CHAPTER TEN

Leonard McCoy was pounding furiously on the locked door to the base. "LET US IN YA GODDAMNED BASTARDS! GIVE ME MY DAUGHTER BACK!"

Jim sighed. "We aren't getting in through here, Bones. We gotta go around to the front and search for her. Who knows where that transport took them."

Pavel was sitting on the ground, staring blankly at the bottom of the locked door in front of them. "Deed you see her face?" He said softly, his tone horrified. "She vas under some sort of enchantment or hypnosis. Ewen eef we find her, ve vill hef to break hees hold on her."

"Chekov's right." Jim said. "We need someone who could help us break a spell or whatever like that. I'll call Spock. He'll help."

As the Captain fumbled for his communicator, the doctor crumpled on the ground. He was devastated. An alien had kidnapped his daughter, and had done something to her. Whatever he'd done to her, McCoy knew one thing— he would kill the creature himself, Hypocratic Oath or not. NO ONE hurt his Joey and got away with it.

"Spock." Jim said.

A crackle. "Yes, Captain."

Said captain hesitated. "Jo's been kidnapped. And something's been done to her mind. She's not right, and there was this symbol on her forehead, something about... Claiming her for this one guy?" He looked to McCoy for confirmation, who shrugged. "Yeah. Something like that. Anyway, we might need a meld or something to stop it."

Spock paused. "I will begin searching for her immediately. Or shall I wait for you, Captain, and we will search together?"

"No. We'll spilt up. We have no idea where she is, only that there's no way the transport could have sent them outside of the building. The device left behind wasn't advanced enough." Jim said.

"I will begin to search at the soonest possibility. Goodbye, Captain." And he hung up.

Jim put away his communicator and stared at the door. "Maybe if we knock?" Bones snorted, but Jim ignored him. Instead, he knocked carefully on the door, three times. For a few moments, nothing happened. Then there was the sound of a lock being clicked off, and the door opened.

The rebel tried to close the door as soon as he saw who it was, but Jim had already stunned him with his phaser. The three then ran down the hallways, splitting up, phasers drawn and ready to stun any rebels coming their way.

It was Pavel who found her.

He was walking down a particularly peaceful hallway when he heard the voice of the interrogator— the one who'd tortured them and kidnapped Jo.

Somehow, Pavel kicked down the door with one kick— something he tried to repeat later with a 0% success rate.

Jo was sitting on the bed. Her dress had been taken off. Standing next to the bed was the Donta interrogator, his slight form bristling with fury. What really made Pavel decide to do what he did, though, was what Joanna said next. "Darling? Who's that? Why did he break in?"

She didn't recognize him. The thought made his body rush with anger, and with precision he changed the setting of his phaser from 'stun' to 'kill.' He wasn't taking any chances with this man.

"Let her go." He spat, eyes blazing furiously. "Before I blow hole een your skull."

The Dontarri laughed. "You? The gentle-hearted navigator who can't even speak STANDARD right? You wouldn't dare do anything, even though the only way to break the spell is to kill me. You don't have the guts."

Pavel smiled. It was cold, and his eyes were even colder. He looked like an assassin, ready to take out their prey. "Oh, really?"

And then Pavel Andreivich Chekov, who hated killing people and always looked for another solution, shot the creature three times in the head. Even as the creature sank to the ground, the cold smile never left his face.

Seconds later, McCoy and Jim ran in. "What was— GOOD GOD!" The doctor cried in shock upon seeing the mild-mannered navigator standing over the corpse of the man they were seeking, a smoking phaser still in hand. "Chekov— you— did you—"

The Russian placed the phaser back in its holster and turned to look at his friends. "I keeled heem, end I do not regret eet."

The two men looked frightened by the cold deadly look on his face. Suddenly, Spock showed up. After a few seconds of examining the scene, the Vulcan spoke. "Mr. Chekov, did you kill the Donta rebel?"

He simply nodded.

Moments later, Jo spoke. "Guys? What— what happened?" She looked down at herself and frowned. "Where's my dress?"

In five minutes the five of them were outside the base, this time with all of their members. They were beamed back to the Enterprise five minutes after that, and soon Pavel, McCoy, and Joanna were in Med Bay, being treated for the wounds from their torture.

Jo had no recollection of what happened after Jim let them out of their cell, and though she had been told what had happened, no one would tell her WHO had killed the interrogator. She suspected it to be either Jim or her father.

She and Pavel never mentioned the kiss they'd shared in the cell, either to Jim or themselves. It was forgotten, shoved away so they wouldn't have to untangle the messy strings of feelings inside themselves and redo their entire relationship. Of course, they thought about it alone, and that was bad enough.

Almost every day, Jo would find herself thinking about the kiss, and how she had let herself kiss back, and how (even though HE'D been the one who'd started it) if she ever mentioned it and how she actually sort of enjoyed it it would destroy their friendship forever and ever. And she couldn't slow that to happen. So she pretended it didn't happen.

Little did Jo know that Pavel was having nearly identical thoughts, and had come to the same conclusion.

Despite the fact they were both determined to keep their friendship the way it had been before— easy, relaxed, with complete trust and honesty— it was slowly falling apart. Since the kiss 'didn't happen', any time they were bothered because of it they were forced to lie. And so their trusting friendship slowly began to dissolve. The only problem was neither of them could see it.

Tara tried to figure out what had happened. She was a good friend like that. "C'mon, Jo, SOMETHING must've happened to make you two act so weird around each other! You've hardly TALKED to Pavel since the Dontarri mission."

Jo glared at her friend and slammed her PADD down on the table. "Nothin' happened, so don't ya let the goddamned subject drop!" She snarled.

"Hey," Tara said in a wounded voice. "I'm only trying to help! You don't need to be NASTY about it."

Jo looked down at the paperwork she was supposed to be filling out, and sighed. "Listen, Tar, I'm sorry. It's just... Nothing happened."

"Okay." Her friend said softly, still holding in her tears.

Jo bit her lip, feeling horrible that she'd made her friend cry. She got up and hugged Tara tightly. "I really am sorry. I... It just wasn't a very good experience for me. Don Tarr was a bitch of a planet, ya know?"

Tara laughed a little, and smiled. "Not nearly as well as you do."

The two best friends laughed, all tears and guilt forgotten.

Jo usually didn't like to celebrate her birthdays. Celebrating brought back memories of when she was a small girl, when her daddy was at home, and she was popular and happy among the other six-year-olds. After Grandma McCoy died, she became more isolated as her cleverness alienated her from her friends and her mother and Clay beat the fact she was a freak into her. Her birthday was simply a day to remember that everyone hated her, that she was alone.

Once she visited the Enterprise, things became better. On her birthday her father brought as many of her friends in as possible for her daily video call, and they sang to her and said how they wished they could send presents, and then she was alone again.

During her first two years at the Academy, Jo 'celebrated' by buying herself two cupcakes— one for herself, one for Tara— and opening the card her friend got her and said 'thank you' for the twenty dollar bill that was tucked inside.

Once the Enterprise crew was back, her father realized immediately that she didn't want a party. Instead, he invited her (and the rest of the command crew, plus Tara) to dinner. She would eat, open presents, and run home before she began to cry.

So when Jim asked her what her plans for her 21st birthday were, Jo was surprised. She hadn't even thought of it. She'd been drinking semi-regularly since she was fourteen, so she didn't really feel like she needed to 'celebrate' being of drinking age.

"I don't want to celebrate." She told him plainly. "I've been drinking for almost seven years now. It's not important."

Jim pouted. "Aw, c'mon, JoJo! You have to have a party! A big one! It's your 21st! When I turned twenty-one, I got so drunk—"

"If that was your first time drinking, than I'm a Russian." Jo said in a snarky voice.

The captain scowled in annoyance. "Well, I'd been drinking for a while, yeah, but not NEARLY as long as you! What were you, fourteen?"

Jo nodded in amusement. "I graduated a month after I turned sixteen, remember? I first found my love of alcohol when I was a junior. It wasn't THAT odd. I mean, Pavel's been drinking vodka since he was ten!"

Kirk snorted. "He's Russian. Of COURSE he's been drinking vodka since he was ten!"

They both chuckled.

Then, Jim looked at her with a piercing gaze. "WHY do you hate having birthday parties, Jo?" And there it was. He'd asked it. The question people had been wondering for years, but had never gotten the courage to ask.

She hesitated, and the memory of her standing in her birthday dress, staring at the empty room on her seventh birthday with no one there, only her mother and Grandma McCoy, that memory flashed before her eyes so suddenly that she winced.

"None of your business, Jim." She said stiffly.

The captain looked at her sadly, as if he suddenly understood. As if he had experienced it himself. "How old were you?" Jo stayed silent. "How old were you when you needed that birthday party more than anything and no one showed up?"

Jo stared at the ground, cursing the tears beginning to sting in her eyes. "Seven. I couldn't see my daddy, I'd just found out my Grandma McCoy was dying, no one talked to me at school, and I invited every kid in my grade to that party. And not ONE showed up. My momma took advantage of that, said it was because they knew I was a freak. She never gave me another birthday present after that year. I never want to have another party, because part of me is still afraid that no one will show up again, and that I'm still a freak."

Jim sighed, and laid his hand on her shoulder. "We don't have to have a party if you don't want to. We can just do our normal thing. But if you DID have a party, I promise you people would come."

Jo smiled a little, her eyes still full of unshed tears. "I know. But I... I just can't."

It is a little-known fact that the Enterprise had a bar on board the ship. Yes, it was very small, and yes, each crewman only got two drinks a week, but it was still a bar, and people loved it.

The bartender was a gruff German man with an accent so thick it made Chekov's thick Russian one sound like a slight lisp. His real name no one except the captain and Spock knew, but Spock never went to the bar and therefore never needed to use it, and Kirk didn't want to ruin the little game their bartender had begun.

Everyone called him Rhine, after the famous German river he was supposedly born by.

Rhine was as strong as Richard 'Cupcake' Hendorf, with a smooth bald head and a rather spectacular mustache. His eyes were bright sapphire blue, and he was, despite his gruff appearance and trigger-happy attitude concerning bar fights, a gentle and deeply sympathetic man.

For one thing, Rhine always remembered everyone's favorite drink. As soon as they walked in the door, he'd get out the required liquors, clarify the order, and throw the drink together. People loved him for that, so the man got excellent tips.

He also could sense when a particular crewman was having a really horrible day. After watching them for a few moments, Rhine would whip up their favorite drink (if he didn't know them, he'd just give them a good German beer), slap it down on the table, and demand to hear the story of their terrible day in his barely understandable accent. The person would drink and tell their story, and then, if Rhine decided their predicament suited their reaction, he would tell the crewman he wouldn't log it in as one of their precious drinks.

So, obviously, everyone loved Rhine. They also loved the fact that the smallish room was somehow almost always nearly empty. Despite having four hundred people on board who loved to drink, their different shifts and different free days of the week meant that only a handful were usually ever in the bar at once.

People came to Rhine's Tavern to drink, yes, but they mainly came for Rhine himself. If one wanted to get drunk, you would find someone to put the override code into the food synthesizer to allow you to get unlimited alcohol. If you wanted someone to talk to, you went to Rhine.

Joanna McCoy rarely went to the bar. For one thing, he never let her get anything alcoholic unless she was having a rotten day (she was still under twenty-one). For another, she was too proud to admit that she NEEDED someone to talk to like Rhine.

So Rhine was a bit surprised when she dragged herself into the bar one night nearly two months after her conversation with Jim, a half-full synthesized bottle of bourbon in her hand, obviously already tipsy.

The bar was completely empty— but then again, it WAS midnight. He was actually about to clean up and go back to his quarters, but he wouldn't if Jo was in such a state.

"What seems to be the problem, Miss Joanna?" His accent was thick, as usual, but it also held a tone of worry.

She giggled. "Oooh, I'm twenty-one today! Hip-hip-hooray!" Then she sobered, glancing at the bottle in her hands. "I'm havin' boy troubles, Rhine. Jesus, I never thought I'd say that."

Rhine muttered something under his breath in German as he pulled out a bottle. It was bourbon— one of his special bottles of the REAL stuff he only brought out for those he deemed 'worthy.' Jo watched in surprise as he poured her a glass, and slid it across the counter to where she sat.

"What happened?" He grunted.

Jo hesitated, then began. "My daddy invited the senior officers to my birthday party. Plus Christine Chapel and Tara Trenton, of course. And afterwords, Pavel— ya know, Chekov— drew me to the side. He told me that he had decided not to hide it from me any longer, that he was in love with me, and had been for a while. And... Shit, Rhine, I'm not the kinda girl people love!"

Rhine scowled. "How so?"

"People love me, yes, but not in that way. I've never gone on a single date in my entire life. Not one! First I was too young, and by the time I was old enough, everyone I knew besides Tara and Pav hated me for being so smart. And besides, Pavel is my oldest friend. I've known him since I was ten, and he was seventeen. We're best friends, we know each other inside out. I... I need him, Rhine, and I can't risk a relationship fucking that up." Jo admitted.

Rhine raised an eyebrow. This girl was obviously madly in love with Pavel Chekov, but she had apparently known few happy relationships in her life and didn't want to risk hurting her, Chekov, or any potential kids. How sad.

"But what did you do? When he admitted it, I mean." Said Rhine, hoping he was keeping the pity out of his tone. He was. He'd gotten good at it during the five year mission.

Jo swallowed a mouthful of her drink, and set the glass bak down on the counter. "I... I told him that he was crazy, and that if he was going to say things like that, we shouldn't even be friends." She looked straight into Rhine's piercing blue eyes. "And THAT'S why I'm here, Rhine. Because I was so worried about not fucking up our friendship I completely DESTROYED it. I need Pavel, Rhine. And I tossed him away like he was a scrap for the dogs."

Rhine paused. He wasn't a man of many words. He'd learned throughout his life that his gift was listening. But this broken girl, so blindly in love with the navigator she ended their friendship just to protect them both— he needed to say something to her.

"You can try to fix it," he growled. "or you can let the best thing in your life be lost forever. Your choice. But the longer you wait, the less likely you'll ever find exactly what you need again."

Jo sighed, and put her head in her hands. "I'm gonna go sleep this off. I got early shift tomorrow— don't wanna show up drunk and dead tired."

Rhine simply nodded. He'd said his piece. And so, the German bartender watched the young woman leave the bar, and realized she'd left the synthesized bottle of bourbon behind, and left her glass of fine bourbon untouched. He smirked. What a remarkable woman.

The next morning Joanna McCoy arrived to her shift ten minutes late. She had a slight hangover, but not enough of one to have it show in her work. She couldn't hide the grimace of pain, however, when she walked into the brightly lit med bay.

Her father noticed immediately, however, and stalked over to her. "Joanna Grace McCoy, are you hungover?"

She smirked cockily, and cracked her neck. "Maybe. It WAS my 21st, Dad. Ya can't expect NOT to drink."

He narrowed his eyes at her. "That might be so, Joanna, but you should know I do not tolerate hungover nurses. Go get yourself a hangover cure immediately."

"Thanks, pops." She said mockingly, grabbing the appropriate hypo and injecting it in her arm carefully. Leonard rolled his eyes in time with his daughter, and stalked away to chew out Christine for some reason he'd probably make up on the spot.

Ten minutes later, Jim burst into the sickbay, an animalistic grin on his face. Jo noticed him first. "Captain, my Captain. What can I do for ya this fine mornin'?" She even did a mocking little bow.

Jim's grinned widened. "Hello, JoJo. Happen to know the whereabouts of your delightful grump of a father?"

Bones stepped out of his office at that exact moment. The doctor froze at the sight of Jim, slumped visibly as he knew what must be coming, and walked over. "Dammit, Jim, what NOW?"

"Ah, Bones! How delightful of you to join us!" Jim said with an actual cackle of glee. "Just came to let you know that your services are required on the away mission tomorrow."

"Shit." McCoy groaned. Jo laughed a little, then walked over to the young woman who'd walked into Med Bay limping slightly.

"C'mon, Bones. This place is almost empty, and it's not even on to an alien planet! We're just beaming onto another Federation ship for a meeting. One of the topics is improvements to be made to med bay. I need my CMO with me for that." Jim said, the grin fading as he got more serious.

McCoysighed. "Jesus Christ, fine. I'll go to the goddamned meeting. But don't expect me to go without complainin'!"

"My dear Bones," Jim began, "I wouldn't expect any less."

Leonard rolled his eyes and grabbed a PADD Christine was trying to hand him. "Who else is goin' with ya'll?"

"Spock, obviously, plus Scotty, Uhura, Cupcake, and Chekov." Jim tallied on his fingers. Satisfied, the captain nodded at his best friend. "See you tomorrow, Bones. Don't be TOO bitchy."

Leonard McCoy watched his best friend leave the room, glanced at the PADD in his arms requiring his signature, and sighed. A long day of paperwork today, and a long day of meetings tomorrow. How exciting.

The next day at 0500 hours, the small away team was making last minute preparations. Sulu had the chair until they got back at 2130 hours, something the pilot was pleased about. He enjoyed having the chair, especially when there wasn't a crisis going on and he could just relax.

Chekov, on the other hand, was NOT relaxing. The last time he'd gone on an away mission, he had been captured and tortured. So, even though this was supposed to be a nice relaxing meeting, his nerves were making his stomach churn with anxiety.

They were only waiting for McCoy, now. Jim was getting nervous. It wasn't like his friend to be late. Leonard prided himself on being painstakingly punctual. Just as Jim was about to call the doctor on his communicator, a McCoy stepped into the transporter room. This McCoy, however, was not the CMO.

Joanna paused at the surprised looks on her friends' faces. "Dad's sick. Running a high fever, lost his voice, absolutely miserable. He still tried to come, but Christine and I bodily dragged him back to bed. Chris would've come instead, but she had loads of paperwork to do. So, here I am."

Jim noticed she was carefully avoiding looking at Chekov. Had the two of them had a fight? He hoped not. Silent treatments among members of away teams always made things awkward. He glanced at Chekov, and realized to his surprise that the young man looked as though he were trying not to cry.

The last two minutes before beaming up were absolutely silent, and thus extremely awkward. The foreboding feeling in Pavel's stomach grew exponentially. He couldn't bear it if Jo got hurt.

After all, as he'd realized while hearing her scream during that fateful away mission two months ago, he was in love with Joanna McCoy, and had been since that night she spilled out the darkest secrets of her life to him nearly three years ago. So, being the damn fool he was, he told her, when he KNEW she was afraid of love, KNEW that she couldn't allow herself to fall for him and potentially damn her happiness in the inevitable breakup.

So when they beamed on board and were instantly taken to the brig at sword point thanks to the space pirates that had taken over the ship they were on, Pavel wasn't surprised one bit. He WAS surprised, however, when he, for some reason, annoyed one of them.

Yes, Pavel certainly was surprised when the annoyed pirate stabbed him in the chest after several hours of sitting in the brig.

He was very surprised when it dawned on him that he was about to die.