Author's Note: This was intended to be another scene in "Orange Silk" with some crewmember of my own creation. Imagine my surprise when it turned out to be Chekov, with a story of his own! So please enjoy this stand alone one shot and thank you as always for kind words and helpful criticism! Live long and prosper!

As it turned out, between diplomatic incidents, plagues, and the discovery of new worlds and new civilizations, there was still quite a lot of time spent in normal, banal and tedious activity as the Enterprise covered light years across sectors in space. Often, there were stretches of days that seemed to last forever - days in which Starfleet protocol was followed, alarm lights stayed stubbornly off, boots stayed polished, and the crew, to a member, thought they would perish with boredom.

The microcosm that was Leonard McCoy's Sickbay was going through its own unique brand of cabin fever. The focus had switched from adrenaline-fueled emergencies to mind-numbing case write ups and preparation of backlogged biological data reports –written up in triplicate. For the collection of species serving in sickbay who signed up to practice medicine on a starship, this was nothing short of torture. In order to avoid a full-on mutiny, Bones reworked schedules to staff Sickbay with a minimum number of physicians and nurses. "As long as reports were handed in on time", he grumbled to himself, "they could do whatever the hell they wanted to keep from going insane until the ship reached its destination, or Jim piloted them all into another dimension."

That particular afternoon, Bones was tucked away into his office, ostensibly updating files. Chae was silently categorizing crew records in the front room, glancing up only now and again to ensure that nothing had changed since her last once over of the room. Nothing ever did. The gentle hum of the ship and rapid tapping of the stylus of her DataPad were the only sounds in Sickbay. She frowned ever so slightly at the absurdly detailed write up Dr. Wyllx had submitted, and then Chae flicked her gaze upward again, seeking some brief distraction. As luck would have it, she found one.

The doors to the Sickbay whooshed open to reveal a truly pitiful sight. Ensign Pavel Chekov stood in the doorway, gold shirt flecked with spots of crimson, nose twisted at an angle that made the stomach drop, and right eye swelled shut. He was also cradling his left wrist gingerly against his chest.

Chae raised an eyebrow at the vision of pathos that had materialized in front of her and put her DataPad aside. "Ensign Chekov," she said calmly, as she rose from her seat. Crewmembers turning up with unexplained injuries was not at all an uncommon occurrence, but as quiet as it had been, the young doctor felt an utterly illogical- not to mention unprofessional- surge of interest and excitement. Chae chided herself internally, putting this latest lapse of conduct on her list to meditate on later tonight. Still totally composed, she motioned to the fleet of empty biobeds that were winking quietly in the corner and began walking over without looking to see if her patient was following.

While Chae pulled up Chekov's chart and tried smother any feeling besides professional detachment, Ensign Chekov, Pavel Andreievich, was still standing in the door, busy wrestling with his own reactions. The young man darted his good eye around the small antechamber, hoping desperately to find another doctor tucked away somewhere, but no luck.

It wasn't that he didn't like the Vulcan physician per se, he assured himself, eyeing the straight, slim back apprehensively. It was simply that she absolutely baffled him. There was no doubt that she was an excellent doctor and a brilliant person to have in the field. She had proved that ten times over on Iota Zed. But, if anything, those credentials made Chekov even more uncomfortable around the Vulcan. He found Mr. Spock's demeanor frustrating at times, but the sense of steadiness that radiated from the ship's science officer was a comfort to have. But that same steeliness and solemnity coming from a woman?…Pah! Chekov glanced over in the direction of McCoy's office. Any relationship on such a small vessel was considered common knowledge- so everyone knew of the connection between Chae and Dr. McCoy, but Chekov still found the whole thing bizarre.

"Ensign?" Chekov was abruptly yanked out of his philosophical musings. Chae had finished entering her data and was standing pointedly by the waiting BioBed. Absurdly, the thought that the orange bed coverings made a nice contrast with the doctor's blue scrubs flashed through Chekov's mind as he made one last desperate scan of the room. With no salvation forthcoming, the young man sighed and walked forward with the air of one approaching the gallows.

Chae stepped back and made a cursory physical assessment as Chekov settled himself gingerly on the bed. An involuntary gasp as he leaned against the backrest meant adding a cracked rib to the rapidly growing list of injuries. She picked up a small, silver, cylindrical scanner that was standard issue for mechanical injuries as opposed to the more powerful, but slower-working tricorder that was preferred for more complicated diagnostics. Activated by the heat of Chae's hand, the scanner flashed blue, then green to signal that it was ready to take readings.

"Ensign Chekov, please remain still during the scanning process. This will only take a moment." Chae held the cylinder a few inches from the crown of Chekov's head, then slowly and steadily moved it down the length of his body. A few times it flashed yellow to indicate that it needed more time to assess damage in a particular area. Only a few minutes later, the scan was complete and the light turned red. In one motion, Chae turned and placed the cylinder neatly in a small niche of the larger screen that sat above each BioBed. The slowly revolving human figure that was the default image on the screen disappeared to show Chekov's name, rank, vital statistics, and a gently flashing message that read "Processing…". Chae nodded in satisfaction.

"Your results are being analyzed. They will be complete shortly, but while we wait, I see no reason to begin treatment of your superficial wounds. Please remain in a prone position." She turned away to gather the appropriate medical devices, shoulder length black hair barely moving as she walked. Chekov rolled his eyes at the receding figure.

You would think bedside manner would be a requirement, he thought to himself in Russian. If I wanted efficiency, cold hands, and no smiles, I could have asked for a robot. He finished the thought just in time for Chae to return with a full tray of hyposprays and several sheets of dermal substitutes. Chekov quickly rearranged his features into polite boredom, but a little faster than he had meant to. The sudden movement jarred his shattered nose.

"Ah!" he sucked his breath in and felt tears spring involuntarily to his eyes. Chae looked up from her tray of medical miracles and frowned slightly.

"A local anesthetic first, I think," she stated, picking up a small plastic cylinder with a startlingly orange liquid inside. She slotted the canister briskly in the empty hypo-spray, placed the injector to Chekov's neck and released the anesthetic. Within seconds, the young man's face had relaxed substantially.

"Ah, you have no idea how vonderful that feels," Chekov said fervently, although somewhat thickly. Chae allowed herself a small nod and handed her patient a small purple square of thick material.

"This particular anesthetic should help stem the blood flow, but for the moment, please use this cloth as well." A soft beeping interrupted her. Chae turned to see that the flashing "Processing" message had been replaced by "Complete." She touched the small square on the screen to reveal a scrolling list of symbols and numbers that whizzed by faster than Chekov could see. Whatever was written must have been good because although Chae's expression did not change, she somehow managed to radiate a sense of satisfaction. She busily typed in a series of commands while Chekov waited, a bit testily.

"Good news, da?" he asked after a few moments of silents. The burst of gratitude he felt from the easing of his aches and pains was only doing so much to amend his overall impression of dealing with an excellently designed robot.

Chae nodded, still facing the screen as she continued to update her patient's file.

"Indeed. You have no internal injuries, save a fractured rib and strained wrist, which are quite easily repaired." She finished typing and turned back around, drawing up a small stool as she did so. She settled herself ramrod straight and reached for her tray of tools. Long fingers hovered over the multicolored hypo array before delicately plucking a clear one and putting it in a new disposable polymer hypo-canister. "However, I must submit a report of all Sickbay cases that are presented during on-duty hours. I need you to explain to me the nature of your injuries. If you lie still while I work, it will not adversely affect treatment. Please begin." Chae began to apply antiseptics, stasis fields, and hypo-sprays in an intricate and strangely elegant dance. Despite the efficiency of her movements, her touch was surprisingly gentle.

A little taken aback by the abruptness of Chae's command, Chekov nevertheless managed a charitable Perhaps not entirely a robot after all, before answering.

"I fell."

Chae's movements didn't alter or slow in the slightest, but she did spare a glance towards Chekov's stubborn expression.

"Ensign, that is inaccurate. I have studied and treated enough combat wounds to recognize contusion patterns characteristic of belligerent encounters. Please revise your statement."

Chekov set his features in an excellent mirror of Vulcan blankness. It was, perhaps, a trifle more animated, but an excellent attempt nonetheless.

"Fine. I fell on a fist. Several fists."

In a startling role reversal, it was now a slightly green hued face that bore a touch of exasperation and a round pink cheeked one that could double as a stone mask.

"Ensign Chekov, I do not wish to report you for insubordination. The repercussions for a physical altercation are substantially less than for withholding information and showing disrespect to an officer. Once more, I request that you tell me as accurately and completely as possibly the events that led to your injuries and the parties involved."

"I can't."

Chae resolutely finished the application of dermal substitute on the young man's arm before rolling back on her stool to deliver an incredulous stare.

"The complexity of human motivations and hindrances is incredible, to be sure, but I cannot deduce any sort of benefit in refusing to submit to routine procedures. If protocol is disrupted, it is only logical to accept chastisement and continue. You are one of the most promising engineers that Starfleet has to offer-"

Chae's dry speech was interrupted by an eye roll and something filled with vitriol muttered in Russian, too low for the ship's translators to catch. Chekov stared at the wall above Chae's head, determinedly not making eye contact. He could sense surprise and confusion emanating off the woman. Under other circumstances, Chekov would have been astounded to see such blatant displays of emotion from the Vulcan, but on top of physical injuries, he was emotionally compromised himself. He remained silent for another minute, working his mouth stubbornly before he trusted himself to speak.

Chae watched the young man on the bed in front of her clearly struggling to compose himself. She felt suddenly out of her element, suspecting that she was about to have to deal with something unpleasant. There might even be tears involved. Her teeth clenched slightly at the thought.

"Ensign, if it would be…easier for you, you are welcome to fill out and submit a report independently. Perhaps a spoken indictment of your colleagues is too difficult." She meant for the statement to come out gently, but it sounded mechanical even to her ears and tinged with more than a little panic. Chekov turned his sights back to the doctor barely a foot away from his bed. To her horror, his eyes were bright with what looked like tears.

"Believe me, I vould haf no problem 'indicting my colleagues'. If I knew who they were." Chekov's accent became increasingly pronounced as he became more agitated. He pressed his lips together, trying to calm down. His usual relentless optimism was buried deep, but a small part of the young officer still apparently retained some humor. A Vulcan as transparently out of her element as Chae was a rare sight indeed. But somehow, Chae's countenance, as stiff and uncomfortable as it appeared, was drawing the whole embarrassing, humiliating, pathetic story out of him. Chekov shifted his weight, buying himself some time to take a few deep breaths. The movement jostled still sore ribs and he grimaced. Chae started forward to adjust the stasis field, but Chekov shook his head. A few bedraggled brown curls fell into his eyes. He brushed them aside absently and continued his story.

"You've heard zat Mr. Scott is implementing a new Warp Drive protocol. He vanted a tactical perspective and I submitted my name, viz most of my colleagues. I vas selected." Chekov looked at Chae with such an odd mix of misery and pride that she felt the absurd desire to laugh bubble up in her chest. Unsure of what the appropriate response was, she settled for a solemn nod, and tucked her hair behind a pointed ear. This was apparently acceptable. Chekov started speaking again and Chae filed the action away to be studied later.

"He sent messages thanking zose people who applied. He didn't say he had picked me, but he must have told someone. I only found out zis morning and didn't say anything. But zey knew. I vas leaving after my shift and then…" He trailed off, eyes unfocused. "I don't really remember. Voices. Saying things about babies, and zat it vasn't fair."

He looked up suddenly, eyes sharp again.

"Of course it isn't fair. Nozing is fair when you are five and in university and your friends cannot play anymore because zair parents do not trust you. Starfleet vas different. It is chance to be every-zing I wanted it to be. Usually I forget zat I am only sewenteen. But…not eweryone does."

A tear finally did make an appearance and rolled unabashedly down his face. Chekov reached up to swipe it away quickly, but his sleeve met the stasis field and sparked blue around his now healed nose. Now thoroughly embarrassed, he settled for turning his head away and blinking furiously.

Silence blanketed Sickbay, accentuated by the soft beeps of instruments going about their duties and the ever present hum of the Warp Core in the ship's belly. Chae sat, more or less paralyzed, her usually precisely organized thoughts in shambles. Clearly she needed to submit Form 17A in addition to 12A already pulled up…that rib needed to be checked…he was so silent…did 17A need to be triplicate?…a tear, Vulcans had only vestigial tear ducts, what a strange display…a general antibiotic as a precaution after open wounds…what treatment, what response, what manual to follow now? She wracked her admittedly well-furnished mind for answers and came up with a resounding lack of references. But as she watched the gentle rise and fall of Chekov's breathing, steadier now, she felt a sudden upwelling of tenderness. Without analyzing, or calculating, barely aware of what she was doing, she lifted her hand hesitantly. She reached forward, almost touching the boy's shoulder. The hand hovered briefly, pulled back, and then settled gently on Chekov's gold fabric covered shoulder. She rested it there for barely a heartbeat, but it was enough to feel Chekov start. Chae pulled her hand back as if it had been scalded as the Ensign rolled back over to stare at her. She felt herself color slightly green under his incredulous stare, but held firm.

After an interminable silence, Chekov gave the Vulcan a small, slow smile. He sat up carefully, taking stock of his injuries. Aside from a little stiffness, he felt perfectly fine. He swung his body around so he was facing Chae directly.

"Thank you," he said quietly, taking care to pronounce the words carefully. Chae blinked and nodded curtly. She rose with only the barest transition between sitting and standing.

"If you are feeling recovered enough to move around, kindly allow me to deactivate your stasis fields." The sudden return to formality was a little jarring, but utterly Vulcan, Chekov thought ruefully to himself. No trace of- what had he glimpsed? Sympathy?- remained. Chae's hands flew from MedDisplay above the BioBed to the small clamps that held the healing stasis fields in place. With the fields deactivated, she efficiently felt the rib in question. A quick swipe at the dried blood around Chekov's face revealed a perfectly aligned nose. Chae stepped back to view the results. Without moving a single muscle she appeared eminently satisfied.

"You will still have a small amount of bruising around your eye and nose, but you should have no lasting effects. I must report the conditions that lead to your injuries, but since you are yourself unsure of the exact circumstances, please look for a message from myself or Dr. McCoy in the next twenty-four hours. If you experience any deviation from your normal physical state, please report back to Sickbay immediately. You are free to return to your duties." She paused, looking at the young man in front of her. Visible injuries cleared up, he still showed some signs of strain carried in light circles under his eyes and a certain tightness in the way he held himself. Impulsively, she added an extra caveat to the Starfleet Medical sanctioned discharge speech.

"And, Ensign Chekov, I am available should you wish to explore Vulcan meditation techniques to reduce strain on the mind and body. I am well aware of the pressures of tactical office, which must only be amplified by your unique situation." It is a perfectly legitimate medical recommendation, she told herself firmly.

Chekov raised his eyebrows at the offer, but then broke into a grin.

"I might take you up on that," he said, hopping easily off the bed and pulling his wrinkled tunic back into position. "It could only help, da? Thank you, Dr. Chae." He stuck his hand out for her to shake. Chae glanced at the proffered limb and quirked an eyebrow at it, then at her restored patient. She clasped her own hands firmly behind her back. With a laugh, Chekov withdrew his hand and shrugged.

"Too much, maybe," he said. With a last nod of thanks, he turned to leave. As he exited Sickbay, he shook his head slightly. As oddly comforting as the Vulcan doctor had been, he still wasn't quite sure he would be spending any of his free hours with her. It had clearly been a kindly meant offer, though. The doors to Sickbay closed gently behind Chekov and his thoughts turned in a different direction. Maybe Marina from Communications would be interested in his tale of woe over dinner tonight….

Inside Sickbay, Chae was finalizing Chekov's file updates at the BioBed when she heard a low chuckle from across the didn't need to look over to picture Dr. Leonard McCoy leaning on the frame of his office door, arms crossed and a lazy smile spread across his face.

"Your timing leaves something to be desired," Chae observed acidly. She activated the "save" function and turned the screen off. The blank screen reflected Bones in exactly the position she had imagined. The smile grew a little bigger.

Bones shrugged and straightened up. He stretched skyward, all but filling up the doorframe. "You were handling it fine. Far be it from me to interrupt one of my doctors with a patient." He relaxed from his stretch with a grunt of satisfaction. "God, that feels good. I hate just wandering through space like this. I don't have any excuse to ignore all those requests from HQ."

Chae flicked her eyes over at the man and shook her head slightly. She moved back to the center console and booted up that screen. Bones sighed heavily and walked over to lean on the desk.

"You have no idea how to take a break, do you?" he asked, humor sparking in his demeanor and thickening his accent slightly. Chae tightened her lips and concentrated on keeping her features still. Bones' overwhelming nearness was an eternal strain on her tenuous control, and alone in Sickbay or not, she categorically refused to break protocol during on duty hours. Bones grinned, watching the wheels turn. After a moment of silence, he spoke again.

"Really, you did very well with Chekov. He's a good kid, but he's still a kid. I try to keep an eye on him, but trouble always finds him, seems like." There was no trace of humor now in Bones' blue eyes. "They're going to get found out and Jim'll have none of that on his ship. I'll throw them out the airlock myself, the bastards!"

He shook his head vigorously, brown hair whipping back in forth to underscore his statement. With a deep sigh, his gaze lighted again on Chae's sharp, unperturbed profile. A hint of teasing crept back into his eyes.

" I sure never thought I'd see the day when a Vulcan'd get all soft over a poor little underdog story," Bones drawled, carefully offhand. Chae's typing slowed, but she kept her gaze resolutely on the screen. McCoy stifled a chuckle and continued. "Even giving him a nice pat on the shoulder, where on Earth did you learn that?"

That did the trick. Green heat flooded Chae's cheeks and she looked up at the mischievous face mere inches from her own. Her indignation faltered somewhat when she met Bones' blue eyes with almost visible sparks.

"I have had enough rudimentary psychological instruction to be at least competent in the field. Additionally, I have read several articles that mention the beneficial effect of physical on Terrans suffering emotional distress. I merely implemented a proven treatment." Chae's expression dared McCoy to suggest anything otherwise.

He nodded solemnly and leaned a little closer. "Oh, excellent diagnosis, Doctor. I agree, touch can be quite therapeutic." A hand was suddenly lightly under her chin, angling her face upward a scant degree or so.

"In fact, it's something that bears further investigating, don't you think?"

Chae did in fact consider it something worth looking in to, and responded in the affirmative. For several long moments, serious research was conducted. It was Bones who finally delivered the conclusion.

"You did the right thing. Even if it was the "human" thing. Chekov needs support, especially from unexpected sources." Bones covered Chae's hands with his and gave them a light squeeze. She didn't smile, but she did answer with a quick, feather light pressure back. Bones grinned for both of them, and straightened up.

"Alright, enough procrastinating. None of my Sickbay staff is going to have a day off on my watch!" Without a glance back, he headed briskly back to his office, presumably to finish reports, if his mumbling about "damned bureaucratic wusses" was anything to judge by.

Chae shook her head slightly, a tiny smile tucked away where no one could see it. She turned back to her work, collected as if she had been sitting at the desk all shift.

Just another day on the Enterprise.