The oxygen levels on Deck 5 were critically low, with patients having transitions through from groggy, flat out into unconscious. McCoy struggled to move between them, desperately trying to keep them awake, or at least fit some kind of oxygen mask over their faces. Hannah seemed to be still moving as normal- slightly slower, and huffing slightly, but not struggling as much as McCoy. She lithely fitted masks upon the faces of all of the remaining patients, and to the medical staff in the med bay.

"You… need…" McCoy struggled to form the words between his gasped breaths, as he leant against the wall heavily, pushing the mask Hannah held out to him back towards her.

"I'm fine," she choked out, and pushed it over his face. "Going- help," She gestured to the door and moved towards it with deliberate slow movement. She headed out and started towards the turbo lift. She got half way down the corridor and began to struggle to move. Sweat had begun to trickle down her forehead, and she dragged her feet along the ground to get to the turbo lift. The doors opened when she was still several feet away, and a figure stepped out. Hannah could barely see the humanoid, as her eyesight crumbled away into darkness in her peripheral vision.

"Life support," she gasped, "gone. He..hel… help"

Hannah came to in the Med Bay, and the pain in her throat was an all too familiar sensation. The air burned as she wheezed in a shallow breath. Her eyes still clouded at the edges, she could barely distinguish the figures also in the Med Bay. Sitting up, she tried to get a better look before being pushed back down on to the bed.

"Oh no you don't," scolded McCoy, his hand firmly pressing into her shoulder. Hannah turned her head as far as she could, both twisting her shoulders around to look the CMO in the eye. He was not, as she had expected, standing alongside her bed, but lying in the bed next to her. "If I'm bedridden, you definitely are." Whilst his breathing was deeper than Hannah's, it was also shaky, and the rattle of uncertain breaths hovered in his breathing. However, Hannah's breathing was recovering far faster than his. Her wheeze was fading, and she pushed his hand off her shoulder, and looked around the Med Bay. Uhura was wielding a medical tricorder, and inspecting the medical staff, looking mildly confused at the instrument in her hand. Hannah swung her legs off the bed, and tentatively stood up. Blood rushed out of her head, and wooziness over took her mind. Yet she stood still for a moment, allowed it to subside a little, and then moved cautiously to pick up a tricorder herself.

"How-?" McCoy began to ask, as Hannah ran the tricorder over his chest, holding it no more than two inches above him. Hannah briefly glanced at McCoy's face, meeting his gaze for a fraction of a second, which was all he needed to see the pain that hid beneath her churlish attitude.

"I've had a lot of practice."

"All systems returning to normal, Keptin." Chekov announced. Kirk acknowledged the ensign and sat down in his chair, having finished his angsty fidgeting.

"Scotty, how's the repairs?" He asked, leaning back in the chair, his mind whirring.

"We've stabilised the warp core, Captain, and main power is back on line, but I wouldnae advise going to warp just yet." The Scot spoke quickly over the comms, before speaking away, his voice fainter but distinctly directing someone to another part of the ship. "Captain, main power isn't fully restored yet, so please don't get into a fight with someone else," Scotty's voice whined. Kirk suppressed a smile, and shook his head minutely.

"Since you asked, Mr Scott, I'll do my best," He promised. "Sulu, let's keep moving. Full impulse ahead."

"Yes sir."

They had trudged through the open space uneventfully for several hours, and Kirk decided to risk leaving the bridge. Praying no more of the cloaked ships appeared and started to attack them, he headed towards the Mess Hall. He needed coffee. Lots of coffee. Stepping in to the turbo lift, he suppressed a yawn, and raised a hand to his face. He pressed his fingers into the bridge of his nose, and moved his hand to rub the palm of his hand over his eye. He was exhausted. He felt as though he'd been running flat out for days- which, come to think of it, he had. The doors to the turbo lift opened, and the Captain pressed another yawn down, not allowing it the satisfaction of breaking. He wandered in through the doors, and retrieved his coffee. Clutching to the mug as though it were a life line, Kirk scanned the room for a seat. It seemed every off duty crew member had had the same idea as him, and almost every taken table had all its seats taken. Except one, which only seated two people, Hannah and an engineering officer named Kes. They were talking animatedly, about what Kirk never got the opportunity to find out, as the two women fell oddly silent as he approached.

"Mind if I join you?" He asked, a genuine question.

"Of course not-"

-"Yes. Immensely." The two women answered in unison. Kes looked at Hannah in horror. Refusing a senior officer was unspeakable in her opinion. Hannah stared, emotionlessly at the Captain, both her face broke into a grin, and she pushed a leg of the chair opposite her out, a clear invitation for the Captain to sit. He laughed softly at her, but sat in the chair none-the-less. A pause.

"So," Hannah spoke, deliberately slow and awkward. "We all nearly died today- does this kind of thing happen often, because it seems like it does." She sat back in her chair, pressing a foot against the table leg, and rocking back in her chair. Kes laughed at her coffee.

"More often on this ship than most I think," she answered. Then she looked up at the captain, and her eyes widened. "Not that I'm- I didn't mean- Nothing to do with manage- Kirk good captain! I've gotta- go. Over there. Fix things. Engineer stuff." And she fled the table, leaving behind her coffee. Which Hannah immediately stole, having already finished her own. Kirk tapped on the table.

"I think she's scared of me," He grinned. Hannah grinned back at him.

"Scared? Of you? Nahhhh," She laughed. "You're just one big softie, aren't you?" Kirk shrugged with a smile back at her, as if in agreement. Hannah's grin widened.

Across the Mess Hall, Carol Marcus watched the easy laughter than passed between the Captain and the young woman. Unlike most of the crew on board The Enterprise, Hannah didn't seem to be afraid to defy his authority. Without Star Fleet training, she ignored the hierarchy of the ship, and whilst this irritated Carol a little, she more admired the girl for her resilience. Having just lost her own father, she couldn't fathom the loss Hannah had to deal with, and so if blatant disregard for authority was how she coped, then that worked for Carol. She looked over at the Captain and the slightest pangs of jealousy rippled through her, whilst she currently didn't care or want a relationship with Kirk- at least, so she thought- the ease in which he had laughed with her was not something Carol had witnessed Kirk do before. Even with McCoy, he tended to deliver more flat one-liners as his humour, a twitch of a lip signalling his amusement, not often a full scale laugh. But there he was, practically giggling over who-knows what.

"Carol, you're staring," Uhura spoke flatly. "Have you not learnt anything of Kirk's reputation from Christine?"

Apparently not, Carol thought glumly. She turned back to Uhura, and tried to push any thoughts of Kirk out of her head.

Kirk walked back towards Hannah's room with her, a comfortable silence cocooning them.

"How's the cut?" Hannah asked, breaking the quiet.

"According to Bones it's as healed as it will ever be. I think he was a little intimidated by your needlework," Kirk laughed. His hand brushed against his own stomach, feeling the slight raise of a scar through the thin material. Hannah smiled slightly, letting her head fall forwards slightly, and the thick waves of brown hair tumbling to hide her face.

"What can I say, my parents were old fashioned, they taught me embroidery," She spoke with a smile in her voice, and kept her gaze to the floor. Kirk paused, an eyebrow lifting itself of its own accord, and his unspoken question hung in the air. Hannah looked back up, stopping walking and looked at Kirk, incredulously. "That was a joke. I'm from the 21st century, not the Victorian era." Kirk's question seemingly answered, he then voiced a different one.

"Well if your parents didn't teach you embroidery, then what did they teach you?" He asked.

"Not much. They sent me off to a private school the first chance they got. All my dad taught me was sarcasm and deadpan humour, and my mum taught me how to fight," She answered, lightly. Her heart grew heavy talking about her parents, remembering how her mother always seemed to have a quarrel with everything. How she'd never accept gifts, how she would always take care of Hannah and her siblings when they were ill, but never would mollycoddle them.

"You went to a private school?" Kirk probed. Hannah nodded, before continuing.

"Aye, all of us did. From my oldest brother Xander, down to wee Mairi. We were at George Watson's, then Dad died, and mum couldnae afford it anymore. I got a scholarship, but Xander and David weren't the brightest at the best of times, so they got kicked out. They let wee Mairi stay though, I think it was a pity thing," Hannah paused. "Mine too, when I think about it." Kirk's faint smile started to fade slightly.

"What do you mean?"

"I had an 'extenuating circumstance' for my National 5's, then we moved to England and they had a connection with a private School down there which also gave me a scholarship, and I did my A-Levels with special dispensation. I think those are what gave me the special dispensation."

"Do I ask what the circumstances were?" Kirk asked tentatively, as they reached Hannah's door. She opened it, stepped inside and then smirked at him.

"Google me. I made worldwide news for it."

When Kirk returned to his quarters, he took Hannah up on her threat, and looked her up. His eyes grew wide as he read further into the article. Multiple times he moved away from his desk, leaving the PADD behind, before being drawn back towards it and having to continue reading. It read like fiction, it was so bizarre and traumatic. He sat down on the couch in his room, and began reading yet more intensely. This Hannah couldn't be the right Hannah, not the one that was on board this ship. For she didn't seem to be capable of acting like this. A beep rang through his room, alerting him to someone being stood on the other side of the door. Kirk closed the PADD and threw it on the couch.

"Come in,"

Scotty entered his room. Holding a PADD loosely in his hand, he lifted it part way, as if to alert Kirk that he was holding something in his hand.

"The damage report Captain, I think everything's back to working at its optimum," Scotty spoke as he handed over the PADD.

"Oh, yes. Thank you," Kirk spoke curtly, and took it from the Chief Engineer. "We're able to travel at warp again?"

"Aye captain, but I'd like to recommend we stop on the nearest planet we can to restock on dilithium crystals. We cannae get home on the amount we have now," Scotty spoke hesitantly, knowing obtaining dilithium crystals was not an easy task, yet a necessary one. Kirk suppressed a groan, and merely acknowledged Scotty's request. Scotty paused hesitantly in the captain's room for a moment longer.

"What is it, Scotty?" Kirk asked, turning away from him, and beginning to read the PADD.

"Well, I just thought it might be… I thought I should let you handle the situation instead of Spock or myself,"

"What situation?"

"Hannah punched a security officer," He spoke quickly. "We sent him to the Med Bay, but he's probably just exaggerating, you know what Hendorff is like-"

"Cupcake?" Kirk asked incredulously. "She punched Cupcake hard enough to actually injure him?"

"Aye,"

"Impressive," Kirk caught his smirk before it formed, having to remind himself briefly that however much he disliked Cupcake, he was still the captain. He couldn't laugh at one of his crew being punched in the face. By a small girl. Who didn't seem to have any upper body strength. And Kirk was fairly certain he'd seen a soft toy poking out that bag of hers.

Hannah glared at the wall in front of her as she wrapped her hands around the bar in front of her. Lowering her hips towards her heels, and shifting her weight on to her heels, she tested the bar, taking the weight into her hands slightly. She then grasped the bar tightly, and straightened out, the bar lifting up to be level with her shoulders, and then flicked her elbows underneath, falling into a squat.

"So, you do weights." Hannah flung the bar away from her body to prevent it trapping her underneath it. She spun around in shock, and stared at the Captain who leant against the doorway. Kirk smirked at her, eliciting a response from Hannah, a clear, non-verbal disapproval. Finished with the gesture, she crossed her arms grumpily.

"What do you want," She asked, so flatly it was barely a question, more a veiled dismissal. Her words curt and abrupt, and her actions even more so, Hannah sat down behind her bar, and fidgeted with it, rolling it forwards and towards herself, allowing it to collide with her knees instead of stopping it.

"What I want, is a day off," Kirk raised an eyebrow, "What I have to do is ask why you punched a member of my security team in the face. I believe you broke his nose," Kirk paused, looking at her curiously, and waiting for a response. Hannah merely kept playing with the bar, and did not look up at Kirk.

"He deserved it," she finally answered. "The fucker did his homework, and thought mocking me would be a good idea."

"And so you punched him."

"Like I said, he deserved it," Hannah forced her gaze up to look at Kirk, practically pouting at the Captain in a petulant manner. "Look, if I just apologise to the steroid pumped trigger happy moron will you let it drop?" Kirk tilted his head to look at her interestedly. He paused, then shook his head.

"Um. No," he answered decisively. Hannah frowned at him, and Kirk raised an eyebrow yet again. "You can't just say it because you're sorry you're getting told off. Acknowledge you're in the wrong!" He blurted out, his rebuking turning to an unprofessional scolding. Hannah rolled her eyes, and stood up, pushing up off one knee to stand upright. As she stood, her other knee jerked out from beneath her and she stumbled. Kirk moved forwards to steady her, but before he could reach her, she had already locked her knee out and straightened up.

"For God's sake, I'm never going to mean this apology, because he's never going to deserve it. He shouldn't go creeping around in my past- and he shouldn't use my past as an excuse to belittle me!" Hannah yanked the weights off the bar, one at a time, and threw them to her left, landing near Kirk's feet.

"And nor should you physically assault someone!"

"-Coming from you! Didn't Admiral Pike find you being beaten up by that very same prick the first time you met?" Hannah countered. Now it was her turn to sassily raise an eyebrow. She stared Kirk down for a few seconds, before snatching up her discarded weights and dragging them to the side of the room.

"I'm sure whatever Cupc- Hendorff - said can't have been that bad," Kirk reasoned, ignoring Hannah's dig at him. Hannah paused, her back to Kirk. Glowering the wall into submission, she slowly put down the weight with a care and delicacy that emanated the sense that a lethal attack was about to be launched. Hannah reached around her back, and lifted the hem of her training vest to reveal her back. Not only the thick, jagged scar that Kirk had seen when they visited the Gorn decorated her back, but also a network of thinner scars. He instinctually reached out and brushed the raised white scar tissue with his fingers. Hannah recoiled at his touch.

"This," she hissed, still to the wall, "Is not something I appreciate being joked about. Nor is what I have done to stop this, so you can tell Cupcake that if he values his nose, he can fuck off out of my business or I will break it every single day that I see him." And with that snarled threat, Hannah stalked out the room, walking unnecessarily wide of the Captain, and without a second glance backwards.