Disclaimer; Not mine.

Intelligence Officer Jenna Pryce had experienced panic before. It was always an internal feeling of flightiness that buzzed through her very being at the moment that her mind recognized there was no telling what would happen next. When her blood itched in her veins to know the next course of action to take but was not relieved as there was nothing to base her decision on. As she ran along the empty corridor of the Enterprise she tried to shove down those overwhelming feelings of confusion and distortion. A painful ringing sounded in her ears, blocking her ability to hear. She was acutely aware of the dull pain to her side which did not relate the seriousness of her injury. There was a phrase repeating in her mind, sometimes in her own voice, sometimes in her Captain's.

Do not get caught.

She had too much vital knowledge of Starfleet's more secretive missions and agents. If caught by enemies of the Federation, she would be subject to torture until the party got the information they wanted. The next likely possibility would be death. Currently the ship was being invaded by Klingons. By herself she could not fight hand to hand combat style with the much stronger race but her phaser was locked on her belt. As a figure stepped out into the corridor she pulled it out, took a split second to aim, and fired. The Klingon crumpled to the floor in a heap. Making a quick decision she turned swiftly down another hallway. It would lead her to Medical Bay, which she hoped would be secured.

Suddenly an arm flew out, clotheslining her and knocking her on her back. A loud groan of protest flew from her mouth, echoing shortly. Cool grey irises fluttered open as she was lifted by the front of her blue dress. She was released almost immediately as the Klingon was sent soaring backwards. A very familiar Vulcan face, dousing her in a sense of calm and ease. Commander Spock helped her to her feet. Jenna was aware of how careful he was not to make skin to skin contact with her.

"Spock," she greeted in a quipped British accent, "your unexpected arrival was both timely and appreciated. Thank you."

"Miss. Pryce-"

"Jenna, please, I insist."

"Miss. Pryce," he pursued, "your thanks was unnecessary as it is not only my duty as First Officer to assist in your safety, but also as a friend." His last words were said with a hint of uncertainty as his brown eyes met hers. She washed away any insecurity with the faint smile that tugged at her lips. As they began moving toward the Medical Bay, the senior officer informed his lesser of the situation.

"Medical Bay at the moment is secured; you will stay there under the watch of C.M.O Doctor McCoy. I will be regrouping with the Captain to attempt to take back the bridge."

The duo came to a halt outside of the Medical Bay.

"You'll be careful, Spock. Won't you?" She asked softly. He was considered a dear friend of hers, even if the Vulcan questioned the relationship consistently. His face betrayed nothing though there was a whirlwind of emotions clouding his eyes. His human half battled the dominate Vulcan side over what to reply with. On one hand there was a soft fleeting feeling of gratitude from her concern, the part that craved the interaction of touch. He was grateful for Jenna's firm friendship. It was unlike the few others he had made. She was never irritated by his endless confusion, his uncertainty. Never had she made a joke at his expense. Before he could stop himself, he embraced her. It was very brief. He could not stand the interaction but for a few seconds and jerked away, holding her at arms-length.

"I request that you partake in no precarious behavior or actions in my absence." The words flowed off his tongue uncontrolled, giving a slight break in his voice. He was struggling to regain charge of himself. Finally he straightened out his posture, placed his hands behind his back and gave a curt nod. Officer Pryce's eyes flickered slightly with amusement, unsettling the man in front of her.

"Yes, Commander." She replied evenly.

Jenna slipped through the doors of Medical Bay and was met with chaos. It seemed abandoned and in shambles. Tables were overturned, equipment broken, and small puddles of blood were lying about. She ducked down behind a counter, searching for any sign of life in the room. Quick footsteps echoed and feet came into view. Black leather shoes shuffled and pivoted around. She looked up and locked eyes with Doctor McCoy. He rushed at her, yanking her up from the floor and walking quickly from the room.

"Doctor McCoy I presume?"

"That's my name. Who are you?" His rough southern drawl caught her attention quickly; as she was sure her contrasting round English dialect caught his.

"Intelligence Officer Pryce."

"Well Miss. Pryce, as you have seen Medical Bay is no longer secured. Damn Klingons tore up the place and killed one of my nurses." Jenna caught the flicker of grief and rage constrict his face; his jaw noticeably was clenched. "Any news from the Bridge?"

"I met Commander Spock in the hallway, he informed me briefly that the Bridge was overrun and he was meeting with the Captain to attempt to take it back."

There was only a gruff grunt in reply. A small nagging at the back of her mind told her she was forgetting something. Something very important. She stopped dead in her tracks as a Klingon stepped from a room on their left, blocking them from going forward. Another stood behind them. It was apparent that their situation had just turned dire. Jenna weighed her options. She had a phaser, McCoy did not. Her targets were 180 degrees apart, and too close for her to turn around and take a good aimed shot at the other without being attacked. There wasn't much time to decide anyways as she soon found that one of the Klingons had grabbed her roughly. He swung her up over his shoulder and walked away from the other and McCoy.

Jenna saw McCoy fighting against the other as she was struggling in the arms of her enemy. There really wasn't much she could do in this position, especially with the added advantage of superior strength of the Klingon race. A fresh wave of panic surged through her, she did the only sensible thing she could do. She screamed.

Jenna awoke in a dark room, her head throbbing and hot against the cool floor. A loud groan escaped her full lips, echoing around her in the most eerie way. Brown hair clung to her face, wet with a cold sweat. Her eyes felt heavy, like she needed sleep. Otherwise, she was fine. Her clothes were still intact, a little dirty but very functional. Her body was slightly sore but not enough to dampen her physical ability. She could hear in her left ear a barely audible whisper of voices.

"Hello?" She called out. Her voice greeted her back.

"Turn it up! Turn it up!" Someone was saying. Still as the voices grew louder she realized she could only hear them in her left ear and wondered if she lost the ability in her right.

"Hello?" She called out again, more impatiently this time.

"Jenna, can you hear us?" The familiar voice of Arman Reedy reached her ear. Consciously she placed a delicate finger to her earlobe. Her earpiece! She had forgotten about the small black device. Arman was her lesser, brilliant with computers, and a vital member of the Intelligence branch of Starfleet. The boy was from India, and had gladly accepted her request for him to join her on the Enterprise after being undermined at a base in Bangalore. Her other personal was a chipper girl named Harper Blair. The American teen had kinky dark tan locks with traces of honey through them. Sleek thick framed glasses helped hide her face with her mass of untamed hair. Her voice was heard next.

"Is she replying?"

"Arman, status?" Jenna cut in.

"Boss, the ship has been taken back and is under Captain Kirk's command. You are currently in one of the Klingon Warbirds, near the engine room. They have a signal blocking our ability to beam you back aboard the Enterprise. You will need to override the system manually."

She processed the information carefully. She was trained for situations like this. Essentially she would need to keep a calm head and fallow Arman's guidance.

"Can you get me to the system?" She asked, although she was certain of the answer.

"Yes, the door should be unlocked."

Steadily she rose to her feet and walked to the door. Pressing her fingers lightly against the rough metal texture she pushed slightly, opening it a fraction. She looked carefully, seeing a shadow pass she lurched backwards. It was a few moments before Jenna ventured forward and out into the dank hallway.

"Where am I headed, Arman?"

"Left. There will be a hatch on the right, go through it."

She did as he told, coming across the hatch very quickly and was disturbed that it led downward.

On board the Enterprise, Spock monitored the activity of Jenna. The screen in front of him was a giant map of the systems of the Warbird. Behind him Montgomery Scott paced. The Vulcan had been informed of the relations between the two; it was not abnormal for the engineer to be worried for a woman that he had been friends with for many years. Spock himself was feeling upset.

"Wait a minute. Where are you leadin' her?" Mr. Scott's voice interrupted his thoughts. Arman turned, momentarily speechless with confusion as the Scotsman approached the digital map.

"Through the water valves. It'll keep her out of sight of any crew."

"There's a problem, Mr. Scott?"

"Yeah there's a problem! The Lassie can't swim. If they use any of their Hydraulics, she'll drown!" He rambled off. Spock noted the distress in his voice. The man was working quickly over a panel trying to find a way to get Jenna out of the pipes. Then taking the microphone from Arman he spoke urgently.

"Jenna, love, you've got to get out of those pipes. They're part of the hydraulic system. There's an opening about a hundred yards in front of ya."

"Montgomery?" Jenna's voice was questioning but warm and welcome to her friend.

"Aye Lass, now go."

It had been too late. Spock stood in the transporter room observing the tragedy unfold in front of him; experiencing his own grief for the loss of his friend. The young Pavel Chekov had broken through the signal and was working to locate Jenna, who was now in the flooded hydraulic pipes, drowning. Arman had cut off the transition when the sounds of gasping and panic had become too emotionally compromising for the crew assisting her, but now Spock felt that he would welcome it. If he could hear her struggling for that breath, he would know for certain that she was alive. On the transporter pad a whirl of lights was beginning to take form. Materializing was the body of Jenna, lying very still on her side.

Her chocolate coloured hair was plastered to her cheek, giving a startling contrast to her pale porcelain skin. The rest of her hair was limp with water and splayed across the floor in no particular manner. Water dripped from her forehead to the bridge of her nose and slid down her face, pooling around her head. And there was a cold, cold silence in the room as Mr. Scott approached her apprehensively. He took off his hat, holding in lamely in his hands and walked until he was a foot in front of her. Kneeling beside her slowly, he made not a sound, nor spoke a word.

Spock who was accustomed to seeing grief expressed through wild tears and loud sobbing was on edge as the Scotsman gently moved the hair from her face. He was about to step forward, to interject, to comfort himself, to be with his friend as it was clear to him now that she was indeed dead, and what that meant for his emotional state but could not bring him to near her. As it was, Montgomery Scott was crying silently, tears escaping the corners of his eyes, which made the Vulcan all the more uncomfortable.

"Jenna?" The hoarse whisper chilled the room. This was the breaking point for Spock. He walked quickly to the man, placed a hand on his covered shoulder and spoke softly,

"Mr. Scott, it would be wise and operative to move Miss. Pryce to the Medical Bay. Doctor McCoy would be content to take care of her there." He interposed.

A sorrowful nod in agreement was exchanged. Montgomery picked the lame body up carefully, cradling her to his chest, and once again moving strands of clingy hair from her face. It was as if she was sleeping, at least Spock knew that was a human method of lessening the grief of the grieving he thought as they moved along the hallways. Staff members passing them shot looks of sympathy towards the afflicted man. He was ignoring them, instead looking at Jenna as if he expected her to come back any second now.

The look of dreadful recognition crossed the doctor's face when he saw the woman being carried in. He paused for moment before motioning to the bed, but before Scotty could lay her down she coughed violently and gripped his shoulders, trying to find a position to expel the water from her lungs. He set her on the bed quickly as Doctor McCoy rushed to her aide. After a few moments of coughing she fell back on the bed, breathing hard. The Scotsman attacked her cheeks with kisses at once and Spock felt a pang of jealousy at such open emotions of joy that his culture forbid him to express. Scotty hugged the woman tight, one hand on the back of her head and one on the small of her back to bring her as close to him as he could. Her shaky hands were on his shoulders, still weak from lack of oxygen.

"Jenna. Oh, Jenna." Montgomery was murmuring, as if he was still afraid he'd never be able to say her name with happiness again. She still hadn't spoken, and Spock concluded that she was still in shock. He observed the other man taking care of his friend. Placing a blanket around her, sitting with her, wiping water from her face, and pulling her damp hair out from under the blanket so it rest on the outside. He mothered her until she broke into a soft smile, and pushed his hand gently away from her face.

"You'd think you're a mother hen with the way you're acting." She teased. He hugged her again in reply. The picture of happiness came to mind when Spock saw this affection. It was another Earth term that he never fully understood, but was beginning to grasp now. Once more he would disturb them. Placing a careful hand on her shoulder he caught her attention.

"Jenna," he said cautiously, "I am very displeased that you did not heed my request, but quite pleased with your return."

That small smile of hers returned to her lips.

"Thank you, Spock."

"May I take her to my room? I'll look after the Lassie there." Scotty asked. A brief nod from the doctor brought a bright smile to his face.

"Plenty of rest, and don't partake in any strenuous activity."

"Come on, Lil Lass." He said as he plucked her off the bed and carried her from Medical Bay.

Doctor McCoy had informed Spock the next day that he had checked up on Jenna during the night. He marveled in the memory of walking into Scotty's room, seeing Jenna tucked into bed, sleeping peacefully, a cup of hot tea on the nightstand and Montgomery kneeling by the bedside, holding her hand, and asleep.

"Scotty was the perfect gentleman, Jenna slept on the bed and he in a chair. He didn't leave her side once last night."

"They are good friends, it is to be expected that he would go to great lengths to insure her comfort and security after a life threatening condition such as drowning. As I am sure, she would do for him."

"God damn man, at least pretend to be moved by that!" Leonard hissed.

Needless to say, they did not speak of it again.