Chapter Ten: In which Chekov is adorable (what else is new?), Karina is repentant (and also adorable), Pike is concerned, and Camille is...a stalker, perhaps? Yes, that seems like a good term.

Excuse me while I fangirl excessively. Apologies to you all for the lack of Jim and Bones in this one.

I do not own Star Trek! I only own Camille and Karina, and some lovely merchandise that generally has to do with this wonderful series.

Two Weeks Later

This was getting to be ridiculous. Ever since she'd told him about her parents, Karina had gone back to her normal, cold self. When they'd parted ways that day, Chekov thought that they'd possibly progressed past that point. Obviously, he'd been wrong. But he knew for a fact that he wasn't wrong about this cold exterior being a façade.

He'd always been good at reading people, even those he didn't know. He had a talent for spotting liars a mile away, knowing when something was actually wrong when someone insisted it wasn't, and a sense for danger. Not that that one had come into play too often, but growing up in Taganrog made that an occupational hazard. And there was no way Karina Bartowski was being this aloof just as a personality trait.

Because he'd seen her around the Academy often enough to know that when she was with her friends – who all appeared older than her by some years, for some odd reason – there was nothing cold about her. She had two faces, and that made him cautious.

But it also made him determined to get to see the other side of her, the one she reserved for her tiny friend circle.

So, every time he saw her, he told himself it was time to address the barrier she'd built up. But for some reason, whenever she walked in the room, he froze. His tongue tied itself in knots if he tried to say anything other than what pertained to her lesson. This had to be witchcraft of some kind, right?

Normally, Chekov would have ruled magic out as an option. But what glinted behind the wall put up in Karina's eyes hinted that it might be a possibility in this situation. She'd obviously cast a spell that locked his jaw unless she wanted him to speak. If she could do that, what else could she make him do?

Finally, after a month of lessons, the spell lifted. Evidently it wasn't a permanent one.

As she turned to leave after her normal businesslike farewell, he found himself blurting out without thinking, "Did I do something to offend you, besides running into you on several occasions?"

Her profile straightened, and she whirled to face him, frowning. "Several?" she asked. "When was - ?" Stopping in the middle of her sentence, her eyes widened. Suddenly awkward, she made her way back to her seat, never taking her eyes off him until she was directly across from him again, at which point she muttered into her lap, "So…you do remember the first day back, then?"

Remember it? That being the first time, after so many times of him getting a good look at her but not getting even a glance in return, that she actually noticed him, too… How could he forget that?

"That and the other times, too," he said.

She narrowed her eyes. "Other times?"

"You've run into me at least five times in the past year."

"Literally," she muttered under her breath. "So it was the same person…the entire time?" She laughed under her breath, the first time she'd smiled in weeks. "And that person was you, wasn't it?"

He shrugged. "So it would seem."

Karina looked back up at him, finally, and he wondered if she remembered the little staring contest they'd had that first day back. He certainly did.

Her face had slipped back into resting mode, not smiling as it was before, but the corner of her mouth tipped up a little. A half-smile. Chekov could practically see the thoughts running through her head. Brick by brick, her walls were starting to crumble.

An impulsive move on his part, yes. But perhaps impulse paid off sometimes.

She leaned back in her chair and looked up at the ceiling. She let out a groan inexplicably, and for a second he wondered what was wrong when he realized it was merely an expression of frustration. Americans were strange people.

Coming back up, as if for air, she leaned her elbows on the table and rested her head in between her arms. This move, so utterly, completely casual and speaking nothing of the businesslike manner she had always assumed, proved to him that her barrier was completely gone even if her next words hadn't.

"I'm sorry about the way I've been acting," she said. "I guess I just have so many things running through my mind right now. I want to know why my parents had to die the way they did. I'm freaking out about the possibility of not being assigned to the Enterprise. And all that's causing me to fail at what I set out to do when we first started these lessons: make learning English more enjoyable for you than learning German was for me. So, once again, I'm really, very sorry about that, Pavel."

So many stories begging to be told just from those few sentences. Karina had obviously uncovered the truth about her parents, but how? Why was getting on the Enterprise specifically such a big deal to her? Sure, it was the newest ship in the fleet, therefore being chosen for it was a great honor, but there was something else behind it. And what was with the comment about learning German? Either way, there was far more to Karina than the façade she'd adopted. Chekov knew he was far too eager for his own good to discover what lay beyond what he'd seen so far, but she had lowered her defenses, and he'd made one good, impulsive decision today. What was another going to harm?

"Apology accepted," he said. Suddenly she reached across the table and touched his arm between the wrist and the elbow, and the tongue-tying spell was cast once more. The further comment he'd planned seemed to lodge in his vocal cords.

"My guess is you were getting pretty tired of my charade, weren't you?" she asked, her voice quieter than normal.

He nodded, and she sighed. "I don't know why I put up that wall. Normally, when I want to hide something, I pretend that everything's fine. But I guess this time I thought if I did that… Well, I don't know what I thought." Her cheeks were turning red, as though she were embarrassed by something, and he got that feeling deep in his gut when someone was covering up, but he figured pressing further was a bad idea. He'd ask her later, but he wouldn't forget.

"The only people who get to see this side of me, the not perfect, not eternally happy side, are usually my closest friends. Or people I'm apologizing to, because I feel like I've done something that prevented them from earning that title." Karina paused for a moment, then let out a giggle. "Actually, I think you're the first one to fit that description."

Still tongue-tied, pretty sure he was probably even redder than she was and wishing she would remove her hand from his arm and yet at the same time hoping desperately that she wouldn't, all Chekov could bring himself to do was nod again.

"So, do you think we could give this 'friends' thing a shot?" Karina asked. "I figure that's the better route versus the one I originally had in mind."

Finally feeling his face lose the wide-eyed look of complete terror that only women could instill – or so his elderly neighbor back in Russia had told him when he was twelve – and instead breaking into a smile, he replied, "Da."

Returning the grin, Karina retracted her arm and leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms across her chest. "You're a man of few words, I see. Well, forgive me if I talk circles around you from now on."

He frowned. "Talk circles around me?"

Karina closed her eyes and scrunched up her face as though making a mental note. "Right. Figurative language. I keep forgetting that we won't get to that for at least another six months, the way I have the lesson plans figured out."

She went on chattering, but all Chekov could register was that she was planning on being around in six months. Looking at her, completely absorbed in whatever she was saying, no thought to keeping things "professional," it was as though the Karina who'd been teaching him for the past month had disappeared and this new, perhaps a bit hyper but ultimately much more amiable Karina had replaced her.

The stiffness of their interactions had passed, and with it, a huge weight was gone from his shoulders. And, by the looks of her, Karina's, too.

Camille gave her a look when she walked back in the room. "Someone's happy. Haven't seen you smile like that since before you talked to Reverend Mother."

Karina's lightheartedness dropped just a tad bit. The prospect of dropping her charade and just allowing herself to befriend Pavel was a welcome one, but she still didn't want Cam finding out she spent at least six hours a week with someone of the opposite gender – alone. Although, Camille had been remarkably quiet about the subject of boys for some time now.

If Karina had been a naturally suspicious person, she might have been on her guard about that. But suspicion was not her thing. However, she did have a good reason to give for her jovial mood besides the newfound freedom.

"Well, I decided that for now I'd take Jim's advice and just be content knowing my father died a hero," she said. "I do want to know more about my parents one day, but I have the rest of my life to research their pasts."

Camille smiled. "I think that's a good choice, kid. Especially if it's changed your mood this much. You were starting to worry me. It was getting to be so bad I half expected to come back to the room one day and find you wearing all black, goth makeup, and listening to screamo music. Not that there's anything wrong with it if it was anyone else. You, however? That would have concerned me." She paused, her lip curling just slightly. "You know, of all the music styles we could have held onto from the twenty-first century, did it have to be that screamo stuff?"

Karina shrugged, flopping down on her bed. "I guess one woman's junk is another woman's art, right?"

"Fairly certain you got that saying wrong, Kar."

"I know. It was intentional. Laugh, Cam. It's good for the soul."

Camille got up, muttering, "One hour of ecstasy and suddenly she's lecturing me on the merits of laughing?" The memo board had buzzed, and Camille figured Karina needed at least a few minutes of chilling on her bed before getting up and responding to it.

"Why is it always you they message?" Camille asked upon opening the text. "Why can't I cause enough trouble?"

Rising up off the mattress, her eyes already looking sleepy, Karina shuffled toward the board, groaning, "What did I do this time? This had better be good."

The text was brief.

Bartowski. Tomorrow. My office. Ten.

It was from Captain Pike.

Camille stared at her for a few moments. "Oh, honey. What did you do?"

Karina stared at it for a few minutes, wondering if this had anything to do with the lessons. She knew Pike had been checking in on occasion, seeing how much of a conversation Pavel could hold in English. At this point, she was sure the captain had sat there in relative discomfort until he finally discarded his pride and called an interpreter in. But as far as she could tell, he was still progressing remarkably well for someone learning a second language.

Turning back to Camille, she replied in a monotone voice, "I do not know."

"What, exactly, went down between yourself and Commander Spock a month ago?" Pike asked, rubbing his forehead as though in pain.

Karina barely remembered the encounter, but she replied anyway, "It's a bit of a distant memory, sir, but I believe Commander Spock discouraged me from proceeding in teaching Mr. Chekov English. I merely stood my ground, Captain. I fail to see what I did wrong."

Apparently, so did Pike, or else whatever she'd done was flung to the back of his mind with relative speed. "He discouraged you from it? Why would he do a thing like that?"

"I assure you, Captain, I haven't the faintest idea. As an emotional thinker, understanding a logical mind like the Commander's is beyond me."

Pike acknowledged her statement. "I believe you can be logical when you choose to be, Bartowski. But I don't blame you for not understanding Vulcans sometimes."

He stood. "You're dismissed, Cadet. I'm sorry I called you in prematurely, but I suppose I should have questioned Spock further when he reported to me – "

"He filed a report?" she asked, then bit her tongue. The only trait this man was ever going to associate with her was the tendency to interrupt if she wasn't careful.

"Spock believed you showed lack of respect for a senior officer. I was fairly certain if you had, it wasn't intentional, so I shoved this meeting to the back of my priority list. He failed to mention the circumstances, though. Thank you for bringing that up, Bartowski. I'll get back to you if you need to know any further information."

She nodded. "Thank you, Captain."

Looking down at her feet as she walked along the corridor, she was startled when a pair of hands gripped her shoulders, holding her at arms' length and stopping her from going any further.

"You really should break this habit," Pavel said, looking down at her and grinning. Karina couldn't resist returning the smile. They'd only become friends yesterday, and already she felt completely at ease with him. She hadn't experienced this kind of kinship with anyone other than Camille and Jim. It had taken her a while to warm up to Bones. Not as long as Camille, surprisingly enough, but even then, she didn't have the same connection with him as with the other two.

"I don't try to run into you, you know," she said, the grin not quite leaving her face. "It just happens, I guess."

"Well, it's unhealthy for my toes the majority of the time," he said. She laughed, then glanced at the time.

"Shoot, I've got class in ten minutes. See you later?" she said, starting to walk away.

"See you then," he said to her retreating back.

Karina found herself still smiling as she headed to class. It was amazing how much more relaxed she felt now that she'd just dropped the cool demeanor.

What she didn't see as she walked past was Camille, her face hidden by a magazine, sitting a mere ten feet from the interaction. As her friend went one way and Chekov the other, Camille set her magazine down and practically skipped off toward the clinic. This had become her official meeting place with Jim and Bones every Wednesday around this time, and did she have news for them!

That had so been worth the extra effort it took to hide her face and look casual with one hand. The sooner she got this stinking cast off, the better off everyone would be.