did you _do_?"

She smiled up at him, blinking innocently. "What makes you think I _did_ something?" Mal curled into his side and Leo let it go. Really, did it matter what she had done?

Nope.

Jim impressed the entire bridge as he took the time to consider Spock's request. He stepped forward slowly and without fear, drawing up to the Vulcan that had beaten him silly the last time they were face to face. "I'm coming with you."

"I would cite regulation, but I know you will simply ignore it." Spock's voice was cool, but there was humor in his eyes.

Jim offered Spock his best shit-eating grin. "See?" he stated, amiably. "We _are_ getting to know each other." He clapped Spock's shoulder before swaggering over to his seat in the center of the bridge. Spock stood rigid for a moment, regarding the contact as something distasteful until he caught Mal giggling into her hand and Uhura smiling. Letting the gesture go, Spock went back to his own station and Jim settled back into the captain's chair, looking extraordinarily pleased with himself.

The bridge shifted into a flurry of activity. Scotty disappeared into engineering to see what magic he could work on the warp engines. Chekov and Sulu returned to the helm, their eyes lit with a sense of purpose. Spock and Chekov bounced equations and formulas off each other with alarming speed. Uhura switched from one frequency to another faster than Mal could follow, listening for something, _anything,_ that would mean their ship-to-ship communications were back up. Mal brushed her fingers over the broken screen on her consul and it sprang to life, flickering and buzzing with information concerning medbay, the research labs, and the botany lab. She scrolled through it all silently, and grimaced.

Their inventory was dangerously low.

If anyone got hurt…

Mal looked up at Jim. He couldn't walk into a room without coming out the other side bloodied up. Spock might be less prone to stupid injuries, but there was only so much even a Vulcan could do against a phaser. Mal swallowed loudly, fear tacking up her throat. There was no doubt in her mind that Nero was the type that liked to 'play' with his victims before he finished them off. Not to mention what sort of shape her father would be in by the time they got to him.

No, having an empty medical bay was not really an option.

"Cowboy?" Mal looked up at where Leo was standing to Jim's right, his arms crossed and looking every inch the CMO he was. "I need you."

Leo absorbed the words slowly, and only Jim heard the strangled sound half between a sputter and a groan as Leo moved to see what Mal had found. "Look at this…" She showed him a partial scan of the _Narada. _

Mal had jacked up the scanner's sensitivity back when they had first dropped out of warp in Vulcan space. She had been determined to find survivors among the wreckage of the armada. When she had rushed off the bridge with her father and the away team, Mal had forgotten to turn the sensors back down again. Good thing, too, because every component of the _Narada_ had been broken down and was displayed for her viewing pleasure.

"What am I looking at, darlin'?" Leo frowned at the broken screen and the list of compounds and elements that were scrolling beneath it.

Mal pointed to one column in particular. "We are looking at a medical bay that is completely stocked with everything we could possibly need to keep the people on this ship alive."

He nodded. He couldn't piece together the compounds that made up the drugs and medications as fast as Mal, but he recognized them easily enough. "They don't do _us _much good, though."

"Well, not if they're over there, they don't," Mal conceded. "But if someone were to bring them over _here_…"

Leo silenced Mal with a furious, hazel glare. "Are you out of your damn mind?" he demanded. "No. Forget it."

"We _need_ those supplies, Leo."

"What we _need _is for you to get a brain scan!"

They turned to the center of the bridge in unison. "Jim!"

"She wants to beam onto the _Narada_!" Leo spat before Mal could explain her side. "She thinks getting herself killed for some extra gauze and cough medicine is a good idea."

Blue eyes met and held. "I don't think so, Mal," Jim said sternly. "Do you know what your dad will do to me if I let you go over there?"

Mal tapped her finger on the consul, her lips pursed. "Do you have any idea what _I _will do to you if you don't?"

Jim shut up and turned his eyes back to the helm.

"We'll make do," Leo said, the finality in his tone unquestionable. "It was a nice thought, Mal, but let it go." Mal turned away from him angrily and focused her attention on her screen. The data rolled down in a never ending spool of abbreviations and charts. "Mal?" She felt Leo nudge her shoulder. "Mal…"

"Mallory Geneva Pike, you answer me." She shivered when his lips brushed her ear.

Mal didn't look up. "I'm mad at you." It was unnecessary and childish to say, but sometimes… sometimes feelings were just too _big_ to articulate.

Leo whipped her chair around pulled her out of her seat, crushing her to his chest for a moment. "Tell me what I need to do to keep you safe," he told her softly. "Tell me, and I swear to God, Mal… I'll find a way to do it."

Mal hugged him around the middle and listened to the sounds of his heart working beneath the smooth fabric of his uniform shirt. "You can't," she muttered. "This isn't a safe world, cowboy. And I can't sit by… I can't." She looked up into his face, her eyes electric. "It's my _job_."

She had done it again.

Leo listened to the same stressed words she had told him in his office. _It's my job._ She was trying to tell him something, he just didn't know what. Mal sighed in aggravation and buried her face in his chest.

"This is incredibly frustrating," she told his sternum. She felt his arms protectively pull her closer. "I wish I could tell you."

"You can tell me anything, you know."

Mal only shook her head. "It doesn't work that way."

Leo hesitated. "If you _could _tell me… would you?"

She smiled and to his great surprise, Mal slid up onto her toes and brushed her lips softly over his. _If I _could_ tell you, you would already know._

Her voice slipped into his mind.

_You would know everything._

Leo had been at the receiving end of Mal's small manipulations and gentle projections before. Spending so much time with an empath, it was bound to happen to him sooner or later, whether on purpose or not.

This was nothing like that.

Colors blossomed behind his eyelids, bright, warm, and meaningful. He could feel a gentle brush on his mind, as soft as his lips on her mouth, and he knew… this was Mal. What he was seeing, the warm pinks, the lush greens, the deep reds all accented with flecks of molten silver… it _was _Mal. They warmed him down to the souls of his feet twisting around him and holding him empathetically as surely as he was holding her physically. Everything she felt, every ounce of love she had _ever _felt for him, was tunneled in through that seemingly innocent, chaste kiss.

Someone cleared their throat and Leo reluctantly let Mal go. The colors faded, but their warmth clung to him, determined to remind him how much he meant to the blue eyed woman standing self consciously in front of him.

"Can you two please _not _make babies on the bridge?" Jim asked, grinning ear to ear. "It's distracting to the rest of us."

Sulu snorted into his arms, shaking with laughter while Uhura made kissy faces at the two of them.

"I zought it was sveet," Chekov countered.

Leo pointed a finger at Jim. "If we live through this, kid…" he vowed, "I'm going to kill you."

Leo pressed a gentle kiss to Mal's mouth again before stepping onto the lift. "Deck five," he ordered. Just before the lift closed and shut him off from the rest of the bridge, he saw Mal turn around and smack Jim in the back of the head.

* * *

The interns practically snapped to attention when he entered sickbay. They twittered nervously, their faces anxious, and Leo rolled his eyes. "Alright, what's the ruckus?" he asked, looking them all over individually. They stood frozen under his fiery eyes. "Someone say _something_!"

Christine Chapel looked up from the case reports she was filing into the main system and took pity on the young doctors. "Well, er… he was unconscious in lift three, Doctor." The interns immediately parted like the Red Sea, letting Leo get a good look at who 'he' was. A rather pissy looking man sat up on a biobed in nothing but his skivvies with a towel full of ice pressed against his face.

"Commander Price," Leo said, with intense dislike. "Taking a page out of Mal's book, are you?"

Price snarled and continued to hold the icepack to his head. The medical staff had point blank refused to waste any of their medical supplies on an injury that was clearly sustained in a fist fight. Leo looked forward to letting Mal know that her private tormentor had been punched in the face and had his clothes stolen. "Fuck off, McCoy." There was pure acid in Price's voice. Dark eyes bore meanly into resolute hazel green.

Price looked away first. He laughed darkly.

"We… we need to talk."

Leo snorted and threw a pair of standard gray sweats into Price's lap. "I don't think so."

Price grated his teeth together, an angry hiss spitting out from between his lips. "Mallory Pike," he growled. "You want her. You love her. But you don't know her." Leo whipped around furious and the interns all ran for cover. Even Chapel inched her way out of the combat zone. "She isn't the only Betazoid onboard," Price said tapping his head. "You want her secrets? I've got them. You want to know why her file's off limits…" Price smiled cruelly.

"I can tell you everything."

**Reviews are love...**

_Here's my question... should Leo take the bait? I mean... Price is offering a pretty sweet deal. Mal wouldn't blame him if he listened. Well, she would, but she'd do the same thing in his position. Trust me. I know these things. -Ace_


	29. I Wish We'd Never Met

**Star Trek is property of its respective owners. I only own Mallory. I also own Price, but he's sort of a prat and I druther not claim him. **

29

"You slimy piece of shit!"

Leo fisted his hands up in the sweatshirt that Price had just pulled over his head and yanked him clean off the biobed. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't beat the dumb clean out of you."

Price mirrored Leo's stance, grabbing the collar of his blue medical shirt and giving Leo a solid shake. "Because she's never going to tell you the truth, McCoy. You're walking around with all these pretty thoughts floating around in your head…" He laughed and gave Leo a knowing smirk. "You think you have a future with her. You're making plans, you want to fit her into your life... That can never happen." Price was counting on his genetics to give him an edge as he tried to wrestle Leo to the ground. Betazoids were stronger than humans, after all, but Leo was fueled by raw anger.

And God help the man that got in the way of an angry McCoy.

The two men grappled, each struggling to get an advantage over the other, snarling and snapping like animals in the middle of the tiny sickbay that hung off the main medical bay. With an angry growl, Leo used leverage instead of strength and popped Price over his hip, following through to jab a knee into Price's back.

"Did you really think she was some sweet California girl?" Price taunted. He jerked out from under Leo's knee and slammed Leo into the floor, holding him there with a forearm across his throat. "That she's some genius MSU graduate, honors and all that shit with her proud captain daddy and brilliant sisters that she brags about constantly, but never visit her?" He held Leo's face still, looking him full in the eyes…

Leo slammed his fist into Price's jaw and the engineer was knocked away.

"Stay out of my head, you son of a bitch," he snarled.

Price spit out a mouthful of blood as Leo lurched to his feet, prepared to knock the asshole clear into Klingon Space if necessary. "I'm doing you a favor, McCoy." he whispered bitterly. "I'm saving you a lot of trouble."

Leo straightened his shirt out with a huff. He was a doctor, not a prizefighter, and he had just been rolling around on the floor like some drunken frat boy at a kegger… like he was _Jim_. Leo pointed one callused, tanned finger into Price's face. "The next time you show up in my medical bay, you had better be on fire, Price. Because I can promise you now, ain't no one in here that's going to help a piece of shit like you, otherwise." Leo was so furious he slipped into his drawl.

Price exploded. "Why am I always the bad guy?" he shouted in Leo's face. "Why am I always the villain and Mal always the victim? It's _bullshit._" He started to pace, his dark eyes wild as he moved back and forth. "Do you know what that monster _did_? She killed my brother. She _killed _him like it was nothing, and everyone treats me like I'm wrong for hating her. Your precious Mallory Pike is a murderer. She's a _child killer_, McCoy, and they covered it up. The Pikes just made it go away." Price was practically spitting, angry tears sliding down his face. He wiped them away furiously while Leo stood by, transfixed in horror. "Her mother took her back to Betazed, just swooped in and that was that. Never mind my little brother was dead. Never mind that _she _had done it. It was just swept under the rug like it was nothing.

"And then a decade later, I get a file left on my desk. New recruits, not one familiar name on the list, but that _picture_," Price pulled in a ragged breath, "It was her. I knew it was her. I never forget those eyes. One look at that picture and I knew… she was coming back to the Academy. After ten years she thought she could just come _back._ I demanded that she be turned away, I went as high up as Archer, but no one would listen. All anyone would say is, 'She's paid her debt.' And then they threatened _me. _They said if I told anyone who she was, _I_ would get a dishonorable discharge." Price laughed humorlessly. "I couldn't even make her pay for what she'd done…"

Price fell silent, the only sounds the faint beeping of the heart monitors in the main bay and the huge gulping breaths that Price heaved in through his mouth. The engineer felt the disbelief and confusion swarm over Leo like an army of ants, picking him apart, devouring him completely. Price couldn't help but smile wolfishly as he flipped leisurely through Leo's thoughts.

They were exactly what he thought they'd be.

"She's a murderer, McCoy. She has no regard for life. If it gets in her way… she gets it _out _of her way."

_Consider us even,_ Price sent his thought to the bridge, knowing full well that only one other person would hear it. _You ruined my life. Now, I've ruined yours._

Leo stood like a statue in the small sickbay long after Price muttered, "I just did you a favor," and left.

Leo just stood there.

Cold.

Mal was abusing Chekov's math skills. They both knew it, regardless of the wide smiles on their faces and their eager fingers moving over the screen. "I'm sorry, Pavel!" she said for the hundredth time. "I swear, the next time you have questions about _real_ science, I'll tell you whatever you need to know. I'm just useless with physics."

"Physics _is_ real science!" Chekov laughed and Mal had to fight down the urge to pinch his baby face and give him a lollipop. "And et's alright, Doktor. I don't mind."

Based on Mal's scans of the _Narada _they were trying to pin-point a location of the Romulans' medical supplies. Common sense pointed to the medical bay itself, but that was sure to be crowded with armed and pissy Romulans. She'd much rather get into their back up stores and avoid a brawl. Mal glanced over her shoulder at Jim. He was involved with something Spock was telling him, a small smile on his face.

Good, so long as he was distracted, she was in the clear. Mal was going to beam over to the _Narada_ whether Leo and Jim liked it or not, hence all the planning. The more information she had before she went, the more likely she would get back to the _Enterprise _in one piece.

One piece was a good thing.

Jim couldn't keep the smile off his face as he watched Mal and only half listened to Spock ramble about probabilities, percentages, and "statistical likelihoods". Mal thought she was being so smooth, but he wasn't as oblivious as she thought. He always had one eye on that girl. It was impossible not to. Not paying attention to Mal… well, it was like running across a highway without checking for cars first.

He shook his head. Mal tripped through Chekov's equations, smiling like she was getting away with something. When it came time to beam over to the Romulan ship, he was going to have to make sure that Mal stayed on the _Enterprise _where she belonged_, _even if he had to lock her in the brig to make sure she complied. Yeah, she'd be pissed, but at least she'd be alive.

He was watching her and Sulu tease Chekov when Mal suddenly froze, her smile replaced by confusion, followed swiftly by fear. Simultaneously Spock tensed beside him.

"Fascinating," Spock looked at Mal with something close to an expression on his smooth face. "Panic is yellow."

Jim didn't know what that meant, but he did know that something was wrong. Mal had gone all pale and shaky… like she was about to be sick. "Mal? What happened? Did you see a spider?"

She didn't answer.

"Mal?"

"Are you alright?"

"Mallory?"

Excessively warm hands fell lightly on the back of Mal's neck and a velvety calm voice drowned out Sulu, Chekov, Jim, and Uhura as they voiced their concern. _Do you require assistance?_ Spock's effect on Mal was immediate and welcome. In the confines of the firm, Vulcan control, Mal was able to think without being weighed down by the emotional upheaval of over three hundred people.

_Lucky, _Mal pouted. She didn't have that sort of control on her own. In fact, she had no control.

Ever.

_I wish I could sort it all out like that, _she told Spock with a mental sigh. _Compartmentalize. I bet apathy makes things easier._

Spock seemed offended. _I am not apathetic, Mallory. I am simply in control. I would tell you how to achieve this level of peace and calm, but I believe the last time I suggested meditation, you gave a prime example of a 'storm out'. _

_Meditating makes me remember,_ there was something tremulous, even about her mental voice. _I've done something terrible, Spock. And I think it just came back to bite me in the ass._

_Human idioms are ridiculous,_ Spock answered. _A past event has no physical attributes, therefore it cannot maim, injure, or bite._

Mal scowled. _I'm going to hurt you, _she told him plainly. _Spock… you read my file. You know what I did. Why I went away…_

_You are referring to the death of Thomas Price? _Mal flinched from his words, psionically curling in on herself. _The loss of life, especially a life so young… it is regrettable_.

Mal nodded. _He was a sweet, little kid, Spock. He never should have gotten hurt. His… his brother is on the _Enterprise. _Adam's with Leo right now, telling him what I did. I never wanted Leo to know. I never wanted him to look at me like… Like I'm a monster. _

Spock didn't answer right away. _I do not believe that Doctor McCoy could ever see you a negative light. It is logical that he will give you an opportunity to present your recollection of events._

_Did you just call Leo logical?_

She felt the Vulcan sigh. _You have faced far more frightening things than Doctor McCoy. Now, I must request that we end this link. It is highly unnecessary._

_You started it!_

_And now, I end it._

Spock took his hand from her neck and its warmth was immediately missed. "Was it getting too emotional in there for you?" Mal asked with a weak smile.

Spock merely blinked at her, but she could feel his amusement. "I do not believe you will be reprimanded if you reported to medical, Doctor Pike," the Vulcan said casually. "Please be advised that we will be entering the Sol system in forty minutes time."

Translation: you have forty minutes to fix your stupid emotional problems before the shit hits the fan.

With a small nod, Mal got into the turbolift without uttering a word. The door was about to close, when a gold-sleeved arm got in the way and forced it open again. Jim stood there, blue eyes sharp and assessing. Whatever he was looking for, his eyes warmed when they locked with Mal's and he stepped onto the lift with a smile on his face.

Mal got pulled into a hug the second the doors shut. She stood there like stone, shuddering with the panic that was trying to claw its way out of her chest. This was it. The big reveal. The end of her simple and easy friendships with the two people that made her life bearable.

"You're worrying me, babe." Jim released her and held her at arm's length, looking her over again.

Mal offered him her usual half smile, but it was stilted. "Sorry. I guess it's just been one of those days… deck five." The computer immediately obeyed, dropping them down into the ship. "I… I have to tell you something, Jim."

"It's finally story time?" Jim asked with a lopsided grin. "Your timing sucks, but I'm game." The lift stopped and let the two of them out into the hall outside of medical and Mal hesitated. He slung his arm easily around her shoulders, knowing that she needed the contact and the reassurance that went with it. Mal leaned against her friend and tried to remind herself that Spock was right. She'd faced worse things than Leonard McCoy.

She just couldn't think of any at the moment.

"Whatever it is, it can't be that bad, Mal," Jim told her quietly. "I'm here for you. God knows Bones can't get enough of you. We'll get through it."

His words only made her feel worse.

Mal trembled as she stepped into medical. It was eerily quiet and she was put into mind of the calm _after _the storm. The point where people go back to the scene of the hurricane only to find everything they had loved had been ravaged and will never be the same again. Before the tears, before the rebuilding… there's only stunned silence. That's the atmosphere she had just walked in to.

Stunned silence.

The interns oogled Mal as she walked resolutely across the room to stand in front of the CMO's office. Christine appeared at her side. "Sweetie… I don't think that's a good idea."

"Yeah, you're probably right," Mal muttered. Still she hit the door release. Nothing happened. It didn't budge. Leo had locked them out.

Jim frowned. "I don't know the overrides, Mal."

"I don't need them." Mal tapped in a rapid sequence. "If anyone asks about this… lie." Mal said sardonically.

_Voice code required._ The keypad blinked.

"Utilize override F-I 3. Tetrad two," she ordered and the door whipped open.

Mal found herself staring at a blue clad chest. She peeked up and gulped. Leo was glaring at her with something akin to revulsion and the feelings swirling around him were much of the same. Disgust, anger, loathing, and… Mal shuddered… the dark cloud that had taken her so long to chase away was back.

Her heart dropped down into her feet and flopped there uselessly.

Leo filled the doorway, his hands pressed against the frame as though he was supporting the entrance on his broad shoulders. Either that, or holding onto the doorframe was the only thing keeping him from wrapping his hands around her throat. "Did you really need to bring a witness?" Leo asked despondently, gesturing to Jim. "I'm not going to hurt you, Mal. I'm not going to do anything. Just… go. I want you to go."

"Leo…"

She was forcibly turned around and shoved back toward the exit. "Go."

"Take it easy, Bones," Jim said with a frown. "Mal has something she needs to tell us. The least we can do—"

"I already know what she wants to talk about," Leo intoned in a dead voice. "And… and I can't hear it again. Not from you." He was looking at Mal with such hurt that she just wanted to throw her arms around him and kiss the bad feelings away.

She didn't.

Mal just stood there.

Leo shook his head, his hazel eyes filled with contempt. "I can't do this. I can't even look at you. Honestly, Mal…I wish we'd never met."

Mal just nodded. Without a word, she shoved her way into the office and rummaged around his desk, looking for something specific. When she located the discarded PADD from earlier, she ran a finger along the screen, bringing it back to life. There was her file. Her life, from age fourteen on, was nothing more than a series of black lines and omissions.

Jim watched his two friends with an uncharacteristic frown while Leo never moved from the doorway, his eyes glued to Mal as she puttered with the PADD. She hooked it up to the mainframe with some difficulty. Technology was never Mal's thing.

"Computer, open file containing all information on Mallory Pike, cross referencing all material pertaining to Codename Goodfellow."

_Access restricted, _the computer said in that irritatingly chipper tone.

"Utilize override code F-I 3, voice code Goodfellow, Grisham, Terran, Federation. Direct download from base to PADD number…" Mal started rattling off numbers, her soul feeling heavier with ever word that fell past her lips. "Access files, now."

There was a moment of silence in which Jim's eyebrows flew upward and Leo just stared at Mal, completely unmoved.

_Access granted. _

Mal took a deep breath as page after page loaded instantaneously onto the computer and the PADD in her hand. A warning box flashed red on the mainframe and Mal shut it with an angry jab. No one missed the Universal symbol for the Federation that had been under the warning.

A symbol that meant what ever they were looking at was highly classified and tampering with it was a federal crime.

Mal waited patiently for Leo to meet her steely blue eyes. When he finally did, his own hazel lamps were dim. Empty. Mal pointed to the computer that was now flashing with a download alert. "I had hoped that I'd never have to do to this, Leo," she said softly. "I had hoped that my past would stay where it belongs, but it's clear that you won't be satisfied until I've been completely stripped bare. So there it is." She slammed her hand onto his desk. "Everything on me you could possibly want to know and a lot of things you don't. Just remember, Leonard McCoy. You forced this." She looked down at the PADD in her hand and checked the time.

"We've only got thirty minutes before Spock estimated arrival in the Sol system, Jim." She tossed him the PADD and breezed out the door. "Get reading, cowboy. I expect we're going to have a lot to talk about if I come back."

Something in Leo startled at the word 'if'.

"I didn't say you could go, Mal," Jim protested but Mal was already halfway to the door.

"Less talkie, more walkie, Jimboy. _We've_ got a lot of ground to cover, too." She practically sprinted out of medical, not waiting for him to argue.

Jim shrugged before clapping Leo on the back. "Women." He took off after her and left Leo alone with a computer and a rather imposing sense of foreboding.

**Reviews are love…**

_More of Mal's story and what was on the restricted file in the next chapter. I bet some of you are feeling pretty bad for Price now, huh? No character, no _person_ for that matter, is all good or all evil. People are flawed and range the spectrum between light and darkness. I try to instill that in my characters. No matter how much you love them… they're gonna screw up. That's human nature. And Betazoid nature. Does anyone know about Vulcans? Ah…Spock says no, they're perfect._


	30. Nobody Does it Better

_Alright, here goes the big reveal. I really hope that none of you are disappointed. I have this picture in my head of the Pike girls, and I just can't see Captain Christopher Pike having NORMAL daughters. He's just too badass. So without further ado... Chapter 30: Nobody Does it Better. (50 pts if you can tell me why this title is PERFECT)_

**Star Trek is propery of its respective owners. I only own Mallory.**

30

Leo stared at the computer. The Federation logo had popped up on the screen again. The field of stars surrounded by a crown of olive branches rotated slowly, reeling him in as it spun in its languid circle.

It didn't make sense. Now that the shock had worn off, something about Price's story wasn't clicking. Leo knew Mal, at least he liked to think that he did, and she wasn't capable of just _killing _someone. She was a doctor, a healer… she was a force of good.

Trouble? Yes.

Murderer… he couldn't believe that.

Mal was the woman that had painstakingly stitched the heads back onto all of her bulldog plushes after he had decapitated them. She was the one that slept on their floor when her roommate threw her out, and brought him sandwiches when he had infirmary duty. She was the one that helped him corral Jim one day and then helped the kid run wild the next. Mal made stupid bets with him and got him up at the crack of dawn to go running.

She was the one that had been there for him for the last three years, without fail.

He stared at the screen, trying to decide if it reading on was worth his sanity.

_So there it is. Everything on me you could possibly want to know and a lot of things you don't. _

"Argh!" Leo slammed his fist down on the desk.

Of course he wanted to know. He'd go crazy if he _didn't _read it.

Defeated, Leo scrolled down until he reached the point where Mal's redacted dossier had left off.

_August 2245…_

* * *

It only took Jim and Mal a matter of minutes to locate her quarters and slip inside. There was a trunk sitting at the foot of her bed, securely locked. Someone had handwritten a note, the scrawl nearly illegible, and stuck it to the lid. _All the things you asked for, plus a little extra - EM. _Mal made an amused sound and immediately recycled the paper, reducing it to dusty particles.

"Open her up, Jim." Mal yanked her blue uniform over her head. "Combo's 11-23-85-6." Jim nodded and started spinning the numbers on the old fashioned lock. Her disrobing didn't faze Jim in the slightest. Mal had never exactly been modest and Jim wasn't a stranger to the female form.

That didn't mean he didn't peek as Mal pawed her way through the dresser and pulled out a pair of dark jeans and a black leather waistcoat. He heard the lock's tumblers snick into place and he opened the lid. "Mal… it's empty."

"Appearances, Jim." Mal scolded as she buttoned up her waistcoat. She kicked the side of the trunk and something inside clicked loudly as the false bottom popped up. Curious, Jim slid the thin wooden panel up and stared down at enough gadgets and gizmos to give Scotty a heart attack. He didn't know what half of it was. There were tiny blinking things, and shiny silver things, things that looked like they'd shatter to a million pieces if you even looked at them cross-eyed... and a good deal of things that looked like they'd go _BOOM_.

He reached a hand inside but Mal cleared her throat. "I wouldn't."

"What's going on, Mal?" Jim asked. He looked up at his friend and there was something… electric passing through her. Mal's eyes flashed with an almost dangerous spark as she whirled around the room grabbing things off of shelves and out of the trunk.

Mal took a deep breath.

"The first thing you have to know, Jim, is that Betazoids practice arranged marriages."

Alright, _that _wasn't what he was expecting.

"It's called genetic bonding, and it's more traditional than practical. Around five years old we get "bonded" to our supposed life-mate. It's archaic and pointless, and no one puts up much of a fuss when one or both parties eventually bail." Her tone made it clear that this was a speech she had recited before.

"You're bonded?" Jim asked. He didn't like the idea of Mal being stuck in some prearranged relationship, even if it _was_ impermanent. It bugged him.

Mal shook her head. "I was. When I was four I was bonded to Adam Price."

Jim had the decency to look like he was about to be ill and a small smile appeared on Mal's face. "Is that why he's such a dick to you?" Jim asked. "You broke off this… bond thing?"

Her smile vanished and she cleared her throat. "No." Mal started to rummage around in the trunk, flinging things onto her bed as she went. "Our bond was broken when I killed his brother. Do you see an earpiece anywhere? Ah, found it."

Jim almost missed the important information where Mal cleverly hid it between nonsense. "You… killed his brother. _Killed_?"

Mal just nodded.

"The second thing you need to know, Jim, is that the Pike girls… well, we don't exactly follow any hard and fast rules as far as our genetics go. Being half-Betazoid, we've all turned out differently. Darby looks the part. She's embraced the Betazoid culture, follows it completely, but her mind is human. Physically, she's a Beta. Mentally, she's Terran. Kadence…" Mal rolled her eyes as she dug through the pile on the bed, slipping things into a black sack. "Kay's the total opposite. She looks just like Pop, but her mind is all mom. She uses that to her advantage. Looks human, acts human, must be human, right? No one ever realizes that she's elbow deep in their darkest secrets while she's smiling to their faces."

"What about you?" Jim asked. He wondered if Mal's frenzied packing was just to give her something to do while she spoke or if she was actually planning on going somewhere with all that gadgetry.

"Me?" Mal paused a moment, "I compliment both sides. I can pass for human, but my physiology is a bizarre mix and I have only limited psionic skill. I'm considered a weak empath on Betazed."

Jim snorted. "Weak? After what you've done today, weak isn't a word I would use to illustrate you."

Mal sighed. "Thanks, Jim. But to them I'm weak because I have this… quirk. Human mind, Beta mind… I'm some combination that defies Betazoid standards. My projections are more potent than they should be, my threads more elastic, my empathy broader, but to them it doesn't _feel _right. I can't do the basic things a Betazoid should be able to. Unless I'm directly linked to someone, I can't speak mind to mind, I have zero telepathic abilities. All I can do is see feelings, project a bit. By their standards I'm a failure."

"That's such bullshit." Jim's eyes narrowed. "I'd like to see a full-blooded Betazoid do what you did today."

"That's the point, Jim." Mal turned her blue eyes on him. "They can't. And they can't explain why I can other than my human genes _corrupting_ me. It doesn't matter that I'm the best at what I do, I don't fit into their definition of a proper Betazoid. Therefore, I am weak. No amount of meditation helps. Focusing on my abilities only seems to push me into a mental breakdown. I've had to find other ways to settle my thoughts and calm my mind."

Mal took a deep breath, pulling her hair into a tight ponytail at the back of her head. "You can imagine that news of my failed training didn't exactly thrill Adam. When I was fourteen, his parents decided it was time for us to meet again, to see if I had _anything _to offer the partnership other than a possible genetic defect caused by my human half.

"Adam's family brought him to Earth despite my objections of the whole situation. My mother asked that I give it a chance, to consider Adam as a possible option for my future." Mal made a face. "Mom always let me choose my own path. Her only insistence was that I viewed Adam with an open mind. Something along the lines of waste not, want not."

"Your dad must have hated that," Jim said lightly.

Mal offered him a weak smile. "He did. He _really _did. We're a… a very _loving _species, Betazoids. I don't think Pop's ever liked the idea of me collecting 'play mates' the way other Betazoid women do."

Jim whistled through his teeth. No, Pike probably wouldn't like that at all.

Mal's smile flickered out. "Adam was… kind. Funny. So smart. He was older than me, a full blooded Betazoid, and he was already trained to use his telepathy. I was fourteen, Jim. I was impressed by him. I didn't know any better." Mal shoved her arms under her mattress and pulled out a slim, black, combat belt. She fastened it quickly around her waist and it slid down to her hips the second she took her hands from it. "All _I_ could do was feel emotions. I had no idea that he was reading my thoughts, telling me what I wanted to hear. I was only a kid. I saw that he was happy and I never looked closer."

"So what happened?" Jim asked, following her speedy movements. "Babe, you can tell me."

Mal finally ceased her tear around the room. She kept her back to Jim, unable to face him as she spoke. "We were on campus," she said slowly. "His parents and mine were making themselves scarce, letting us 'get to know each other'. We were watching Kadence and Adam's little brother, Thom, play on the grounds, chasing each other, tormenting the cadets, just having fun… Everything was fine.

"But I was so stupid," Mal's voice was thick with self-loathing. "I told Adam I that I wanted to join Starfleet, like my Pop. I wanted to discover new life in the universe and have adventures." She laughed at herself darkly. "I know it sounds naïve. I just wanted to find all the strange things that were out there… I guess I didn't want to feel like I was the only bit of weirdness there was." She looked up at Jim. "I just knew my future wasn't on Betazed with Adam Price, no matter how impressive he was. I felt I was meant for more than silent contemplation and an open marriage." She shuddered at the thought. "I respect my mother's culture, Jim, and I understand its importance, but I wasn't going to honor something that I didn't believe in."

Jim nodded. "But you told Bones and me that your father _made _you join Starfleet."

"My priorities changed. Starfleet wasn't an option after... at least, not at first." Mal's tone was bitter. "Adam didn't react well. He told me that Starfleet was ill suited for those in our social class. He said that he could not be married to someone involved in something so… base. I let him know that it was probably best if we went our separate ways."

Jim could picture it. Mal telling this guy her aspirations, her dreams for a future among the stars and Adam telling her to forget it, and insulting Captain Pike to boot.

What an idiot.

"Adam told me flat out that he had no intentions of letting me break our bond." Mal's voice was rough with ghosts of her past pain. Jim crept up beside her. She was snapping the little, blinking tags from the trunk onto her belt with trembling hands. Each little instrument chirped before shutting off. Slowly, so as not to alarm her, Jim cautiously slid his arms around Mal, catching her in a hug and forcing her to stand still. Mal resisted it for a minute, but Jim held on, and slowly she relaxed. With a sigh, Mal buried her tears in his shirt collar for the umpteenth time that day. "Your momma's a Mari, I swear it, Jim," Mal muttered. "You always know when I need a hug."

"I wish she was Mari," Jim said softly. "Then I could make you feel better." They were silent a moment, each taking strength from the other in a cycle of love and support. "What did he do to you, Mal?" Jim's voice was hushed.

Mal sucked in a steadying breath. "Adam… he didn't know about my mental weirdness. He just figured I was young, still in training. Malleable. He weaseled his way into my mind and tried to _make _me do as he said. He tried to wipe Starfleet and my devotion to my dad out of my head. He tried to force his will over mine."

"Son of a bitch," Jim growled, the rumble moving through his chest. "I'll kill him."

Mal's voice took on a new tone. It was low, airy. She was whispering her story into Jim's neck, telling him her ugly secrets. "He was in my head, Jim, twisting it up and confusing me. He was pushing my thoughts around. It hurt. It hurt so much. I couldn't keep him out. I couldn't get away. I couldn't think. He was just so angry. It was all I could see. So much anger… I got lost in it. I fell into all of that red and… I couldn't stop myself. I snapped. I don't remember much. Just the pain and the color. Someone was screaming…" She paused. "I woke up the next day on Betazed… in a fucking straight jacket and locked in an 'alternate learning environment' which is just Betazoid for nuthouse.

"They wouldn't let my parents in to see me, they said it wasn't safe. The doctors told me I had developed CPD and the loss of control had caused the death of Thom Price. Critical Psionic Distress," she scoffed at the benign sounding name. "It's basically the mind shutting down while the telepathy runs wild. It's dangerous. I should've gone mad. Hell, _I _should've died. Instead it was some poor little kid that got caught in the mental cross fire."

Jim had gone rigid. "CPD? But that's what happened to you today! Down in medical bay I heard Bones say CPD. Shit, Mal, no wonder he was so worried about you."

Mal nodded. "Most of my kind don't ever reach critical mass like that. Ever. The fact that I've hit it…" she paused to count, "four times so far doesn't bode so well, does it? I never seem to know what my limits are until I'm twitching on the ground with a hypospray being shoved between my eyes."

"Four times? Can't you do anything the easy way?" Jim teased.

Mal glared up at Jim, her blue eyes bright with unshed tears. "Jim, I just told you I killed someone. With my mind. Because I got _angry_. How can you make jokes?"

Jim's grip around her tightened into something almost painful. "Because I don't see where it's _your _fault. It sounds to me like Price fucked with your head."

"But it was _my_ lack of control, _my_ projection that scrambled Thom's mind. I couldn't keep a grip on myself and I destroyed one family, and shamed my own. I didn't find out until I was released thirteen months later that Adam had claimed I'd just gone crazy and attacked Thom. Kay was too little to know up from down. She couldn't explain what really happened. He told everyone I murdered his brother in cold blood. "

Jim frowned. Thirteen months? His teeth ground together in anger. Mal had been locked away for thirteen months because Price had _lied _about the circumstances surrounding his own brother's death. Yeah, Mal might have been the weapon, but Price had pulled the trigger. If anyone was to blame, it was him. Jim's squeezed her tightly and Mal wondered if he was trying to absorb her through osmosis, she was pressed nearly flush to his chest.

"You have nothing to feel guilty about," Jim told her firmly. "As your captain, I order you to forget what a douche bag Price is."

Mal chuckled darkly. "Aye, _captain_… but there's more."

"There's… more?" Jim finally let Mal go and stared at her in disbelief. "Shit, Mal, I'm not so sure how much more I can actually take." He clutched at his heart in mock stress.

Mal took the forgotten PADD out of Jim's hand and flipped through_._ She stopped at a subfolder marked _Goodfellow. _"I didn't get out of the hospital on my own, Jim. I was put there permanently. I was supposed to die in that hospital without ever seeing my family again, with all the other Betazoids that failed to manage their minds."

"This…Goodfellow got you out?" Jim asked, glancing at what she had pulled up on the PADD.

Mal shook her head, a small, legitimate smile finally playing on her lips. "Not exactly. While I was in the hospital, I met a Deltan named Illyria. She was an immensely powerful telepath who was, by the way, crazier than a shithouse rat. She told me people were already going through the proper channels to have me released. She said that there was so much more good I was still meant to do, and when the chance came, I should say 'yes'."

"Yeah, that _does_ sound crazy," Jim said lightly and Mal grinned at him.

"I never expected it to actually happen. People that go into those hospitals don't come out again. But… Illyria was right. The doors opened, the straightjacket came off, and there was the ship. The Tellerite onboard gave me a choice. I could join up and make the universe a better place or I could sit in that padded room for the rest of my life. I left with him and I haven't looked back since."

Jim frowned. "Join up?" he asked. "Join what?

Mal beamed at him, her whole face lighting up. "I've wanted to tell you and Leo about this for _ages_ but I would have been nailed to the wall for it," she said grasping his hand and pointing to the PADD. "I _am _Goodfellow."

Jim stared at her. "Alright, and I am the Walrus. Koo Koo Kachu.

"Jim!" she whined.

"What? You _are _Goodfellow… what does that mean?"

Mal left his side to poke around her trunk again. She pulled out a shiny, silver badge and clutched it to her chest protectively, gnawing on her lower lip. "Don't freak out," she ordered, sternly. "Because there isn't time for you to hyperventilate, Jim."

Mal flashed the badge, giving Jim a quick view of the Federation logo cast in silver. But instead of a plain, field of stars, there had been a sniper scope sculpted into the center of the badge.

Mal straightened up smartly as Jim appraised her badge. "Chief Mallory Pike, reporting for duty aboard the _Enterprise_ on behalf of Federation Intelligence, sir!" She saluted smartly before standing at attention in front of him a wicked, lopsided smile on her face.

Jim's jaw landed by his feet and stayed there.

* * *

Leo sat in his darkened office with his face in his hands.

She was a spy.

His Mal was a Federation spy.

And not just any spy. According to her file, Mal was special ops. Her entire department was built of telepaths and empaths. Mind readers and mind manipulators. They breezed in, they watched, they influenced, and then they breezed out again, no one the wiser that they had just been played in favor of the Federation.

They were sneaky bastards that hid in plain sight, unobtrusive and unremarkable. No one paid them any mind. No one suspected them. Hell, no one even knew they existed. Their department was a myth, a rumor that circulated from time to time. There was no _Federation _Intelligence…

Except there was and Mal was apart of it.

A spy.

A spy?

Leo shook his head slightly.

Mal was… a spy…

According to the file, there were a handful of them at the Academy at that very moment, gently influencing the cadets to work harder, try their best, and be strong. They were spread all over the universe, sticking their noses where they didn't belong and alternately strengthening the Federation and sewing doubt and conflict into the souls of Federation foes. They entered a situation and warped it until they had what they needed, be it a treaty, a weapon, or information. Most of the time, force was never necessary, since most of them weren't fighters in the least. Soldiers drew attention. And FI… they were ghosts. They were devious, reckless, invisible, and completely off the radar to anyone without the proper clearance. Other telepaths didn't acknowledge them, simply because FI was careful to recruit only those that were beneath notice. People like Mal that had been declared insane or worse. They would just be dismissed if the words _Federation Intelligence _popped up in their heads.

It was so simple.

Mal especially had been very busy. Her hand was in half of the treaties that had been written since her enlistment in FI. She was also responsible for dozens of seemingly innocent "incidents" that had befallen those that opposed the Federation.

On paper, Mal was a cadet, a doctor preparing to be launched into space. In reality, it was little more than cover, a way for her to fill her times between missions.

Leo closed his eyes and thought back to all those weekends Mal had been off campus, only to return bruised and battered. He thought about the tension in her shoulders come those Sunday nights when she came sneaking into his room, looking for someone to talk to. He realized that he and Jim had been soothing away the memories of a mission gone badly.

How many times had she been in danger?

How many times had she only just made it back to him?

Leo looked at the mission index and shuddered.

Too many times to count.

On the other hand, there were weekends she came back perfectly relaxed and grinning happily, telling them about this or that event she had been to, and why it was absolutely the most pretentious thing she had ever experienced, and it would have been more fun if they were there.

There were far more of those.

Mal was good at what she did.

"Goodfellow," Leo muttered, rolling the word around his mouth like it was a lolly. He had to admit, it was the perfect codename for Mal. Robin Goodfellow was a trickster, a con artist of myth. He was as hurtful as he was helpful…

It was well suited.

He looked up at the screen, his eyes leeched colorless in the florescent light of the computer.

Mal was a spy.

…a spy.

A small smile started to play at the corners of Leo's mouth.

_Believe me when I say there are stranger things in this universe than time traveling sociopaths, _she had told them all on the bridge. She would know. She'd probably seen it.

Leo stood up slowly. "Computer, locate Mallory Pike."

He thought he might have actually heard the electronic voice sigh at hearing that command yet again, but he must have been mistaken. _Location: Private quarters, deck nine._

Leo tried to smooth the wrinkles out of his uniform shirt as he slid the door to his office open. The interns and residents scattered as he made his way across medical and into the hall.

Damn that woman.

No matter what she did to him…

Leo just kept going back for more.

* * *

Jim sat down hard on Mal's desk, his blue eyes wide. Mal waited in front of him, still at attention, biting her lip as he stared.

"Please say something, Jim." Mal's cocky smile was gone and she had started staring at her boots, a sure fire sign that she was nervous. With a jolt, Jim realized that Mal was waiting for his approval or dismissal, and whichever he gave her would determine their relationship from that point on.

Jim scowled and he saw a tiny drop of saline drop onto the carpet from her downcast eyes. He knew she was reading his emotions, feeling his annoyance and his disappointment, but it wasn't what she thought it was. He was both annoyed _and _disappointed that Mal thought he would care.

She was his friend. His sister. God, she was his partner in crime half the time. Jim didn't care what uniform she was wearing or who she reported to at the end of the day.

Mal was always just… Mal.

Having prolonged her torture long enough, Jim smirked. "_Federation_ Intelligence?" he teased. "You aren't even regular, blow it up and knock it down _Starfleet_ Intelligence?"

Mal looked up startled and caught sight of his grin. Slowly, her own crept onto her face until they wore identical expressions of joy. "Those crybaby losers? No way." She flung herself at Jim, hugging him for all she was worth while he laughed into her hair. She released him quickly and started running checks on her equipment, the little tags beeping and clicking as she spoke. "SI can have their little spy games with their cloak and dagger bullshit. In fact _FI_ prefers that they keep doing what they do. While everyone is watching them and trying to figure out what the hell Starfleet's doing, FI can get the real jobs done. SI is the decoy branch." Mal laughed at the look on Jim's face.

"We prefer the subtle approach. We watch. We maneuver. We… influence. That's why all of us have some sort of telepathic ability. We shape events to unfold as we see fit, and we do it without anyone knowing we actually exist."

Jim cackled. "You're a secret agent. That's so great."

"I'm glad you think so," Mal said with an eye roll. She slung her bag over her shoulder and across her chest, checking the straps carefully.

"You're a spy!"

"Jim…"

He laughed again. "But you're a _spy_!"

"Oh, for fuck's sake." Mal threw her hands up in defeat.

"Do you know how _hot _that is?" Jim demanded. "Fem fatale, and all that. I mean the black leather's a little cliché, but… holy shit, Mal! I can't believe you've been doing this since you were fourteen!"

With a shake of her head, Mal hooked an earpiece around the shell of her ear. "Fifteen. I spent a year in the crackerjack box, remember? But yeah, since then I've been on mission. Sometimes off planet, sometimes on. Pop hates it. He's been a real champ about it, though." She paused. "I met you once. I don't think you'd remember me considering what you'd just been through, but I was part of the clean up team that went to Tarsus IV."

Jim went very still, his smile erased at the mere mention of that nightmare planet. "You were there?"

"Briefly. My partner and I got there just after the rescue." Mal shook her head. "I remember you."

"I don't…"

Mal shushed him and quickly sent him a wave of soothing contentment and peace. "I wouldn't expect you to. I didn't know your name back then. I didn't get details like that until after we were back at HQ. I wish I could say that was the worst thing I've seen, Jim, but I can't."

Jim held on to the comfort Mal had sent him, but he looked up sharply when he heard the strain in her tone. She was doing too much again. Mal's expression seemed a bit distant and he shook her back to the moment at hand. She smiled at him, her blue eyes returning to focus.

"We come out the other end stronger, don't we?" she asked.

Jim grinned. "Lucky us."

_Captain Kirk, report to the bridge. _Spock's voice came over Jim's comm. and he sighed.

"Acknowledged. We're on our way up, Spock."

_We? Am I correct in speculating that Chief Pike will be accompanying us on this mission?_

Mal snatched the comm. out of Jim's hand. "You bet your gigabyte brain, I'm coming with you! Pike, out!" She snapped the comm. shut with a flourish.

"Oh, come on! _Spock_ knew before I did?" Jim whined. "I'm supposed to be your best friend, Mal."

Mal shrugged. "You're in the top ten, at least," she said, teasing as they headed out into the hall. "Spock hacked into my file back at the Academy and found out on his own. Satisfied?"

Jim pouted and looked sideways at Mal in all of her FI glory. Dressed all in black with a utility belt and bag of tricks, she certainly looked more like a spy than she did in her cadet Reds and lab coat. "Are you really going up to the bridge dressed like that?" He questioned. "I don't think you're going to pass for a ship's doctor in pants that do _that _to your ass." He gave her an appreciative glance and caught her grinning recklessly.

"Well, it's been a whole two hours since I last caused drama on the bridge, and seeing as how I'm acting officially on FI's behalf, I don't mind. Besides, if I die over there, I'm dying in uniform. _My _uniform."

Jim shot Mal a look. "And on that happy note, it's time to focus."

Mal sighed as they stepped onto the lift. "Right. Well, I won't be able to stay with you once we beam over," she told him flatly. "I've got a sickbay to restock and a mainframe to get into. I'll probably be planting little detonators as I go, too, so if you see one of these babies," she gestured to the now silent tags that were strapped to her belt, "don't touch it. I'm counting on _you_ to get my dad out of there. Got it?"

Jim pursed his lips. "Excuse me, babe, but I'm pretty sure _I'm _captain here."

Mal patted his cheek. "Technically, I outrank you, Jim."

"Nuh-uh!" he complained. "Bullshit. _Technically_, your department doesn't even exist, so suck it."

The lift doors opened onto the bridge and the entire crew heard his rather unorthodox command shouted across the deck. Jim looked up blushing while Mal smirked.

Spock looked up from where he was still running through equations with Chekov and nodded at their appearance. "Captain. We are 4.23 minutes from Saturn. It is necessary to prepare for our departure."

Mal was well aware of the confused looks she was getting from the bridge crew, and she was careful not to meet anyone's eye. She stood silently at Jim's side as he gave his orders and left Sulu in charge of the Con. When he got back into the lift, she was glued to his right side and Spock took his place on Jim's left. Uhura was just a step behind Spock and Mal could feel her worry, her deep rooted fear.

For a few moments, they rode in silence. "Doctor… Chief Pike," Spock said, his voice not nervous in the least for all that they were less than five minutes away from beaming aboard an enemy ship to very possibly never return, "Is there any logic in my asking you to remain onboard the _Enterprise_?"

Jim turned slowly to look at the Vulcan. "If I didn't know better, Mal, I'd say Spock was worried about you."

"Logic is not my jam, Commander. But I promise you this… if we get out of this, your eyebrows are safe."

"Then I wish you luck."

Mal grinned and wiggled from Jim's side to stand between the two men. She took hold of Jim's hand and without asking permission, she did the same to Spock, Uhura on his other hand. Between Spock's cool serenity and Jim's arrogant confidence, Mal stepped off the lift with her head held high and her heart resolved.

Time to save the world.

**Reviews are love...**

_I'm really anxious to know what you thought of this chapter. I mean, Mal's a spy, not the most original thought, but I mean how cool is it that intergalactic espionage is her weekend gig? Anyhow, I hope you approve. Cheers. -Ace_


	31. What About Jim?

_Fifty points and a plate of cookies goes to Shellybellypie and Naomiblue for knowing that Nobody Does it Better is the theme from The Spy Who Loved Me. I thought it was a good fit for Leo and Mal or MALEO as Shellybellypie has dubbed them. Cheers! -Ace_

**Star Trek is property of its respective owners. I only own Mallory.**

31

Jim strode into the transporter room as confident and ready as any one person could be, given the circumstances. Mal practically burst with pride as she watched him take command without so much as batting an eyelash. Had she not witnessed it herself, Mal would have never believed it… someone had grown up considerably in the last several hours. Mal looped an easy thread around Jim and fastened it securely.

_You're a rock star, you know that_? she told him, letting him feel her pride. _You really are._

Jim grinned and hung an arm around her shoulders. "Thanks, babe. How are we, Scotty?"

Spock moved past Jim to stand patiently on the pad. Uhura fussed over him, her fear sucking the air out of the small room. Mal's stomach turned from Uhura's nerves and she scowled at the back of her friend's head. If Uhura made her throw up in front of all these people, Mal knew exactly whose boots she was going to aim for.

"Unbelievably, sir, the ship is in position," Scotty said with a crooked grin. He glanced up from his controls and caught sight of Mal decked out in black and leather. "Feelin' cheeky, are ye lass?" he asked with a smirk.

Mal shoved Uhura's anxiety away winked at the older engineer. "Can't let Jimboy have _all _the attention, Scotty. I was hoping you could do me a favor…" She started pointing at the various things on her belt, asking him to get a lock on the small pulse beacons and to make sure that the transporter down in the cargo bay was prepared to beam over the medical supplies as soon as the signals were reactivated. Scotty was practically drooling over the little widgets and devices.

"Ye best be coming back, lass." Scotty groaned with jealousy. "I'd love to get me hands on semma them wee bombs ye've strapped on."

Mal pulled one of the tiny detonators off of her belt and tossed it to him. "Just in case," she said. "And _don't _set that thing off, Scotty. It's more powerful than it looks." Mal walked over to the transporter pad while Scotty practically set her aflame with his happiness.

In contrast, between the two of them Spock and Uhura were a flood of desperation and fear. Mal felt the fear acutely, try as Spock might to beat it down and hide it. She had no idea how the man was able to remain so calm outwardly when internally he was pacing like a caged tiger. Mal spared the couple a glance and immediately looked away, feeling intrusive. They clung to each other, frantic to stay as close as possible, for as long as possible.

Mal stood as far from them as she could get without actually falling off the transporter pad. Her emotional link to Spock might have granted her unlimited access to his anger and fear, but she was getting some other emotional run off, too. Hope, affection, desire… she shifted uncomfortably. Mal didn't particularly _want _to be turned on by Uhura.

Besides, watching them suck face only reminded her of Leo, and thinking of him made her heart twist painfully in her chest.

_Focus, _Mal told herself harshly. _You knew that Leo was a pipedream all along. He's too smart to get involved with you. Don't be stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid…_ It just went on like that for a while.

Jim sighed deeply, steeling himself for his next move. He stood over Scotty's consul with a resolved look on his face, and Mal was pulled out of her self-denigration by the force of his strength. There was a _ding_ indicating he had just paged the bridge.

"Whatever happens, Mr. Sulu, if you think you have the tactical advantage you fire on that ship, even if we're still onboard. That's an order." Jim met Mal's eyes and held. She could feel a question running through their link, but Jim didn't have the skills necessary to mentally verbalize it. Still, Mal understood. She nodded, agreeing with his decision.

_I'm with you, Jim._

There was a long pause in which Sulu was clearly trying to find a way out of obeying. After a moment they heard a tired, "Yes, sir."

Jim nodded. "Otherwise, we'll contact the _Enterprise_ when we're ready to be beamed back."

"Good luck." Sulu's voice came over the speaker before Jim disconnected and went to stand between Mal and Spock. He saw Mal turn on her earpiece, muttering to some unknown entity. "Who—" he was about to ask who exactly she was talking to on a ship that was unable to make outside contact when his brain suddenly processed what was going on on the _other _side of him.

Spock and Nyota were still wrapped around each other, murmuring and trying to deafen the blow of Spock's departure with gentle kisses and soft touches. Jim stared at them until he felt a mental kick and he glared at Mal.

_Quit staring at them, Jim. You've seen people kiss before._

Jim couldn't answer aloud, not with ole pointy ears right there. He opted to just look at Mal and point to the very public display of affection taking place next to him.

_Leave them alone, _she scolded good-naturedly. _Let them say goodbye in peace._

There was a certain heaviness to her words that made Jim ache a little. Her eyes were fixed on the door, searching but no one was there. Jim put his hand on her shoulder. "He'll come around, babe. I know he will." He looked at Scotty who gave him an amiable thumbs up. "But we have to go."

She nodded as Uhura finally released Spock and stepped off the pad. "I'll be monitoring your frequency," she whispered, brushing her hand along the smooth angle of his face.

"Thank you, Nyota." Spock let her go and clasped his hands behind his back. He was ready.

Jim held it in as long he could. He really did. "So her first name's Nyota?"

Spock's response was swift and final. "I have no comment on the matter."

Mal smirked, her blue eyes dancing. "It was a good run, Ny," she told her friend with a shrug. "But Spock just can't keep a secret."

"Secrets are illogical." Spock never failed to disappoint and Mal and Jim smiled at each other.

Jim's smile nearly split his face in half as his eyes caught movement in the hall. He elbowed Mal and whispered, "Told you so."

Leo stood in the doorway.

Mal took a step back as he came toward her, his hazel eyes burning with some internal fire. One look from him and she was pinned under that stare. It was like her bones had all fused together, rendering her immobile. Or she was so stupefied she'd forgotten how to move. Either way she was helpless, or unwilling, to look away. "You…" Leo growled, closing the gap between them in a deluge of anger.

Leo _was _angry. There was only so far a man could be pushed after all before he had to face facts and come to terms with the truth. Excuse him for being put off by the fact he'd spent three years fully believing in one thing only to find out it was a lie.

Unable to stop herself, and helpless to escape from his eyes, Mal started to babble. Words tumbled from her mouth in a senseless stream in an attempt to stem the fury she could feel pounding through him. "I-I'm sorry, alright, I really am. I wanted to tell you, hell I _would_ have told you if I could've, but there are rules. And it's not like it's just my life, it's my whole team that'll be in jeopardy, plus you, if someone decides to use you to get to us, so there was a lot to consider in the whole keeping Leo oblivious decision. I didn't know how you'd react, and I know you have every right to be angry, but I was just scared because Jim's an idiot, and you would've had me committed, and I'm just one person, dammit!. You know, you could try to understand… and… and… eep."

Mal had lost the ability to speak as Leo took hold of her face in steady, firm hands.

"You listen to me, Mallory Pike," he ordered roughly. Mal was obediently silent, transfixed by how much green was actually in his eyes. Forget torture. She was about to break just from one look. Mal gulped loudly, her throat suddenly dry as Leo tipped her face up even further so he could bark at her more directly. "You have no right," he told her harshly. "You have no right coming into my life, throwing it into complete chaos, and making me love you, only to go and get yourself offed by some goddamned Romulan! You have no right. You come _back._ If you don't, so help me God, I will kick your spy ass to Qo'noS and back again. You hear me, Mal? _You. Come. Back._"

Mal didn't have time process what he said, let alone respond, before Leo yanked her forward and crushed his mouth against hers. It wasn't like the sweet, innocent kiss they had swapped on the bridge, and it wasn't like the fearful, desperate kisses that Spock and Uhura had just exchanged. It was a ferocious, powerful meeting of lips and souls, colors exploding behind both their eyes as sensation tore through them in dizzying, triumphant waves.

His one hand twisted in her ponytail, tugging her face up and drawing her closer as he deepened their kiss. His other hand spread wide across her lower back, dragging her into him, crushing them together in an attempt to erase the space between them. Knowing she would be able to feel it, Leo tried to send every ounce of his love to Mal. Swirling ribbons of pink and red entwined the two of them, knotting and tangling, braiding and twisting them together.

Mal gasped when the weight of his feeling actually hit her. It was deeper than she could have thought possible for a human. How could that bitch have claimed that Leonard McCoy was incapable of love? How could someone throw him away? Almost aggressively, Mal locked her hands in that chestnut hair and held on for dear life. No one would ever hurt him again. Just let someone _try. _

_Atta boy,_ Jim thought with a small laugh. "Does everyone get a goodbye kiss but me?" he asked dejectedly.

"Well, dinna look at me, Cap'n. Ye ent me type."

Uhura laughed along with the witty Scotsman while Jim sputtered.

"Shut up, _Nyota._"

"You shut up, farm boy."

The dignity of their departure was quickly being lost and Spock fixed Leo and Mal with dark-eyed disapproval. "Fascinating," he said in a smooth, toneless, voice. "I would not have expected lust to be black."

Mal broke away from Leo and blushed furiously, giving Spock the finger while she was at it. Leo just growled at the Vulcan, his hand still possessively splayed on the small of Mal's back. Mal didn't risk another kiss, but wrapped her arms around Leo's neck, her cheek resting over his heart. The speeding beat was steady and solid, reassuring in its rhythm. Mal shut her eyes for just a moment before she felt him press his mouth to her hair, her temple, her cheek, finally pulling her face up to softly brush over her lips again.

Yes, Leonard McCoy was furious. He had done everything he could think of to make himself believe that Mal's role in his life was passive. She was a friend, nothing more. _Look, don't touch._

It was a _lie_.

The woman influenced every little thing that Leo did, from his morning routine (jogging at seven AM?) to the way he spent his nights (Grisham's, eleven o'clock, _be _there). He had lied to himself, told himself it was nothing, could be nothing, would be nothing.

The truth was, Mal was everything.

"I mean it," he whispered, his warm breath ghosting over her cheek. "You come back to me. Doctor's orders."

Mal smiled, her fingers running maddeningly along the nape of his neck. "You said you love me," she said smugly.

Leo rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Just like a woman to hold my words against me."

"You love me," she said again with a superior little toss of her ponytail. "Bet your ass I'll be back, cowboy. Just have the interns ready to get those meds off the transporter in cargo bay."

Leo felt something slide into his pocket just before Mal stepped back. "Stay safe," she whispered.

"Stay safe." Leo returned the words, hoping Mal could feel his sincerity. If she didn't come back…

"Okey-dokey, then," Scotty chuckled with a small shake of his head. "If there's any common sense in the design of the enemy ship, I should be putting ye somewhere in the cargo bay. Should nae be a soul in sight."

Jim smiledly wickedly at Mal. "Hold on to your butt," He gave Scotty a brisk nod and issued the order. "Energize."

The brightness of the transporter room intensified as they were beamed onto the unsuspecting _Narada_. For a moment the darkness stunned them while they waited for their brains to catch up to their bodies.

"Oh." Jim was the first to realize that Scotty had put them firmly in the middle of a busy computer hub. Dozens of Romulans blinked stupidly at the three intruders, their hands frozen over their screens.

"What the—"

Whatever word Mal was going to finish off with was lost in a hail of phaser fire and Jim ordering her to get moving.

_See you back on the Enterprise,_ she told Jim silently before she took a detonator off her belt, pinched it to life, and chucked it with all her might at a crowd of armed Romulans. The small bit of metal bounced off one of the tattooed thug's foreheads, landing in his open palm. He only had time to look at it with confusion before it exploded in his hand, tearing him and those surrounding him to pieces.

"Alright, Mal!" Jim said as he and Spock covered each other's backs. Mal didn't answer.

She was already gone.

**Reviews are love…**


	32. Uhoh

**Star Trek is property of its respective owners. I only own Mallory.**

32

Mal felt like a pirate.

How could she not?

She had just boarded an enemy ship to plunder medical supplies and steal whatever information she could from the mainframe with encouragement from her _captain_ to cause as much trouble along the way as she could.

If that didn't scream Jolly Roger and 'drink up me hearties, yo ho' she didn't know what did.

Feeling incredibly badass, Mal quickly moved down one darkened corridor after another, alert for danger. She had expected more security but the halls were eerily empty as Mal padded silently through the shadows. Maybe some of that famous Kirk Luck was finally rubbing off on her.

It was about time.

Jim… Mal couldn't help but smirk. She could feel him through their thread, unharmed and almost inappropriately gleeful as adrenaline pumped through his system. The idiot was being shot at and was practically giddy with happiness.

Mal shook her head. She'd have to get Leo to start watching Jim's sugar intake before the kid launched himself to Helios Prime with nothing but his hyperactivity as fuel.

Mal stopped to unclip one of the 'wee bombs' and pressed it against a support frame. With quick fingers she brought it to life, activating it for remote detonation before moving on. The remote was necessary. There was no point in blowing Jim, Spock, and her father up along with the Romulans. She wasn't going to detonate unless they were all three off the ship or there was otherwise no alternative.

She shivered.

Hopefully it wouldn't come to that.

Keeping to the shadows, Mal made her way deeper into the ship. She paused every few yards to plant another detonator into the framework, a wicked glint in her eye. The amount of explosives she was rigging along the ship would be more than enough to put the _Narada_ and its crew out of business. Hell, she could probably separate California from the rest of the country with what she had strapped around her waist.

She rolled her eyes, feeling like a trashy SI smash and grabber. It was _their _job to blow things up and be flashy and ridiculous, not hers.

This sort of mission… the stealthy, cloak and dagger, pyrotechnical, hack and crash, escape by the skin of your teeth, sort of mission was not exactly her forte. Mal was supposed to be an outside force, completely separate, that manipulated a situation until it garnered the desired results. Like a chess player, casually moving the pawns around the board, keeping the king safe, and sacrificing as few pieces as possible to ensure a victory.

Mal's 'orders' were to just watch and report.

Getting directly involved was frowned upon.

Exposure was a definite no-no.

Of course, one had to take into consideration the three years Mal had spent at the Academy with the likes of James Kirk and the fact that she was, in fact, her father's daughter.

Orders or no, Mal was involved and her handlers could just deal with it when she got back to Earth.

That was the problem with creating a spy network out of the insane, the outlawed, and the morally gray. They all tended to be a bit fast and loose as far as actual rules and orders went. Oh, they were all perfectly loyal to FI and to each other… but they also had their own ways of getting things done and each team had adopted a strict 'don't ask, don't tell' policy regarding rule breaking.

Her team… they were going to be disappointed they had missed out on this. Particularly the FI agent that was _supposed _to have been on the bridge that morning.

Mal turned on her earpiece and fiddled with the levels. "Goodfellow to Watchtower… you got me, Eddy?"

There was a beat of silence before a voice came through the crackling comm. link. _I've got you, Goodie. I sure hope you're having fun, kid, because when you get back I'm kicking your ass for leaving me here._

Mal snickered. No doubt her partner was right where she left him in sickbay, coughing up parasites that looked like linguine. He wouldn't be fit for bridge duty or spy work until Mal cleared him.

Poor guy.

He hated being useless.

"Well, if you didn't get sick like a dog that eats out of the trash, you could be here with me. Although," Mal said looking around, "I think you got the cherry end of this deal, Watchtower. This boat is six kinds of creepy."

_Get in and out quick, Goodie. Once that drill goes down, contact's going to be an issue._

Mal cursed and moved faster, searching the darkness for some sign she was going in the right direction. 'Watchtower' continued to talk to her, doing his best to keep her increasing nerves at bay.

"Hallelujah, I think I found it."

Mal hesitated at the first of several cargo holds. She and Chekov had tried to pinpoint exactly where the Romulans were keeping their surplus medical supplies, but they had only succeeded in figuring out that it was significantly early in the scan. It stood to reason that she needed to get to the lower parts of the ship. This hold was as good a place as any to start. Mal pressed the release and the door opened, hydraulics hissing.

A strange sensation inched its way up her neck and Mal froze, blue eyes wide. She knew that feeling.

She was being watched.

Mal brushed her fingers over the phaser at her hip and considered her options. If she started wasting ghosts, she'd have Romulans crawling all over her. She'd never make it to the supplies, and then the _Enterprise _would have nothing more than dental floss and bed sheets to tend to its wounded.

No, the _last_ thing she wanted was to start a brawl with a Romulan.

Uhura was right. Mal avoided combat like most people avoided jury duty. She would do everything she could to get out of it, run, beg, bribe… Mal just wasn't a fighter. She got no joy out of causing pain. She was doctor, dammit, a healer. She cleaned up after the fights. She put people back together.

Mal ducked into the hold, moving as quickly as she could to get the unseen eyes off of her. She immediately slid the door shut and opened the keypad, pulling out the wires and disengaging the door's hydraulics. If that thing opened again, it would be a miracle.

Mal grimaced as she backed into the hold, fully aware of what she had just done. Yes, she'd locked the Romulans out but...

She'd just locked herself in.

* * *

Ayel moved quietly down the darkened corridor, his eyes wholly focused on the slim figure ahead of him. It was purely by chance that he had spotted the Starfleet scum sneaking off into the bowels of the ship. At least, Ayel _thought_ she was Starfleet. His mouth formed a thin line as he took in the tall form in leather and black denim. Last time he'd checked fleet uniforms were not so… hm.

Whatever her affiliations, whoever she was, she didn't belong on the _Narada. _

He tailed her, losing her more than once as she used the natural gloom of the ship to her benefit. She knew how to make herself disappear, to blend into the dark corners and shadowed halls. When Ayel did manage to spot her, a flash of blue eyes there, a swing of her ponytail here, she seemed to glide through the shadow with smooth authority.

There was something terribly familiar about her. That was what kept him from ending his hunt with a speedy trigger finger and silent death. Instead, Ayel followed her, careful to keep distant and silent.

Ayel was still trying to figure out why he knew her face when she froze, her body coming to a rigid, confused stop. She glanced in his direction and her eyes swept his general vicinity several times, but Ayel kept back, absorbed by the shadows. She knew he was there, he didn't doubt that, but she didn't know where. He watched with an almost morbid fascination as she ran a gentle finger over the phaser hanging on her belt. Whatever her plans, she thought better of it and her hand lowered from her weapon.

With a final glance over her shoulder, she slipped through the open hold door and disappeared. Ayel stood there a moment, surprised by her decision to run. His lip curled. Let her run. That's why it was called _the chase_.

* * *

Two cargo holds later, Mal finally found the crates bound for medical. Actually, she'd found a number of useful things stashed in the dark corners of the cargo holds. She'd already tagged them and had to wonder what the interns and engineers would think when two huge crates of Romulan ale appeared on deck along with the medicinals. She grinned.

Hopefully when this was all over _Captain_ Kirk would look the other way while they all got shitfaced in celebration. Mal smiled to herself, checking again that Jim was alright. She knew perfectly well that if they got out of this mess, Jim would be the first one streaking with a lampshade on his head… Romulan ale or no.

"Watchtower, I've hit pay dirt."

There was a discontented grunt through her earpiece. _Good… because if your doctor friend paces past this door again I'm throwing my boots at him. _

Mal listened to her partner, eyebrow raised in amusement. If there was one thing Eddy hated, it was being left behind. Had he been fit enough to move, he would have been at her side in the hold, helping her tag the crates for travel or finding her father and taking him back to the _Enterprise_. "Don't be mean," she chided. "I promise, next time I go do something stupid, I'll bring you with me, Eddy."

_Correct me if I'm wrong, but we're supposed to be using our handles so no one knows who we are. What sort of spy are you?_

"The busy sort." Mal clipped a tag onto the last crate and let out a relieved puff of air. "Alright, _Watchtower_," she said emphasizing his handle ID. "I'm all finished with the meds. I'm just going to send them over and then find a way out of this hold. I'm thinking… airducts."

_That sounds so deliciously SI of you, Goodie. _There was a chuckle in Eddy's voice followed by a lot of wet coughing.

Mal smiled. "I'm going to try and get to their bridge. If they're really from the future, than FI's going to want as much information as possible off the system before I crash it."

_Don't push your luck, Goodie, _Eddy's voice came loud and clear. _You've done what you needed to do. Just come back with the supplies. _

"Yeah, right," Mal scoffed. "I'm just going to leave Jim and Spock here while I lounge in medical with you and your parasites. Not fucking likely. Incoming…"

Mal activated the beacon. In a matter of seconds she saw the brilliant bands of light wrap around the first-aid materials and they vanished.

Scotty was good on his word and had been ready to move the moment she gave the signal. Grinning, Mal wiped her hands.

Well, that was easy.

_Thump._

Mal didn't have a chance to react, let alone defend herself. The butt of a very large disruptor cracked her right between the eyes and she hit the ground harder than she would have thought possible. Stars blinked in her vision, chasing each other aggressively, as Mal let out a string of obscenities that would have made a trucker plug up his ears to protect himself from the vulgarity of it.

Staggering to her feet, Mal wiped away the blood that dripped into her eyes, stinging and sticky. "Watchtower, I…" A hand closed around her throat, choking off all air and sound. Mal was whisked around and found herself staring into the black eyes of a Romulan. The hand tightened around her windpipe and Mal lashed out, kicking, punching, clawing… Her back slammed into the wall and she stayed there pinned by his grip at her neck and reeling from the repeated cranial abuse.

_Shit, Goodie, are you alright? Are you there? _She could hear Eddy's anxious voice begging for some kind of response before Ayel ripped the piece away from her head, crushing it to a small pile of useless plastic in his hand.

Ayel watched the curious crimson of Mal's blood, so different from his own pale green, dribble slowly down her face. He was pleased by how _easy _it was hurt her. There was almost no resistance. He was faster, he was stronger… With one fluid motion Ayel smashed his open palm against Mal's shoulder and heard the satisfying crack of bone as her clavicle snapped like a bit of dried out twig. A scream gurgled in Mal's throat, but died, unable to get past his hand.

Grinning like a toddler with a new toy, Ayel released Mal's throat and gripped her face instead. Mal dragged in rough, choking breaths, her scream finally tearing free from her chest in a rough, agonized howl. Ayel flexed his fingers, bruising her jaw with his unforgiving fingers, his stubby nails digging into the skin.

"I know you." His voice was guttural, feral, and Mal instinctively cringed away from it. Her dizzy head was making her see double, and she was fairly certain that just _one _xenophobic Romulan bully would have been frightening enough. Seeing Ayel in double vision was altogether mind numbing. A tattoo, tribal and jagged, ran down the center of his forehead, between his upswept brows, down the plain of his nose, and along his cheekbones. His eyes were hard, promising pain.

"I know you," Ayel said again, "from Earth's history."

Mal spat in his face, defiant. "Sonofabitch." Her words were slurred and Ayel gave her a bit of a shake, sending waves of pain through her chest and head. Mal tried to turn off the pain, force the buzzing out of her head. She tried to focus her mind so she could _make_ Ayel let her go, but her empathy slipped away from her with a drunken spin and took her higher facilities with it. Maybe the crack in her skull had injured her paracortex? It was possible, he'd certainly hit her hard enough to damage the telepathic crux of her brain. And she couldn't feel Jim anymore… Or Spock.

Her one advantage, obliterated with a well aimed strike.

The Romulan wiped her bloody spittle from his cheek carelessly and yanked Mal forward by her chin. Another pained bark forced its way out through her clenched teeth as Ayel held her face only inches away from his own snarling lips. He glared into Mal's face, taking in the icy eye color, the dark curls, and the stubborn jut of her jaw. Yes, he knew exactly who she was, now. Ayel laughed and, to Mal's great surprise, he released her.

Mal staggered back, crumpling to her knees despite her best efforts to remain standing. Ayel's hand knotted into her hair, yanking her head back and making her howl in misery as the movement jarred her broken collarbone.

"You and I are going to take a walk," Ayel said, his voice cold and cruel. "The captain will want to meet one of the infamous Kirks."

_Kirk?_

Mal's dizzy mind hardly registered the words, and it certainly didn't register the knee that connected with her temple, knocking the consciousness clean out of her.

**Reviews are love...**


	33. Where Nero Keeps His Boots

_Many thanks to Isis for the support and COF93 for letting me whine about writer's block. _

_Alright, this is just my interpretation of Nero. No one have a fit. :D _

**Star Trek is property of its respective owners. I only own Mallory.**

33

Defiant.

The word immediately came to mind as Nero chewed on his tongue and looked over the woman Ayel dumped in front of him. Forced to her knees and wobbling dizzily, the captive met his gaze, her blue eyes blistering with rage. Blood trickled lazily from the wound on her forehead, staining her waistcoat and collecting on the floor with distinctly timed drips. Her shoulder was twisted in an ugly way, an unnatural protrusion of bone near her throat. Pain was written on every plain of her face, but she pressed her lips together and remained silent.

Nero smirked, amused.

She was stubborn. She should have been begging, she should have been pleading. For her life, for the pain to stop, for mercy… but the beaten prisoner locked her jaw and forced herself to keep back the cries that he knew had to be straining at the back of her throat for release.

Likewise, Mal studied her captor. Even without her empathy she could feel the wrongness that emanated from Nero. It was there in his eyes. Madness. Delirium. Nero shook from excitement, his gaunt jaw working constantly though he wasn't attempting to say anything. He was sick, Mal realized. Like a rabid puppy, Nero panted eagerly in front of her, ready to infect the rest of the universe with his presence.

Mal grimaced. Her initial assessment of Nero from the bridge had been correct.

Crackerjack.

"Mallory Kirk. I can see now where your children got their obstinate streak," Nero said at last.

Alright, _big _crackerjack.

"Kirk?" Mal's eyebrow hiked up so far, had Spock seen it he would have bowed down and kissed her feet. "You've clearly got me confused with someone else."

Nero's mouth twitched, like it was trying to work its way up to a smile, but wasn't sure how to go about it. "Oh, no, Doctor. I know you. I've seen your picture. You," he grabbed her face and studied it carefully, "you are a Kirk. Or at least… you will be." He let go of her face but crouched down so he was at her eye level and gently ran a finger along the curve of her jaw. "I think…" he began, "I'm going to do the Empire a service, Mallory. You see, if there's one thing we're better off without, it's another generation of meddling Kirks."

The woman began to shake, whether from fury or fear, Nero couldn't tell. Either way, her reaction pleased him. The Romulan captain cocked his head to side as though puzzled and for a moment the two just stared at each other.

Mal's buzzing mind raced. Her? And Jim? The Prime timeline was one fucked up place if it produced lunatics like Nero and she and Jim had kids. She couldn't picture it. Anything spawned by the pair of them would be blue-eyed little devils with no respect for authority and a penchant for drunken fist fights. Earth would be doomed. Were anything of the sort even remotely likely in _this _timeline, Nero would have indeed been doing the universe a favor, but Jim was her brother, her best friend... A hysterical giggle threatened to break her but Mal compressed her lips again until the urge to laugh until she cried passed.

Kids…

With Jim…

Uh, no.

Nero gripped the back of Mal's neck, pulling her out of her thoughts. He leaned in closer until their foreheads touched. "Where are James and Spock, Mallory?" he practically purred the words. "I already know the Vulcan's onboard. You're here... Spock's here… James must be here… where are they?"

Mal snorted and gave Nero a blank look. "Lieutenant-Commander Mallory Pike, USS Enterprise, SC467322305." She said, reciting the generic captive spiel. Ayel grabbed Mal's hair and shook her roughly, eliciting a choked back scream.

"Enough, Ayel."

The first officer immediately let go and Mal slumped a bit, her broken collarbone sending waves of agony through her with every heartbeat. Still, she looked up at Nero, and went back to her recitation.

Nero regarded his prisoner calmly. "She's starting to sound like her father, isn't she, Ayel? Name, rank, and number, just like a good prisoner of war. But Mallory," Nero's face hovered close to her own, "he eventually gave me what I wanted. You will, too."

Mal closed her eyes to block out his face, and just kept repeating her information. Her father… with any luck Jim had already gotten the captain back to the _Enterprise _while she distracted Nero. If the Romulans had hurt her father… her stomach clenched painfully. It would be alright, Mal reminded herself. The medical bay was no longer empty, and Leo was the best there was. If Pop needed medical attention, her cowboy would be able to deliver it.

Her heart ached at the thought of Leo.

At least she'd gotten to kiss him, really kiss him, once before she died.

And there was little doubt in Mal's mind.

She probably wasn't going to get off the _Narada _alive.

Nero's hot breath on her face jerked her out of her head once more. "I want you to know it doesn't matter if you tell me or not, Mallory. If I have you, then they'll come to me… and when they do..." He smiled and the blood froze to ice in Mal's veins. "Ayel? I think Mallory is looking a bit… plain. Decorate her before her other half and his pet Vulcan arrive."

"With pleasure." Mal was yanked up to her feet and her injured clavicle screamed a protest. Ayel carted her into the darkness and Mal had to walk or risk being dragged.

Decorate her?

What the fuck did that mean?

* * *

Jim kept his phaser at the ready as he crept through yet another hall. This one was as dark as the rest and he had to wonder if Nero was trying to save on electricity or something by keeping his ship in perpetual darkness.

He paused frowning. He should have reached Pike by now. Jim went over the directions Spock had given him in his head. Left, left, right, left, straight, right, left… or was it straight, left, right?

Shit.

He really had to start writing things down.

Jim continued, keeping his eyes open for any sign of his kidnapped captain, but he was utterly turned around. His current direction led him into an open, cavernous room, all jutting ledges and outlooks, but no Captain Pike. He was about to turn around and retrace his steps when a small whimper caught his attention. Jim lifted his phaser and moved forward slowly. There it was again. The strained, weak sound of something in pain.

Jim scanned the ledges, blue eyes cutting through the gloom until his gaze landed on a shape huddled on the edge of a platform. Something inside him raged violently when he recognized the quivering pile as Mal.

What had they done to her?

Her hair had come loose from its ponytail and sweaty, matted curls clung to her shuddering frame. She was flat on her back, one arm tucked tightly to her chest, the other outstretched, as though reaching for something. Her belt was gone, her bag… Jim glanced around, also missing, he noted. Her forehead was split open and blood dribbled down her swollen cheeks to pool on the cold floor.

It wasn't the blood that had Jim staring. Hell, he was Jim Kirk. He'd seen plenty of blood in his life, most of it his own. No, what had him burning with rage was the jagged black design that had been crudely drawn on her left cheekbone, hitching up around the eye orbit before disappearing behind her ear and reappearing again along her neck.

They had branded her.

The phaser shook in his hand as Jim tried to figure out who was going to pay for mauling his friend. Something moved beyond Mal and Jim brought up his phaser again, aiming at the heart of the Romulan staring across the open room.

Nero.

"Nero, order your men to disable the drill or I will—" With a cry of pain, Jim was treated to a swift jab to the side of the head with the butt of a stout weapon. Jim's phaser went skittering over one of the ledges and his face hit the ground hard enough to momentarily stun him.

Nero lunged across the platforms, leaping from one to the next, deftly. He caught Jim before he could even recover from the blow to the face and dragged him up to his feet. "I know your face," Nero muttered darkly, "from Earth's history." He promptly started to pummel Jim into the ground. Mal struggled to get up, to be of some use, but Ayel planted a foot against her hip pinning her in place.

"Stay put, Kirk. Watch your mate die."

Mal looked up at the monster that had just finished torturing her and something flickered. A ribbon of blue, a hint of orange, a knot of electric green. It was weak and it was feeble, but it was there.

Thank the gods.

"Hold on, Jim," Mal muttered to herself. "Just hold on."

Mal ignored the boot pressing into her side and the pained grunts of her friend_. Focus, Mal, _She ordered herself. _What would Spock say if he were here? _The fact that Spock would have been strong enough to pound the Romulans into paste didn't deter Mal from trying to think like a Vulcan.

Unfortunately Mal knew exactly what Spock would say if present, and she hated that he was always right.

Mal let her eyes drift shut and concentrated on her breathing. Slowly pulling the walls and guards down from around her thoughts. She focused on the repetitive inhalations and soft exhalations, and dove into the wreck that was her own subconscious.

_In._

_Out._

_In._

There was a part of her head that Mal had spent over a decade neglecting. Her wounded empathy had retreated into the deep end of her mind. It was hiding somewhere amid the undisciplined and stressed pile of thoughts and emotions that resided in the recesses, forgotten and ignored. There was thirteen years worth of residue to scrub off and sort while Nero went at Jim like a wild animal.

_In._

_Out._

_In._

For too long now, Mal had lived in the warped reality that she could ignore the less pleasant aspects of her ancestory. She had tried to bury those traits that called attention to her differences, and refused to train. She was determined to be Terran and nothing else.

But Mallory Pike was half Betazoid, whether she liked it or not, and no amount of quibbling or playing human was going to change that fact. The secret part of her that she only dusted off for FI missions, for cheering up her friends, and for tormenting Vulcans was just that… It was a _part_ of her. It was as much who she was as her human half and she had been denying it for far too long.

And she hadn't realized how much she relied on her sixth sense until Ayel had taken it away.

_In._

_Out._

_In._

God help them all…

Mal was going to meditate.

* * *

It was there. Beneath the sick, dizzy feeling, beneath the pain, and beneath a heavy layer of fear, Mal's empathy was there. Not only was it there, it was _eager. _Mal's neglect had not diminished her ability at all. No. Instead there was a flood pressing to get out, demanding freedom. That's why Mal had been melting down over the years. Her higher capabilities were taking every opportunity to release some of the mental build up.

She'd just been too afraid to use what was there.

Well, time to ease some pressure.

Mal's hand twitched at her side. The pain in her shoulders was fading as Mal took control of her nervous system. It was an uncomfortable tingly sensation, like she had just rubbed in too much Icy Hot, but with the pain diminished, she was able to think a bit more clearly.

There was no time for Mal to be proud of my her new accomplishment, though. Nero hit Jim hard enough to drop him back to the ground and the Romulan pounced onto Jim's chest, his fingers fighting for purchase on his neck.

Mal growled. Ayel still had his boot pressed heavily into her side. With a jerk she pulled free of Ayel's boot and he started, clearly forgetting that his footrest was a living thing. Ayel grinned nastily down at Mal, admiring his handiwork over the left side of her face. "Don't worry, Kirk. It'll be your turn next." His smile faltered as he leaned closer to her face. "What's wrong with your eyes?"

It was Mal's turn to grin, baring her teeth in a feral mockery of a smile. She had no doubt that the pretty blue color of her eyes was gone, swallowed by shimmering black. Mal's arm shot up, catching hold of Ayel's face, the same way he had grabbed her earlier. She didn't give him a chance to struggle. Mal clamped down on his mind, the way a mousetrap snaps shut on its prey and his face slackened, his pupils dilating wide from Mal's manipulation. The link, the connection that she had just opened, was raw and Ayel's dislike poured over her with painful potency. But stronger than the Romulan's hate was Mal's anger.

"You're going to do me a favor," Mal said aggressively.

Ayel just nodded.

He didn't have a choice.

* * *

Nero knocked Jim along the platform, not once allowing the younger man to get the upper hand. Jim fell hard, and Nero sprang at him, fingers itching to squeeze the life from the Starfleet captain.

Jim tried to pry Nero's fingers from around his throat, but the Romulan seemed pretty determined to throttle him. Jim struggled to get air into his lungs with very little success. He was a scrapper, a bar room brawler, and he knew when a fight wasn't going to end in his favor.

This one wasn't looking good.

Nero sneered down at him. "James T. Kirk was considered to be a great man," he said darkly, tightening his hold on the younger man's throat. "He went on to captain the USS Enterprise, he was considered the most decorated captain to ever rise through Starfleet. He had loyal friends, an unrivaled crew, and a dedicated family. But that was another life. A life I will deprive you of just like I did your father. Just like I plan to do to your pretty doctor." Nero chuckled darkly. "I'm afraid that Mallory has seen better days, James. She's looking… untidy after her time with us. I _did _warn her to play along, but Doctor Kirk insisted on being difficult."

Doctor Kirk?

_Kirk_?

Spots danced in Jim's vision, his oxygen deprived brain starting to give in. "Your sons," Nero purred venomously. "Your granddaughter. Your _legacy_. It stops here."

A part of Jim was fascinated by the picture that Nero had just painted. A world where he was a real captain, surrounded by family and friends… all the things that had been stolen from him when the Kelvin was attacked and his life was altered. All the things that Nero had taken from him.

"Look on the bright side, James," Nero's thumb slipped into the hollow of his throat and the pain intensified. "I killed your mate so that you won't have to. And the death she would have suffered at your hands was…" Nero leered. "Bloody, agonizing, it took hours for her to finally bleed out. The records were really very detailed."

Some sort of gurgling noise issued up from the depths of Jim's chest and Nero laughed. The ambitious black dots that swam in his vision started to bleed together and Jim's struggles weakened. His face was bright red, but making the switch to the pale purple of asphyxiation.

Something bodily slammed into Nero, knocking him from his position on Jim's chest. His fingers were ripped away from the gasping man's throat and Jim greedily gulped cool air into his burning lungs. Nero slid away on the smooth floor, clearly not expecting resistance.

"Hey, lover." Tone dripping with sarcasm, Mal extended her good arm and helped Jim to his feet. "Remind me to never, _ever _visit the Primeline, alright?"

"Done." Jim's voice was little more than a croak. "Incoming!"

Three years of Starfleet training kicked in and Mal ducked as Jim lunged. It wasn't much of an even fight. Nero was stronger and faster than them, and they were both broken in too many places to count, Mal especially.

Mal hooked a thread onto the mad Romulan and nearly went cross-eyed from the depths of his delusions. He felt… heroic. Justified in the near annihilation of an entire species. She had thought to dive into his emotions and muck them up, but she doubted it would have any affect. Nero was already a ball bearing short of a warp drive. Nothing she did to him would make a difference. She let the thread dissolve, unused.

Panting and bleeding, the two friends stood together, preparing for another volley of blows from their deranged assailant. Both Jim and Mal well aware that they were on their last legs. If something didn't give soon, they were in trouble.

_Captain Nero, the Vulcan ship has been taken and the drill has been destroyed._

The announcement came over the ship-wide broadcast system and Nero's fists clenched at his sides. "Spock!" Nero hollered as though Spock could actually hear him.

Hell, with those ears, maybe he could.

"Spock!" Nero ran past Jim, dropping himself onto a lower platform before running off to the _Narada_'s bridge.

It was over?

Just like that?

Jim and Mal looked at each other, disbelieving before Jim beamed at Mal. "Who said you had no combat skills?" he said playfully. "You alright, babe?"

Mal snorted and tried to hide the shaking in her hands by jamming them into her pockets. "Fine, Jim. You know how we Pikes are. Too stubborn to die." She grinned back at him, letting out a tired sigh. "I'm getting too old for this kid."

"Yeah, I meant to tell you about that," he teased. He put a gentle hand on the crude, tribal markings on Mal's cheek. "I'm so sorry, Mal. I should never have let you go off on your own."

"Jim..." Mal's black eyes suddenly sharpened and she shoved Jim aside roughly. Mal caught the full force of Ayel's kick and went teetering over the ledge of the platform with a startled yelp.

Jim took one look at Ayel and the disrupter in his hand and jumped, throwing himself as far as he could aiming for the same low platform that Nero had landed on. He landed hard on his torso, but his momentum hadn't been enough and he started to slide over the edge. He was hanging on by his underarms, fingers slipping over the smooth iron surface.

_Thud._

Jim looked up to see Ayel land perfectly on his feet, no worse for the wear. The Romulan took hold of Jim by his already abused neck and lifted him up, effectively choking him all over again.

What was it with these bastards and strangulation?

"Your species is even weaker than I expected," Ayel sneered. Jim growled, his blue eyes wild. "You can't even speak." He listened as Jim repeated the grating, guttural sounds. "What?" he asked mocking. Ayel relaxed his hold just enough for Jim to clearly get out four words.

"She's got your gun."

Ayel never even got to turn around. There was just a whine of a disrupter and his fingers uncurled from Jim's neck. Jim dropped back down to hug the platform under his arms as Ayel tipped over his head and plummeted to the runoff pit below.

Mal dropped the disrupter distastefully and glared at Jim where he was dangling off the ledge. "Quit fooling around," she ordered grumpily.

Jim pulled himself up and laid there panting for a moment. Mal's black eyes moved over him carefully and he knew she was searching him for injury. "See something you like, babe?" he asked cheekily.

Smirking, Mal tousled his hair. "James Kirk, you really do have a horseshoe shoved up your ass," she said, completely deadpan.

"No," Jim snorted and slung an arm around Mal's waist as they gathered their things and darted down a corridor.

"That would be Nero's boot."

**Reviews are love...**


	34. You Got It

_You guys... you're hilarious. I loved the reviews and I hate to tell you Mal/Jim shippers this...but it ain't happening, you silly things. Best review goes to Fritzlerkiss who made my day with three small words. Enjoy the chapter, guys! -Ace_

**Star Trek is property of its respective owners. I only own Mallory.**

34

"I spy with my little eye…"

"Jim if you don't shut up, _I'm _going to strangle you." Their whispers were the only sound in the dark hall aside from their quiet footfalls.

"…something bitchy."

Jim grinned at Mal and didn't miss the flutter of annoyance that passed over her face. "Please, Jim. Let's just play the 'quiet game'." Mal did her best to keep her unruly captain under some sort of control but, short of taking off her shirt, there was no way to rein him in. "Dammit, Jim!" Mal hissed grabbing his arm. "Settle." After all, they were still on an enemy ship, surrounded by physically superior, emotionally unstable, beings that possessed advanced weaponry and future knowledge. Being loud and disruptive seemed like a good way to get themselves blown to hell.

That would not be ideal.

But Jim couldn't help it. He was just so _relieved _that they were both alright… well, alright-_ish._ Every inch of him ached and throbbed along with the rhythm of his heartbeat, and Mal had certainly seen better days. One thing was painfully obvious. Bones was going to bust a blood vessel when he saw the state they were… the state _she _was in.

Jim surreptitiously glanced at Mal in his peripheral vision and grimaced. Her skin had taken on a pallid, unhealthy color that only made the twisted black design on the side of her face stand out all the more. Sweat, or maybe tears, had traced small trails through the dried blood and grit and on her cheeks. Thankfully the head wound had stopped bleeding freely and was only dripping sluggishly if she happened to make too grand an expression. Jim couldn't help but eye the ugly lump of bone that was damn near sticking out of the skin near her throat, and the unnatural twist to her shoulder.

As gruesome as all that was, it was her eyes that concerned Jim most.

They were still a dangerous, burning black. Normally, they would have returned to their usual dazzling blue, but this time they continued to smolder, darker than any set of lamps had a right to be while all the while lit from with in.

Jim wouldn't blame Bones if he _did_ have an aneurism. That someone could look at Mal and want to hurt her was unbearable. That Ayel had tortured her… Jim growled and Mal cast him a curious look.

"Alright, Jim?" She asked cautiously. His giddy, energetic bouncing had stopped, replaced by a serious face and a furious ribbon of pulsing red. Mal slipped a thread around Jim and wrapped him in happier feelings. His anger was about her, she could tell, but not exactly _directed _at her. She would have questioned him further, but she was serious about keeping their volume down. The last thing she wanted was to see another Romulan.

Ever.

"Yeah," he said, watching Mal walk on as though she wasn't in pain, and hadn't been brutalized. "Yeah, I'm fine."

It was only a few blissfully silent minutes later when Mal felt Jim blush and a hint of indecision passed through their link. He looked down the dark corridor they were in and than back the way they'd just come. Finally, he looked at Mal. "Alright, not to detract from my awesome manliness or anything, but I think we're lost."

Mal sighed. It figured. "So _Captain_ James Kirk has no sense of direction?" she asked one of her eyebrows rising slowly. "What will Starfleet think?"

"They'll think… that's what we train navigators for," Jim responded with a quiet chuckle. "But unfortunately, I left Chekov on the ship along with my handy-dandy map. Maybe if we split up—"

"_No_!" Mal's response was immediate and she clutched at Jim's arm. "Maybe I could try to _feel_ for Pop. I've never managed this with him at any distance, but I can try it." Her eyes and tone said more than her words did. _Don't go._ Clearly she wasn't quite over what had happened last time she'd gone off on her own. Jim stared at the swollen, angry skin around her left eye and felt his anger rile again.

Jim carefully pried her fingers from his arm so that the blood could go back to flowing freely. He kept hold of Mal's hand, her skin projecting just how shaken she was by the idea of splitting up. Jim ground his teeth. If that Romulan asshole wasn't already dead, he would have gone back and killed him then and there. "It's alright, Mal. It was just an option."

"It is _not _an option," Mal said forcefully. "I was… and you were nearly strangled to death. We stick together, James Kirk, you got that?"

He nodded solemnly and Mal relaxed again. "Well?" Jim looked down at Mal, his blue eyes dancing. "Can you feel Pike or are we screwed?"

Mal took a deep breath, steadied by the inexorable confidence and optimism she was leeching off of Jim, and cast about with her mind. Her black eyes darted back and forth as she mentally searched the _Narada _for her father. Jim watched, fascinated by the fire in her strange new eyes, until her small scowl turn up into an amused smile. "Got him," she said, sounding a little surprised. "I actually got him! This way."

They picked up their pace as they sunk into the bowels of the ship. Mal steered them toward the familiar, albeit fuzzy, mind that was her father. He was drugged, that much was obvious. The feel of his mind was off. It was slippery, somehow tainted. Something in his system was making him diluted and slow, but he was alive, thank the gods. Mal could have done a cartwheel, she was so happy. She would have, too, but her broken collarbone would have made the maneuver more than a little difficult.

Grinning at her success and her father's apparent survival, Mal winced when the smile tweaked the inflamed skin beneath the tattoo. Tentatively, she reached up and touched the cruel marks. "How bad is it?" she asked quietly. "On a scale of one to ten? One being a quirky birthmark and ten being wear a paper bag over my face for the rest of my life."

Jim snorted at her seeming nonchalance, but there was fear in her eyes. Before today he had never seen Mal afraid of anything. She was too laid back. Things just rolled off her back. She was a bit vindictive, but most of the time, Mal was drama-free and, more importantly, fearless. He hated the undercurrent of dread he could see while he searched her face.

He hated it.

"I think it makes you look badass," he blurted. Mal blinked at him before giving up on being stern and serious and crumpled into laughter. "What? I mean, you're all smooth and sweet and then you've got this badass tribal tat that puts an edge on you. I mean, Bones is going to go ballistic when he sees it, but it's only because of _how _you got it, not because it's disgusting or anything." Jim stared at the swirling black design that stood out against Mal's pale skin and he flinched. "Literally. We'll be scraping him off the walls. Maybe we should 'bag' you until he can get used to the idea."

Mal shoved her grinning friend into the wall without breaking stride. "Thanks so much, Jim. That's just what I needed to hear."

Jim sighed in relief at Mal's lifted spirits, smug that her ability to make him feel better wasn't completely one-sided. He wasn't empathetic, but he was her best friend, and it was his job to keep that smile on her face. "So," he said, bouncing back into step with her, "where's your—"

"Daddy!" Mal cut him off with a thankful cry and raced ahead of him.

* * *

Captain Christopher Pike felt like his head had been stuffed with fluff. It was that groggy sensation, that haze that reminded him of the place between sleep and consciousness… that split second of partial awareness before the alarm ruins a perfectly good dream. That's where he was.

Overall, it wasn't a bad feeling, but something kept nagging at him. He'd done something he wasn't supposed to do. What was it again? Codes? Codes to what? "Pssh," Pike muttered to himself. Codes... what a funny word.

Pike heard them before he saw them. At first it was just a giggle interrupting his disjointed thoughts. Then it was quiet footsteps approaching and he turned this way and that, trying to place the noise. Finally he could hear the definite sound of voices bickering with each other. Some part of his fuzzy consciousness recognized the voices and his temper rankled.

He really had to teach those kids how to shut up.

"Daddy!"

Two grinning faces appeared out of the gloom, relieved and anxious. Mal reached his side, sloshing through the grimy water that surrounded his table. "Tsk. Typical Starfleet Captain. Just sitting around while his flunkies do all the work," she ribbed him quietly. "Ought to be ashamed."

"What are you two doing here?" Pike demanded, more surprised by the rescue than who was performing it. Somehow he knew that if help was coming, it was coming in the form of his daughter. He should have realized that it would take a stronger man than Spock to keep his baby girl on that ship if it wasn't where she wanted to be.

Mal snorted. "Yeah, right like you aren't happy as hell to see us," she sassed.

Jim smirked and started in on the sturdy leather straps that were holding Pike down. "Just following orders." He winked at Pike, but the gesture went unseen.

Pike's eyes were glued to his daughter's face. "And taking in the culture, apparently." Mal quickly pulled her hair over the twisted design, effectively hiding it from his view. "What happened, Mallory?" The first strap came free, giving Pike back the use of his arms and he immediately brushed her hair back, to get a good look at what had been done to his daughter.

Mal dismissed his concern with a snort. "Don't sweat it, Pops. Romulans just don't like us," she said lightly, indicating Jim and herself. Her nose wrinkled as she took her father's hand away from her face and the curtain of hair once again covered her left eye. "Pop, what'd they give you? You're mind's all dopey."

Pike waved Mal away. Foggy or not, his brain was working to register his daughter's condition. His eyes took in the blood, the twisted shoulder, the broken clavicle... "Christ, Mallory, look at you."

Mal was about to retort in kind when Pike's attention went elsewhere. He lunged forward and ripped Ayel's disrupter from the holster on Jim's hip. With no hesitation he flicked up the barrel and fired clean through the Romulan that had been sneaking up on them.

"Damn, Pop," Mal said in awe. "You're like Billy Jack!" She pretended to blow gun smoke off her fingers as she moved to Jim's side. Together they slid Pike off the table and when he was hanging between them, supported by their more able bodies, Jim flipped open his communicator.

"Enterprise, now!"

Mal was once again embraced by the chilly tingle of power. The darkness of the _Narada_'s interrogation room melted away, replaced by the bright, clean transporter room onboard the _Enterprise_.

"Scotty, I could kiss you!" Mal groaned with relief as she saw Spock beside Jim, apparently none the worse for wear.

Jim beamed at their brilliant engineer. "Nice timing, Scotty!"

Laughing, Scotty threw up his hands, delighted with himself and the praise. "I've never beamed four people from two different targets onto one pad a'fore!" he crowed.

A crowd of white and blue medical personnel stormed the transporter room, Leo at their head. "Jim!" he scolded when Jim nearly lost his hold on Pike. "I've got him."

There was no mistaking the way Leo's eyes went to Mal, nor the way Mal immediately ducked behind Jim, clearly intent on hiding her injuries. Leo was about to pass Pike off to one of the interns but Mal made a run for it, intent on accompanying Jim and Spock to the bridge.

"Oh, no you don't!" Leo made a move to catch her, but Jim caught Mal's good arm and shoved her out the door ahead of him.

"Not now," was all he said before he joined Mal and Spock in the hall. "We need her on the bridge."

"Take care of my Pop, cowboy!" Mal shouted behind her as the three of them ran. "He can't approve of you if he's laced out."

Growling about mouthy women and best friends that were as much trouble as good, Leo had little choice but to lead his medical team back down to deck five and make sure their captain would be alright.

"So it's going to be you, huh?" Pike asked through a groggy cloud. "Thank God it wasn't Kirk."

Leo smirked. "Just take it easy, sir. I'll get you sorted."

Pike made a dismissive sound. "Not worried, McCoy. Mallory always says you're the best." He didn't see the younger man turn red. The fog had turned into a vortex in his mind and everything was black.

* * *

"Captain ze enemy ship es losing pover. Zeir shields are doon, sir." Chekov looked up the moment the three officers came onto the bridge. His grey-blue eyes widened at the sight of their medical researcher where she stood at Jim's right, and he wasn't the only one. Mal had pulled her hair back again, and used her hands and some spit to get the worst of the bloody mess off her face. She'd abandoned the ruined waistcoat for the black, Starfleet issue tank top she had been wearing underneath.

She looked more like a spy now than ever, especially with that tribal brand swirling over her cheekbone and twisting its way down her neck.

"Hail them, now," Kirk's voice had a dangerous edge to it and Uhura hastened to obey.

The three figures stood tall and indomitable at the forefront of the bridge. Spock, cool and collected. Mal, fierce and protective. And Jim…

Jim was every bit a Starfleet captain. Proud, confident, and in control.

"This is Captain James T. Kirk of the _USS Enterprise_," he said smoothly, as though he and Nero had never met before. "Your ship is compromised. You're too close to the singularity to survive without assistance which we are willing to provide."

Spock turned suddenly, facing away from the screen and Mal mirrored the movement from Jim's other side. "Captain, what are you doing?" Spock asked, his voice betraying nothing.

Mal was positively quivering with rage, but she'd give Jim a chance to explain himself before she ripped his arm off and clubbed him to death with it.

"Showing them compassion might be the only way to earn peace with Romulus. It's logic, Spock, I thought you'd like that."

"No, not really. Not this time." Spock's answer was accompanied by the smallest frown.

"If we're voting here, I'm on Spock's side," Mal said through clenched teeth. Jim gave the smallest nod, his blue eyes dark.

Nero gave a humorless laugh, his eyes mean as he looked over his enemies. "I would rather suffer the end of Romulus a thousand times. I would rather die in _agony _than accept assistance from _you_."

Jim gave his patented shit-eating grin and stood tall. "You got it." He turned his back on Nero and claimed the captain's chair as Uhura cut the feed. "Arm phasers. Fire everything we've got."

Grim faced, Mal tugged something out of her pocket, flipping it to Spock. "Want to do the honors?" she asked as the weapons station hurried to obey Jim's orders.

Spock held up the small remote, looking it over carefully. "Am I correct in assuming you planted explosive devices around the enemy ship?"

"Hell, yes," Mal said with a smile.

Spock popped the lid up, his thumb hovering over the button. "For our parents," he said quietly. Mal and Jim straightened a bit at his fitting dedication. Spock's mother, Jim's father, Captain Pike's torture... This was for all the hurt Nero had caused. Spock's thumb dropped pressure onto the igniter and Nero's ship started to light up the darkness of space, the fires going out as quickly as they started the moment they hit the dark vacuum, but it was oddly gratifying as the ship was hobbled. _Enterprise_ began to fire on the broken _Narada,_ pushing it further into the black hole that Spock had created by manning the Jellyfish straight into the shuttle bay.

They were all of them silent a moment, watching the massive ship that had changed all their lives break apart and disintegrate before their eyes.

"Sulu, let's go home!" Jim shouted when the ship's systems started to blare their protest.

"Yes, sir!" Sulu immediately complied, turning the ship around.

After a tense moment, the bridge crew began to look at one another, confused. They weren't going anywhere.

Jim's knuckles turned white as he gripped his arm rests. "Why aren't we at warp?"

"Ve are, sir!" Chekov had to shout over the piercing alerts.

Cursing, Jim hit a button on the chair. "Kirk to engineering. Get us out of here, Scotty!"

_Ye bet yer ass, Cap'n!_

The ship began to scream as its frame was slowly being crushed and Mal closed her eyes forcing the panicked minds she could sense back into a state of determined awareness so they could do their jobs and do them well.

_Cap'n, we're caught in a gravity-well. It's got us!_

"Go to maximum warp," Jim ordered immediately. "Push it!"

Mal could feel Scotty's frustration, even from her place on the bridge. "Spock?" Mal could help Scotty, she knew that she could, but she wasn't sure she could do it alone. She needed a kick start, and the only other telepath on the bridge was the Vulcan.

"You require assistance?" Mal nodded and Spock placed a hand at the back of her neck. He didn't even complain about the contact.

"Anchor me." Mal gave the order and Spock nodded. Immediately, she mentally checked out of herself and dropped her mind down through the decks so she could more directly affect their last hope of survival. She'd done this sort of maneuver before with Kadence when they emulated each other, but Mal wasn't seeking the sanctuary of another mind this time. She simply wanted to get closer and this was the fastest way to do it.

She was a little surprised when it worked.

"I'm giving it all she's got, Cap'n!" Scotty ran through engineering, checking levels and tweaking machinery as he went, ransacking his brain for something, _anything_, he could do to keep the ship from going down.

Mal had to give him credit. Scotty wasn't panicking. His brain was just moving too fast for him to process. He had ideas, but he wasn't sure which ones would save them and which ones would blow them all to that great, white pub in the sky.

_All she's got isn't good enough. What else you got? _Jim demanded.

Easily, Mal slid a thread around Scotty. _Breathe,_ she told the engineer gently. _Just breathe._

Hands at his temples, but still more concerned about his ship than his sanity, Scotty obeyed. "If…If we eject the core and detonate the blast should be enough to push us away. I cannae promise anything, though."

_Do it! Do it! Do it! _The frantic cries were being echoed all over the ship, as people struggled to panic and Mal lost control of the more jumpy souls onboard.

Spock's hand tightened ever so slightly and Mal was aware that her body was on the floor of the bridge. Her mind stayed firmly with Scotty, however. He needed her more than the bridge did.

The engineer tore through the subdeck, chasing out any other red clad person he came across. "Clear the area! Go!" Fingers flying over one of the on-deck computers, Scotty started to key in the ejection sequence. How the hell was he supposed to detonate the cores?

Mal pushed serenity through their link. _The 'wee bomb' I gave you, Scotty. Pinch it. Throw it. And run._

Scotty gave his head a small shake but stuck his hand into his pocket, pulling out the small metal tag that was no bigger than an old fashioned half-dollar. "I hope yer right about this." Pinching the detonator between his fingers, it let out a small chirp. He flung it among the engine cores and hit the screen, launching the cores, and the detonator, out into the singularity.

_Nicely done, Scotty._

"Aye," he told the voice in his head as he stuck a finger in his ear, giving it a good jostle. "Let's hope it worked." He took off running out of the engine room.

Spock was kneeling on the ground, hovering over the crumpled body of Mallory Pike. He was supposed to be anchoring her, keeping her mind from slipping too far, but Mal was dangerously close to that point of no return. She had no discipline and she was going to kill herself if she didn't start to learn her limits.

_Return at once._ There was actual annoyance in his tone and Mal heeded his words drifting slowly back up to the bridge even as a blinding white light poured into the bridge and the _Enterprise _was spit out of the gravity-well.

Mal opened her eyes slowly and stared up at the Vulcan, the bright, blue orbs back to their dazzling selves. "How'd we do?"

The corner of Spock's mouth twitched. "Satisfactory, Doctor."

They got back to their feet and moved to stand beside Jim's chair, one on either side.

The bridge crew all turned to look at their captain, some faces showing shock, others were awed. Jim only cared about the opinions of his two companions. Spock's expression was blank, as usual, but there was respect in his eyes. Friendship. He didn't have to look at Mal to know what she was feeling. She was projecting pride and affection as clearly as if she had announced it ship-wide.

Jim took a deep, steadying breath. "Set course for home," he ordered.

They were going home.

**Reviews are love...**

_I don't know why, but this was heavy for me to write for some reason. Whew! Alright, Bones and Eddy in the next chapter, possibly a little Adam Price, and the Enterprise goes home! -Ace_


	35. Father's Approval

_Alright, I know I'm terrible. I've been INCREDIBLY sick and spent the week on my couch with my head in a bucket. Good news is I got to watch Star Trek'09 to my heart's content and every episode of Bones. This is a fluffy chapter that I needed to write. I simply couldn't move forward without a talk from 'Pop'. _

**Star Trek is property of its respective owners. I only own Mallory.**

35

Medical was running smoothly. The interns and residents were holding their own as far as the smaller injuries that came in while he and the more experienced nurses took over the critical cases. There were more of those than he would have liked. When the ship had compressed in the gravity well, the poor sods in engineering had gotten the worst of it. The first to get hurt and the last to admit it, the red shirts that ran the subdecks were impossible. Leo was well aware that he would eventually have to go down to engineering with a med kit and coax them out of hiding.

Was it really any wonder that engineers annoyed him?

Speaking of annoyances…

Leo sighed and looked up at the chronometer hanging on the wall, blinking the time at him with big, obnoxious digital numbers. He had hoped that Jim and Mal would act like adults and come down to medical of their own free will, but he should have known that wasn't their style. After several hours, most of which was spent wrist deep in Captain Pike's brain tissue, Leo knew he'd have to go and hunt the gruesome twosome down the good old fashioned way with a giant net and a plate of cookies as bait.

He snorted, unable to stop the derisive sound from coming out. He wasn't surprised in the least by Jim. It wasn't in the kid's nature to accept his own limitations. Back at the Academy Leo could always count on Mal to drag Jim, usually kicking and whining, into the infirmary, but if Mal was injured, too… Leo groaned and slumped in his chair. If there was one thing Mal was excellent at, it was disappearing when it suited her.

"What are you moaning about?"

Leo looked up at his priority patient and scowled. Pike was an even worse patient than his daughter, constantly fidgeting and picking at his injuries, he'd nearly undone all of Leo's hard work, scratching at the incision site. The man acted like he was four years old and had only stopped when Leo threatened to put him in the soft restraints.

"It's been too long," Leo answered, his drawl thicker than usual from stress. He sat back in his chair as Pike shifted into a more comfortable position. "Jim and Mal should have come down here by now. If I have to go looking for them…" he left the threat open and folded his arms sulkily.

Pike snorted and ran a finger along the back of his neck. He could still feel the scar, the raised ridge of skin that was all that was left of the parasite that had been burning through his neuro-pathways. The six inch line followed Pike's spine from the base of his skull to the top of his shoulders. "They aren't going to come down here voluntarily, McCoy, you know that." Pike fussed with his various bandages. "Mallory's never liked being doctored. She doesn't like to feel powerless."

He looked up, a sudden wicked glint in his eye that was too familiar for Leo's liking. "So imagine my surprise when she started bragging about her friend _the doctor_. So smart, so funny... I'm warning you now, McCoy, if you do anything to hurt that girl, you're going to have more than one pissed off human father to deal with. Her entire team will be on you like Vulcans on chocolate, and one of them is a Kzinti. He's very protective of his Goodfellow." Pike laughed at the look on Leo's face. Kzinti were not exactly friendly with the Federation, and the seven foot tall, armored tigers were utterly vicious.

"I know you're a bit old for this talk, McCoy, but that girl means an awful lot to a fair few people. If she's chosen you… well, don't take advantage of that." Pike gave Leo a look that very clearly said 'or else'.

"We haven't… discussed anything yet, sir. It's still new." Leo felt like he was fifteen and getting the dress down from a disapproving father. "But Mal is an adult, and so am I. _If _we decide that we want to be together, then it will take more than a 'pissed off human father' and a team of telepaths to keep me away from her."

Pike blinked, a slow smile spreading across his face. "Hm." Pike put his arms behind his head and stared up at the ceiling. "That's a good answer, McCoy." Leo rolled his eyes. "But being with a Betazoid… or even a half-Betazoid… it isn't like being a human. It's a challenge, loving someone that knows your every emotion, sometimes before you're aware of them yourself. Not bad, not good, just different."

"Mal and I have always fit together well. It's never mattered what she was," Leo stiffened in his seat, not caring for Pike's interpretation of Mal's abilities.

"Don't get your dander up, McCoy. I'm only pointing out what I've learned after thirty years living with Marlow." A genuine, gentle smile turned up the corners of Pike's mouth when he mentioned his wife. "Loving someone that can feel emotions the way they do… it's freeing. You're required only to be yourself, and they'll love you unconditionally, faults and all. No bravado, no lies, no games. That scares a lot of people, that level of openness. It's one of the reasons I hoped it would be you and not Kirk. That kid wouldn't know what to do with that sort of devotion if it landed in his lap."

Leo was quiet for a long time. "She's my best friend, you know," he said softly. "I… I don't want to push her into something she doesn't want."

"Uh-huh." Pike snickered quietly to himself. "What's in your pocket, McCoy?"

Leo raised an eyebrow. "Beg your pardon, sir?"

Pike propped himself up on his elbows. "Your pocket, McCoy. What's in your pocket?"

Leo had completely forgotten that Mal had slipped something into his pocket before she'd beamed over to the _Narada. _Eying Pike warily, Leo fished out the scrap of black leather that had been pressing into his hip and flipped it open. Pike nodded when he saw it. "I thought so."

The doctor stared at the badge in his hand. It was small, about the size of his palm and polished to a high shine. Clearly Mal took careful care of it, even though it was never really meant to be seen. The silver sparkled flawlessly, the deep, heavy black stone that made up the sniper scope, radiant. In comparison, the black piece of leather that it was mounted on was scratched and nicked, as abused and mistreated as a sscrap of hide could be.

Leo brushed his fingers over the scope in the middle of the familiar Federation logo and picked nervously at the leather case in his hands, aware of Pike's scrutiny, and his fingers touched over something that was neither fabric, nor metal. A small, white corner poked out from behind the badge and Leo tugged at it, easing it out from the snug hiding place.

A folded square of old Kodak photo paper fell into his outstretched hand. Leo was almost hesitant to look, unsure if Mal meant for him to find it or if it was in someway private. Leo's hands hovered over the neatly folded square, uncertain. He didn't think he could handle anymore Mal sized surprises…

"Take a look, McCoy." Pike was grinning ear to ear.

It was… a picture.

In fact, he noted with a sigh of relief, it was a picture of Mal, Jim, and himself from their first year at the Academy. Mal stood between them, her arms slung around their necks, her lazy smile in place, her blue eyes brilliant, reflecting the flash. Jim had opted not to give his usual shit-eating grin and had instead planted a kiss on Mal's cheek, smirk visible. Leo just held on, eyebrow popped up in disapproval, but unable to keep his own smile at bay, his forehead pressed to Mal's temple affectionately.

He couldn't remember the picture being taken, what they had been doing, if they were even sober or not, but the looks on their faces… there was such genuine happiness there, each captured in still-frame exactly as they were. Mal, holding them together with mischief in her smile and delight in her eyes. Jim, throwing around his lips and his laughter freely. And Leo… hesitant to give in to their enthusiasm, but unable to resist it.

One picture summed up their entire friendship.

Leo couldn't help but grin. He tried to flatten the picture out, but the creases were permanent, the edges turned up. Lazily he drew his finger over the three smiling faces.

"That's how I knew it was going to be one of you," Pike said, sitting up with a wince. "That picture. It's been tucked behind the shield for three years. That badge," he said seriously, all traces of his smile gone, "is Mal's proudest possession. It's proof of the good she's done, and will continue to do, and today she left it to you for safe keeping, McCoy. If you aren't willing to love that girl whole heartedly, then you let her go. She doesn't deserve an ailing heart. She deserves to be happy."

Leo didn't say anything. He simply nodded. After a few moments of silence, Leo slapped Pike's hand away from his neck. "Quit picking."

* * *

"Alright, here's the plan." Mal peeped through the med-bay door and quickly ducked out of sight again before she was spotted. "You go in and distract Leo, I'll grab a medkit, and we'll just lock ourselves in sickbay until I've patched us and he calms down."

Mal peeked around the doorframe again, her eyes glued to the broad back of Leonard McCoy as he leaned over her father, the two of them speaking quickly and quietly.

Leo looked… incredible. She'd never understood the saying 'a sight for sore eyes' but the meaning struck her at that moment. Seeing him, commanding and capable, his strong form outlined by the overhead lights… it was like a salve on her soul. Seeing him… it just made things better in a way she couldn't explain.

_Complete._

Jim grinned mischievously but Mal missed it, engrossed in her own thoughts. "Good plan, Mal. I just want to change one thing."

Mal tore her eyes away from Leo to look up at Jim. "What?"

"_Yo, Bones!_"

Jim shouted and Mal was caught, standing in the door. Mentally, Mal sent Jim a kick in the ass but he only saluted her cheerfully as he skirted around her and bolted into the sickbay, locking the door behind him.

_I will get you for this, Kirk, _she told him angrily. Jim appeared in the window and stuck out his tongue. He immediately ducked and Mal realized, with trepidation, that there was a familiar cache of emotion behind her. Straightening herself out to the best of her ability, Mal turned to face the owner of those nervous purples and concerned greens. "Hey, cowboy." Her own voice came out a nervous chitter and Mal wanted to smack herself for being so unbearably pathetic around Leonard McCoy.

Leo seemed frozen to the spot. His eyes moved over her slowly, missing nothing as they worked their way down and back up again. Mal squirmed uncomfortably under his inspection. "Leo…"

His hazel eyes flashed to her face and Mal wished she had just stayed silent. He approached her slowly, his jaw a bit slack as he took in the extent of her injuries. She could feel fear rolling off of him, with a hint of panic and disbelief thrown in for flavor. "Goddamn…" he muttered. "Mal, how…" he couldn't seem to find the words. Slowly he mapped out the trail of bruises up and down her arms, noting that they perfectly matched fingers digging into the pale flesh. He saw her wince when he felt carefully along her dislocated shoulder. Frowning, he followed the popped joint along to the broken collarbone. His practiced fingers moved over the lump of bone and Mal hissed through her teeth when pain lanced through her chest.

Only one small whimper broke free when Leo's cool, rough finger traced along her cheekbone, and up around her eye orbit. His path led him behind her ear and down her neck, hovering just over the broken collarbone.

"Tell me Jim killed the son of a bitch that did this to you," he growled, fire in his eyes. "Tell me he's gone so I don't have to turn this goddamn tin can around…"

Mal nervously put her hand up over her face. "The _Narada_ was sucked into a black hole, Leo. If a Romulan managed to survive a disrupter blast, a four-story drop, _and_ that anomaly, I'd say just let him live."

Leo growled and pulled her hand away from her face. "You are _not _funny," he said. His hand slipped to her back and he steered her toward the sickbay where Jim was watching them carefully. "You're hurt, and you purposefully avoided coming down here. You know better, Mal. You," he growled, "are as bad as _him._" Leo pointed to Jim and used the EMCs to open the locked door.

Jim scrambled back as Leo tucked Mal against his chest, mindful of her shoulder, his eyes dangerous. "Jim, I understand that you have no concept of self-preservation but in the future, if Mal has a bone sticking out of her chest, _SUCK IT UP AND GET HER DOWN HERE!_"

The door slid shut behind the doctor and the remainder of his shouts were muffled. Pike snickered from his biobed.

He approved.

**Reviews are love...**

_Coming up: Eddy, Price, and some MaLeo love._


	36. Snoop

**Star Trek is property of its respective owners. I only own Mallory, Edison, and the treacherous Adam Price.**

36

"For crying out loud, Leo!"

"Quit whining, Mal. You're like a toddler."

Mal pouted and wriggled in the biobed.

Leo promptly scowled her into submission.

They'd been bickering for the better part of an hour while Leo tended to Mal's injuries. She'd been sorely mistreated and beaten but she had withstood the worst of it solidly. That small bit of knowledge loosened the vice that had been squeezing at Leo's heart since he saw her standing in the door to medical, bloody, broken, and branded. Every whimper, every gasp of pain that snuck past her clenched teeth while he worked on her was like an icy dagger straight through his soul. It would have been easier if she wasn't so determined to fidget her way out the door, but despite her protests, Leo fussed over her until he was satisfied with her condition.

That, of course, meant she was damn near perfect by the time he was done with her.

"You're a worry wart," Mal accused through the privacy curtainas she peeled off her ruined, blood-stained clothes and traded them for the gray sweats that were stocked in sickbay. She zipped up the hoodie and pushed back the curtain where her doctor was waiting none too patiently.

Leo snorted. "If you weren't so damn much trouble, I wouldn't have to worry, would I?" he asked. "Well, what did you learn?"

Mal grinned at the familiar question and looked up at Leo. "That you're a better doctor than I am secret agent?" she teased, hoping to melt that lingering trace of worry that she could read in his eyes.

"Uh-huh." Leo smirked at her obvious attempt to placate him. "I'm implementing a new rule. No more battling evil-doers with only boy wonder as back up, got it?"

"I'm _fine, _cowboy!" Mal spun on the spot, letting Leo see that she was, in fact, perfectly fine. She blushed as his not so subtle elevator-eyes drank her in. "Well, do I pass inspection?" she teased. "Or do you want to look again?" She was unconsciously fiddling with the zipper of her hoodie and Leo's mind dropped clean into the gutter. There was only a thin piece of gray fabric between him and Mal's skin and she was _teasing _him. How unfair that all she had to do was make a suggestion and his brain turned to mush.

"I-I-I…" Leo stuttered. Mal realized what she'd been doing and giggled.

She slipped close to him, her eyes playful. "You, you, you," she teased. "Thank you, Leo. Thank you for taking care of me."

Leo pressed a cool hand to the tribal marks that masked the left part of Mal's features. "Don't thank me yet. This…" he carefully followed the harsh lines with a finger. "I can't take this away, darlin'. That bastard inked you all the way down to the subcutaneous tissue." He brushed her hair back, looking at Mal's new tattoo intently. "I'm sorry."

Mal's smile drooped a bit. "Sorry that it's permanent? Or sorry because I'm disgusting and you can't stand looking at me anymore?" Leo rolled his eyes and traced the black swirls carefully, completely disregarding her insane question. Mal ducked his touch. "Leo?"

"Yes, Mal. You're hideous," he said with a chuckle.

She pulled away from him, looking hurt and put out. "Ok, great. I'm just going to go down to engineering, now, and see if Scotty will put me down beagle-style."

Jim, under the careful ministrations of Nurse Chapel, let out a loud snort of suppressed laughter as he tried to pretend he wasn't listening to every word that passed between his two closest friends. "Quiet, you," Christine chided lightly. Jim pouted and Christine winked. "We can't hear them if you're laughing."

Leo caught Mal around the waist pulling her up against him. "You're beautiful, Mal. No mark is going to change that," he whispered, his lips intentionally brushing her ear. She reacted exactly the way he wanted her to, shivering as his breath tickled her neck.

"Liar," she muttered. It wasn't fair. She had zero defenses against that cool, southern twang. It turned her into a pile of goo every time.

Leo's had wound gently into her ponytail and he gave it a gentle tug, forcing her to look up at him. "You know better than that, darlin'."

Mal's lip twitched, turning up her mouth into a minute smile. He was burning with color, vibrant, deep, and passionate, but there were no adverse emotions. All he felt was love, worry, and… Mal gulped. There was definitely a black ribbon twisted among the others. Mal blushed furiously and stopped dissecting him before she did something highly inappropriate. "So long as I can place a clean central line, right?" she asked, recalling the day they'd met.

"That's my girl." Leo gently brushed his lips against hers, just for a moment, and the color bloomed behind his eyelids again, fading slowly as he broke away.

Jim loudly play gagged from his biobed across the room. "Ugh, you two are so freaking sweet I think I'm going to vomit." Mal burst into laughter and looked over Leo's shoulder at her younger friend. He was grinning at them, his blue eyes dancing. Chapel was no better, making kissy faces at them, unashamedly. "Seriously, and I can't believe I'm saying this, but if you keep handling our Mal like that, Bones, you have to hypo me. I don't want to watch." He and Christine started laughing all over again.

Mal flipped Jim the bird and he pretended to put it in his pocket for later, laughing at her good naturedly. "I swear that boy isn't right," she said, voice thick with laughter of her own. "We need to get him checked."

Leo shook his head and wondered how two unruly kids had become the most important people in his world. Jim was best friend and Mal… what was Mal? He looked down at the blue-eyed woman. He knew what he _wanted_, but he didn't know if she wanted the same. "Mal…"

There was a fuss in the main bay and both Mal and Leo snapped into doctor mode, their moment put on hold until later. They darted into the main, to see Spock dragging in two men. They scrambled to get at each other, determined to tear each other apart. Both were in gray sweats, and Mal recognized them on sight. One was Adam Price. The other…

"Eddy!" Mal's voice cut across the bay and she stomped her foot angrily. "Seriously, you know better."

Snarling, the shorter of the two men looked guiltily at Mal, gray-blue eyes. "Yeah, yeah."

Edison McKenna was a felon among his own people. It wasn't something he had wanted, rather something he had fallen into, but by eighteen he had become the irrefutable lord of the Mari black market. The man trafficked more dark thoughts by his twenty-first birthday, than a lot of smugglers had during their entire careers. Overall, things were going pretty well for Eddy McKenna. He had money, he had power, and he had a thriving empire.

Until, of course, he got caught.

There was no point in a trial. For telepaths, there never was. One had to only look into his eyes to know that he was guilty. His sentence was imprisonment, permanent and unamendable. That was the end of the road for twenty-three year old Eddy. There were no second chances for Mari who literally sold evil and malcontent.

But the sentence was never carried out. A snarling, moody Tellerite showed up in his holding cell and offered Eddy a choice. He could join up, or he could accept his punishment. Eddy was nothing if not highly intelligent. He did the obvious thing and followed the piggy, little alien with the graying beard back to his ship. Eddy left his old life behind that day and he hadn't looked back. Not once. Eddy was doing something good for a change, making up for this dubious past. More importantly, he had found a family in his team… and in the scrawny, blue eyed brat that would eventually become his partner.

The six year age difference between Eddy and Mal hardly mattered. She didn't listen to a thing he said anyhow, and he was smart enough to not try and force her to behave.

As if anyone could.

Eddy tried to get at Price but Spock's grip on his collar was unrelenting. "This… _thing _was trying to get into your room, Goodie. He was snooping."

"Please," Price's voice dripped with disdain. "As if some shit Mari could get into my head. _I'm _a full-blooded Betazoid."

"Congratulations, asshole, you want a cookie?" Eddy snarled. Price was significantly bigger than Eddy, but Eddy was a good deal more underhanded. Right under Spock's nose, Eddy took a swing at Price, connecting solidly with the bigger man's jaw.

"Eddy!" Mal dragged the Mari away and drew herself up to her full height. "Do not engage!" There was a ring of authority in her voice and Leo knew perfectly well he wasn't looking at Doctor Pike, but Chief Goodfellow of FI.

It was impressive.

Eddy glared over Mal's shoulder once before he gave a begrudging nod. "I want you to know _Adam_, you were just saved by a chick."

"Thank you, Eddy." Mal shoved him towards Jim and Leo, rolling her eyes. "Edison, this is Leonard McCoy and Jim Kirk. Jim? Leo? I want you to meet Helmsmen Edison McKenna... my partner."

Eddy saluted them smartly before turning his stormy eyes on Mal. "We're just telling people, now, Chief?" he asked, a lopsided smile on his face. "Part of the fun is that we're a _secret_." He chuckled and offered his hand over to Leo and Jim. "Nice to finally meet you both officially. Which one's the cowboy and which one's the farmer?"

Jim made a face. "Seriously, you refer to me as a farm boy to _other _people?"

Mal smirked at him and patted his cheek. "I guess it's Captain farm boy, now, huh?"

Spock cleared his throat, drawing their attention back to him and a rather furious Adam Price. "In regards to Commander Price, Captain?"

Mal and Eddy glanced at each other as Jim strutted forward. Eddy immediately stood a pace behind, smirking. He responded to Jim's questioning look with, "It's a precaution, Captain. Remember that he's a mind reader and you… know things. I keep him out of that pretty boy head of yours." Jim returned the smirk and crossed his arms. "You know, I'm getting sick of you messing with my friend, Price."

Price snorted. "Well, that's too damn bad, _Captain._" He spat the word out and there was a chorus of growls from the people at Jim's back. Mal and Leo in particular, though Mal's was more of a hiss than a growl. She took a step forward, her eyes narrowed.

"He's smug," she said seeing the deep purple ribbon that dominated the others in the recesses of Price's mind. "He thinks he's pulled something over on us. Eddy, you getting this?"

The Mari leaned between Mal and Jim, hanging off their shoulders. "What do you have in that miserable full-blooded mind?" he mocked. Eddy's eyes got a bit distant as he sifted through only the gods knew what. "Hiding something, Price? Not kosher, dude. Especially since you were so keen on outing Mal's secrets earlier. Turnabout, Price." He winked at Mal, knowing that was a rule she lived by.

"Go to hell," Price snapped straining to get away from Spock. Price was so busy fighting off a mental attack from the Mari, he completely overlooked the sneak attack from the Vulcan. Spock was hanging onto Price's collar after all, making rather unsavory contact with the back of the engineer's neck. Spock was a touch-telepath, after all.

The Vulcan's eyes widened fractionally when he caught sight of what Price had been trying desperately to keep from Eddy. "Oh," he said blankly. He cleared his throat, a small crease appearing between his brows. "I see." With surprising speed, Spock shifted his hold from Price's collar, to the bundle of nerves where the shoulders and neck junctured.

Price crumpled to the ground.

"Uh, that might've be overkill, Spock." Mal looked down at the unconscious Betazoid and poked him with the toe of her boot. "Not that he isn't vastly more tolerable this way…"

Spock sighed at Mal's making light. "It would be beneficial if Commander Price was placed in the brig for the duration of our journey. And we should ask Engineer Scott to repair the access pad outside of Mallory's quarters."

Eddy frowned while Leo and Jim both took a step toward Mal protectively. "What's wrong with the access pad?" Leo growled.

"Commander Price manipulated it so that the entry code works as a sequence detonator. A small, controlled blast." Spock said it all as though he was talking about the weather instead of an attempted murder.

Mal whistled and looked down at Price, a pile of awkward limbs on the ground. "My dad is going to be _so _mad at you," she told the catatonic man.

"I wouldn't worry about Captain Pike," Leo said gruffly. "Hey, Jim? Help me bring this piece of trash down to the brig?"

Jim grinned coldly. "My pleasure."

**Reviews are love...**


	37. Space Dock

_Sorry, dalings, I know it's been a while. I've been packing up afor my Great European Adventure. I get to go overseas (England, France, Wales, and Ireland) to research for one of my books. Kick ass, right? Yeah, so majorly distracted what with getting ready for an 8 month vacation. Please forgive me? -Ace_

**Star Trek is property of its respective owners. I only own Mallory... and Price.**

37

Never in her life did Mal think she would qualify a space dock as beautiful, but there it was… perfect in every way. They had made it. They were just one short shuttle ride away from the solid ground. Mal didn't bother to keep her relief in check and she let it spill out, crashing around the ship like a warm wave and infecting every person it came across.

Home.

They were almost home.

The _Enterprise _had practically limped its way back to Earth, but Scotty had pulled miracle after miracle out of his ass and managed to keep his poor girl going while Sulu and Chekov kept her steady. Had it been anyone other than the three of them, the flagship would have never made it. Had it been anyone other than Spock and Kirk on the bridge, they would never have pushed each other for the answers. Had Spock Prime not intervened, neither Jim, nor Scotty, would have been onboard…

That list went on and on and Mal pressed her face to the window of the observation deck, a small tear slipping from her eye and rolling down her branded cheek. There had been too much 'luck' for it all to be coincidental. "Thank you," she whispered, wiping the tear away before it got to her chin. Mal looked out at the stars and sent her thanks outward and upward. Someone, _something_, wiser and more powerful than herself had been watching out for the _Enterprise _crew, and Mal felt the need to express a little gratitude.

They were the lucky ones.

They were home.

"Alright there, darlin'?" Mal didn't bother to open her eyes. She knew that twang anywhere. _Imzadi_. The word sprang into her mind fiercely and she smiled against the cool glass. Turning, she cracked her lids and took in the sight of Leonard McCoy. He was leaning casually against the wall by the door, light from the hall outlining him in an almost ethereal glow. His arms were crossed loosely over his broad chest, his dark hair a complete wreck, and the start of his five o'clock shadow darkened his jaw line.

All in all, Mal thought he'd never looked better.

Likewise, Leo was drinking in Mal like he'd been in the desert all his life and was finally given free rein to sate his thirst. She must have gone back to her quarters, because she was showered, scrubbed free of blood, and back into her medical uniform, the blue material gently hugging her curves. Her curls were pulled back into a loose knot at the back of her head, a few wispy curls escaping to frame her face and hang down her neck. The brand stood out vividly against her fair skin, but somehow it didn't detract from her. If anything it turned the girl next door into something far more exotic and dangerous.

No, if that Romulan had been trying to shame Mal, he had failed miserably.

"S'all good, cowboy," she said honestly. "I'm… I'm just grateful. We're almost home." She held out a hand and Leo crossed the deck to gently lace his fingers through hers. Mal settled against his chest and went back to looking out at the stars and the giant steel construction that they would be docking at shortly.

"My people are going to be there. When we land." Mal looked up at Leo, a small frown on her face. "They'll be on the dock, and they'll be at the Academy when we land. I'm going to have to go with them for a while. Me and Eddy."

Leo's thumb had been drawing lazy circles on the fabric of her uniform, giving her the most delightful goose bumps, but he stopped when he realized what she was saying.

She was leaving.

Leo's grip on Mal tightened slightly. "Can't McKenna go… debrief or whatever alone?"

Mal chuckled lightly and pressed closer to his chest. "Even if he could I wouldn't let him. He spent the entire time in the sickbay. I was the one that had to go and play superhero off-ship." For a moment or two, the pair was silent, watching the _Enterprise_ creep up on the space dock. "It's only for a few days, cowboy. I'll be back."

Leo growled, pulling Mal closer. "I don't want you to go. I…" his words failed.

"Don't worry, Leo. I couldn't leave you for long." She looked up at him, shy for the first time in his presence since the day they'd met. "I love you, too."

Mal didn't need to hear him say it to know. His feelings and hers were the same, their souls were twisted together, the strength of their emotion and the depths of their genuine love binding them more solidly than any piece of paper. There was no going back for either of them. Ever. They belonged to each other, solidly and completely, and would remain that way until death parted them. It was something they both just _knew._

Mal wrapped her arms around Leo's middle and breathed in the scent of him. Soap, disinfectant, and something spicy and deep that was all his own. His arms around her felt safe and secure, hands nestled perfectly at the small of her back.

Leo buried his face into her hair and breathed in the familiar aroma of apples. It was too much for him. He'd kept himself in check for three years, told himself no for so long… he didn't think twice about backing her into the glass and claiming her mouth with all the heat and ferocity of a man that had simply been waiting too damned long. His fingers twisted in her curls, tugging her hair out of its sloppy bun, and bringing her closer. Leo deepened the kiss, damn near lost in the sensation that was passing between them. More than just how he felt, Mal was projecting her own delight, joy, and love back to him, filling him with every bit of pleasure she could. It was a cycle that heightened a simple kiss into a religious experience.

Mal smiled against his mouth. "I'm going to keep you, Leonard McCoy."

Leo chuckled and silenced her with a swift movement of his tongue that had Mal seeing stars more dazzling than anything outside the window that the good doctor had her pressed against.

Neither of them said another word worth remembering.

* * *

Eddy McKenna stood on freedom's side of the force field, his blue eyes dark with anger. A bruised, tender, and swollen Adam Price glowered at him from inside his holding cell. Leo and Jim had been too classy to really give the man what he deserved, and Eddy was slightly put out by their… morals. The Mari hadn't shared their restraint and had lain into Price with unbridled anger. The son of a bitch had tried to kill his partner, hated her… and he wasn't going to stop. Eddy didn't need to be a telepath to know that. Adam Price was going to spend the rest of his life trying to ruin Mal.

The dude was a sociopath. It was all there in his mind. In Price's thoughts, he was completely justified. Mal had taken something from him and it was only fair that he take something from her. He was obsessed, seriously warped. His mind was a twisted bog of hatred for the girl that had foiled his carefully planned out future so many years ago.

Eddy flipped through the defeated Betazoid's thoughts like he was thumbing through a magazine, stopping at the interesting articles or to examine a picture. He paused when he stumbled upon Price's memories of the day his brother died. He could feel the man's confusion and anger as the pipsqueak of a girl told him she'd rather run around with Starfleet trash than take a proper and dignified place among her house.

"What you did to her…" Eddy said slowly, his voice harsh with anger. "Bad juju, dude." The spy-turned-helmsman grit his teeth as he made his way to the deep end of Price's mind. "You can't just torment the hell out of my partner and not expect a little universal justice, karma style."

Price snarled, his near-black eyes hateful. "She killed my brother."

"Do you think if you keep blaming Mal it eventually _will_ be her fault?" Eddy asked, disdain evident in the curl of his lip. "You got into her head and tried to muck it up, didn't you? Tried to make her forget Starfleet? You tried to bend a little girl to your will?" Eddy shook his head, his skin crawling.

Price lunged at the force field, flying back when it zapped him. He landed in a pile of whimpering limbs and Eddy shook his head. "That was dumb, dude."

"She's a half-breed." Price pushed himself onto his knees, chest heaving as he tried to steady his defibrillated heart. "I didn't take into account that she was a half-breed abomination. Her mind wouldn't bend the way a normal Betazoid's would so I pushed it. I pushed it but _she_ lost control. _She_ killed my brother!" His voice got steadily louder and louder until he was shouting at Eddy.

With a shake of his head, Eddy scowled. "_You _killed your brother. You killed your brother and you blamed a little girl. What kind of man are you?"

Price let out a wordless scream and Eddy felt the deranged engineer attack his mind in desperate, crazed strikes. Eddy threw up his defenses and caught sight of something unexpected in Price's mind. Frowning, Eddy kept up his own shields as he grabbed hold of the errant thought running through Price's mind.

"Huh," Eddy said slowly. "I guess that explains what a Starfleet hating son of a bitch like you is doing in uniform." Eddy tsked and stepped back from the holding cell. "Told you, bro. Bad juju."

Eddy left the brig to Price screaming his fury and humiliation at him from behind the faint glow of the force field.

* * *

"Captain?" Sulu didn't look away from his consul as he compensated for his inertia with the thrusters.

Jim was standing directly behind the helmsman's chair, his fingers gripping the back of Sulu's chair so tightly the bone shown white through the skin. "What's up, Sulu?" Jim's voice was tense as he kept his eyes on the readings.

"Would you like to drive?"

The question caught Jim off guard and he realized that his hovering was only making his pilot nervous. Chuckling, Jim clapped Sulu on the shoulder and went back to his own seat. "Sorry, Sulu… carry on." Jim shook himself out of his micromanaging mood and took a deep breath. He tapped a button and heard the small whistle that signified he was making a ship-wide broadcast.

_Attention Enterprise, _he said clearly. _This is James T. Kirk. We are moments away from docking at Space-dock Epsilon 23. Well done, all of you. I just wanted to tell you all that you've done Starfleet proud._

He took a deep breath and felt his ship connect lightly with the space dock. He could almost hear the cheer that spread through the _Enterprise. _Grinning he winked at Spock who was listening to his uplifting speech with a trace of approval.

_And on that note, _Jim continued, _party in the boys dorm tonight because I don't know about you but I wouldn't mind getting righteously shitfaced._

That time, he could _definitely _hear the cheer that rang throughout the ship.

**Reviews are love...**

_COMING SOON: Mal's team, Leo's ex, and Spock Prime explains a lil about the Primeline._


	38. Clean Sweep

_My sincerest apologies to you all. This took a long time to work out, considering. I only hope you all continue reading. And remember... this isn't the end._

**Star Trek is property of its respective owners. I only own Mallory Pike and her team.**

38

_This is what it's all for._ Mal was perched atop one of the parked shuttles, her eyes drifting shut lazily. _This is why we fight so hard, why we sacrifice so much. _The crew was cramped into one of the far shuttle hangers awaiting Academy security and Starfleet's higher ups to come and sort through the chaos. There would be reports to fill out and questions to be answered. Oh, Gods, the paperwork for this sort of thing was going to be hell… but no one was worried about that, now, and Mal was only too grateful to put debriefing the Boss out of her head.

Mal sighed, ensconced in a swell of positive emotion that she was gleaning off the crew. So many people, so happy to be home… it was relaxing her into a lovely puddle of goo and she did nothing to stop it. After all her spy games and near death experiences, karma finally saw fit to give Mal a little something in return and she was going to enjoy every last ounce of the giddy relief and genuine glee that twisted in the air around her. True, there was a dark undercurrent among the crew, a pulse of sorrow, but that wouldn't be acknowledged until later, behind closed doors. The grief, the anger, the incomprehension would be private. This joy, this total elation… for the night it was left unchecked and given free rein_._ Mal even encouraged it, letting her own sunny feelings drift outward to infect the crew with all the unstoppable tenacity of a virus.

Perhaps she should have scaled back just a touch as her effect on the crew was… unmistakable. A slightly inappropriate and impromptu celebration was taking place in the hanger and even with her eyes closed and her knees pulled up under her chin, Mal was in the thick of it, sensing out her crewmates, her friends, her family… Mal's eyes fluttered open and immediately sought the bridge crew_. _They stood among the others but something about them was different from the officers and crewmen that crowded in the limited space. They were bigger somehow. Brighter. They were _more. _

_This behavior is unbecoming._ _Regulations clearly state… _

Mal chuckled to herself, scanning the masses for a pair of dark, smoldering, eyes. Spock stood rigidly beside Uhura, his intimidating bulk acting as a deterrent against some of the more rowdy members of the crew. Mal arched an eyebrow at her superior officer, moving a ribbon of curiosity along their slowly dissolving bond. Sticking out her tongue, Mal felt a touch of affectionate disapproval. She returned the affection, spinning it playfully around the Vulcan. He might not acknowledge it, but Spock was probably the most emotionally aware of all of them and while he could not act on those emotional impulses, Mal was going to make sure her friend understood the happiness around him.

Her friend.

Spock was her friend. It looked like whatever else the Primeline had gotten wrong, _that _was the same in both realities. As unlikely as it seemed the half-Betazoid was friends with the half-Vulcan.

Laughing quietly to herself at the warped sense of humor the universe had, Mal settled once again into the warmth of the crew's emotional high. If the brass didn't arrive soon, they were going to have a situation on their hands. Scotty was already tapping into the Romulan ale and the crew was responding _very _enthusiastically, protocol and common sense be damned. Over the din, Mal heard a startled, muffled, squeal. Completely sober, Jim was running about, planting kisses on any female that would stand still long enough for him to catch. Grinning ear to ear, Mal dropped down from her perch and intercepted her friend mere nanoseconds before he pounced on Uhura. "You'd better not," Mal whispered, steering him in a different direction. "Spock will pop your head off and use it as a soccer ball."

Eyes dancing, Jim threw back his head and laughed. "Do Vulcans play soccer?" A lighthearted swirl of pink and green bloomed around him and Mal sighed contentedly, resting her head on his shoulder. She was safe, she was home, and she had her boys. That was all she needed. Mal could still feel Leo, positively alight from their last encounter, cheerfully barking orders at the interns that scattered like mice to do his bidding. Yes, this is _exactly _what she fought so hard to protect. This was why she lied, cheated, and manipulated in the name of the Federation. To preserve moments like this.

_Chief. _A familiar mind brushed against Mal's and the happy bubble that she'd been floating around in burst.

They were there. Hidden in plain sight among the shuttle pilots, the medics, and the red clad security that was surging forward. Only three… no, four had shown up. Five? Mal shook her head. She had just counted Eddy by mistake. Regardless, no amount of mental fatigue could have dulled their signatures or hidden their presence from her, once she thought to look.

The team had arrived.

"I'll be right back, farmboy." Mal squeezed Jim's hand and flashed him an easy, completely false, grin before she slipped into the throng and toward her people.

* * *

Something was wrong. Fury, disappointment, and unease emanated from the dark corner of the shuttle hanger where Mal's team stood, shoulder to shoulder. Three young agents and one, livid handler never took their eyes from the spot where the bridge crew was congregated, their expressions dark and accusatory. "What the hell?" Mal frowned, the force of their combined displeasure turning her stomach. Something was _very _wrong.

"Forgive me."

Eddy fell instep beside Mal, and she blinked up at him, nose crinkled in confusion. Guilt seeped from the Mari in heavy curtains and Mal shuddered involuntarily. "Eddy? What…"

Agent Edison McKenna wasn't one to let himself be troubled by a minor thing like a conscience. No one in FI was really familiar with the concept of guilt. They lived in a gray area and a certain amount of moral ambiguity was required to survive. But with Mal, Eddy had been through too much with her not to care. She was like the little sister he never wanted, but was happy to have anyhow, and now... he had no choice. The team came first. It _had _to come first. "Mal, you blew your cover. You stepped out wearing your badge, you _told _people about FI, about who and what you are."

Mal snorted and waved her hand dismissively. As if that was their biggest problem. They had just witnessed the destruction of a planet, the near extinction of one the Federation's founding species. A little thing like her telling Jim and Leo about FI was hardly a reason to get worked up. "It's not like I ran around the ship declaring myself a part of a mythical department of the government, Ed. My inability to do as I'm told or keep my uniform standard is old news. None of the crew would find that strange. Only Jim and Leo know the truth of it and you know how I am with them. I'd die for them, and they'd do the same for me. Our dirty, little secret is safe with them."

"And the Vulcan?" Eddy demanded. "You didn't tell him? He knows everything about you, Goodie. I saw it in his head."

Mal stopped and grabbed Eddy's arm, her eyes darkening considerably. She knew where this was going and it was unacceptable. She rarely had to pull rank on Eddy, but if he thought he was going to start threatening her friends, he had another thing coming. "Spock cracked the FI firewalls without my help. I had nothing to do with him finding out. And for your information no one knows who or what I am. Not exactly." Mal glared up at Eddy and poked him none too gently in the chest. "I'm not a telepath, Eddy, but I know what you're thinking. Don't. Don't you fucking dare."

"Goodie…" The heaviness in Eddy's voice sounded pathetic even to him. If she thought that he _wanted_ to hurt her like this, she was out of her mind. This was the very last thing he wanted. Mal was his chief, a damn good agent, and his friend. They'd spent the last decade nearly dying together, but this time she'd gone too far. Not that the Beta would be blamed for it. It was Eddy's responsibility to keep an eye on her. Mal was still just a kid, after all and if he had been doing his job, she would never have been running around the _Enterprise _unsupervised. He was supposed to protect her from this very situation. "There's nothing I can do. Mal, they want to do a clean sweep."

The look on her face sent his stomach clean into his boots. Her thoughts became incomprehensible, rage fogging them up from Eddy's telepathic vision. The clear blue of her eyes bled away to raw black in a matter of a heartbeat, burning and flashing furiously. Mal snarled at her partner, her _friend_, suddenly seeing only an enemy. "No! You can't! _They're mine!"_ Mal took a step back, fully intending to haul ass back to the bridge crew, back to Leo, but her feet had chosen that moment to fuse to the floor, her mouth snapping shut with an audible _click_. With her muscles locked, frozen in place, Mal searched the dark corner for the only person she knew with the power to stick her to the floor. Mal was perfectly aware that he couldn't read her mind, but she sent every ugly thought she had straight into the shadows.

"Mallory, I am so sorry." Eddy closed his eyes, fighting down his disappointment, his genuine sadness. Mal felt his sincerity. Eddy was hating every minute of this, but it made no difference to Mal. The Mari could see exactly what she was thinking and Mal's thoughts told Eddy in no uncertain terms that he'd better be no where near her when she regained the use of her limbs. "Don't prolong this, guys. Max, ease up on her." Eddy jammed his hands in his pockets and scowled as the four people in the corner came forward.

"The Marvelous Mal, causing yet another scene. Behave yourself, Chief, before I do more than stick you in place." Maximus Ursas was a twenty-five year old Platonian that FI had snatched up when his own people had turned him out. Telekinetic and sociopathic, Max had no concept of wrong or right. In their line of work that was often an advantage, but couple that with the man's rather potent telekinetic ability and you had a terrible weapon that was rather difficult to control. Max grinned at Mal and pinched her cheeks, knowing full well she couldn't move to stop him. It was his own force of will that was keeping Mal motionless in the corner, her furious eyes blacker than deep space. He laughed lightly as though she had just told him a joke and slung an arm around her frozen form. "Take it easy, Chief. It'll be over one-two-three if you just settle down."

Max's whole body pitched forward as a small hand made alarmingly loud contact with the back of his head. Rubbing the spot nonchalantly, as though getting pegged in the skull was common place, the young spy glanced down at the diminutive girl that had just cracked him one. At sixteen, Agent T'Yara was the youngest on the team. She was also, by far, the most dangerous. The unfortunate result of a Vulcan/Betazoid coupling, the girl had been abandoned at birth, an abomination to both peoples. Raised on Tellar Prime, T'Yara was an obstinate, wild, little thing that had not spoken a word out loud in her short life. Many thought her mixed blood had made her mad. Some thought it was life among the Tellarites had unhinged her.

But T'Yara was completely stable. She was brilliant, creative, and fearless. She was deadly.

She also adored Mal and would not let the big, telekinetic bully pick on her.

"Settle down, short stack, she did this to herself." Max turned and looked down at Mal with bored, blue eyes. "Had to run your mouth off to your boyfriends. You Betazoids and your mates… well, too late now."

Mal lashed out with her mind, pelting Max with her anger. What they wanted to do… what they were considering… she'd kill them with her bare hands.

"Not considering, Chief. The decision has already been made by the high ups. We have no choice. _You _have no choice." A timid voice drew Mal's gaze. Nina VanDahalaraoui hailed from Halana, and was just about the sweetest, quietest woman Mal had ever met. Mal had doubted very much her placement among the harsh and often ruthless personalities of FI but dark and lovely Nina was a perfect fit. Unobtrusive and easily looked over, Nina saw a great many things that the others did not and her naturally observant personality was indispensable. That and she had an unusual problem that was more often an asset than a hindrance.

Like all her kind, Nina could psychoproject, literally duplicate herself, allowing her to be in two places at once. But unlike the others, Nina had no control over her 'twin'. Springing up randomly at any time, Nina's projection was nothing like the original. Destructive, aggressive, and reckless, the double was often out of control and extremely dangerous. She was also a hell of a lot more fun.

Nina shrunk back under Mal's raging, black gaze and looked up at the last of the four intruders. The color slowly came back to Mal's eyes as she followed the direction of Nina's glance.

Whatever he had been called before FI fished him out of space was irrelevant. He was content with the name that his team had given him. They just called him 'Boss' and the ancient shape shifter was just that. The Boss. He had built his team, his small group of brilliant castoffs, and he loved each of them dearly. This… this unpleasant situation they found themselves in… it was his fault. He had always indulged Mallory, given her free rein to make decisions for the team and for herself, but she had gone too far this time.

She had betrayed them.

"When you were brought into this team, you were told that your position was unconditional. You are in for life. You live for the team. You die for the team. There is no life outside of what we do. We watch, we wait, we influence, we move on." Boss stepped forward and Max backed off quickly. Even the textbook sociopath knew better than to stand in the way of the handler. Boss gently cupped Mal's face in his hands, his thumb brushing over the black marks that swirled decoratively around her eye. "The only reason we are effective is because no one knows we exist, Mallory. This is not a punishment. This is not to hurt you, regardless of what you think. This is the only way to clean up the mess that you made. A clean sweep is the only way to proceed. You will make other friends, sweet heart. You will begin again… somewhere else."

A pained, strangled noise came from the back of Mal's throat. Eddy pinched his eyes shut tighter, shaking his head as though _he _were the one in pain. Nina was shaking, tears pouring down her dark skin. Max was very uncharacteristically quiet, eyes downcast. Only Boss and T'Yara remained unaffected by Mal's despair.

"This is for their well being, as well, Mallory. Would you endanger their lives by including them in your spy games? Would you allow your enemies to hurt you by hurting them? So long as they know, so long as they are a temptation to you, they are a weapon against us. Against the Federation." Boss sighed heavily before stepping back. "T'Yara?"

The petite agent only nodded and came up beside Mal, her dark eyes probing, invasive. Whatever she saw, the little girl frowned. Incomprehension brushed over Mal just before T'Yara's inner voice slid into her mind.

_Why do you hold them to you so tightly? These people are replaceable. They are all replaceable. _

A tear slid down Mal's cheek. _Not to me._ _Without them, I am nothing._

T'Yara placed a hot hand on the back of Mal's neck, her long fingers curling slightly. She flinched, the contact opening a torrent of Mal's emotion to her. _He is your Imzadi? This will not be pleasant, then. For either of you. _Mal screamed silently as T'Yara picked through her head. _Don't fight, Chief. It will all be over soon._

* * *

"Pike, I swear to God if you don't stop picking at that I'm going to give you gauze paws." Leo waved a roll of bandages in Captain Pike's face and scowled. Pike just gave a very undignified snort and turned his attention back to the ruckus going on around him. The pain hypo that Leo had given him was making him fuzzy headed and stupid.

It was wonderful.

"Kid, if you're going to threaten me, make it count. Don't try to terrorize a man with _gauze_. It makes you look silly. Silly Leo." He snorted again and Leo rolled his eyes. Just what he needed. Another goofy starship captain.

"Hey, doc. I need a word."

Leo looked up from his dopey charge and scowled as Eddy McKenna made his way over. The Mari was looking a bit put out, hands buried in his pockets, but he had that face on. One that Leo had seen on Mal a hundred times. The face that said 'I'll just keep bugging you until I get my way'. Scowling, Leo pointed a warning finger at Pike before stepping over to talk to the helmsman. "What is it, Lieutenant?"

Eddy extended his open hand, a small frown on his face as Leo automatically accepted it. "I'm sorry, doc. I'm so sorry." There was no doubt in Eddy's mind that Leonard McCoy loved Mallory Pike. It was right there in his head, every moment, every touch, every laugh bright and clear in the recesses of the good doctor's memory. "I'm so, so sorry."

Edison McKenna was good at a great many things, but his involvement with FI could be narrowed down to a very specific skill. The team called it a 'clean sweep' and it was little more than a Mari technique for memory alteration. Eddy had once made a living of taking people's memories away and selling them again. This was no different…

That was a lie, and he knew it. He wasn't stealing violence and hatred out of some scummer to sell on the black market. This time he was ripping the heart clean out of two people. "I'm so sorry." He couldn't stop saying it, as though he'd get some credit for apologizing. Leo's eyes had taken on the hazy, unfocused stare of someone involved in a memory wipe. Eddy moved quickly, working his way backward through Leo's mind. Three years of laughter, love, tears, comfort, arguments and make ups. Every sleepover, every meal, every exam, every infirmary shift. Every moment that he had spent with Mal… Eddy burned them away, effectively erasing Mallory's existence from Leo's world.

The kid captain would be next.

Then the Vulcan.

And then every person that had been onboard the _Enterprise _with Mallory Pike.

**Reviews are love...**

_It's not the end. Still to come, Jocelyn & Spock Prime reveals Mal in the Primeline. _


	39. Incomplete

_My apologies for the extreme break. I think I was putting off posting this because I find it incredibly difficult to put Mal through all this. After all this time, I've grown pretty attached to my little space spy. I will try to be more diligent about my updates. So without further flimflam, Chapter 39 : Incomplete..._

**Star Trek is property of its respective owners. I only own my small army of OCs.**

39

The wreckage of the _Enterprise _was brought down from orbit a week later for disassembly. She was going to have to be rebuilt from top to bottom. Electrical was shot, steering barely responded, half of the back end had been blown off, the warp core had been ejected, the hull was cracked nearly in half… the list went on and on. The ship had been little more than scrap by the time it hobbled into the space dock and how Scotty had kept her mobile was a topic of many conversations among the staff, the brass, and his drinking buddies down at Grisham's. Scotty, to his credit, would just smile, his chest puffing out with pride, and tell whoever was asking, "Ye just need t'know how ta treat a lady."

Captain Pike couldn't help but raise his glass to that, murmuring his approval along with the others perched around the bar. A month after the fact and the man was still stuck in a chair. He was losing his mind with boredom, but it would take more than a toxic slug and neurosurgery to keep someone like Pike down for long. He might have had to nag and whine, but he convinced McCoy to set him free and had himself wheeled the few short blocks to a local hole in the wall. Pike was set up in a shadowy corner, unobtrusive and observant as he sipped his drink.

Grisham's… Pike shook his head. The rather unsavory pub had become a magnet for the surviving _Enterprise _crew, specifically those that had worked on the bridge, though no one seemed to notice but the chair bound captain. They were inexplicably drawn to the dimly lit place, showing up uncertainly but unwilling, or unable, to stay away. Captain Pike's crystal blue eyes were glued to the booth in the corner, where those select few were known to sit and unwind. They commanded the pub the same way they had commanded his bridge, with smiles and cool heads as they threw back their drinks and laughed with one another. Pike couldn't help but notice that there seemed to be a space, an empty seat left between the Kid Captain and his Chief Medical Officer.

As though they were waiting for someone to come and fill it.

Pike could do nothing more than watch them as they moved on, totally unaware that one of their own was missing. They moved like aimless planets, not understanding the true depths of their bond to each other. Bonds that had been forged and strengthened by a Betazoid's interference. Raising his glass once again, Pike honored the brave few that his daughter had sacrificed all for, keeping a steady eye on their booth, on their interactions, on their lives.

Chekov's parents had nearly dragged him home by his adorable, little curls, but the boy…ahem, young_ man_ had put his foot down. So many more would have been dead if not for his involvement. He was staying at the Academy where he could continue to learn, and continue to save lives. By the time his parents departed San Francisco, they could not have been prouder of their son and the seventeen year old had developed a distinct sort of swagger to his step.

There was no family waiting for Sulu but the helmsman hadn't really expected there to be. Starfleet was a choice that had not been approved by his parents, and his determination to fly had cut him off. He could only smile and quietly ruminate whenever he caught sight of his fellow crew on campus with their own families.

Uhura's family was also absent, the trip being beyond their means at the moment. They sent their love via comm. and the dazzling, young lieutenant laughed as her parents and siblings crowded in front of the camera, cheering her on and badgering her relentlessly about what it was like in a real starship and if she was eating her vegetables, and getting enough sleep, and was that a _Vulcan_ that had been following her protectively in all of those media mobs? She patiently answered every question. Uhura's usual cold, hard demeanor disappeared while she gave her love to the people she had left behind.

Funniest of all was Leo. The day after the shuttles brought the crew back to the Academy, there was an invasion. Not aliens. Not locusts. McCoys. The small army of Georgians showed up on campus, effectively telling security to fuck off, and went straight to the infirmary where Leo was doing his best to keep a stir crazy Captain Pike from doing himself more harm. Pike finally settled down, but it was only so he could watch as Leo was tackled by his older brothers and passed around his family for hugs, kisses, and cheek pinches. Leo accepted them all with a roar and a smile, returning the abuse just as enthusiastically, much to the delight of his clan.

There was a change in Leo. Last time they'd seen him he'd been little more than a miserable blackout drunk, spiraling down the tubes. Hopeless and helpless, Leo had been searching for something. There was no denying that whatever it was, he had found it. The doctor had changed for the better. He was whole, somehow completed after three years away from home and that toxic woman that had left him with nothing. Clearly something about Starfleet agreed with him.

None of the _Enterprise _crew was enjoying their triumphant return more than one James T. Kirk. The kid was happy as a pig in slop, although there was a rumor that the amorous cadet was behaving… strangely. There was an unkempt look about him, unusual for one who took such pride in his looks. Dark circles hung under his eyes as though he hadn't been sleeping, a messy stubble hardening his otherwise charming, boyish face. On the rare occasions that he didn't share his bed with some avid fangirl, panicked, strangled shouts could be heard from his room. Jim would wake up from his bizarre nightmares shaking, hoarse, and reaching for something that simply didn't exist beyond his own mind.

Pike sighed and lowered his eyes to stare down at his annoyingly shiny shoes. The bar was filled with laughter and chatter. People were hailing the young heroes, unwinding from their stressful day, or drinking quietly on their own. No matter what way Pike looked at the scene… he simply saw it as incomplete.

* * *

Nestled securely in an FI safe house, Mal stared at the wall of her holding cell, eyes black and face void of any real expression. The last thirty days had not been so kind to the former agent. Mal was reduced to little more than a slack-jawed shadow, the fire that once burned in the heart of her extinguished with no indication that it would ever rekindle. Silent and unresponsive, Mal sat on the edge of her cot, her hands folded in her lap, her dark curls pulled back into a tidy ponytail. Her Starfleet uniform was gone. She wouldn't need it anymore. The Boss had had her pulled from the program. Mal couldn't be trusted in Starfleet, now. The team couldn't trust her period.

Not anymore.

A part of Mal, the part that still occasionally bothered to muse, wondered how she hadn't imploded already when absolutely nothing remained inside to support her slim frame. The warm ribbons of color that had filled her with such lovely emotions were gone, burned away in the clean sweep with nothing left behind but an aching emptiness. She was hollow. Incomplete. She was broken. Surely the pressure should have crushed her by now? She could feel it squeezing at her heart, pressing her down until she couldn't move. There was a void at her very core, an anomaly like the one that had sucked up Vulcan, Mal was certain of it. She had her own personal black hole inside, draining her, leaving nothing behind but a shell for the cold to crush out of existence. It was just a matter of time.

The Boss stood outside of the cell, his eyes intent on what was left of Mallory Pike. She was rigid and immobile, perched on the edge of her cot and gawking at the wall as though it held all of life's answers. It was a tragedy, really. The clean sweep had unhinged the girl, broken her beyond repair as surely as it had broken the bonds she had shared with her mates. Boss clicked his tongue in distaste. _What a waste_, he thought darkly. Mal had been talented, clever, ingenious. It was a shame that he had had to make an example of her, but really she had left him no choice. FI only had one true rule that could not be broken even by its morally gray recruits and it was that very rule that Mal had chosen to disregard. The department _had _to be a secret. No exceptions. Mal had known that when she let a handful of Command morons into her world. Into _their_ world. The clean sweep had been his only option. Losing Mal as an agent was regrettable, but it served the greater good. It served the Federation.

"Unsettling, isn't it?" Max was lounged on the couch, his eyes never leaving Mal's stiff form inside the cell. Most of the team had been sent off to aid in the colonization of New Vulcan, but he had been left behind along with T'Yara and Nu, the giant Kzinti telepath that was napping in the corner, his tail up over his eyes as though he was little more than a harmless housecat. Max pursed his lips, annoyed by his chief's inability to comply. All she had to do was _not _love those Command losers and she would have been fine. She'd thrown away a cherry gig for two jerks that couldn't even be bothered remembering her. It was disgusting. "She just stares. Like she ain't even in there no more. Who knew that the bonds Mallie had with those Johns of hers were so important… can I have her stuff?" The Boss turned his pale eyes on him and Max fell silent with a sigh. "Ok, never mind. Jeeze."

It _was_ unsettling. Mal's usually jovial face was shadowed by the faint glow of the force field and it added something sinister and cruel to the jagged marks that swirled around her left eye. Or maybe it was the serious tilt to her mouth, or the tensed muscles that loaned Mal that hint of rigidity. No more easy smiles or inappropriate laughter. No more wit or witticism. Mal was frozen in grief, motionless and _**e**_motionless.

_What a waste._

T'Yara did not once look away from the PADD in her lap, not even when Boss' cold thoughts touched her mind. She had been engrossed in some late twentieth century novel about a boy with 'magical' powers. He was clearly just a Thasian, but the wonky half breed girl found pre-warp humanity's attempts at explaining the unexplainable amusing. Pursing her lips at the unwelcome intrusion of thoughts, T'Yara put her PADD aside and joined the two men in watching the prisoner.

Mal's thoughts were a monotone drone, senseless and psychotic in her head. It was clear to the mute seventeen year old that Mal had mentally checked out and left her body behind. A part of T'Yara was furious and a bit repulsed by how attached Mal had allowed herself to become to people outside the team. Agents were allowed a cover story, a false life outside the job, but real external relationships were discouraged. Not just discouraged, they were damn near unheard of. Mal's munificent attitude with her heart had ultimately been its own doom. Had she guarded herself more closely, perhaps she would not be a zombie in a cage, now.

T'Yara shook her head, disappointed. As soon as things were resolved and the _Enterprise _was safely away from Earth again, the whole team was being relocated and reassigned, and the empty shell that was her chief was to be put right back where FI had found her. The Alternate Learning Center on Betazed. There would be no second escape for the woman with the dead eyes.

_Why, Chief?_ The seventeen year old agent sent her thoughts to Mal, colored with sadness and confusion. They two shared Betazoid blood, a bond that no one else on the team would ever truly understand. Feelings ran deeper for Mal and T'Yara than any human was truly worthy of. They loved passionately, hated fiercely, and lived for the warm, vibrant colors that their kind saw in the world around them. _They are human, and so emotionally shallow. They are wrong for you. For us. _A hint of bitterness crawled into T'Yara's voice. _Why were we not enough for you?_

From outside the force field T'Yara's dark eyes searched Mal's expression for some flicker of life. Nothing. There was no lopsided smile. No playful glint in her eye. If Mallory Pike was still in there, she was far beyond the Vulcazoid's reach and words. Without a sound T'Yara turned on her heel and exited the HQ. She had a great many things to think about.

Namely where her true loyalties laid.

* * *

Commander Spock surveyed the Academy grounds with his usual impassiveness. The grassy quad was deserted, not a soul in sight as the sun began its slow downward journey. Anyone else might have found the serene twilight peaceful or calming, but Spock's attention was focused on the far off dorms, his dark eyes unimpressed and disinterested. Even from that distance his sensitive ears were detecting music and drunken laughter… a pathetic attempt to chase away the grief that had infected the campus like a plague. There was no doubt in the Vulcan's mind that if he chose to investigate the racket he would discover Jim Kirk at its center, smiling and smug. Kirk, it seemed, was determined to exhaust himself and everyone around him. He ignored the grieving and otherwise subdued cadets, preferring to whip the entire Academy into a frenzy for his own entertainment. He instigated parties and pranks and ignored superior officers' requests for restraint. Kirk was tireless, unscrupled, and his way of coping with the events of the _Narada _Incident seemed to be designed to drive the brass out of their minds.

Emitting a very unVulcan like sigh, Spock turned away from the cadet dorms, hands clasped behind his back. He had no desire to try and dispel whatever hornet's next Kirk was stirring up. He was tired. Unlike the rest of his crewmates he had had no opportunity to settle after the _Narada_ Incident. His father had immediately gone off planet to help arrange the colony on New Vulcan, leaving him alone to mourn the passing of his mother. Nyota had been a great comfort to him those days when the sorrow and the anger were near overwhelming but it seemed somehow… not enough. Nyota did not help him bear the load of his anger, his sorrow, or his confusion. Her presence merely added to his emotional turmoil and he slowly began to withdraw, burying himself in copious amounts of paperwork and ship logs.

None of the other _Enterprise_ crewmen appeared to be so out of sorts. They carried on, mournful certainly, but they were coping with the things they had been through. Days in class or on mission, nights in the local alcoholic establishment, they muddled through the sorrow. Spock alone seemed to be suffering from this... whatever it was. "Discontent," Spock said quietly. There was no other word for it. Something in his world was off kilter, just slightly askew and Spock's analytical brain was demanding answers. That he could not solve the puzzle concerned him. That he was concerned at all…

It was madness.

Emotions were messy, irrational things that were to be contained and ground into nothing until they no longer existed save in the subconscious mind. They were not to be expressed or acknowledged. They were taboo, a weakness, and for some reason Spock was near bursting with them. The sense of wrongness that was coursing through the young Commander was unsettling and being unsettled was not something that Spock could rationalize away.

Something was wrong.

"Gray is grief. Blue is happiness. Green is affection. Yellow, fear. Pink, love. Black…" A pale green blush colored the tips of his ears. Where were these thoughts coming from? He was certain that it was his human half confusing him, but it made no sense. Humans didn't _see _emotions. Spock could not understand why was he associating colors to feelings and why he suddenly felt like… like something had been taken from him.

_Perhaps a few extra hours meditating would remove this… feeling, _he thought, his mouth tightening slightly to keep from frowning. That he was letting his emotions dictate his schedule was appalling. _Or perhaps I should request the guidance of a more experienced Vulcan…_ Mind made up, Spock began the slow walk to his lodgings his soft footfalls disrupting the otherwise hushed night. He paused outside of the faculty lodgings, his thoughts drifting to Kirk for some unknown reason. In a way he envied Jim. The young man was simply allowed to feel however he chose without the shame of…

"_You don't know anything, do you? We cannot trade anymore psionic energy, Sir. Not unless you want to be linked to me for life. I'm guessing you aren't particularly keen on that."_

"_Are you implying that we have in some way just been bonded?"_

"_Pretty damn close. I've always wanted a brother, sir, but somehow, I never imagined he would be Vulcan."_

Spock froze on the spot as the words blossomed from the depth of his mind. Words that didn't belong. The voice was unfamiliar and heavily intoned, infused with emotion. It was someone what reminiscent of the way his mother used to speak, but less polished. In what situation would a _human_ dare to call Spock 'brother' so casually? He could not remember the context… he couldn't remember. _"Are you implying that we have in some way just been bonded?" _But he wasn't bonded to anyone other than T'Pring…

Comprehension widened Spock's eyes ever so slightly before his usual neutral mask smoothed the plains of his face. Something or some_one_ had taken liberties inside his head. It explained the wrongness, the sense that something was missing. It wasn't the first time his mind had been touched, but whoever had picked through his brain this time clearly didn't take into account that he was half human and his mind was just slightly different than most other Vulcans…

Whoever it was would be disappointed to know that they had failed.

* * *

"This fucking kid…" Leo stepped off the lift and stared in exhausted disbelief down the dorm corridor. People were milling about, laughing, shouting, drinks in hand and wearing… "Bedsheets?" For a moment the moody doctor just stood there counting the ways in which he could kill Jim and make it look like an accident, but the sound of someone dry heaving too close for comfort reminded him to keep moving. After all, he could hardly smother the kid with a pillow if he was standing stupefied in the hall. Making it down the crowded corridor was a test of Leo's reflexes and patience and more than one toga-clad moron was left bruised in the CMO's wake. When the crowd reached critical mass, he knew he'd found his room and, with the help of his elbows and scathing tongue, Leo managed to get through the door. Hazel eyes murderous, Leo swept the small dorm in true military fashion. Somewhere in the writhing mass was his roommate and when Leo found him he had full intentions of breaking his Hippocratic Oath.

"Jim? Jim… what the fuck?"

The Starfleet hero grinned up at his roommate, feet propped on the coffee table, perfectly relaxed while chaos ensued around him. Most of the campus had made an appearance in the boys' dorm bent on enjoying yet another Kirk blowout and to get another peek at the famous 'kid captain'. Like everything else Jim organized, the party was out of hand. Somehow he had convinced the other cadets that a 'toga party' was the way to go, and they had all met his challenge with creativity and brilliance.

It might have helped that there was enough alcohol available to smash the entire damn armada packed into the fifth floor room, including a vibrant blue liquid that looked suspiciously like Romulan ale. Leo's scowl only deepened when he caught sight of the illegal liquid. There were going to be some mighty unhappy people when the hangovers set in.

"Bones!" Jim shot Leo a wide grin, perfectly comfortable and commanding. Someone's sheets, certainly not Jim's, were wrapped around the kid's tanned frame like he was Hercules fresh from defeating the Nemean lion and a small harem of female cadets crowded around him, giggling and cooing, feeding the monster that was the Kirk ego. They were draped over his lap, leaning eagerly against him, pressing in on all sides and Jim was in absolute heaven. "Drink and make merry, old man! Tomorrow we're back in front of the Brass. Let's see how they like me now!" Jim's words were a bit slurred and his tone more than a little arrogant. There was a drunken cheer from Jim's many admirers and dozens of cups were lifted into the air, toasting their host's words.

Leo just shook his head. For fuck's sake. He felt like a babysitter. One that got paid in gum instead of a well-deserved stack of credits. "Ok. That's it. I've had it, Kirk. I've put up with a lot of shit 'cause I figured you didn't know how else to cope with… you know, two-thirds of our class dying!" Leo's words had an immediately sobering effect on those that were listening and a few partygoers looked suddenly crestfallen, staring into their drinks with sad eyes. "But this is too much. It's late. I'm tired. I'm a doctor, Jim, not a frat boy. When I come back to this room it's to sleep. Not watch you get your jollies off with which ever one of these women is stupid enough to end up in bed with you."

"Who says I just get one?" Jim asked, his expression as cocky as ever. He winked at the girl in his lap and started to count to himself, waiting to see how far he would get before the little vein in Leo's head exploded all over the room. He hadn't seen him this mad since…

The corners of Jim's smile drooped. His drunken brain was trying to remember something, struggling with the Romulan ale and some sort of fog that was wrapped around his brain. He _had_ seen Leo like this. After Nero, before they'd made it back to Earth. The _Enterprise_ sickbay? He couldn't imagine a scenario where he would go down there voluntarily, but maybe… someone was hurt? Jim grappled with the memory but all he was able to recall was a pair of stunning blue eyes and a jagged, twisting tattoo…

"Are you even listening to me?" Bones practically exploded. He'd been ranting for some time without Jim's noticing. Most of the room had cleared out, including Jim's small harem, and Leo went right to work ridding his room of the others, leaving Jim to pout on the couch.

It had been a month. One month of being alternately lauded and belittled by the admiralty. One month of media frenzy, and paperwork, and all the avid fangirls he could want. He should have been proud, or at the very least feel a small sense of accomplishment, but all Jim felt was restless. No matter what he did to exhaust himself he couldn't sleep. He found himself just staring up at his ceiling, fighting the sensation that there was something… wrong. He couldn't sleep, he couldn't concentrate. Jim could only compensate by being exactly what everyone on campus expected. Loud, lecherous James T. Kirk.

Was it any wonder he just wanted to get drunk?

Besides, Jim could almost remember what it was he was forgetting when he was three sheets to the wind. Almost. The drunker he got, the clearer it became, but Jim always passed out before the answer revealed itself. It taunted him, whatever _it_ was, and stayed beyond his ability to access. He was going to lose his mind trying.

"Air." The word croaked past his lips, interrupting Leo's angry rant as Jim lurched to his feet and stumbled toward the door. "Don't wait up, Bonesy." With a parting belch, Jim staggered into the hall and toward the lift. Leo just watched him go, shaking his head. For the life of him, the doctor couldn't remember why he spent so much time with that kid.

* * *

The cool air did nothing but make Jim shiver as he slowly made his way around campus. Wobbling and slurring to himself, Starfleet's youngest captain wrestled with his own mind, growling and trying to pry out something, _anything_, that would help him makes sense of his world. He was James Tiberius Kirk. Kickass _Enterprise _captain and hero of the Federation. He had taken control of a starship, defeated Nero, and had done it all without messing up his perfect hair. He was an unstoppable force, a champion, a boy wonder… Jim paused his blue eyes dim as he fell to his knees in the middle of the lawn. "Boy wonder…" he mumbled, more to himself than anyone else. For some reason that meaningless phrase gripped his heart, squeezing the breath out of him.

It was the small things that were driving Jim out of his mind. He'd spent the last month finding things, meaningless things, that elicited bizarre reactions from him. A comforter on the floor of his room that smelt like apples. A handful of post-its in his desk. A bottle of shampoo in their bathroom that didn't belong to him or Leo. A t-shirt folded in with his laundry from some college in the south. He'd hear a joke, a song, see a movie, or even just _eat _something and realize that it meant something to him… he just didn't know what.

The Kobyashi Maru was an excellent example. Jim had no idea how he passed the impossible exam, how he had beaten it when no else could? And he had a vivid recollection of breaking into the faculty lodgings his first year and rewiring the replicators, Jim remembered doing it. He remembered pissing himself laughing while the professors and commanders screamed bloody murder when instead of piping hot coffee, giant, dead bugs poured out of the replicators. He remembered running like hell, a small, smooth hand held firmly in his own… it was whoever belonged to that hand that he simply couldn't remember. "What's wrong with me?" he groaned miserably. Maybe he just had a guardian angel. There had to be an explanation for how he had repeatedly avoided expulsion, passed the Kobyashi Maru, and even escaped from Nero. There was no way he could have done it alone. Jim was good but, realistically, even he knew his luck had limitations.

"Answers," Jim muttered. He climbed back onto his unsteady feet and started moving with purpose toward the staff accommodations. In his drunken haze Jim knew exactly who would have answers. Who could explain the past better than the guy from the future? The fact that the old Vulcan he had in mind was from a completely _separate_ future meant nothing to Jim at that moment. He simply felt… a nudge something urging him to head toward the staff accommodations.

It wasn't until he reached the door that Jim realized he had no idea how he was supposed to get inside, or even find Ambassador Spock if he did breech the door. Never to be discouraged Jim thumped on the door with the flat of his hand, kicking up a hell of a noise and then distracted himself, throwing up most of the alcohol he'd ingested all over the sidewalk. He was so busy retching miserably he hardly noticed a hand soothingly patting his back or the soft voice murmuring to him comfortingly. It wasn't until he realized he'd gotten a bit of barf on the shiny, black boots and the hem of dark 'commander' charcoal pants that Jim turned his eyes upward.

"Jim." Ambassador Spock's tone was familiar and pleasant, somehow soothing to Jim's frayed nerves and rolling stomach. "I've been waiting for you to arrive. It is well past time that you and I speak." With a smooth gesture, Spock indicated the open door where a much smaller but equally proud and stern Vulcan girl was standing, her dark eyes blazing as she looked over Jim. Her expression bordered on hostile and Spock Prime cleared his throat. "That will be all T'Yara. I will consider your counsel most carefully." The little Vulcan merely nodded, her eyes not once leaving Jim. She simply glared as the Ambassador led Jim inside, her proud, lean frame casting a shadow over the sidewalk while she watched him, her eyes seeming to strip him bare.

_I certainly hope you're worth all this trouble._ The words nestled in Jim's mind, young, critical and most definitely feminine. Grumbling he glanced back over his shoulder and stuck his tongue out. _Now I know where she gets it from. _There was a trace of humor in those burning eyes for a split second before the door slid shut, hiding the kid from sight.

"Jim?" Spock Prime waited patiently in the hall, his hands clasped behind his back. "We have much to discuss, old friend, and very little time." With a last look over his shoulder, Jim followed the temporally displaced Vulcan down the sterile corridor and toward the answers he so desperately needed.

**Reviews are love...**

Coming next, Mal Prime and the truth about her untimely demise...


	40. You're Tall

_Sorry this took so long. It came to my attention that someone was actually ripping off my stories and it got me pretty pissed off. As far as I know the situation has been dealt with, but for any readers that think it's ok... it's not. I put a lot of effort and love into my plots and for someone to literally copy and paste my work and credit themselves... it's insulting and it's horrible. If it happens again, I will be deleting my account and that will be the end of it. _

_Anyhow, on with the show, darlings. -Ace_

**Star Trek is property of its respective owners. I only own my small army of OCs.**

**40**

"Who was the kid, Spock-sucker?" Jim snorted at his own 'joke' totally amused as the ancient Vulcan directed him to the stiff and uncomfortable couch that dominated the sitting room. The entire apartment reflected its occupant: plain, structured, and professional, and Jim looked around bored out of his spinny mind. "You live here? S'borin. Ya need a rug or somethin." He blew a loud, wet raspberry and plopped himself down onto a cushion. Jim Kirk, the savior of Earth, the terror of Romulans everywhere, slumped over and pressed his cheek to the inflexible upholstery. He was too far gone to even be bothered righting himself. "Can't find it, Spock. S'in my head but I can't get to it. I think I'm going crazy… shhhhh, don't tell." He pouted into a throw pillow and bemoaned all the things that were 'wrong' in his world. The Elder Spock simply listened, settling himself comfortably in a chair on the other side of the room.

The Ambassador's previous visitor was weighing on his mind. Little T'Yara had been unexpected and, initially, most unwelcome. Spock had little tolerance for meddlers, and the young woman that had interrupted his meditation was exactly that. He knew who T'Yara was, _what _she was, before she'd even stepped foot into his quarters, but Spock had listened as the conflicted girl told him everything without uttering a single word. She describing in agonizing detail the things that she and her associates had done to Mallory Pike and the people that mattered most to her. Stone faced, Spock replayed her visit in his head while he sat waiting for Jim to regain some semblance of decorum, his long fingers steepled in front of his mouth. There were a great many things about this timeline that Spock found strange and unusual, but a branch of the Federation that erased people… that was rather more disconcerting than his simpler musings like why his Jim Kirk had brown eyes when this one had blue.

The concept of a 'clean sweep' was preposterous and flawed. There could be no such thing. Memories, especially human ones, were interwoven and messy. Remove one and another would be affected. And another, and another, until there was nothing left but… well, a drunken, babbling wreck of a man looking for answers. Mallory had been plucked from Jim's head, cut out like a single thread of a tapestry. Had the girl not been so deeply ingrained in his subconscious, had she not had such a hold on him, Jim might have been as blissfully ignorant as the others. But it seemed that the young captain clung to Mallory in this timeline with the same tenacity as he did in the original Primeline. Even without a memory of the girl to his name, Jim was clutching to the very essence of her.

Perhaps there was hope to rectify this glaring error.

Spock's jaw tightened imperceptibly as he thought about his exchange with T'Yara. The child had come to him, guilt and confusion evident in her mind even as her face remained perfectly schooled in neutrality. He had allowed her to pace, revealing her anxiety while she organized her worries and her confliction. T'Yara could not understand Mallory's decisions, could not support them. _Would _not. Even being half Betazoid, the teenaged agent couldn't comprehend what had made Mal love such foolish, weak human men. Frail and insipid, they were all wrong for her fiery and loving Beta-Chief. It was their fault that Mal had been deactivated and her mind was falling apart. Breaking their bonds had broken the woman that had forged those bonds. T'Yara wanted her Mallory back, wanted to heal the damage she had caused… but that meant betraying some very powerful, very frightening people. Spock had asked her only one, somewhat illogical question that had frozen T'Yara in her tracks.

"Would Mallory do it for you if your roles were reversed?"

The child's hesitation dissipated in an instant. T'Yara had left, feeling a great deal better than she had at her arrival and with very specific instructions. The last month had not been all fun and games for Spock Prime either. No, he had been in the middle of helping his people settle onto New Vulcan when a rather unexpected person had sought him out, familiar and drastically changed in equal measure. Spock's dark eyes drifted to the door to his sleeping quarters. Yes, things in this timeline were terribly askew…

By morning things would be set right.

T'Yara's involvement only made things that much easier. Some part of it, he knew, was up to the man on his couch. That was why he had had T'Yara telepathically nudge Jim to the staff accommodations. There were a few things that needed clarification. For a long while Spock just listened to Jim babble drunkenly, his expression stern, but their time was rather limited and the young captain was starting to drool on the leather. "Jim, I have recently come across some information I think you would find most valuable."

Jim looked at Spock with bleary blue eyes. "You're tall."

"I see." Spock stood and made his way to his small kitchen to mix a foul concoction that his own Jim Kirk had once instructed him was helpful in situations like this. Spock himself had never partaken of coffee since the very smell of it offended his senses, but the Vulcan was long used to human edibles stinking to high heaven. Without a word he placed a steaming mug into Jim's hand and waited patiently as the younger man sipped. "I want to tell you about an old friend of ours, Jim." When Jim only groaned into his coffee mug, Spock nearly smiled. Carefully, very carefully, the old Vulcan placed his fingers on Jim's psi-points. "Our minds," he said softly, "one and together…"

* * *

_Her name was Mallory Pike, Jim. And in my timeline, she was your wife for exactly one year, three months, eleven days, and four hours. _

Jim was falling into memories, into thoughts and feelings that were both familiar and foreign at the same time. He recognized his home, but it wasn't the empty, miserable place he had left behind. It was warm and filled with love. His father was there, laughing at his son's misadventures and encouraging them. His mother was there to scold him, and love him, not off planet somewhere so she wouldn't have to look at him and be reminded of all she had lost. The memories continued unchecked and suddenly there she was. A wild imp of a girl with long, dark curls and stunning blue eyes appeared as welcome as a cool breeze in summer. She dominated the happier memories… Her showing Jim how to swear in Klingon, and him teaching her hand to hand combat. Summers in California, holidays in Iowa. Comm. messages constantly. Stolen kisses, shy smiles, and fearless, well-thought out pranks on the Academy campus. Jim could feel the absolute adoration that seeped from this other version of himself whenever he set eyes on her.

"Is that…"

_Yes. That is Mallory._ Spock's voice was tinged with sadness and it stabbed at Jim's heart. _Where I come from, George Kirk and Jim Pike served together. They were friends, Jim. And when it came time for Pike to bond his second daughter it wasn't to some arrogant, Betazoid aristocrat. It was to you. You and Mallory belonged to each other from the beginning. You were her _Imzadi _and together you two, along with myself and Doctor McCoy, were unstoppable._

_But it was not meant to last. _

The images were so saturated with love and happiness, danger and excitement that Jim didn't register Spock's sadness at first. How could he pay attention to the undertone of grief when he was witnessing his graduation from the Academy, his first encounters with Leonard McCoy and Commander Spock, his captaincy of _Enterprise…_ He saw Mallory, diligent at her post on the bridge. He saw their wedding. He saw his wife waddling along the corridors of his starship very obviously pregnant.

"We were parents?" He asked, a slightly drunken wonder coloring his voice.

_You were a father, Jim. _

The subtle difference was lost on Jim as Spock suddenly removed his hand, cutting the images short. He couldn't. He couldn't show Jim the end this way. "Hey, wait! I want to see more. Our kids… our life…" Jim's eyes sparkled brilliantly as he struggled to make sense of what he'd just seen. "Why did you stop?"

If it were possible for the old Vulcan's expression to become even _more _neutral, it happened as Spock's dark eyes fixated on Jim, completely blank. "We do not have time, Captain."

Jim was too busy replaying what he'd just seen to fully understand what Spock was saying. Between the alcohol still diluting his common sense and the influx of unfamiliar memories the kid captain was stunned. "But if that was Mallory and Jim Prime then where's the Mallory in _this_ timeline?" Jim's voice was barely above a whisper, his confusion evident. "If she meant so much to me _there_, then why isn't she _here_?"

"Who says she isn't?"

A young woman came out from Spock's sleeping quarters looking absolutely exhausted. Her eyes were intent on the slowly sobering Captain James T. Kirk. Whoever she was, she was no member of Starfleet. There was a distinct ferocity about her, from the Orion leathers that were exposing a great deal of skin, to the two disrupters strapped to her back. Her brilliant blue eyes were stormy as they swept over the suddenly wary man on the couch, clearly unimpressed. Her long blonde hair was piled up atop her head in a messy jumble of curls. Several strands had been brightly colored and a few pink, blue, and green curls had tumbled loose to frame her young face. She was pierced, several holes puncturing her left ear and a small hoop in right nostril. Her arms and torso were a dizzying array of homemade tattoos, dark and grainy, vivid against her the smooth pale skin. Those brands marked the twenty-four year old as exactly what she was.

A criminal...

An outlaw…

A pirate.

Spock cleared his throat. "Jim, I would like to introduce you to Captain Kadence Menolly Pike of Orion's _Wanderer_. Kay… this is Jim Kirk, Captain of the _USS E__nterprise_." The two captains stared at each other and something in the depths of Kay's blue eyes flickered and Jim flinched away. She gave a small shake of her head, mumbling under her breath, looking ready to fall over. Unsure, Jim glanced at Spock, trying to figure out what the old Vulcan was doing with one of the Federations most wanted stashed in his bedroom, but the blonde moved in his peripheral vision and his eyes snapped back to her, guarded and distrustful. Spock frowned between them. "Kadence, you should be resting."

"She won't let me." Kay mumbled, her eyes still trained on Jim. "She heard his voice, Sir. She's weak, but she's still a pain in the ass when she wants to be." Spock merely nodded and Jim watched in utter fascination as the stranger's pupils dilated. Her lovely blue eyes, so like Jim's, were swallowed up by a burning black and Kay's expression altered slightly, from one of obvious exhaustion to intense concern.

"Hey, farmboy…"

_Ooooooooo. More soon. -Ace_


	41. Two In One

_I have to thank you all for your patience. Things got a bit crazy here for a while but, since my Mal muse has returned, I will be finishing WARPED. I want to thank everyone who's reviewed, sent messages, and created fan art for this story. Nothing inspires me to write more than your encouragement. All of your contributions can be seen in my profile. -Ace _

**Star Trek is property of its respective owners. I only own my small army of OCs.**

**41**

In the hierarchy of Pike children, Darby was the oldest. The perfect daughter that did no wrong, she followed quietly and serenely in dear mother's diplomatic footsteps, never so much as a hair out of place. Mallory was the second born but may as well have been a princess. She was daddy's little girl through and through, regardless of her penchant for causing trouble. Kadence… well, Kay was the epic disappointment that was spoken of in hushed tones at family gatherings. That is if she was spoken of at all. Kay didn't fit in with her mother's super honest Betazoid culture, and she didn't suit the 'hero' mold that Christopher Pike so perfectly embodied. Kay didn't want it, refused it outright. She wasn't a hero.

She was a villain.

What was more, she _liked _being a villain. Things were so much easier when there was no crisis of conscience to get in the way of her fun. Kay had attended Starfleet Academy despite Captain Pike's presence, not because of it, and had graduated well before he bullied Mal into enlisting. Kay hadn't gone out of some misplaced sense of duty, honor, guilt, or some insipid need to prove herself. The leggy blonde didn't particularly care about the greater good, she didn't see 'hidden potential' in people, and she didn't understand her sisters' need to cling to one of their heritages over the other. Kay saw the truth for what it was. She was neither human, nor Betazoid. She was something altogether new and, in her opinion, better. All the Academy had to offer her was a means to an end and she had plowed through, intent on graduating and nothing more. She'd made no friends, endeared herself to none of the staff, and ignored her father entirely. She knew who his favorite was, and it certainly wasn't his sneaky, underhanded, youngest child.

The minute the diploma hit her palm Kay had blown off planet faster than Captain Pike could stop her. That was the last time anyone on Earth had seen the baby-faced blonde and she had been considerably less decorated back then. Not a puncture, not a piercing, and certainly not a tattoo.

She had Starfleet Intelligence to thank for her new 'look'.

The worst kept secret in the Federation, Starfleet Intelligence had tapped Kay before the last note of Pomp and Circumstance had even finished sounding and she'd happily accepted her new place in the universe. After all, SI offered her everything she wanted and more. Adventure, danger, the chance to blow shit up… The adrenaline junkies of SI were the ones who played in the dirt so the pretty boys of Command could keep their precious uniforms and their pristine reputations spotless. The Sneaks did what no one else wanted to…

And they liked it.

Kay was one of the handful of SI Sneaks that had been planted deep to keep an eye on the Orion Syndicate. It was there among the smugglers, pirates, and slave traders that 'Captain' Kay had earned her ink running illegal cargo both inanimate and living. She'd taken over an old barricade runner, the dreaded Wanderer, leading a mutiny against the legitimate captain at the time. With her bizarre form of telepathy, Kay was unquestioned, undisputed, and undeniably respected by her hodgepodge crew of universal scummer. That was the only thing that Mal and Kay truly had in common. They both tended to collect the rejects of the universe like mangy pets. But while Mal brought out the best in her strays, Kay simply controlled the worst of them. She was manipulative and deadly and far sooner than what should have been possible the Wanderer's crew was unwaveringly loyal to the young woman that led them. The entire rig was currently waiting bored in orbit while their captain went planet side to deal with 'a little hiccup' that needed her attention.

That 'hiccup' was fluttering around in her head, weak and heartbroken and mad as hell.

Nothing less than her big sister in trouble would ever have lured the youngest Pike back into the same atmosphere as her self-righteous father. For years Mal had been the only connection Kay'd had with her family. SI had tucked her so deep into piracy that Kay was no longer certain if it was a cover or not but Mal's contact had kept Kay from completely assimilating to her cover. No one hurt her big sister.

A month ago, Kay had been looting a Pre-Warp colony for a giggle when out of nowhere a furious and devastated Mallory was in her head howling for blood. She had been betrayed by her own people, broken down and emptied out. Her _Imzadi _had been stolen away, her best friend wiped of his memories of her, and her place among them simply erased, as though she had never been.

It was quite the tangle…

_Tangle? TANGLE? Kay, this is a clusterfuck of intergalactic proportions_. Mal's voice was somewhat faded in her mind, her presence weak, as Kay sat meditating in Spock Prime's sleeping quarters. _It's not a 'tangle'. Gods, what have you been doing that you'd consider this a freaking TANGLE?_

"Never you mind, Big." Kay said quietly. "Now shut up before you overexert yourself and you disconnect. I don't know that I'd be able to get you back again and I really don't want to explain to Pop that you're consciousness is just floating around in the ether somewhere between FI head quarters and the staff accommodations." Mal merely snorted... at least, it was the mental equivalent of a snort. There was a part of the former FI agent that, despite the empty vortex where her heart had once resided, was amused. Her situation was dire, her time rapidly running out, but Mal was still her usual self. She was incapable of taking things seriously, though perhaps she was a bit more pensive than usual.

There were just so many things that she simply didn't get. She would never grasp the point of a Snuggie, or understand 'synthetic' alcohol. She would always regard stop signs as suggestions rather than commands. She would never see the point in cats as pets… and she would never ever comprehend her own team so underestimating her abilities.

Among FI's monsters and social pariahs, amid a group of people that were willing to do nearly anything to obtain their objective, Mal was queen. Manipulative, inventive, and clever, she was the team Chief for a reason and it wasn't just because she looked damn good in the uniform. Mal pushed and she wheedled until she got her way. She was as underhanded as any of the others, though she hardly ever had to utilize it. She was at her best in a pinch, indomitable and unbreakable...

And her team thought a sweep was going to stop her?

She was a bit insulted.

_Tangle_, Mal repeated darkly. _Just wait until I get sorted out, Little. I'll punch you in the eye._

That had made Kay chuckle. Even as a disembodied voice Mal hadn't lost her sense of humor. Laughter was how the Pike girls dealt with the terrifying moments in their lives. The uglier things got, the more their peculiar brand of humor kicked in. The pair of sisters had been especially giggly lately. Mal was dying. Being away from her body for so long was killing her. Bit by bit, the fiery young doctor was fading away. Piece by piece her mind was disappearing, dissolving in the cosmic space. That she'd lasted as long as she had so far was a testament to just how skilled a telepath Kay really was. Keeping Mal's consciousness intact took all of their collective focus. Ambassador Spock had been mediating with the pair for hours every day, helping them to maintain the tentative thread that Mal maintained with her body that was still stashed in an FI's holding cell.

Of course it was hard for Kay to concentrate on meditating when Spock kept getting visitors. T'Yara had come first and her mere presence had put Kay into a rage. The blonde pirate had remained out of sight, seething, listening through the door while T'Yara psionically unloaded her sob story on Spock. That the mutt of an agent expected sympathy or guidance was pathetic and Kay wanted nothing more than to storm the room, interrupt the pair of half-Vulcans, and throttle T'Yara with all she had. _She _was the one that had burned Mal's heart clean out and Kay wanted to make her pay. The only thing keeping her tucked out of sight was Mal bouncing around in her head, distracting Kay from doing anything she'd regret later. With every telepathically communicated word, Kay struggled to keep her temper in check. What exactly had her Big had gotten herself involved in? SI might have turned the shady Kay into an intergalactic criminal, but she had never been betrayed by her own people. If you couldn't trust your crew... get a new crew.

Unfortunately with Mal in her head, Kay's thoughts weren't exactly private.

_Don't, Kay. FI isn't so bad. You don't know how much good I've done thanks to them._

"Shut up, Mal." The words ground out through Kay's clenched teeth. She was furious. Her sister had been mentally violated, emotionally crippled. For a Betazoid there were few things worse. Kay didn't put much value on her mother's culture, Mal never had either, but that didn't stop something like this from offending the very heart of them. "Don't tell me about how much good they do. You did the good. Not them." Kay twisted a multicolored hank of hair around her finger, too agitated to sit still. "What the hell made you think that you could be a spy, Big? You don't have it in you, thank the gods. You're just... too fluffy."

_Fuck you, Kay. Not all spywork involves explosions and making as big a mess as possible. Don't you dare call me fluffy. I've gone toe to toe with Klingons, and Bothans, and your precious Orions and managed just fine. It wasn't an enemy that did this, Kay._

With a derisive snort Kay shook her head. "That's exactly the point, Mal. You don't know who your enemies even are."

The blonde could feel her sister's anger, deep and burning. It spread outward from Kay's stomach, heating her chest uncomfortably. _I suppose that spys aren't allowed friends now?_

A small sigh escaped past Kay's lips. She didn't answer Mal. Really, she didn't need to. Mal was in her head, after all. She could see Kadence's answer clearly.

No.

No, they weren't.

Mal fell silent and Kay settled herself in a meditative pose, her burning baby-blues closing gently. She didn't like hurting her sister. Mal was the only one that ever supported Kay's choices. She trusted Kay explicitly and without question, and it wasn't just lip service. The younger Pike could see it all in Mal's head, laid out in plain. No matter what Kay did, she was Mal's baby sister and there was no getting around that. That trust was returned tenfold and the two young women were bonded so closely that they could transfer their consciousness. That blind and unconditional loyalty was what allowed them to Emulate.

Thank the gods for that, or Mal would have been lost the moment T'Yara's hot little hand touched her.

"Who was the kid, Spock-sucker?"

A voice drifted in from the sitting room and Kay's eyes snapped open involuntarily. "Mal! Mal, no!" The instant Mal had recognized the voice, so had her sister and there was a brief struggle for control of Kay's facilities.

_Kay! That's Jim. That's... Kay, he's one of MINE._

There was a level of desperation in her tone that Kay rarely heard from her laid back big sister. "Mal, you need to stay calm before I lose you." Even as she spoke she knew her words were wasted. Mal was fluttering through her head like a butterfly on crystal meth and there wasn't going to be any calming her down. The best Kay could do was focus on maintaining her link to Mal's mind and just let Kay take over. For a moment, they co-existed, melded mentally while Kay walked out into view of the drunk, pretty boy captain and Spock introduced them.

The Vulcan was watching Kay with an impossible to read expression. Mal could feel his concern, however, washing over her mind with unpleasant acuteness. "Kadence, you should be resting," he said in his usual clipped fashion.

"She won't let me." Kay couldn't take her eyes off of Jim. Mal was slipping to the forefront, inching her way into control of the Emulation. "She heard his voice, Sir. She's weak, but she's still a pain in the ass when she wants to be." Kay's eyes turned black as Mal took over and the harshness in Kay's voice took a far more affectionate tone as the blonde knelt down beside Jim. "Hey, farmboy..."

* * *

Convincing the wonder boy that the woman before him was actually two in one was surprisingly easy. The things that Jim had been through recently... why not? He had had his memories manipulated because he was best friends with an intergalactic super spy and she was currently getting a free ride inside the mind of the space pirate glowering at him across the room.

Made perfect sense.

"So... how do we get her out?" Count on Jim to ask the most obvious question.

Kay smiled, her eyes as black as deep space. Mal was clearly at the helm while Kay grumbled in the back of her own mind. "Get me back to my body. I never should have jumped ship the way I did, but I couldn't just stay in there, Jim. No one would have known that anything was wrong. You've had your brain scrubbed. So has Leo and the entire bridge crew. The only reason they didn't get to Pop was because he'd have put a hole in Eddy for even trying it. Get me back to my body, and I'll deal with the rest." A dangerous edge had crept into her tone and the ancient Vulcan still sitting stiffly on the couch cleared his throat.

"We did not discuss your 'dealing' with anyone, Mallory." Spock didn't so much as blink when those obsidian eyes turned in his direction. "Once you have returned your mind to your body, you must run."

Jim had been groggily rubbing his eyes and cursing his decision to drink his own mass in Jack Daniels. At the word 'run' he dropped his hand and looked between the tattooed pirate captain that was housing a girl that he couldn't even properly remember and the Vulcan that was from another time and place entirely. "What do you mean _run_?" There was a loaded silence while Spock sat impassive and the remaining three minds in the room stewed uncomfortably.

_Don't you dare tell him, Big._ Kay's voice was stern while Mal looked out through her little sister's eyes at the only brother she'd ever known. There was concern in his inebriated features. No arrogance, no smugness. Just Jim. It was as real and vulnerable an expression she'd ever seen on Jim's face and Mal had to look away. "My team's got me in a holding cell for sure. Once I'm myself again, I've got to get out of there. That's all." _So much for Betazed honesty,_ Kay whispered. The dark of her eyes returned to a stunning, clear blue as the rightful owner of Kay's body returned to the forefront and Mal settled exhausted back into nothing but a flutter in the recesses.

Neither Pike sister, nor the silent ambassador, felt the need to inform Jim of the truth.

_Coming next, Commander Spock and Dr. McCoy find something interesting... - Ace_


	42. McCoy's Pockets

**Star Trek is property of its respective owners. I only own my small army of OCs.**

**42**

The room was a mess. No... Mess was too kind a word to adequately describe the disaster that was the dorm room that Leo and Jim shared.

This was a crime against humanity.

Leo was an orderly person by nature. He liked things neat and tidy, everything in its place and scrubbed clean, so it was no wonder he was at a complete loss as he looked over the room, eyes wide with distress. Discarded party cups and half empty bottles were left on every available surface. Articles of shed clothing were draped off chairs, bed posts, the back of the couch, and hanging from light fixtures. Someone had decided to take a marker to one of the walls, the words illegible and the artwork completely inappropriate. The desk lamps were both missing their shades, the toilet paper had been turned into white streamers, bunted around everything that couldn't be moved. The tooth paste had been squeezed out onto the floor, the shaving cream squeezed out onto the mirror, and there was something truly unholy in the toilet. So much for sleep. It would take him forever to get the room back to his own standards and after a twelve hour stint in the infirmary Leo _really_ wasn't looking forward to scrubbing vomit out of the rug. He didn't have much choice in the matter and with a growl, the Georgian stormed around the small shared space, his feet sticking to the beer-tacky floor while he silently seethed and aggressively started to clean.

It seemed that lately all Leo had been doing was cleaning up other peoples' messes. If he wasn't railing at Admiral Pike for trying to do too much too soon after having his brain exposed before God and the entire _Enterprise _medical staff, he was listening to Nyota mourn the loss of her green-skinned roommate because her hob-goblin of a boyfriend couldn't be bothered. If Leo managed to sneak off to the local pub he had to put up with people bewailing what had happened between_Enterprise _and the___Narada. _With the exception of the bridge crew, the other survivors seemed determined to wallow in their losses and expected Leo to be as forlorn and miserable as they were. Quite the contrary. Leo was as stable and well-adjusted as he'd ever been. Somehow, while everyone else had returned to Earth broken and traumatized, he'd managed to come home far more light hearted than he'd been when he'd gone up. Leo couldn't explain it, just like he couldn't explain why everyone was so determined to agitate him. Something always seemed to come up. Someone always seemed to need him. How the hell had he become the 'go to' person? He wasn't especially open or understanding. Why were people coming to him?

Whatever the reason, it needed to stop. He could barely handle his own crap, let alone everyone else's. He was a doctor, not a psychologist. "Dammit, Jim..." Leo's eyes fluttered shut in extreme annoyance. The mystery of Jim's toga was reveled when Leo ripped his crumpled comforter back to find... nothing. His mattress was bare and his hazel eyes twitched slightly. It was three in the morning and he was going to have to do laundry...

He was going to hypospray that kid into oblivion.

Truthfully, it was probably for the best. Leo hadn't had done his laundry for over a month and his clothing situation was starting to get pretty dire. The pile of filthy clothes stashed in his hamper was threatening to mutate and march _itself _down the hall to the laundry room. He'd never let simple chores go like that but considering all that he'd been through lately, well, he'd had other things on his mind.

Leo was still muttering ominously to himself as he collected his laundry and made his way down the hall. The few people that were still awake scattered when they saw him coming, not wanting to face the doctor's dark mood. The idiots should have been to bed well before this anyhow. The cadets all had to report to the Academic Advisory Hall in only a few short hours. No doubt the toga party had been a pre-congratulatory celebration in his roommate's honor. There was no way that Jim was going to be getting a suspension or detention now. His academic sins had been absolved with Nero's defeat and Jim had gotten a starship out of the deal. Pain in the ass.

"What the hell?" Leo had been shoveling clothes into the washing machine on autopilot, hardly paying any mind to what he was doing but a pair of slacks he'd been about to shove into the soapy water clattered against the machine loudly, waking him from his stupor. Last that he checked, pants didn't _clatter._

"There is something in the pocket." Leo hadn't heard anyone approach and he looked up, startled. Commander Spock stood in the door to the laundry room, his hands clasped behind his back. "Hello, Doctor."

Leo gave a curt nod, emptying the contents of the pockets onto the floor without much care. "Commander." Dear God. What was the elf doing in the student dormitories? "Ought to wear a damn bell…" He spoke under his breath but there was a good chance that Spock heard him anyhow. With those ears, how could he not? He waited, expecting some announcement as to why Spock was slumming it in the cadet dorms in the wee hours before dawn but the Vulcan was silent and Leo was perfectly happy to pretend that he wasn't there. His patience was running thin as it was and whatever Spock's malfunction was, it didn't concern him.

The silence stretched on until Leo finished loading the machine. "Did you need something or do you just dig laundry?" Sarcasm dripped from his words. Spock's hovering was irking him and he turned his hazel eyes on the Vulcan with barely concealed belligerence. "If you're looking for Jim he's not here. He probably got distracted by something shiny… or something blonde…"

Spock wasn't paying Leo's disgruntled babbling any attention. He wasn't even looking at him. His dark gaze was fully focused on the ground where a scrap of black leather was resting on the tile where it had fallen when Leo dumped his pockets. It was totally unremarkable. Old, nicked, and scratched, the leather was worn thin. "Doctor. I apologize if my curiosity is out of line, but what is that?"

Leo made a face. How the hell was he supposed to know? "It's just… uh," he grabbed it off the floor, thinking it was his wallet, but the second his fingers closed around the abused leather he knew better. It was heavier, far more solid, and his eyebrows pulled down as he frowned. "What…" It was a badge. A shiny silver badge worked into the shape of a wreath around a field of stars. The fluorescent lighting overhead illuminated the sniper scope that had been fixed into the middle of the emblem with smooth, black stone.

Spock damn near had an expression as one long, pale finger brushed over the field of stars. "I believe I am familiar with this particular insignia." There was only a vague sense of recognition and Spock's mouth tightened slightly. "But I cannot remember. Doctor, what do you know about memory manipulation?"

Leo didn't hear a single word that Spock had said. He'd noticed a bit of paper peeking out from behind the badge and pulled it free, thinking it would give them a clue as to who it belonged to and how it got into his pocket but it wasn't paper at all.

It was a picture.

Eyes full of wonder, Leo couldn't bring himself to tear his eyes away from the image that spoke directly to his heart. "Mal." The name fell past his lips simultaneously unfamiliar and perfect. "_Imzadi."_

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_Upcoming :: a team of spies, Jim's award, Leo's ex, and Mal's most excellent escape._


	43. Grisham's

_I have to thank everyone for reviewing and being so into this story. The artwork you guys have been sending me is amazing and one of you has even started an RPG site based on this version of Star Trek. It's actually pretty cool and I invite you all to check it out and play. (Yes, I've joined in the game and no, I'm not playing Mal.)_

_Hope to see you guys over there!_

**Star Trek is property of its respective owners. **

**43**

Grisham's Bar was not what most people would call a major land mark. Its existence wasn't common knowledge, its demographic dark and sleazy. The pub's business was drummed up by locals and the occasional cadet or commander that wanted a break from the more trendy clubs and bars that were in abundance around the Academy. Grisham's was little more than a dank hovel with shady lighting and even shadier clientele that went unnoticed for the most part. The drinks were cheap, the floors were filthy, and the service was questionable at best. T'Yara found it all very unsavory but after nearly two years she was familiar enough with the dive to completely ignore the cheers and glasses raised in greeting as she stepped through the front door. She never did anything to encourage the dodgy patrons and glassy eyed boozers. In fact, she believed that she was being incredibly gracious by allowing them to continue breathing. A mere thought would have been enough to see that they all put down their glasses permanently but the deplorable creatures were well beneath her consideration and T'Yara kept her mind to herself.

Her quick steps took the young agent past the tables set up on the floor and the booths that lined the walls. The seventeen year old gave a deep nod to the man in the pit rapidly cleaning glasses only to refill them with alcohol a moment later and redistribute them. None of the highly inebriated people at the bar seemed to notice that the Boss was far too efficient at his work but T'Yara was far more observant than the average wino. T'Yara caught sight of a bit of tentacle and rolled her eyes. Sure. It was easy to do ten things at once when you had six arms.

Theodore L. Grisham had once been the owner of the pub that bore his name. That was before Mal brought her team to San Francisco and told the abhorrent man that either he left and didn't look back or he would be relocated against his will. Of course Mal would never put it like that, but those had been Grisham's choices. Leave by choice and be compensated or by force and never be heard from again. That was before T'Yara joined the team and Mal was always very vague in the retelling about which road the team had taken to secure the pub as their base of operations.

Either way, the man behind the bar wasn't Theodore Grisham. He was the Boss, the team's handler, and a Vendorian that posed as the pub's proprietor with no one the wiser. It would seem that shape shifting was just as useful for a spy as telepathy or empathy. He was a manipulative, wily villain that had a soft spot for the misfits and miscreants that made up his team. He spoiled them, really. _Boss,_ T'Yara's soft mental whisper reached him from the other side of the room and the faux-bartender looked up sharply. _I'm home. _Boss sent the telepath a tense smile, his hands in constant motion even as his eyes were steady on his youngest agent. He was always a wreck when the team was split up. T'Yara could see it all in his mind as plainly as if his thoughts were all written out and projected onto the wall. His elite team, his paladins of the Federation, were needed to help things along on New Vulcan, but someone had to stay behind and keep an eye on what he simply called "The Problem".

Mal.

The reminder of her chief's predicament quickened T'Yara's steps and her long stride took her straight through the door marked 'employees only' in the back. What should have been a store room, stacked high with napkins, kegs, and little decorative umbrellas was actually a turbo lift that delivered all who entered straight to base. The hole in the wall pub was a front for one of the most dangerous organizations in the Federation, right under Starfleet's nose, and no one knew a thing.

It was home.

But not for much longer.

"Hey, kid. Where ya been?"

The base was as cozy as an oversized daycare. Lots of couches. Lots of video games. A drum set in the corner. All that was missing was the finger paints. T'Yara didn't even acknowledge the speaker as she thudded heavily onto a beanbag chair, flopping over as though she were boneless. Her mind was working on overdrive, automatically and systematically looking for flaws in the plan that Ambassador Spock had filled her in on. There were so many things that could go wrong, so many variables that were unaccounted for. She was not like Mal. T'Yara didn't thrive in pandemonium or do well on her toes. That wasn't the sort of spy she was. The half-Vulcan, half-Betazoid was like the rest of her team, better suited to pull strings and manipulate situations than stand front and center and pull the pin. She liked to have a clear, direct mission, backup plans for her backup plans, and escape strategies for every step.

"I'm talking to ya, pipsqueak."

T'Yara grunted. Of all the people to be left behind while the rest of the team was on mission it was both a blessing and curse that Boss had chosen Max. The twenty-five year old Platonian was a twisted asshole that took absolute glee in pissing people off. He butted heads with people just for the fun of it. Truly, he was made for this life.

Reckless

Morally ambivalent.

Delighted by complete chaos.

It was a cherry gig for Agent Maximis Ursas, though recently he'd been reassigned from usual espionage and subterfuge and put on babysitting detail instead. Maybe if Mal had been even semi-conscious he'd have enjoyed himself but chicks in comas weren't his scene. He'd been doing a lot of napping lately… Watching a lot of Tv…

"Yar!" T'Yara's beanbag suddenly jerked out from beneath her, dumping her lithe form onto the carpet with a heavy thud.

…Annoying the bejesus out of a certain teammate…

_Do you have a deathwish?_ T'Yara demanded, mute per usual. She'd never spoken. Not once in her scant seventeen years but she communicated just fine without a voice. For example, the look that she leveled at the telekinetic bully promised no small amount of pain. _Idiot._

"Enough." A low, gravely voice came from the corner and the overburdened couch springs protested as their load shifted and seven hundred pounds of raw, muscled Kzinti stood up and flexed his claws. Nu was the only member of the team that would never pass for human. Ever. Over seven feet tall, he looked like an upright tiger dressed in armor. Terrifying in appearance if not in deed, the Kzinti was as docile as a house cat and just as neurotic but when it came to his partner he was protective to the point of excess. One sharp claw curved outward until it was touching the tip of Max's nose. "Leave her be."

Max only grinned. "No sense of humor, fuzzy." Still, Max didn't say anything else to T'Yara and went back to 'guard duty'. Not that Mal had done more than blink and breathe since she'd been brought back to base. It was all incredibly disappointing. Max had rather enjoyed matching wits with his chief. She'd never run out of ways to keep his job interesting…

_I am going to sit with the Chief for a while, Maximis,_ T'Yara informed her teammate with no intonation, her mental voice as void of emotion as a real Vulcan. She was annoyed and Max just shrugged and reclined on the couch, eyes reflecting the glow of the force field that separated the team lounge from the holding cells. The field flickered off and the teenaged spy let herself inside, Nu a step behind her. Mal was right where they left her, sitting stiffly and silently on her cot, her eyes black and unseeing. Her civilian clothes were tidy and clean, her hair brushed and braided back. Nothing about this person was Mallory Pike.

_We're getting you out of here, Chief. Just a few more hours._ T'Yara gently took her friend's hand and sent her words out toward Mal's missing mind. _Just hold on a few more hours._ It was meant to reassure Mal, but T'Yara felt an unfamiliar brush of fear. All she had to do was sneak an unauthorized space pirate down into the heart of a secret base that was occupied by a telekinetic sociopath and a shape-shifting murderer, transplant a mind from one body into another, and then escape with an emotionally compromised enemy of the Federation…

No sweat.

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_We're in the final stretch now, guys! _

_Upcoming :: Jim's award, Leo's ex, and Mal's escape. _


	44. The Past Resurfacing

**Star Trek is property of its respective owners. I only own Mal and my small army of OCs.**

**44**

The last month had passed somewhat erratically for Adam Price. Stuck in a holding cell with nary a window to help him calculate the passage of time he'd quickly lost track of the days. In any other scenario he would have just peeked into one of his captor's minds and gauged from there, but these _people, _for lack of a better word, had walls around their minds like armored trucks for their thoughts. The only one he could tap into was Max. That idiot had nothing of value in his head and all Adam had gotten for his trouble was a telekinetic wedgie.

Whatever the day, whatever time it was, Adam was passed out on the steel cot attached to the wall, head cushioned in his arms. He'd given up on trying to escape ages ago. The force field was secure, the facility some twenty stories underground, and Max had made it very clear that there was nothing to escape _to_. There was no way he could return to his job at the Academy. Pike was alive and well and Adam's behavior on the _Enterprise_ had earned him a one way ticket to a dishonorable discharge. He had nothing. _Nothing. _And it was all because of Mallory. He was going to kill that bitch if it was the last thing he did…

_We're getting you out of here, Chief. Just a few more hours._ Adam's eyes snapped open. There was a voice in his head, young, feminine, and undeniably anxious. It didn't belong floating around in his skull, that was for damn sure. The apprehensive promise wasn't a message for Adam, he'd just happened to overhear it and he sat up blinking groggily. _Just hold on a few more hours._

A dark smile curled up the corners of Adam's mouth, the first smile that he'd managed since he'd woken up in the sterile cell among the mad and the strange. There was only one person that this motley crew of useless wastoids called 'Chief'. Someone was planning to break Mal out of the underground prison…

"We'll see about that."

* * *

Few things put a Vulcan in a good mood more than a puzzle. They loved working things out, the more complicated the better, but this time… This time Spock wanted answers more than he wanted a challenge. Someone had manipulated his memories. Violated his mind. It was unacceptable. His interest in understanding why rested on Leo remembering _who _but thus far neither of them had been successful. Spock was certain that the badge that had been left forgotten in Doctor McCoy's pocket was key in figuring out what had happened to them. He'd relieved Leo of the odd emblem almost immediately, studying the polished silver as though it held all the answers to the mysteries of the universe. Leo on the other hand didn't seem able to look away from the creased image that had been tucked away in the credentials case. Gingerly, he ran a finger over the glossy surface of the photograph, confused. The strangest sense of déjà vu had settled over him, an undeniable pull… but the harder he tried to remember the girl in the picture, the further she slipped away.

"Fascinating."

Leo forced himself to look up and fixed the Vulcan with a truly annoyed set of hazel eyes. "If you say fascinating one more time I'm going feed you a thesaurus." The two of them were sitting in Leo's freshly scrubbed room. The sky was beginning to lighten, a new day beginning. Leo should have been wiped out, especially since he had to report to the Academic Hall in a few short hours for Jim's hearing, but he couldn't even entertain the idea of sleep. Not until he figured this out. "Dammit…"

"Doctor McCoy, does obscene language in any way assist you in remembering who that woman is?" Spock turned the badge over in his hands, rotating it this way and that, but it yielded no answers other than it was meticulously looked after and belonged to no division that he was aware of. Regardless of that _fact_ Spock was positive that he had seen the insignia before. It was curious and only served to motivate his desire to crack this puzzle. "No? Then I suggest that we focus on the only data we have." It was the Vulcan way of saying 'cut the shit and focus'.

"I don't get this," Leo let his head thunk down onto his desk. It didn't make any sense. The elf had a theory that someone had messed with their heads but what the hell for? Why erase some chick and how did she connect him to Spock? Was it about the _Enterprise_? It had to be. Nothing else connected Leo to Spock and their identical fuzzy memories couldn't be coincidence. "Why would someone erase an entire person? What's the point?"

Spock was seated at Jim's desk still carefully examining the badge. It was perfectly round, the wreath and field of stars glistening as he moved it under the light of the desk lamp. Why… He had been asking himself the same question. "Why indeed."

"If you got something to say, just say it." Leo was short on patience and high on temper. Someone was fucking with him and they were going to get a boot broken off in their ass when he found them. Or he was going to get into a fist fight with a Vulcan. One or the other.

There was no change in Spock's expression as he gently placed the badge on the desk. "When you first saw that picture you said _Imzadi_."

Leo waited. "I'm going to need a bit more than that, Commander. I don't even know what that means. It just… came out."

No doubt it had. The bond between Betazoids and their mates was devastatingly strong. It would be difficult, if not impossible, to sever it completely. With his long, pale fingers tapping lightly on the desk Spock weighed his words carefully. "_Imzadi. _It is a Betazoid word, Doctor, meaning 'beloved'. It is reserved for mates and those that share a particularly strong, decisively intimate, bond. Whoever the woman in the picture is, she meant a great deal to you. Or, inversely, you meant a great deal to her."

Her? Leo looked down at the picture. No fucking way. Young, beautiful, smiling… Leo wouldn't go near that with a ten foot pole. He'd done the love thing and it had bitten him in the ass. There was no way he was stupid enough to try a second time, especially not with someone out of his league. "If she meant so much to me, why can't I remember her? I don't even feel like anything is missing. She just looks…" _perfect _"familiar." Spock's eyebrow twitched but he said nothing. "Are we supposed to find her?"

"I am certain that we are not." It was entirely logical that this woman had been removed from their collective consciousness for a reason. Digging her up could put them all in a great deal of danger but without more data Spock could not be sure. Leo went back to mumbling and thunking his head on his desk. The repetitive sound was starting to annoy the Vulcan and he cleared his throat. "I cannot understand you when you are speaking to the furniture, Doctor."

Glaring, Leo stopped his assault on his brain cells and leaned back in his seat. "I said, maybe she erased herself. Got what she wanted and then… _poof._"

Shaking his head, Spock turned around fully to face the doctor. "I do not think that is the correct hypothesis. Why leave us a clue to find if she… '_erased herself'." _He held up the badge, his face impassive.

"How the hell am I supposed to know?" Leo groused. "Don't ask me how, but this is probably Jim's fault. It's always Jim's fault."

Spock had stopped listening. Doctor McCoy did not appear to be making himself useful, indeed, Spock was entirely sure that the Georgian had contributed all that he was capable of. "Perhaps you are right, Doctor. I will take my queries to Jim and leave you to your tidying up." Tidying up? Leo looked around the room he'd spent hours returning to code and felt his face go red with anger. That damned hob goblin! If Spock realized that he'd just insulted Leo, he made no indication. "Do you know where I can find the captain?"

With a shrug Leo just gestured out the window. That cheesy kid could be anywhere. It figured the one time Jim might actually be useful and he was off hurling in the bushes. Or on some woman's shoes. Or maybe he'd just relocated the whole toga party down to Grisham's and was terrorizing the greater San Francisco area. Leo's expression grew distant, his eyes focused on something that only he could see. Something… important.

"Doctor?"

_"That's how I knew it was going to be one of you," Pike said, sitting up with a wince. "That picture. It's been tucked behind the shield for three years. That badge," he said seriously, all traces of his smile gone, "is Mal's proudest possession. It's proof of the good she's done, and will continue to do, and today she left it to you for safe keeping, McCoy. If you aren't willing to love that girl whole heartedly, then you let her go. She doesn't deserve an ailing heart. She deserves to be happy."_

Blinking rapidly, Leo tried to shake away the memory that popped up out of nowhere. Is that what had happened? Had he been unwilling and so he'd let her go and she'd left him without so much as a memory? "I know who we have to talk to." Leo stood up.

Spock found his feet immediately. "You've remembered something?"

Remembered something? Maybe. Leo suddenly had a feeling that the only person that could give them answers was the man he'd ripped a Centurion slug out of nearly a month ago. All this time he'd been spending with Pike and he hadn't even realized that the old man was a part of this… whatever it was. "We've got to take that badge to Pike. That woman is his daughter. I know she is. I… feel it in my gut." Spock looked like he was about to argue the logic of taking direction from one's intestines but a bright chime sounded, the computer alerting him to someone wanting access to his room. Jim had probably forgotten his codes again and with a frustrated sound Leo released the door… and froze.

With a hydraulic hiss the steel door slid open, not to reveal his grinning, inebriated roommate, but a small, delicate blonde was standing in the hall. Her large brown eyes were as cold as her smile, her perfect teeth bared and reminding Leo of a shark. She was beautiful in an ice queen sort of way and his eyes nearly bugged out of his head at the sight of her. "Holy shit."

"Hello to you to, Len." Small as she was, she shoved her way past him and into the room.

Leo made no move to stop her, paralyzed by her mere presence.

"Jocelyn."

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_Hope you guys are enjoying the homestretch. _

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	45. Exposition

**Star Trek is property of its respective owners. I only own Mal and my small herd of OCs.**

**45**

"What are you _doing _here, Joce?" The shock of her sudden appearance wore off pretty damn fast and was immediately replaced by total exasperation and annoyance. Leo didn't believe in fate, or God, or luck. But karma… Karma was something he could get behind and support. In his line of work Leo needed to believe that there was a balance in the universe even if he didn't always see it. That there was a life for every death and for all the bad there was some sort of cosmic force that delivered good, too. And yet, there stood a one hundred pound, four-foot-eleven, platinum blonde bundle of _bad_ in his dorm room, with an incredibly judgmental look on her face. Clearly there was no cosmic justice.

There was only a monkey at a typewriter flinging a constant barrage of shit in his direction. Karma hated Leo McCoy.

In truth there was no _good_ time for a reunion with one's demonic ex-wife but the timing couldn't have been worse for Leo. There was only a few hours left before the academic board was meeting and what remained of the student body and staff was expected to be there, awake and functioning. That was going to prove problematic as he still hadn't slept yet, or figured out what was going on with the girl in the picture, or even changed out of his scrubs from his last shift. His plate was plenty full without adding Jocelyn to it. Inching toward the door and shoving Spock along ahead of him, Leo tried to expedite. "Jocelyn, this has to wait. We need to–"

Jocelyn cut him off with a graceful shake of her perfectly manicured finger. "Len, I don't particularly care what you and your…" she looked Spock up and down, clearly impressed by his broad shoulders and proud stance, "_friend_ need to do. You and I are going to discuss a few things. _Now_." Her accent was distinctly Southern, thick and dripping off each sugary word. Jocelyn surveyed the room with cold blue eyes, pleased by what Leonard had been reduced to… He'd once owned a home in an affluent area of northern Georgia. Now, he was sharing a room with some piece of white trash farmer from Iowa. She'd financially devastated him so severely, that he'd had no option but to enlist in Starfleet. The thought practically made her purr.

It was true what they said about hell having no fury like a woman scorned.

Jocelyn twirled a short, platinum blonde curl around a finger, an act that Leo knew meant she was trying to be perceived as harmless and innocent. It was one that he knew well, usually coming right before she metaphorically kicked him in the groin and he took a step back. Smiling delicately up at Spock, a smile that did not reach her eyes, Jocelyn placed a small, gentle hand on the Vulcan's chest. Her lashes were fluttering, her voice sickly sweet, as turned those icy eyes upward to the man that stood well over a foot taller than she did. "You'll excuse us won't you? Len and I need a moment."

Leo might have found Spock's face funny if he weren't busy choking down vomit. He almost felt bad for the elf, but the truth was whatever had brought Jocelyn to the Academy had nothing to do with the Vulcan, the lucky bastard. Not unless Jocelyn was looking for a third husband to leech off of in which case Spock's best chance was to nerve pinch her and run. But Spock simply stared down at the hand that was touching his uniform, unblinking and clearly displeased. His eyes remained glued to where Jocelyn's palm rested over the Starfleet emblem sewn over his heart as he cleared his throat. "I will go and speak to the Admiral immediately, Doctor. Please join us at your first convenience." He stepped out the door, brushing his long fingers over the spot on his shirt as though it were somehow unclean and he needed to rid it of traces of Jocelyn.

Unwilling to encourage any conversation, Leo stayed silent. He just stood there by the door, looking at the world's smallest evildoer with his mouth pressed into a thin, stressed line. He should have been upset, right? Her presence should have made him feel… something. He didn't. Aside from annoyance, and a massive amount of impatience, Leo didn't feel much of anything toward Jocelyn. It was like he was suddenly immune to the misery and guilt she was so adept at piling up on him. He could remember the self-loathing that used to sicken his stomach at the very thought of her, but now… He felt free of her. He was free of 'the dirty ex' and her just showing up was pissing him off, not breaking him down.

"What's so important that you had to show up here at dawn?"

Those eerily pale blue eyes narrowed as they traveled up Leo's tall frame. "I suggest you watch your _tone _with me, McCoy."

Pinching his eyes shut, Leo sighed. "Speak. Or get out."

Jocelyn let out a small, tinkling laugh. It was as artificial as her smile and she seated herself at his desk, clearly with no intention of 'getting out'. Leo just crossed his arms in that way he had of showing intense disapproval. It was a look he'd given Jim countless times, but Jocelyn seemed just as immune to it as the wonder boy and went back to twirling a strand of white-blonde hair, a venomous smile playing at her lips. "I thought now would be a good time for you and I to discuss our arrangement."

* * *

Admiral Pike was not amused. The campus was still. Quiet. Honestly it was a rare treat that things out there were so serene. No impending dooms. No distress calls. No first year cadets duct taped naked to the roof of the observatory. There was only a faint light trickling into his room through the high windows… But someone was pinging at his door with robotic single minded determination. It was an ungodly hour to be functioning at even a basic human level and Pike dragged his chair to the door ready to phaser whatever was standing on the other side. His eyes were crunched up with exhaustion, his short hair sticking up like he'd licked a spark plug as the door slid open. "Hm?" The last person he expected to see standing in the hall outside his door was Commander Spock and he let out an eloquent, "UhhWut?"

"Admiral." It was a monotone greeting that did nothing to encourage Pike to wake up. The Vulcan was just standing there, his hands clasped behind his back, his stance rigid. Resisting the urge to reach up and mess up Spock's hair or wrinkle his shirt, or something equally childish in retribution for waking him out of a dead slumber wasn't easy but Pike only blinked blearily and yawned. Crazy Vulcans and their wonky sleep schedules. "I am in need of information."

It was too early to be professional and Pike just turned and left the door open, allowing Spock to let himself in while Pike wheeled into the kitchen to replicate coffee. "Any information in particular, Commander, or shall I surprise you?"

"I would like to know about your daughter, sir. And why no one seems to have any recollection of her." Silence stretched between the two men. Spock's tone was disinterested, as though he were commenting on the weather, but his eyes were fiercely focused.

Pike had frozen with his coffee mug half way up to his lips. "My daughter? You'll have to be more specific, Commander Spock. I have more than one." Oh crap. Pike hadn't dared to hope that someone would remember his Mal. Her team was too good, their attention to detail impeccable and undivided. There was no way that they would _let _anyone remember and yet there was a Vulcan in his quarters at the ass crack of dawn asking questions. Pike had thought that if anyone would fight the mental scrub that the Mari had forced on the _Enterprise_ crew it would have been Kirk or McCoy. They were the ones closest to his Mallory. They were the ones that should have been affected by her near surgical removal from their memories. But it was Spock that had shown up for answers, holding out a very familiar bit of black leather. A small smile appeared on Pike's face as he accepted Mal's badge, turning it over carefully. "Where did you get this?"

Spock's gaze sharpened. "It was in Doctor McCoy's possession, Admiral. He was detained but he asked that I bring this to you immediately. Any light you can shed on this situation would be most helpful."

It was too early in the morning to translate Vulcan English into plain old common, but Pike nodded. "I doubt you'd believe me if I told you, Spock. Mallory's story isn't logical. I can't even tell the fact and the fiction of it anymore."

A small crease appeared between the Vulcan's upswept brows. A crease that had always been reserved for a particular doctor that drove him crazy from the day they'd met. A woman that he couldn't consciously remember but _still _brought a small wrinkle to his face. "I am willing to listen, sir." Spock sat himself stiffly on Pike's couch and Pike began to paint a fantastic picture with his words.

And it started with the death of a ten year old boy.

* * *

Jim was staring. He knew he was staring but it was hardly his fault. He was sneaking a space pirate into his dormitory. A slave trader, a freaking Syndicate boss. Idly he wandered how many demerits one received for fraternizing with enemies of the Federation. Kay was across the lift, leaned against the wall with her eyes half closed and her arms folded over her chest. Her stance was relaxed but defensive, ready to fight. She reminded him of her father, exuding the same confidence and the sense that there was nothing she couldn't, or wouldn't, face. Shaking his head, Jim leaned against his own wall. He had no idea what would make a daughter of Christopher Pike of all people turn into a half wild Orion crime boss. It was like she didn't know how lucky she was. "So…"

Blowing a strand of moss-green hair out of her eyes, Kay frowned. "So what?" Usually Kay knew what someone was going to say before they said it. It was one of the many perks of being a telepath, but Jim's mind was… odd. His thoughts were exposed, same as every other human that crossed her path, but pinning them down, focusing on any one thought, took actual an abnormal amount of effort on her part. It was no wonder that the Mari hadn't been able to properly pull Mal out of the pretty boy's head. Jim didn't think linearly or with any predictable structure. He was an impulsive, emotional being, relying more on his instincts than anything. Something like a memory would have little impact on someone like Jim who led with his heart, not his head.

_That's why he remembered me. _Mal was quiet and still in her sister's mind, barely a whisper. There was almost nothing left of her but there was still no mistaking her pride.

Kay nodded to the words that only she could hear. "Not attached at the hip. You were attached at the heart. And here I thought that your _Imzadi_ was the doctor." She was teasing her sister but Kay was going out of her way to bore holes into the farm boy with her eyes. The same look that kept an entire ship of intergalactic criminals in line seemed to have no effect on Jim. He just stared right back, his patented grin plastered across his face, unintimidated. She didn't know whether to approve or punch him in the mouth.

Where did her sister find these people?

_They found me, Kay. _

"Explain why you need to go to my dorm room again?" Jim interrupted what appeared to him to be a one-sided conversation. It was like Kay had an imaginary friend and Jim was feeling left out. "Shouldn't we just go and put Mal back in her body? Waiting around doesn't seem like a great idea. I mean, this is sort of time sensitive, isn't it?" Now that he had a mission, he wanted to get to it. Saving the girl was sort of ingrained in his DNA. He was Jim Kirk, after all.

"Time sensitive is something of an understatement but my sister left something with your roommate. She needs it back."

Kay's guarded answer only made Jim smile all the wider. He didn't have a problem breaking rules or sneaking hot blondes into his room, but he was used to being in charge of the dastardly deeds that happened at Starfleet Academy and being a mere accomplice to punk rock Barbie of all people was embarrassing. "Come on, babe, I'm going to need a bit more to go on than that. I can't have you storming my room and upsetting Bones. He's pissy as a chick already without me bringing in a little blonde to shake him down. Is it bigger than bread box? Animal, vegetable, or mineral?"

"I have no idea what you just said." Kay shot Jim an annoyed look while Mal broke down into weak laughter. "At least Mal finds you amusing."

"Sure she does. That's my girl."

Kay looked up at Jim sharply. Something had just flashed across his mind, surface thoughts that were nonsensical. They were memories. Memories of Mal when she was little, memories of her and Jim growing up, being bonded, graduating, serving… Dating. Getting married. Getting pregnant. Kay's blue eyes widened, her jaw swinging open. "That unbelievable Vulcan bastard…"

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**


	46. To Terms

******Star Trek is property of its respective owners. I only own Mal and her team of nogoodnicks.**

The world outside Adam's cell was peaceful for the most part. The blonde, smug Max was still sprawled on the couch, watching the holding cells as though they were dual, glowing movie screens instead of a set of small prisons in his living room. Max didn't bother to speak to Adam at all, bored by the Betazoid's arrogance and anger. The telekinetic thug wasn't interested in chatting up an aristocratic skin rash and to be honest, Adam was rather glad that he hadn't drawn any attention from Max. A brief sojourn in the younger man's head had told him that Max was not someone to trifle with lightly. The term 'high functioning sociopath' came to immediate mind.

He could still hear the quiet mental mutterings of the girl in the other cell. The Abomination. Her words weren't meant for him, but either T'Yara didn't care that he was eavesdropping or she didn't realize that he was privy to her one sided conversation with Mallory Pike. It was soothing, listening to her soft murmur, quietly encouraging Mal to hang on, that the dark purgatory she had been banished to wouldn't be permanent. All Mal had to do was be strong and she'd be free again. If he closed his eyes, Adam could almost pretend that T'Yara was speaking to him. Every word was infused with such warmth and love. Dedication. It swelled in the air and Adam basked in the ribbons of positive emotion.

No one ever spoke to him like that and it was easy to get lost in it.

He wasn't even aware that he was being watched until the sound of nails scraping against cement drew his attention and his black eyes fluttered open, startled. The glow of the force field cast a frightening relief over the massive Kzinti that watched him from the other side with predatory yellow eyes.

"Not human." Nu dug his claws into the cement again and ran his tongue over the fangs protruding past his lip. "Nu isn't allowed to eat humans. You're not human." A trill of fear went through the young commander. The giant tiger-like creature had spent the last month on the couch in the corner or out of sight. His sudden interest was not at all welcome and Adam inched away. Those startling feline eyes were borderline intrusive as they raked over him. Nu stared straight into Adam's soul and whatever he saw there made his muzzle curl back in a snarl.

_Leave the Commander be, Nu._ A soft voice, laced with exhaustion wove its way into the Kzinti's mind, audible to Adam thanks to his own telepathy. T'Yara was lean and tall but still ridiculously small standing beside the beast, perfectly at ease. She had no fear of the giant armored tiger. Quite the opposite. There was a strong bond between the two spies that made them rather resilient partners. Adam could see it, a ripple of protectiveness that twisted between them. It was over bright, the girl's Vulcan depth to her emotion soaking into Adam's empathy.

With both of them staring at him, Adam felt like he was being stripped down to his bones and found utterly lacking. He felt like T'Yara was trying to puzzle him out. Her eyes were as black as his, just as open and brilliant. Not at all closed off like a Vulcan's. Still there was no getting around those pointed ears or the slight green blush to her cheeks. Vulcan and Betazoid, two warring concepts within one body… And he thought that _Mallory_ was a disgraceful combination. This was so much worse.

T'Yara grinned, flashing her teeth in a manner far too similar to Nu's. She was well aware of Adam's disapproval and disgust. It was nothing she hadn't felt before. There was something malicious in her smile as it curled the corners of her lips a bit higher. _I wouldn't be so judgmental if I were you, dear. You don't see what I see in that twisted little mind of yours. _

Adam bit back a nasty comment and looked away from the youngest of his jailers. Telepaths were nothing new. He grew up on Betazed where _everyone _was a mind reader. They didn't scare him. He never pretended to be an angel and his flaws were no secret. Whatever she was drudging up in his thoughts, it was of little consequence. It changed nothing.

_I wouldn't be so sure about that. _T'Yara was an agent of Federation Intelligence and that meant she had had a nasty streak you could navigate a yacht through and a wild attitude that even Mal had never fully reined in. As a rule, FI agents weren't big on rules or proper behavior. Being raised by the miserable and argumentative Tellarites had left a mark on the girl. Trading insults was how she made friends, whenshe bothered with people at all… Her head tipped to the side as she regarded the hateful adult locked in the cage beside her friend.

Adam Price. His story stretched out before her eyes. It was dark and troubled and filled with conflict. _Curious, isn't it. How much you hate her but how alike you really are. You might have been one of us. _She smiled again, her small, perfect teeth flashing._ Had you only confessed to what you did to her, _you _would have been in the alternate learning center. _You _would have been the one brought onto our team._

"What makes you think for one second that I would want to be one of you?" Adam hadn't wanted to answer T'Yara, especially not with Nu at her back, a great hulking shadow.

The Kzinti looked down at the top of T'Yara's head and snorted. "Meatsack not last twenty-four hours as an agent."

_Still. He has no idea what he did to himself, does he Nu?_

"No."

Adam glared, obsidian eyes narrowed in annoyance. He was a commander, a prized son of the Fifth House of Betazed. He did not like being disrespected or spoken about as though he weren't right there in the room. "And what did I do to myself?"

A pillow whipped across the room of its own accord and smacked T'Yara in the back of the head. Nu turned and blinked his intense eyes at Max. The telekinetic just waved cheerfully. "How's 'bout a lil less noise, kids?"

T'Yara flipped the blonde bully the bird but nudged Nu back toward his couch. Without any argument the massive stripped warrior cat shuffled off, neurotically tugging at his tail and T'Yara glanced back at Adam.

And winked.

* * *

Leo was beginning to wonder if he could really get away with murder. It was a nice thought but he'd only just cleaned the room.

Besides he was too exhausted to explain away a dead body.

The steady tapping of Jocelyn's fingernails against the desk was starting to make his eye twitch. She just sat at his desk, regal as you please, staring at him with a borderline malicious look on her face. There was no warmth in her dark eyes or kindness to the practiced twist of her smile. It was the same old Jocelyn. Manufactured. Insincere. Cold. She made no move to speak or break the silence that stretched between them. She was waiting to make certain that she had his full attention. It had been her intention to make Leo uncomfortable, to make him squirm with her mere presence, but the good doctor seemed more disinterested and inconvenienced than uneasy.

That was new.

It used to be that the mere mention of Jocelyn was enough to turn Leo into a despondent, anxious wreck. The last time he had even been in her company had been in the courtroom where he had behaved like little more than a whipped dog. Now... Now there was a very different Leonard McCoy in front of her. Self-assured, strong, calm. She might have been the same old Jocelyn, but Leo was not the same man that had tried to hide away in a shuttle bathroom all those years ago.

Jocelyn's cold gaze flicked over Leo with cool interest. "Len. You look well. Clearly near death experiences agree with you. You should have them more often."

"Feel free to leave at any time, Joce." Leo looked at the door meaningfully. He had things to do. People to see. Mysteries of the universe to unravel. He didn't have the time or the inclination to have an impromptu chat with evil incarnate.

A cold, tinkling laugh bubbled up from some frozen recess of the tiny woman. "Do yourself a favor, Leonard. Stop trying to be cute. It doesn't suit you."

Maybe she'd get the hint if he actually started banging his head against the wall. Not likely. Best to be as direct as possible and use small words. "You came to talk. So talk. I've got things to do."

"Ooo, things. How enigmatic." Jocelyn's tone was a malicious purr as she leaned forward in her seat. "I assume that means hiding in a medical ward somewhere. Forgive me if I'm not impressed, Len, but your ability to administer a hypo has never really gotten me hot and bothered."

He didn't need her to tell him that. There was a reason most of his family referred to his ex-wife as 'The Ice Queen'. _Nothing _got the woman hot and bothered unless it cost roughly the same as a small ocean liner. Already bored of matching wits, Leo got to his feet and headed toward the door. The room was beginning to fill with sunlight and soon enough the campus would start to stir. He wanted Jocelyn out before Jim came blundering back into the room, hung over and shooting off at the mouth. He hardly thought that the youngest captain in Starfleet history should get the hell beaten out of him by a civilian woman.

That would just be embarrassing.

Leo was intercepted short of the door, a delicate, graceful hand gripping his arm. Jocelyn had hold of his sleeve and was looking up at him crossly. "Fine," she spat, clearly put out that he wasn't allowing her to toy with him. "I'll just say what I came to say then and leave you to catch up with your pointy-eared _friend_."

The implication did not go unnoticed and Leo pried Jocelyn's fingers from his sleeve and folded his arms over his chest. Jocelyn grinned, baring her teeth like the proverbial cat that ate the canary as her eyes drifted over the doctor. There was something lecherous in her expression, almost hungry, and Leo's eyebrow arched up skeptically. Whatever this tactic was, it was new and he didn't trust it for a second.

"It crossed my mind that after your little adventure in orbit, Starfleet would be compensating you financially. Considering your ship was the only one in an entire fleet to come back, and you were promoted to a senior officer onboard," Jocelyn paused and looked up at Leo, waiting for him to catch on, "you should have received a rather gracious bump in credits."

Leo blinked, his mind not immediately grasping her words. When the pieces all clicked into place he let out a humorless chuckle. He should have known. "You're here for money." It wasn't a question so much as a realization.

"Why else?" Her dismissive tone would have once been like a kick in the stomach but Leo felt little more than disbelief. Only Jocelyn would see the deaths of hundreds of people as a payday.

"You're sick."

"Oh, Len, you do know how to flatter a woman."

"Joce…"

Leo had a great deal to say, none of it friendly or rated PG, but Jocelyn's delicate hand was on his arm again, brushing along the smooth fabric of his scrubs. "Think of your daughter, Len. It isn't easy to raise her all by myself. And it isn't cheap, either. I can make it worth your while. You must have gotten lonely up in space…"

"Because there's a difference between the Primeline and this one, you head case! _That's _why not!" The door hissed open and Jim spilled into the room with a wild looking blonde on his heels. She was laughing, swatting him over the head like he was a misbehaved puppy. Jim was protecting his face, but grinning ear to ear. "She's your _best friend_, pretty boy! Your sister! That Vulcan is seriously fucked up. OOF!" Jim put on the breaks when he saw Leo and the little woman pressing seductively against his chest and Kay bounced off his back, grumbling discontentedly and trying to see around him.

"Hey, Bones." Jim's head tipped to the side in befuddlement. He'd been living with Leonard McCoy for three years and he didn't know the man to be the sort to bring girls back to the room? Ever. It was a bit like seeing a dog walk on its hind legs. "Who's your friend?"

"Uh… Who's yours?" Leo only needed the briefest glance at the heavily tattooed, scantily clad girl that peeked out from behind Jim with massive blue eyes. They were locked on Jocelyn with blatant hostility. Leo's ex-wife was returning the look with utter loathing, her stance at his side suddenly possessive. Jocelyn wasn't what one would call intelligent, but she was a social chameleon. She knew when someone didn't like her and the tattooed punk was sending her all sorts of nasty vibes.

As usual Jim was oblivious and he threw an easy arm around Kay's shoulders. "This here is Kay Pike, Bones, and damn has she got a story for us."

* * *

Commander Spock sat very still, silently digesting everything Pike had just told him. Unconcerned, the Admiral sipped at his coffee. It had gotten cold while he had retold Mal's story but to Spock's credit, the Vulcan hadn't interrupted him once. Whether or not he believed him, however, or chalked the whole tale up to brain damage was yet unseen.

Face impassive and calm, it was a mask that hid the absolute upheaval going on in Spock's head. His long fingers played over the credential case, smoothing the dark leather and smudging the silver badge within. A secret division of the Federation. A spy shuffled in with the cadets. An admiral's daughter with the access to some of the planets… no the _universe's _most influential and important people and the ability to manipulate and alter their emotions and intentions. A betazoid/human hybrid… that had called him brother.

It was not probable. There was no logic behind it.

Spock's dark eyes dropped to the badge.

But logic didn't seem to have a place in this story. He was perfectly aware that his mind had been manipulated. He could _feel _pieces missing, knew that the 'offical report' that Starfleet had released didn't make sense. For a long while he refrained from speaking, letting this new information settle into place.

"This account is illogical, Admiral." Spock found his voice at last but Pike simply smiled at him. A slow, lazy smile that made the empty spaces in Spock's memory scream.

"What _is _logical, Commander? Time traveling Romulans set on vengeance against _you_? Twenty-five year old criminals from Iowa that save the universe? A Vulcan with human blood?" That steady smile didn't waver. "The only logical thing about this world Spock is that it defies logic. No matter how hard we want to tie it all up into a tidy little package, it will always surprise us. Mal is simply one of the instruments with which it works."

Mallory… the idea of her was still a bit too much for Spock but he was willing to admit there were things in this universe that denied logic based on principle. He could not understand how he would ally himself with one such person.

"And we were acquaintances?"

"Not at all, commander." Pike shrugged and rested his coffee cup on his knee. "The way I understood it, you were friends."

Spock stared blankly at the older man, his expression utterly void. Friends? With a Betazoid? It was like being friends with a nudist. Spock didn't sense any dishonesty from Pike but it was improbable. Perhaps he should pay his Ambassador counterpart a visit. The Elder Spock always knew more than he let on. He was right about Kirk, after all.

"Where is she?" Spock's tone was bored but his mind was desperately trying to process all of the new information that had just been offered to him. "Where is this daughter of yours that stood with Kirk and I against Nero? What happened to her?"

Pike's expression fell. "What she did, revealing herself for what she was… There are no _retired_ Federation spies, Spock. There are those that are active and those that have outlasted their usefulness. Mal chose _Enterprise_ and its crew over her position in Federation Intelligence."

There was a beat as Spock came to the only likely conclusion and said the very words that Pike was being so careful to avoid. "You believe that she is deceased."

"It is so much worse than that. Dead is an end. A release. An escape. What _they've_ done to her is a petty cruelty."

"And what is it _they've_ done, sir?"

Pike's grin returned with a mischievous edge. "Nothing compared to what she's going to do to them. There's something you'll have to remember about my daughter, Spock, the reason I've never _ever_ had to worry about Mal. She might attract trouble like a magnet but she lands on her feet, Spock. She takes care of herself and her don't ever want to cross her. And you _never _threaten what she considers hers."

Spock's heartbeat suddenly sped up, thudding uncomfortably below his ribs. "What precisely, Admiral, has been threatened?"

"Only the things that matter most to her," Pike answered, immediately. "Jim Kirk. Leonard McCoy." He smirked. "You."

* * *

It was entirely Mal's fault. Normally Kay had the common sense to mentally probe a room before she charged into it but this time she'd been distracted by Jim's playful teasing and had just followed him in blindly. Kay wouldn't have even noticed that something was wrong had Mal's cackling commentary on why 'Mallory Kirk' was a crime against nature come to a sudden halt. Kay's breath froze in her throat along with her voice. It felt like her heart had just been ripped out.

Kay stood rigidly between Jim and Bones, her clear eyes burning a hole into Jocelyn. Mal was in her head practically shrieking every last obscenity she knew. Kay had to grit her teeth and clamp down on her snarling older sister just to keep control. _Knock it off._ She sent the command into the back of her mind where Mal had just retreated, spitting mad and hurt. Mal knew perfectly well who was standing next to Leo. It didn't matter that they'd never been formally introduced. The prissy skanky pressing up on Leo needed _no _introduction. Being a super spy for the Federation had its perks, after all. 'Researching' a citizen or two was expected when you were one of the morally grey agents of FI.

"Jocelyn." The name came out sounding more like an insult and Kay practically spat it across the room.

Leo just stared between the two blondes, one prim and proper, the other tattooed and punctured. He had no idea what was going on but he was fairly certain Jim's new friend was having some sort of a stroke. Her pupils were going mad, dilating and retracting wildly. Jim still had an arm slung casually around Kay's shoulder, expression curious. "Ya, know… I'm not even going to ask. No good will come of it."

"You alright, darlin'?" Leo took a step away from Jocelyn, wrapped in ribbons of concern and irritation. Kay just stared, her eyes snapping back to normal. Slowly, her hand moved up to her forehead.A moment ago she'd felt like she had just been kicked in the stomach and then, rather abruptly, she felt nothing at all. The concentrated emotion she'd had to endure since Mal had hitched a ride had vanished and Kay was all alone in her own body. It felt like she'd just been deflated. Empty.

_Mal_? Kay probed her own thoughts but only silence answered.

Mal was gone.

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