A/N: Firstly, I'd just like to thank Amatista, CLTex, KnoKnayme, Poodle warriors, Sorceress of the Trees, TheGirlWhoWaited, Yuna-Sakura, and all you guests for being friendly or providing feedback last chapter. I love hearing your thoughts on this story as always.

I'd also like to point out that this is the first chapter to contain some of Khan's POV. I felt that things just wouldn't make sense without letting you guys into his head, besides being in Madelyn's. With these nifty line breaks this site provides, hopefully you shouldn't get confused.

This is my longest chapter yet, so enjoy!

Chapter 5 – A Natural Contrivance

It was December before Madelyn heard from John again. Meanwhile, Owen was doing his damndest to try and get back into her good graces. When she finally acquiesced to his request to meet for coffee, she asked him what John was up to, not mentioning that he had yet to contact her like he'd promised. Owen only responded with "Commander Harrison is busy, and doesn't have the time to spend with you, as I know he claimed he did. You can't make me jealous, Maddy."

Though his tone wasn't intentionally bitter, his words rang with something that hurt and made her feel slightly guilty, but she wasn't about to admit that. She made a point of avoiding all physical contact with him, including withholding her usual hug. She hoped he was getting the message but she wanted to preserve their friendship, and cutting ties with him as John had suggested was going to be her last resort.

Madelyn finally did receive a few text messages from John, cementing in her mind the opposite of Owen's claim that "Commander Harrison" was too busy to acknowledge her existence. He certainly wasn't too busy to put seeds of doubt into Owen's mind regarding Madelyn's supposed "secret feelings." John believed Owen harbored dangerous psychopathic tendencies, and though Madelyn wasn't quite ready to go that far, she also didn't believe Owen was entirely stable.

She and John agreed to keep this suspicion between the two of them for now. Madelyn was satisfied enough knowing Owen was forced to work with John, and that John was keen enough to let her know his thoughts on him.

The same day she received his texts, Madelyn walked into her office at the university to find John sitting in her chair, his back ramrod straight, his fingers drumming on her desk. It was as though he owned her office, and she was the one who didn't belong. She stopped in the doorway and stared him down with a faint smile on her face. "Comfy?"

John didn't budge from the chair, watching her as she approached her desk. "Surprisingly," he answered. He reached over and picked up one of the photographs on her desk, then turned it so she could see. "Is this you?" he asked.

Madelyn smiled when she saw the photo. It was the one she'd found in her grandfather's home, a photo of the two of them on his boat when she was little. She had recently gotten it preserved between protective sheets of glass. It was small enough to fit into her pocket, but it meant everything.

"Yeah, I think I was eleven when that was taken."

John returned the photo to its original position, still looking at it. "A rather large fish for man that size to be carrying, don't you think?" He raised an eyebrow at Madelyn.

She shrugged and came around the desk to put her things away. "He was a strong man. He didn't take shit from anyone."

John relinquished her chair as she knelt down to slide her PADDs inside the desk. When she straightened and turned, she found they were facing each other closely, reminiscent of a similar situation that occurred the month before. Even in her heels, Madelyn eyes only came to his chin. She was also conscious of the top button in her shirt she'd chosen not to fasten that morning, and couldn't decide whether that had been a good decision or not.

"Has Commander Gallagher made any attempts to dissuade your lack of feelings for him?" John asked.

She swallowed at his voice, at the way it passed from under the unfortunately curved cupid's bow of his lips.

"He's, um…" She tore her gaze from his mouth and forced herself to look him in the eye. "He's been fine," she said tilting her chin up slightly so she didn't feel so small under his intrusive gaze. "He hasn't tried to talk to me much. I'm guessing you've had something to do with that."

"Perhaps," he replied. "When we were off-world, he spent a large amount of his breath insisting you were, and I quote, "the woman for him." He carried a photograph of you on his person."

Madelyn visibly winced.

"Attempting to convince him that you are, in fact, not the woman for him may require more… overt action," said John. "However, I'm not willing to risk my position with Admiral Marcus by taking said action."

Madelyn worried on her lower lip for a moment as she considered what he'd said. Overt action. Jesus Christ, what was he insinuating? She wouldn't allow her mind to go there. She couldn't even believe she was still considering a romantic ruse as an option.

"What you've done for me up until now has probably been more than I needed," she said. "I would never want you to put your career at risk. I was just spooked by what he did last month and I overreacted."

"You did what any self-respecting woman in your position would do," said John. "You asked for help, and I was the only person you could come to."

"No, you weren't the only one. But you were there and you knew what he was like." She paused, considering whether this would take things too far. "And I trusted you."

The look in his eye changed and he tilted his chin down as though that would help him meet her gaze more fully. "You trust too easily," he murmured.

Madelyn swallowed at the depth in his tone, at the proximity of his breathing, and at the way he had suddenly taken her arm in his hand, his thumb tracing slow circles on the soft skin inside her wrist. She turned her head slightly, without breaking his gaze. "You haven't given me a reason not to."

There it was again, the look that said he was hiding something, disguised behind a penetrating gaze as his eyes narrowed a fraction. John's thumb stilled and his fingers tightened around her wrist. "You barely know me," he said under his breath.

Their faces were hovering mere inches apart. Madelyn glanced down when his grip continued to tighten, until it cut off the circulation in her hand and her fingertips tingled. When she looked back at him, he let her go, his expression completely unreadable, his lips slightly parted.

"What was that for?" she asked quietly, pulling her hands behind her back, stretching her fingers out to stimulate blood flow. John didn't answer right away. His eyes were far more interested in her than she decided she was comfortable with, especially after that subtle show of physical strength. She opened her mouth to question him, but he beat her to the punch.

"Do you have plans tonight?"

The question caught her off guard and she scrambled to recall if she did. She barely shook her head no before he continued.

"Good. You will meet me in Trafalgar Square at eight o'clock."

He backed away from her with until he was out from behind her desk, and then he strode out of her office without another word.

"That's it?" she called.

He paused in the doorway, turning his head enough for her to see his profile. "Don't be late."

When he was gone, Madelyn realized her mouth was hanging open and promptly shut it. She pulled her chair over and sank down into it, letting out a breath, telling herself to relax. The chair was still warm and smelled faintly of his coat. She slowly let a smile play at her lips, however, she couldn't help but feel a slight inkling of tension, not necessarily because of the way John had taken her arm, but by the look he had given her afterwards, as though something had kindled his interest in her to a point that was dangerously close to crossing a line.

Two centuries ago, Trafalgar Square had been the very center of London's tourist trade, bordered by the National Gallery, a historic church, and the South African Embassy. Though it was now surrounded and overshadowed by skyscrapers of monumental proportions, Khan found Trafalgar Square to be exactly the same as he remembered it two centuries earlier. It was one of the few places in this city that had changed little since he had last visited in the mid-nineties, when he'd ruled a quarter of the planet. Somehow, though, his involuntary shift in perspective was refreshing, only because anonymity was his closest ally now. Teeming with life, even at this hour in the evening, Trafalgar Square was the perfect place to rendezvous with the woman whose existence he was quickly coming to terms with.

His attempt to test the strength of Madelyn McGivers' bones had been more than enough proof in itself. Any normal human's wrist would have cracked underneath the pressure his clenched hand had exerted, but he had only succeeded in temporarily cutting off her circulation. It was the final proof he needed to confirm his suspicions, which had arisen ever since he learned of the existence of William McGivers through Admiral Marcus.

It was the last name that had first drawn his interest. He'd heard it before, but he couldn't place the circumstances. The chaos that had surrounded his defeat during the Eugenics Wars had clouded his memories and his extended cryosleep had blurred the unimportant details of his past life together. The only thing he could be certain of was that an Augment he'd believed to be dead had managed to live on, blended into human society, and passed his DNA on into the future.

And now, in that future, was Madelyn McGivers.

There was no possible way she was as pure an Augment as he was. Her enhanced genes would have been diluted, mixed with ordinary genetic material as they were passed down through her family. But there was also a chance she wasn't the only one, that she had a cousin or an uncle she didn't know about, but the likelihood of that was miniscule given the extremely low success rate of Augment pregnancies. Coupled with Madelyn's story of her mother's death, the picture grew even dimmer, leading Khan to the conclusion that Madelyn was the last remaining descendant of one of his closest friends.

He was fascinated by the idea of her, by her obliviousness to what she was. He only regretted that he couldn't tell her, though judging by her opinion of Augments that probably wouldn't promote progress between them anyway.

In fact, Khan couldn't tell her anything, and he had been careful to skirt around the truth when her questions had drifted towards it. The lives of his crew depended on his silence, and he would not let Admiral Marcus take pleasure in killing more of them. Marcus had already taken twelve, in retaliation for Khan's murder of twelve of Marcus' people when he'd first been awoken. An action Khan should have recognized as a mistake sooner than he had. Once again, he blamed the stagnation of cryosleep on his inability to have judged the initial stages of his wretched situation more clearly.

Now, he was "Commander John Harrison," one of Marcus' top operatives in Section 31, a clandestine organization within Starfleet. If anyone caught a whiff of his true identity, well, Marcus had already given him a taste of what he was willing to do. Khan was not about to risk anything. Not yet.

It had been ten months since the day he learned why he'd been awoken, what he would be forced to do for a power-hungry man intent on starting a war that could easily be prevented with the proper steps. It had been nine months since Marcus had promised him his crew would gradually be awoken to join him if he behaved, and so far that promise had not been fulfilled. Khan was getting restless, especially now that his ship was nearing completion. Before long, he would need to begin acting on his plan, otherwise he feared Marcus would dispose of him and his crew once they were no longer needed, the same way he'd disposed of the first twelve.

Khan could not let that happen.

However, for tonight, he was focused on Madelyn.

At some point, he decided, he would need a sample of her blood. How he would acquire it without her knowing, that was the question. He intended to let the night play out. In continuing to meet with her, he was merely allowing himself the opportunity to confirm that she was who he suspected. She seemed to have little problem allowing him to be an influence in her life, so far being completely accepting of his façade as John Harrison without needing to know much more about him. In fact, Khan sensed that she was far more attracted to him than she'd been willing to admit out loud, which he found not unusual, but also slightly interesting. He wondered if he could use that attraction to his own advantage, and yet felt a nagging sensation at the same time that made him hesitate to act. He was unsure he wanted to cement a connection between them before knowing one hundred percent what his intentions were in doing so. He had yet to decide for himself exactly why he felt so compelled to continually pursue her in this passive way.

Above all of these things, he knew for sure that Madelyn trusted him because she had readily admitted it. Her trust had been easier to acquire than he'd anticipated, helped along by the presence of her unfortunate friend Mr. Gallagher, as well as her grandfather's passing.

On one hand, Khan felt an inkling of kinship with her, not only because she was not as human as she believed but because she no longer had family, and at this moment in time neither did he. They were at the mercy of Admiral Marcus, and Khan knew that if he so much as lifted a finger wrong, Marcus could easily unplug any of those precious cryotubes and slowly steal the life from another of his crew.

It was fascinating to Khan to see Madelyn living in society without anyone suspecting that she was anything other than an ordinary human, and Khan had recently been experiencing that for himself as well. It was strange, to go unrecognized among the masses, to bump shoulders with passersby who didn't have a clue, who, in another life, would have been arrested for even looking at him wrong. Of course, it had helped that Marcus had ordered he undergo major reconstructive cosmetic surgery soon after being pulled from cryosleep.

To his chagrin, he no longer looked anything like his former self, if the photograph Madelyn had shown during her lecture was any indication. His skin had been severely lightened, his eyes colored an unearthly blue, his mouth readjusted and his lips reshaped, among many other slight adjustments that had rendered him unrecognizable even to the most astute historian who happened to pass him on the street. He passed for the average Caucasian Englishman, excepting the fact that even after such intensive surgery, he would never appear as and was certainly not average.

Only his hair had been left alone, except for being completely chopped off in the back. He had always kept his hair longer, in respect for the Sikh culture of his birth, and for the people he had once ruled. Having it cut had been the final straw, the glue that sealed his new identity into place and cemented his position of submission underneath the man now holding his crew hostage.

From his central location in the square, Khan spotted Madelyn the moment she stepped from a crowd of people across the street. She walked quickly, her eyes flitting from face to face in her search for him, her hands buried in her coat pockets. A gray scarf was tucked around her neck and a navy skirt brushed her legs, which were wrapped in leggings, knee socks, and sleek leather boots. No doubt it was a frigid December evening, but Khan was not affected by the cold, wearing merely his usual coat over a shirt and trousers. Obviously Madelyn had retained the very human weakness for cold and heat, and Khan wondered briefly how much of an Augment he could even consider her.

As she made her way across the square, Khan realized that he did sense a potential connection that could exist between them, but not out of mere carnal need or some base physical attraction. He was better, in every sense of the word, and could control his urges should they try to betray him. No, Madelyn drew him in because of her very existence, because of what flowed in her veins and made up her cells, because of what was written in her genetic code, and that in and of itself made her more like him than any other human on this planet. If there was anything that controlled fate or placed people where they were supposed to be—and when—then Khan might have been a wary believer, but he still needed concrete proof before he would pursue her further. He wasn't about to waste his time on a feeling that pulled him along by an invisible thread. Besides, there were potentially larger things happening that so far no one in Section 31 had even the faintest notion of.

What Khan had discovered as a result of William McGivers' premature demise at the hands of someone unrelated to Section 31 had given him a sense of satisfaction that his original reasoning for pursuing his research into the McGivers name had merit, but it had also resulted in the production of further questions. He had easily tracked down the murderer, a lazy bastard who must have been hired solely for the job of killing an unsuspecting old man, and disposed of him in a way that would never lead the authorities to him, but not before extracting every bit of information he could. He knew when the man lied, and the resulting information had come as more of a shock than anything. There was never a name, only the ever-present threat of someone with copious resources at their disposal working outside any jurisdiction of Starfleet or the Federation, but with fingers poking into both.

It had become difficult to keep a low profile, attempting to uncover the answers to these mysterious questions while under Admiral Marcus' watch. All that Khan knew for certain was it had not been Marcus who had ordered the hit. The Admiral was too preoccupied with planning his war, and using Khan to do it, and he would never have someone killed who kept his coffers full.

Catching Madelyn's eye, he strode forward through the crowd and took her arm, gently pulling her beside him until they were outside the streams of foot traffic crisscrossing the square.

"Well, hello to you too," she said, reclaiming her arm from his leisurely grip. "So why are we out here? It's freezing." She was faintly bouncing on her toes as though that would help her stay warm.

"I wanted to inform you personally that I enjoyed your lecture last week," Khan replied. "It seems we share an appreciation for historical figures of controversial means."

It was strange to be referring to himself in this manner, though her thoughts on other historical figures had obvious merit as well. He was more interested in flattering her than actually discussing his past life in the third person. If his present situation had been kinder, she would already know who he was and why he was beginning to feel pursuant of her. Ironically, it was his present situation that had placed him in her path to begin with.

"You're trying to flatter me so I won't complain about being stuck out here in the cold. Nice try," she replied, nudging him playfully with her elbow. "Look, I know a nice place right over there where we won't be freezing our collective asses off." She pointed across the square, then glanced back up at him. "I'm not about to turn into a human popsicle on our first date."

There it was, that refusal to bend to the will of someone else. Not as poignant as a true Augment, but nonetheless, she refused to let him call the shots. Khan decided it was refreshing for a change, to be in the company of a woman who didn't allow herself to be minimized into an attractive object there for his own amusement. Though he was hesitant to call this a date.

He didn't go on dates. He seduced, he conquered, he possessed.

Date?

He reminded himself quickly that John Harrison did not conquer or possess anything more than what Admiral Marcus allowed him to, and that under the circumstances it would be reasonable for a man in Harrison's position to acquiesce to Madelyn's request to get out of the cold.

Khan followed her closely across the square towards the establishment she had in mind, her use of the phrase "human popsicle" lingering in the back of his mind. He knew she meant nothing by it, of course. How could she? It was a harmless colloquialism. Nonetheless, it clung to him.

Admiral Marcus had adopted the term to describe his crew, frozen and helpless in their stasis pods. Khan could simply not let go of the phrase, but he knew if he was to continue playing his role as Harrison—and he had no choice—he would have to let those small things slide. He was quickly coming to realize that the line he'd drawn between Harrison and his true identity was not as thin as he would have liked it to be.

Preserving Madelyn's trust in the future would prove difficult if she discovered who he actually was. He would need to wait for the right moment to reveal himself, after his crew was safe and Admiral Marcus was no longer a threat.

The establishment that Madelyn had in mind was nothing more than a tiny wine bar, but it was quiet and toasty warm and one of her favorite spots in the city. She couldn't help but bite her lip as John's hand suddenly slid between her shoulder blades, guiding her towards a booth in the corner. She liked the way he subtly took control of their situation even after she'd disregarded his idea of walking in Trafalgar Square. He was crazy to want to remain outside in the cold, but she didn't tell him. She noticed how something she'd said had already made him tense up slightly, though it was hard to figure out what it was, given that he masked the expression almost immediately.

Madelyn sat down across from John, whose back was to the corner and had a wide view of the rest of the quiet establishment. They ordered a bottle of vintage Bordeaux at a price that made Madelyn raise her eyebrows. She normally ordered something much more… affordable, but apparently John decided he'd rather pull out all the stops on this—was it a date? Madelyn wasn't even sure, but she supposed it could be. The only reason she was unsure was because he'd asked her to meet him in one of London's most crowded public squares, and when it was freezing cold to boot.

Her doubts were assuaged as she became the focus of John's attention. She watched him over the top of her glass, sipping carefully, relishing the warm vintage as it slid down her throat, watching as he intensely tried his own glass. Her lips twitched in her attempt to restrain a wider smile. Everything he did was intense, almost calculating.

"This is an excellent vintage," John said after a moment. "What's the year?"

Madelyn reached over and turned the bottle in her fingers to read the label. "1996." Doing some quick math in her head, she was shocked; the server hadn't been kidding when he'd said the wine was vintage. She watched as a faint surprised expression flitted across John's face, then settled to mulling over their brief conversation in the square.

He'd been impressed with her, but she hardly knew why she should be flattered by him, and had told him so. Her response hadn't seemed to offend him, but he was hard to read. Even now, Madelyn realized his expression told her nothing more than what he allowed her to see, and at the moment he looked as enigmatic as ever.

She tore her eyes away from him to focus on the wine rocking gently in her glass, realizing she was far more attracted to him than she'd realized.

This was bad, she thought. Very bad.

"I'm assuming you didn't want to meet me tonight just to tell me you enjoyed my lecture," she said. She needed to distract herself from his beguiling gaze, but instead found herself watching his lips as he spoke.

"Of course not. But I did, particularly the way you handled yourself, reining in the discussion when things could have gotten out of hand, and following up with proof of your authority. Keeping in mind the controversial nature of the figure you put forward, I was surprised you pressed for civil discussion at all. You could easily have demanded your class submit a proper amount of work and moved on to a more… prolific character."

Madelyn took another sip of her wine before she responded. "You seem overly interested in what I do," she said, then she lowered her voice, letting the corner of her mouth lift in a faint smile, "for a weapon's specialist."

If she sounded like she was teasing him, she didn't care. It felt odd for him to be prodding her about her teaching, especially because the particular figure he was referring to was so obscure. In Madelyn's mind, studying Khan Noonien Singh was like studying the rise and fall of a more obscure and—there was that word again—enigmatic version of Saddam Hussein, except Khan's reign had been even shorter and shrouded in speculation.

"Did I offend you?" asked John, raising an eyebrow.

She was relieved at how careful he was being. "No, it's just that I don't get a lot of questions about my work. If you don't mind me saying, the guys I've dated in the past were more interested in getting into my bed than my head."

Realizing what she'd just said, she paused to gauge his reaction. It was so hard to tell what he was thinking, and for a second, she felt almost as though she was in a job interview, being judged from behind a mask. She leaned forward slightly, resting her elbows casually on the table, turning her glass thoughtfully in her fingers. "But you're different… in a good way, I mean."

God, she felt like an idiot. Why had she just said that? Madelyn still couldn't tell what he was thinking and it was making her nervous; John's gaze was so intensely focused on her that she had to bite her lip to keep from shifting in her seat and making things more awkward. And he was doing it again. Getting her to talk about herself without saying hardly a word. Despite the natural confidence he carried, he was guarded, and she wanted to get underneath that façade.

"You told me earlier today that I barely knew you. So why don't you tell me about yourself?"

She tried to make it sound like a challenge, but it came across as more of a suggestion to her ears.

"You already know everything you need to know about me," he replied. "For now."

Madelyn took a sip of her wine, still not taking her eyes off him. Whatever he was playing at, she liked it.

He leaned forward onto the table, resting his hands inches from hers. "These other men you've dated, who were they to you?"

She laughed softly. "One was a complete jerk who didn't last a week, and the other…" she paused, remembering Mark, his funny high pitched laugh, his drive to do good wherever he went. "The other I married." She waited to see how John would react, but his features revealed nothing, so she continued. "He passed away last year," she said quietly. "Lymphoma."

It took her a second to realize that the cause of the warmth spreading over her hand was him. She glanced down as his fingers pressed gently into her skin, and then back up when he leaned closer.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked."

Madelyn's lips parted and she smiled faintly. "No, it's ok."

She was so far gone in his gaze and she knew it too. How was it possible for a man to have such gorgeous eyes? Her gaze lingered down his face, landing on his lips again. All she had to do was leaned over a bit further…

John's face tightened and he straightened, his eyes lighting on something behind her. His hand still trapped hers to the tabletop.

"Does Mr. Gallagher know you frequent this establishment?" he asked.

Madelyn frowned, then attempted to turn and follow his gaze, stopping when his fingers tightened around her hand.

"Wait. He hasn't seen us yet."

She felt rising frustration that they were being interrupted by Owen's sudden arrival. "If he knows I like this place, he's never said anything."

John was still looking past her. "I'm not surprised."

She noticed when his fingers curled around her hand and pressed into her palm, his thumb drawing small circles on the top of her wrist. His gaze returned to hers. Madelyn swallowed.

"He's coming over here," he said softly. "Do you want to act on our ruse?"

Madelyn dropped her gaze to their hands. It obviously wasn't a ruse anymore. Whether it had ever been one, she didn't care. She met John's hard gaze again with a knowing smile, just as Owen stopped beside their table.

"Fancy seeing you here, with him." Owen was holding his drink in one hand and had shoved the other in his pocket. His gaze landed on their hands, still intertwined on the tabletop. "So you're seeing each other now."

"Owen, this really isn't a good time," said Madelyn. Nonetheless, she slid her hand out from underneath John's and put it in her lap. It instantly went cold again.

"Right, I'll just leave you two to your date then." Owen almost turned to leave, and then he paused, looking directly at John. "Watch yourself, Commander. If you so much as touch her the wrong way—"

"I believe Madelyn is fully capable of deciding who to spend her time with, Commander," John replied, shutting Owen up immediately. The latter nodded slowly, eyeing both of them carefully, as though coming to the conclusion that he couldn't say anything to make Madelyn change her mind. Then he turned away without another word and downed the contents of his glass before exiting the restaurant.

Madelyn let out a breath and looked back at John. His jaw was clenched and his fingers had clenched into a fist on the table, as though he was attempting to smother his anger.

"Wow, that was unbelievable. I'm so sorry—"

"You have no reason to apologize for him," he said, matching her gaze.

She pursed her lips and ran her fingers through her hair. Owen had completely ruined their date, and now Madelyn felt an unspoken space separating her from John again. Only his confident gaze slowly drew her back in.

She couldn't shake the feeling that her friendship with Owen was doomed. If he reacted that way to seeing her with John, how could she ever convince him that she still wanted him around? How could she ever convince him that she didn't need to be in love with him to spend time with him?

She was torn from her thoughts when her communicator chimed. Wincing at herself for forgetting to turn it off, she retrieved it from her bag and saw Kelly's id glowing onscreen. She couldn't ignore her friend. Madelyn hadn't even told her what she was doing, because she hadn't wanted Kelly to do what she always did when a new guy entered her life: freak out, pull five outfits out for her to wear, and ramble on about the relationship's potential future.

She looked back at John sheepishly. "I should take this. I'll only be a moment."

He raised an eyebrow but nodded and she quickly pulled on her coat, grabbed her bag, and stood up from the table. She felt like she was ditching him and each step towards the door made her feel more and more guilty. This night couldn't get any worse.

She answered the call as she pushed through the glass door, and then tucked her other hand into her coat, wandering a little ways away from the resturaunt so she wasn't in the way of anyone who wanted to go inside.

"It rang so many times I wasn't sure you'd answer," said Kelly. "What are you up to?"

"Just out with a friend," Madelyn replied. "What's up?"

"Wait a minute, you never go out on Mondays. Are you on a date?"

Madelyn pursed her lips. "Maybe."

"Oh my god, who is it? Is it that Starfleet officer, John Harrison?"

Madelyn didn't respond to that, her tongue prodding the inside of her cheek.

"Oh my god it is! Well, you'll have to give me the full scoop as soon as you get home. Oh wait, that's assuming you are coming home tonight—"

"Kelly! First date. Not happening."

The woman on the other end snorted.

"Look, I left him in the restaurant to answer this. What's up?"

"You're not very good at dates, Maddy. You should've told me. I would've made sure you left your phone at home."

"Are you going to tell me everything I'm doing wrong now? You called me."

Madelyn could almost hear her roommate's eyes rolling. "Fine. I was calling you because someone came by the flat earlier asking about you. Said they had something important they needed you for. I said you were out and gave them your number—"

Madelyn stepped out of the way of a large obvious group of tourists as they wandered past. "You know you have a really bad habit of giving strangers my phone number. What did they want?"

"Oh, he didn't say exactly. It was all rather vague."

"Starfleet?"

"No, nothing like that. No uniform. He was an older chap, white hair, bit tall, didn't say who he was or anything. He gave me a number to contact him with, if you want it."

For some reason, Madelyn didn't like the sound of it. She recalled all of John's warnings to her about the people who had killed her grandfather, how they could potentially seek her out as well, for a reason he had yet to reveal to her, if he even knew.

"Look, Kelly, I appreciate your trying to help but—Ow!"

A white-haired man brushed past her in his rush across the square and Madelyn felt a sharp stinging sensation in her neck. She reached up to feel for the source but found nothing. When she lowered her hand, there was a tiny pinprick of blood on her fingers.

"You alright?"

"Uh, yeah, fine. Anyway, Kelly, next time don't just give anyone my phone number who shows up at the flat. I know you're trying to be helpful but…" She paused feeling slightly dizzy for a moment. "It's really not a good idea."

"Right, sure, well I'll let you get back to your date then. Don't stay out too late, but if you do," she giggled then, "be sure to have a good time."

Now Madelyn was the one rolling her eyes, then immediately blinked as her head began to throb. Another dizzy spell made her reach for a streetlight post to steady herself. She shut her communicator and dropped it into her bag. The throbbing in her head was escalating.

She carefully made her way back inside the restaurant, black spots appearing in her vision. She hadn't even had that much to drink tonight. The room spun in front of her as faint ringing met her ears. She thought she saw John stand up in the back and quickly make his way towards her, but she could barely make out his face because her vision was so distorted. Her stomach turned and a wave of nausea hit her as her headache grew steadily worse.

John's hand on her back guided her outside and she clutched at his arm to steady herself as the world rocked and dilate around her. She shut her eyes and reached up to pinch the bridge of her nose, but it didn't do any good. The ringing in her ears grew worse, blocking everything out until it became a roar. She stumbled again, expecting the ground to come rushing up to meet her until John's hand became an arm around her waist. She thought she heard his voice in the distance, but she was too lost in a dark fog to make any sense of his words.

Her last coherent thought went back to the pinprick of pain she'd felt on her neck, right after she'd bumped shoulders with a white-haired stranger.

Thank you so much for reading, I'll try to post chapter 6 in a week, but due to the holiday it may be longer. So if you're in the states, be sure to have a lovely Thanksgiving, and if not, have an equally amazing week nonetheless! Also don't forget to leave review if you want xD