Chapter Four: In which Bones has some - ahem - concerns, Camille gets to be the doctor for once, Jim done messes up (excuse my abysmal grammar), and Karina is a bit, shall we say, conflicted.

Disclaimer: I do not own the great and glorious Dr. Leonard McCoy, James T. Kirk, or Pavel Chekov. Nor do I own Star Trek in general. I only own my OCs and the plot.

Bones looked up when the door opened, and inwardly groaned. Jim swaggered in, that ear to ear, perfectly white grin indicative of only one thing.

The man had a date.

Bones prepared himself for his reaction. There was no reason for him to overreact. They were both adults. Jim was a bit old for Camille, and he attributed his ability to see that to his being older than either of them. Surely if he advised against this, one or the both of them would have to listen, right? This generation had to have some respect for its elders left.

Bones shook his head. If he'd been crazy enough to voice his thoughts out loud – which he wasn't, not on his life – he would sound like a jealous teenager. Really? Respect for their elders? Did his position as a whopping three years older than Jim count as an elder?

Get it together, Leo, he told himself. It's none of your business what they do. Camille isn't your sister. She certainly isn't your daughter. So get your head out of your –

"Deep in thought much?" Jim asked, his grin transforming into a smirk. Bones could have cheerfully throttled him, but he swallowed the urge and formed what he hoped was a pleasant expression. Evidently it wasn't, because Jim looked genuinely concerned.

"Bones, what's wrong?"

Pleasantry had never been his strong suit. Why he'd even attempted was beyond him. So he settled for neutral.

"Nothing's wrong, Jim. Just…" Bones scrabbled mentally for an excuse. Something preferably medical. "…heartburn."

Fortunately, Jim seemed too lost in his own bliss to see right through that lame attempt. Or unfortunately. They'd see.

"Well, I've had a very interesting day," Jim began. Bones tried holding back, but he was about to break the syringe he held if he didn't say something. The combined force of how much he wanted to give Jim a piece of his mind and the effort it took to not do so could be likened to plate tectonics.

"Look, Jim," Bones interrupted. "It's not that I don't think the pair of you would be great together. Okay, correction, I think the pair of you would be dismal together. Which is why I have to say something. I can't in good conscious just – "

The confusion on Jim's face could be likened to the confusion after an earthquake hit. "Wait. Me and who?"

Bones could physically feel his mind backpedaling. What had he been thinking? There was a reason he'd trained himself to listen to patients – or very irritating friends – before leaping to conclusions! How did he get out of this one?

"Oh. You didn't just ask Juliet out?" Bones amended, hoping he sounded convincing.

Jim frowned. "Juliet? Since when did you think I had designs on Juliet?"

Bones shrugged. "Last I checked, you were into anything that wears a skirt. And I do mean anything. I mean, come on, Jim. I saw you sneaking a girl with a tail into your room the week before hiatus."

"Well, for your information, I didn't. You mention relationships and Juliet runs. So let's talk about what I was actually coming here to tell you," Jim said.

"Doesn't have to do with skirts?"

"Nope. Not in the way you mean, anyway," Jim replied. "I guess Kari technically wears a skirt, but anyway."

Bones' interest was piqued. He may not have the big brother relationship that Jim had developed with the kid, but Karina was still a friend. He gestured for Jim to go on while he continued with what he'd been doing: cleaning syringes. It was tedious work, and he needed a good distraction.

"So, for one of my classes, I have this hideous report to write," Jim began, his eyes lighting up with the possibility of a good mystery. "It's supposed to be on some big event in the history of Starfleet, right? Well, I was doing some research – "

"You? Actually doing homework? There's a shock," came a voice from the door that sent a jolt up Bones' spine. Camille came and sat down between them. Ever since he'd had more visitors and less patients, considering Camille's tendency to injure herself had lain dormant for a while, Bones had incorporated more chairs into the clinic. None of the other doctors or medical cadets seemed to question it, and he preferred to keep it that way.

But what was with that jolt? Bones almost wished to be a squirming kind of man in that instance, if only to fidget a bit and erase the memory of it from his anatomy.

"Very funny," Jim said, his grin widening as Camille gave him a playful shove. Bones wasn't sure what was with that smile she flashed at Jim, but he was brought back to reality when the syringe in his hand smashed. He grimaced in pain as a shard of glass sliced into his hand and blood poured onto the table. Not only would the wound need binding, but the destroyed syringe would be billed to him, and he'd need to double sterilize the rest of them, which were now covered in his life's marrow.

Camille jumped to her feet.

"Jeez, Bones!" she exclaimed. "What's the problem?"

She ran to his cabinets. Briefly wondering what the crazy woman was doing, Bones realized she was going for his bandages. He too leaped to his feet and started toward her.

"I can manage – "

"Whoa there, cowboy," she said, whirling, meeting him in the middle, pressing a hand against his chest and pushing him straight back down into his chair. Bones was reeling from what that simple touch had done to his brain. It was like it short-circuited and was now willing to do whatever she demanded.

Even if that was letting someone else be the doctor for a while.

"You are bleeding all over this room," Camille told him, going back to the cabinet. "Try to keep it at least slightly contained, okay?" She turned to Jim. "Can you do something about that blood while you talk?"

Suddenly Jim looked rather queasy. "Um, I don't do so well around…" he gazed down at the infected syringes and the red liquid pooling around them.

Camille rolled her eyes.

"Men are such babies," she muttered. "Fine, I'll get it after I wrap up the cowboy here."

Bones narrowed his eyes at her. "Cowboy?" he asked, the skepticism evident in his voice. Not that he was trying to contain it.

She shrugged. "It suits you. Between the Southern roots and the Kentucky Derby metaphors. Now Jim, do you think you can stay conscious long enough to let me doctor this guy?"

Jim nodded, swallowing, and pressed forward. Meanwhile, Camille sat down and began tending Bones' injuries. He tried to focus on what Jim was saying, but she was making that damn difficult, what with her surprisingly gentle touch, the way her skin brushing against his every once in a while sent his heart racing, the way she bit her lip in concentration. How she managed to be so focused and yet listen to what Jim was saying was beyond him. Speaking of… he should probably tune in.

"Anyway," Jim said. "I was going over this Captain's dissertation. Apparently some prominent arms dealer in Russia and the head of Starfleet had a bit of a…falling out."

"Which actually means…?" Camille inquired, her concentrated voice barely a mutter.

Jim smiled at her astuteness, which made Bones instinctively clench his hand. Pain shot up his arm and Camille, in her typical hold-nothing-back fashion, grabbed his face with a single hand, making him look at her.

"If you would kindly hold still, Doctor," she growled, a glare crinkling her lovely face. Bones nodded. Evidently she now called him "cowboy" when she was pleased and "Doctor" when he was in trouble. He was aware of Jim's probing eyes on them and felt a small thrill of satisfaction.

Camille released him and went back to her task at hand. Literally. "Go on, Jim."

Jim had a strange look on his face. Bones' satisfaction increased. No doubt it was jealousy. Take that, why don't you, Kirk?

"Which actually means," Jim continued, "lots and lots of dead bodies."

Bones snorted. "Californians versus Russians. That's a battle theory I really don't want to see tested."

"So, there's this guy," Jim said. "It never says who he was, whether he was an officer of Starfleet or what. But apparently he stopped the attack single-handedly. Made some pretty powerful enemies along the way. And guess what his name was?"

Camille and Bones, temporarily forgetting the health code nightmare in front of them, both stared at Jim, waiting for his verdict. Bones actually found himself leaning forward, then caught himself and straightened out.

"Anthony Bartowski," Jim said, his words bringing a curtain of silence over the room.

The other two sat there in stunned silence. Bones looked at Camille. "Is that…?"

"Kari's dad?" she asked, meeting his gaze. "Yeah. Yeah, it is."

Jim began to sober up. Apparently this next piece of news he had to deliver wasn't as intriguing. Or more grim. While Bones hoped fervently it was the first option, he had an odd feeling it was in fact that latter.

"But get this," Jim told them. "It went on to talk about the way he died. This attack was eleven years ago, right? That would have been right before he and Kari's mom were killed." Jim looked to Camille. "How does she believe they died, Cam?"

Camille, her voice slightly tremulous, said, "In a car crash."

Jim, uncharacteristically grim, shook his head.

"Not according to the report," he said. "Turns out they were both killed when someone planted a bomb in their house."

"Wait, what?" Camille asked. "But how is Karina still alive, then?"

Jim shrugged. "Who actually knows?" he asked.

Suddenly they all were startled out of their skin at the slamming of the door and the sight of a girl in red cadet uniform with a mane of brown hair hanging down her back running down the corridor.

Camille rose, her work binding Bones' hand conveniently finished. "Great job, Jim," she said. "You could have gone to her first, you know." And she strode out of the room after her friend.

Camille knocked on the door, which had been slammed and locked. Guilt ate at her gut. She knew she should have insisted Jim tell Karina first the instant she heard him drop the name Anthony Bartowski. But in her defense, there hadn't been much time before the kid had shown up. She'd been so wrapped up in Jim's story she hadn't even noticed Karina standing in the doorway.

How long had she been there, anyway?

"Kari," she called. "I know you're in there, there's no use pretending you're not." There was nothing but silence coming from the other side of the door. Camille silently cursed the fact that today, of all days, was the day she'd left her keychain hanging on her desk. Her card was the only way into this room without being let in. She turned her back to the door, slid down to the floor, and let out an exasperated sigh. This was getting to be irritating.

"Hey, it's my room, too, you know," she snapped over her shoulder. "Keeping me locked out is sort of unfair, don't you think, kiddo?"

There was a silence, then the door slid open. Karina met her with a completely blank stare. Camille might have congratulated her on masking her emotions so successfully if her red-rimmed eyes hadn't been a dead giveaway.

"I don't want to talk about what went down back there, Cam," she began, her voice valiantly attempting at steadiness.

"Well, too bad, sweetheart, because you're going to," Camille commanded, enlisting her definite "voice of authority", a talent she'd learned from growing up with a general for a father. Karina may be pushing the bonds of authority lately, but that voice still made her sit up and listen like a sad puppy.

Camille put an arm around her shoulders and led her to her bed. They sat down, Karina staying perched on the edge, Camille kicking off her shoes and getting comfortable, pulling her feet up and sitting criss-cross. She nailed Karina with a stare that wouldn't let the younger girl go, in spite of her facing away.

"So, what are you thinking right now?" Camille asked. "You're getting freaky good at hiding that from me, kid, and I kind of hate it. What happened to my girl from last year? I could read whatever you were thinking!"

"Maybe that's because I wanted you to, Cam," Karina said, her voice low and toneless. Her lack of expression in general was starting to make Camille uneasy. What indeed had happened to her girl?

"Back then, all I wanted was to be read," Karina said. "I'd hidden so much of myself away for so long, I just wanted someone to see me for who I really was. Now…I'm not sure anymore, Cam."

Camille was silent. She didn't think the situation called for her to respond and, to be quite honest, she didn't really know how.

"Okay," she said. "But about your dad… How did they manage to keep that from you?"

Karina shook her head.

"I barely remember my parents, much less that day," she said. "I just sort of remember someone dropping me off at the convent, the nuns telling me my parents were gone, and that was where I lived the rest of my life until I came here."

Camille frowned. "Would the nuns remember?"

"Maybe," Karina said. "I want to get to the bottom of this. I can't just let it sit."

"Now that wouldn't be the deathly curious Karina I know and love," Camille said, a smile tipping her lips and creeping into her voice.

"But I don't have time right now, Cam," Karina said, burying her face in her hands and bringing her hands up to run through her hair. Camille reached out and started rubbing her back, responding to the nervous tic.

"What do you mean you don't have time?"

Karina paused, her face deep in thought. Camille once again wished she could read her mind. If she had, she would have found that her friend was trying to figure out how to tell her about her visit with Pike without giving away her new student's gender. The last thing she needed was Camille latching onto an idea that, if everything went according to Karina's plan, would never come to fruition.

Somehow she managed it. The result of her visit with Pike was relayed without planting any thoughts in Camille's head, and the older girl leaned back on her elbows, taking it in.

"So, you were right after all," she said. "You were about to get kicked off the Enterprise."

Karina shrugged. "Yeah, I was. But I don't think this is going to be that hard of a task. I mean, we've got a solid year to get this done. And then, we're all happily employed, on the crew of one of the newest and most prestigious starships in the fleet. Either way, this is going to take up a lot of my time, and I can't spare time to investigate this sudden development in the death of my parents, now can I?"

"I don't see why not," Camille said. "A little busyness is good for you every once in a while. And I think both of these endeavors will be worth it."

Karina frowned. "I suppose so," she muttered.

Camille put an arm around her and squeezed. "I'll help you, too," she said. "If you want, I can call the abbey for you. Anything you need, provided it's not flinging myself from the top of the Academy, I can do. It's important that we know our pasts, and this presents a pretty big hole in yours."

Rising to go change into something more comfortable than her uniform, Camille called over her shoulder, "Also, you might want to go tell Jim he's forgiven for not coming straight to you with this news. Pretty sure between your reaction and my slight scolding, he's feeling like a wounded puppy at this point."

Karina rose, advancing on her friend.

"Wait just a minute here," she said, leaning against the doorjamb as Camille undressed. "How did you know I'd already forgiven Jim?"

Camille eyed her, slipping a T-shirt over her head. "Kar," she said, her voice making it obvious she thought the answer was clear. "I've been rooming with you for a year. You can barely hold a grudge for thirty seconds. And this is minor compared to what he could have done. Such as hiding it from you altogether, thinking he was sparing your feelings. Now go, child!"

Karina grinned and headed for the door. It almost escaped her notice that there was a message for her on the board. Checking it, she saw it was from Pike.

I've contacted Chekov about your decision. I also took the liberty of checking out both of your schedules personally. It looks like Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays 4-5:30 is the best time for both of you. Respond as soon as possible so I can get back to him. He's already confirmed that this will work.

Karina tapped in her reply. That should work, she thought as her brain continued racing fifty miles per hour. At least it wasn't one hundred miles per hour like normal. She might have to break out her language kit tonight. How exactly did one teach English when one had no formal education in doing so?

Opening the door, she stepped out into the hall and headed for Jim's room. Maybe it would be as simple as just reversing what she'd done when she'd learned Russian. Fortunately, she'd been smart enough to keep a log of her progress learning every single one of the twenty languages she knew – even the ones she'd been forced to learn. Her lip curled upward slightly as the German and Latin lessons came back into her mind. As much as she wanted to keep this thing professional, like she imagined a pair of future Starfleet officers thrust together for a business deal of sorts should, she determined she'd at least make this easier and, hopefully, more enjoyable for Pavel Chekov than the nuns had made it for her.

So, as soon as she got back from reassuring Jim that all was forgiven, she'd go back over her logs and figure out what she was going to do with this new assignment. She guessed that Pike wanted them to get started as soon as possible, which probably meant tomorrow. This cadet had some homework to do.

Still, this was better than losing her spot on the Enterprise for certain. Karina allowed herself a tiny smile. A snag, yes, but not one that she couldn't get past with minimal pain. Heck, it may even be fun. A new experience, for sure. Her present and future were pretty secure at this point.

But her past was still in question. The miniscule smile gave way to a miniature furrow in her brow. If what Jim had said in the clinic was true… Why had the nuns lied to her? What was wrong with telling her that her father had singlehandedly stopped a war and been killed for his efforts? She almost preferred that version of the story.

Which raised another question: Were the ones responsible for her parents' death still at large? She'd have to ask Jim –

Karina was caught off guard when she clipped the shoulder of someone hurrying past her. Looking after him, she frowned. Why was it that the ones she ran into always felt familiar somehow, as if she'd only been running into one person her entire time in Starfleet? Shaking the idea off, she laughed at herself. That was ridiculous, right? And probably statistically impossible.