Disclaimer: Was two numbers off from winning the lottery last night, so I could have owned Star Trek. Instead, we won 150 dollars...so...that's worth a box set or two, I suppose?

A/N: WARNING! VERY SHORT CHAPTER AHEAD.

"I almost didn't recognize you without those specs you used to sport," Roger commented with a smirk.

"At least I'm not screwing my co-worker," she retorted as she pushed past him, heading for the door.

"I wouldn't be too sure, Christine. I hear you're second-in-command...I wonder how you got that position?"

"Go to hell."

"Wait a minute, Chris," he said, grabbing her arm. His violent grip was cutting off the circulation in her arm, causing Christine to bite her lip to keep from shouting out.

"Don't--" she yanked her arm away from him. "Don't touch me Roger," and continued toward the door, walking faster this time.

"Don't walk away from me, Christine," his voice was now demanding. It was when she was aggressively spun around to face him that she began to feel a little frightened. A horrible feeling began to erupt at the pit of her stomach, as if knowing that this conversation was not going to end well.

With Roger's grip numbing her arm, he took a step towards Christine. "I miss you, babe. It's a real shame you left."

"Roger, I'm warning you, get the hell away from me," Christine said, looking down at her shoes and clutching her uninjured fist, trying to not let her anger overtake her. "Now."

"Oh, come on--" pleaded Roger, who was now using both of his hands to grip her arm.

To Christine, everything around her seemed to slow down as she brutally reclaimed her arm and immediately balled up her hand in retaliation, and before she even realized what she was doing, her fist met with the crevasse between his nose and right cheek, followed by a loud cracking noise.

When she had finally came back to reality, Christine saw Roger clutching at the right side of his face, blood pouring between his fingers to the ground. He finally fell to the ground, yelling obscenities. She was breathing deeply now and looked down at him. "I warned you, Roger. Stay the hell away from me. I never want to see you again."

And with that, she stepped over the injured man and walked out the room, quickly striding down the long communications hallway towards the hangar that housed the Enterprise. She squeezed the hand she had hit Roger with, trying to block out the painful throbbing it was now undergoing. It was beginning to bruise, but she hoped that it would fade within the next hour when she was due to report back for duty.

The last thing Christine needed at the moment was a reminder of what she was determined to keep buried in the past.

Spock strode through the corridor of the ship's primary hull with his usual stiff gait. He had just returned from main engineering to discuss the condition of the nacelles' ability to maintain warp drive.

After supervising the refilling the warp core of the main energy reactor with a healthy amount of dilithium crystals to sustain at least six months worth of warp speed, Montgomery Scott had excused himself to take his shore leave. Spock, who had already alerted the flag officer of the ship's arrival, saw no need in having to take his temporary sabbatical, due to the fact that he felt he had no need that could not be attended to on the ship.

As he passed the glass divide between the corridor and sickbay, he noticed that someone was sorting through some medical supplies, with solvents and gauzes piled on top of the examination table, while the small blue-shirted inquirer was squatting on the ground their back to him, digging through a box. He recalled passing Doctor McCoy and Nurse Barrows on the way back to the ship, but he did not think that they were rushing to return.

Suddenly, the person in question stood up and Spock realized it was Lieutenant Chapel; her sling was off, but her hand was still in a turban of bandages. She picked up a bottle and looked at it briefly before unscrewing the cap. She then lifted up her opposite hand and began pouring the liquid onto it, wincing. After a moderate amount of the fluid had coated her left knuckle, she pulled out a cotton ball from a small jar and began to scrub at her unbandaged hand, as if she was cleaning it.

Becoming quite inquisitive, Spock pressed the button that opened the automatic door into the sickbay. Something was clearly wrong with his second-in-command, and he was determined to find out what it was. As captain, the well-being the crew, after all, was his responsibility.

"Are you well, Lieutenant?"

She had obviously not heard his entry, because she spun around, knocking a package of bandages from the examination table to the ground.

"What are you doing here?" She didn't even bother addressing her commanding officer as captain, much too alarmed by his sudden appearance. She was now clutching her left hand away from his view.

"I was making my way to the bridge when I noticed your apparent eagerness in your search for medical supplies. What are you doing here, Lieutenant Chapel? I thought I dismissed you for leave."

She didn't answer him, but instead continued viciously rubbing her knuckle with the clear solution.

"As your commanding officer, I demand you answer me." His voice turned demanding and it seemed to strike a chord in her, making her shoulders twitch slightly.

"There is nothing to talk about." It was when she said this that Spock realized her hands were shaking, though the indifferent expression on her face remained, with her jaw slightly clenched. He finally gained a good look at her left hand, whose knuckles were turning dark purple due to external bruising. His mind suddenly inquired the origin of her most recent injury.

"Why did you not go to the infirmary? There is one on every Federation mandated starbase--" He explained, but was interrupted mid-sentence.

"I know, my father spent my entire childhood living on starbases," she replied irritably, not bothering to even look up at him. She then paused for a moment. "I wanted privacy."

He did not know what to say to this. After a moment of contemplating silence, he finally spoke. "How did you injure your hand?"

"I thought you'd remember when you nearly ripped it off on Rutilus, or whatever the name of that hellhole was." Spock knew that she knew that was not what he was referring to. She obviously wished to evade the topic.

"I am referring to your left hand. It was not injured when you left the ship."

A moment later, Christine threw down the cotton ball that she was dabbing her left hand with in frustration and looked up to the ceiling, putting her bandaged hand to her forehead, pinching the bridge of her nose. Her back was still facing him, but Spock knew all too well that she was very upset about his acquiring on the subject.

He then decided to let her be and turned towards the exit of the sickbay. As his hand reached for the button that opened the door, Spock heard her speak in a low whisper.

"You know...It's strange that no matter how vast this universe is, you could run into the one person you hoped to never see again."

A/N: I would certainly like to reach 100 reviews. Hint, hint.