Chapter Four: Get Off of My Back

The next morning, even though everything in her screamed to run as fast as possible, Charlie walked into Starfleet Headquarters flanked by Jim, McCoy and Spock. After their lunch with Pike, Charlie and Jim retired to their apartment where the other members of the crew waited for them. Charlie's head was still numb from the news that she would be under Starfleet custody for the foreseeable future, and even though Pike swore to take care of her while Jim was away, her fear was heightened by the thought of what they wanted.

She still couldn't understand why after a month of living on the Enterprise, Marcus thought she posed a threat. It wasn't as if she had done anything to warrant such thinking, and the fact remained that she was the one who was kidnapped and subjected to the horrors onboard the Klingon ship, not Marcus. He couldn't possibly understand what she was dealing with, and to tear her away from the one thing that let her feel safe and secure was a big mistake on his part.

The others were just as shocked and confused as Charlie. McCoy was the most vehement opponent of leaving her behind, but even the surly doctor couldn't defy a direct order. They tried to assuage her of her fears, telling her that all she would have to do is undergo a few interviews, and possibly an even deeper medical examination than the one McCoy gave her that first week on the Enterprise. But no matter how confident they were, Charlie could barely stop the shaking of her hands or relax the knot of nerves in her stomach.

After everyone left, Jim turned to Charlie who had barely said a word since they entered the apartment.

"Are you okay?" he questioned gently.

Charlie closed her eyes, the tears she withheld the whole day rose like a spring tide. She tried vainly to swallow them again and croaked, "I'm trying to be."

Jim's anger peaked as he paced furiously around the room. "This isn't right," he growled, his fist slamming into the wall near the fireplace.

Running a hand under her nose, Charlie shrugged. "Yea well, what can you do? He gave you a direct order. You can't defy him. I know that better than most," she bitterly added.

"I don't know what to do, Charlie," he admitted with resignation as collapsed next to her on the couch. "I don't know how to fight this. I can't lose you again."

Charlie reached over and took his hand. "You're not going to lose me, Jim. I can promise you that." She took a breath, hardening her resolve and said, "I'll do what he wants, answer any questions he asks of me. I have nothing to hide, so I should have nothing to fear."

Jim grinned, reaching up to brush away a salty tear coursing down her red cheeks. "I don't know how I screw up like me ended up with such a wonderful woman like you."

"Even a blind squirrel finds a nut every once in a while," Charlie joked, leaning into his hand.

A deep chuckled erupted, Jim for once unprepared for her comeback. "Just promise me one thing?"

"Yea?"

"Give Marcus hell."

As she continued through the obscenely bright corridors in HQ, that last sentiment from Jim echoed through her head. Yes, she would answer Marcus's questions, but she was not going to make it easy for him. She was tired of other people deciding her fate and taking away the control she had for her own life. It was time she fought back in a way innate to her family; she would fight with the cleverness bred from a thousand years of military geniuses.

As soon as they reached Marcus's office, the woman leading the group formally dismissed the men. Turning toward them, Charlie gave an encouraging smile, masking her fear behind her bravado. Spock merely nodded at her expression whereas McCoy clutched her shoulder, giving her a reassuring squeeze of support before following the Vulcan down the corridor muttering furiously. Charlie saw Jim smirk when they heard "blasted bureaucratic nonsense" from the CMO. Rolling his eyes, Jim shared a knowing glance with Charlie before wrapping his arms around her shoulders and pulling her into him. His head dipped as he breathed in her scent, wanting to remember for as long as possible how she felt in his arms. Charlie also clutched at his back, the corded muscles under her finders stretching and flexing as Jim moved.

"Remember, I will always come back for you," he whispered.

Charlie pulled back and swallowed the lump in her throat. "I know you will. And I will be right here when you do."

With an annoyed cough, the officer who escorted the group gained the attention of the couple, glaring a warning to hurry it up. Charlie glanced over her shoulder, about to the give the woman a piece of her mind when Jim grabbed her head and crushed his lips to hers. Charlie was surprised for a moment before she relaxed, the welcomed tingles of warmth giving her heart courage. No matter what happened, she knew she would return to him and that gave to strength to face whatever was waiting for her in that room.

Slowly, the pair released their embrace. "I love you, Jim," Charlie whispered.

"I love you too," he answered. "Now go in there and raise hell. Make me proud."

With a nod of affirmation, Charlie backed away, turning on her heel to follow the ensign into the waiting room. With one last look around the door jam, Charlie gave Jim an encouraging smile before disappearing into the room. Jim let out a heavy sigh, his hands clenching and relaxing as every fiber of his being wished for her to run out that room and back into his arms. But after several minutes, Jim felt a hand on his shoulder, turning him around and guiding back into the daylight.

"Don't worry, Jim," McCoy said, his hand remaining on Jim's shoulder until they were clear of the building. "Charlie's a fighter. That Spitfire will show Marcus a thing or two and then she'll be back with us faster than a horse at the Kentucky Derby."

Jim grinned, rotating to acknowledge his friend. "Thanks, Bones. For everything."

"Hell, Kid, I love her too," McCoy said. "She's like that annoying younger sister I never had. Pike'll make sure she gets back to us."

Answering with a nod, Jim and McCoy continued on where they were to meet with the other members of the crew. Their own debriefs were not over and for the next few days, Jim would spend every waking hour being probed for his role in Sagan's plot. But the imagines of a brunette woman with eyes the color of damp earth disappearing around the corner would haunt him for the weeks to come.

With a snap, the large metal door closed behind Charlie, leaving her in a sterile room with nothing but a hard metal table and several chairs. She was surprised how normal the room appeared, as if dropped from her own time of crazy cop shows. One wall did looked out of place though. She couldn't place what it was, it looked like a normal, plain support but it put Charlie on edge. If she had to, she'd bet that it was a new form of a two-way mirror.

Glancing around the rest of the room, a petite blond woman sat at the table, her hair pulled back in a severe bun and her grey uniform pressed and starched to almost full rigidness. Her pale complexion combined with her hair washed out her features, and while her hazel eyes were pretty, the lines around them prematurely aged her. Charlie stood awkwardly, studying the woman in the same way she scrutinized her.

"Miss Noland, please have a seat," the woman said, gesturing to the chair opposite her.

Standing a second longer than was necessary, Charlie sauntered over to the chair, pulled it out with one hand then gracefully lowered herself onto it while never breaking eye contact. She smirked at Charlie's attention, breaking the contest first to type something into her PADD. The woman cleared her throat and brought her attention back to the brunette, continuing to stare as the silence dragged on past the point of awkwardness.

Charlie did her best not to shuffle, keeping her posture ramrod straight and her expression blank. She knew what the woman was doing; a technique her own father had used when he thought one of his children had misbehaved. Sometimes the silence was worse than the questions, causing the guilt to rise to the surface as they tried to fill the stillness with useless babble. While the trick had worked when she was younger, within ten minutes Charlie was bored of the whole endeavor, stifling a yawn with the back of her hand. The woman raised a brow, again typing something into her PADD.

Suddenly the door to the room burst open and Charlie glanced over as Admiral Marcus stepped in, stopping in the doorway to scrutinize the young woman. Across from her, the woman rose immediately when the door opened, leaving her seat vacant. Marcus continued to stare down Charlie, noting the defiance in her eyes and tension of her posture.

With a smirk of his own, he strolled over to the abandoned chair and took a seat as he smoothed down the front of his uniform. Flipping on the PADD he carried, he pressed a button when suddenly a translucent screen appeared between Charlie and Marcus, highlighted in blue and red as it casted a soft glow on both of their faces. Charlie was surprised to see her image centerfold and her personal information detailed to the left and right; the basic data such as her birth year and full name highlighted.

Clearing his throat, Marcus tucked into to the table and began, "Charlotte Elizabeth Noland, born April 15th Earth year 1989 at Mount Sinai Hospital, Manhattan. Daughter of former United States Air Force Lieutenant General Robert Alan Noland and Colonel Margaret Jean Noland (Riley), sister to Colonel Rachel Ann Noland-Greer, and former United States Army General Bryan Douglass Noland. Disappeared on March 23, 2013 in the United Kingdom, whereabouts unknown until the USS Enterprise came in contact on the uninhabited planet Nimbus III, Stardate 2258.92. This is you, correct?"

A snarky reply was just on the tip of her tongue, but Charlie held back, staring instead at the interesting spot on the wall behind Marcus's head. They couldn't make her talk if she didn't want to, and she was fairly confident that torture was outdated so she could gamble. As the minutes ticked by, Charlie noted a moderate level of frustration grow in Marcus's green eyes.

"We're not going to get very far, Miss Noland, unless you answer my questions," Marcus sighed. Again, he was met with silence. "You've got guts," he muttered, adjusting in his chair. "But this isn't some game. Lives could be at stake; not just yours, but those around you. You don't want to cause a problem for Captain Kirk do you?"

Her gaze finally snapped to his, hardening at the mention of Kirk. "He has nothing to do with this," she said sitting forward, the woman in the back diving into her PADD.

"So you do have a voice," Marcus remarked, his deep voice echoing around the room booming and authoritative. "That's good. I like to see how people respond under pressure."

She growled and crossed her arms protectively in front of her. Marcus laughed as he sat back, mirroring Charlie's pose.

"Maybe it would be higher if I knew why I was brought in here like some common criminal for doing nothing more than being born in the wrong time," she spat. "I know my rights. You cannot keep me here unless you charge me for something and then I want a lawyer. So if you just brought me in here to chat and test how I am under pressure, then I think you're barking up the wrong tree. If you'll excuse me," she made to stand, the metal chair scrapping against the tile floor.

"Sit down, Miss Noland," Marcus ordered, snapping to attention faster than she could.

"Then tell me what the hell is going on," she growled, leaning onto the table. "Why did you order me away from Jim? Why take me away from the Enterprise?"

The two stared each other down a moment; the only sounds heard were their heavily breathing and the clicking of the PADD in the corner.

"Sit. Down," Marcus ordered, even firmer than before. Slowly, Charlie lowered herself back onto the chair, her own curiosity unable to let her leave.

"I like your spunk, I'll give out that," he commented, retaking his chair. "That's a trait that seems to have been lost in my generation. People around here forgot what it's like to defend themselves against a well-armed adversary. They lead these comfortable lives with the protection of Starfleet, and from men like Captain Kirk. We came close with that Romulan a few years back, but you know what it's like, don't you? To be continually on edge, waiting for the next battle – the next conflict. You come from a whole world drowning in it."

"I don't know what you're talking about," she said, her brows drawn down in confusion.

"I'm sure you don't," Marcus patronized. "A family like yours, you had all the protection and support you could ever need."

"A family like mine?" Charlie sneered. "What the hell do you know about my family other than what your little technical devices tell you?"

"I know a lot more than you're giving me credit for," Marcus said. "I knew the man who died protecting his research from the Klingons. In fact, Spear worked for me."

"Well of course he worked for you; he was Starfleet," she derided, trying desperately to ignore the woman in the corner typing furiously into her PADD, finding instead the thought of throwing something at her far more entertaining.

"Not the way you think, Miss Noland," he said, bringing her attention back. "But that's a classified subject for another day. Now that I have you open and talking, let's begin. You can confirm your birth date as April 15th 1989?"

"Why the hell are you doing this?" Charlie asked.

"Your birth date please."

"No, not until you tell me what is going on," she snapped, stabbing her finger on the table to emphasize.

"I'm afraid we're getting off topic."

"I know this game, Admiral," she added, force and strength laced through her words. "I used to live it. After all, just look at my family. So, why the hell is the head of Starfleet interested in me?"

"This isn't a game."

"Isn't it?" she challenged.

Marcus sighed as he rubbed the bridge between his eyes. "Birth date, Miss Noland. I won't ask again."

She sat a moment, drumming her fingers on the table as the silence lengthened again. "Alright, let's make a deal. I answer one of your questions, and then you answer one of mine."

"This isn't how this works."

"Then make it work."

Marcus smirked, nodding to himself. "Alright, fine. You answer one of mine, and I'll try to answer one of yours."

Charlie glared a moment, trying to see if she could negotiate further, but his rigidity told her she wasn't going to get further.

"Alright, fine. Yes, my birthday April 15th 1989, now answer my question. Why me?"

"You're special, Charlotte. Do you mind if I call you that? Or do you prefer Charlie?"

"I prefer Miss Noland," she snarled, the man setting her teeth on edge the same way her father did. "And how am I special, because I come from the 21st century? That's not that big of a deal, let me tell you."

"It's a hell of a big deal," he barked sitting forward, his hand reaching up brush away her information from the transparent screen. "The time you came from saw some of the most violent wars than in any other moment in history, and your family was at the center of it all."

Charlie sat back, trying to digest the information thrown at her. "Not really," she said slowly. "The ranks you named off for my parents and siblings, they all occurred after I left. I wasn't there for their promotions or to see what they did to earn them. I don't know what you're wanting—yes, my time had violence. But so did the times before me: the Romans, the Crusades, the Hundred Years War, American Revolution, the French, the Napoleonic Wars. That doesn't even take into account wars in China, Japan, or Africa. So to point me out as unique, I'm really not."

Marcus just sighed, his head dropping into his hand as he rubbed his eyes. "It wasn't just that. Your family was in the middle of all of those wars, weren't they? Key players," he implied, raising his chin to stare into her confused amber gaze.

"So? My family's military, have been for a while; big deal."

"And always seem to be on the winning side."

Charlie became even more confused. "We were lucky, I guess. Or just smart."

"Or maybe you had something going for you that others didn't. I mean the Eugenic Wars killed a lot of people, yet —"

"Wait, the what?" Charlie interrupted him. "Do you mean the holocaust?"

"No, not the holocaust," he spat. "I'm talking afterwards. The development of the augments, and following wars that marked them as war criminals."

"Not to be rude, but what the hell are you talking about?" Charlie asked. "I don't know what these augments are or about any wars with them. Are you sure you know which century I come from? What you're talking about sounds more like science fiction. I mean granted I am—" she quickly snapped her mouth shut, about to reveal something she swore she never would. It had taken some time to wrap her head around the fact that not only had she time travelled, but she had apparently jumped into the early version of a 1960s television show. But everything she had learned since she was brought to this universe was that while the names and some mannerisms of the characters were familiar, Nero had changed things dramatically. To speak of what she knew could cause more confusion and fear than she wanted, especially with Jim. That meant she wasn't about to blab that she knew more than she let on.

"You are what?" Marcus said, discerning her unsaid sentence.

Taking a deep breath, Charlie fixed a defiant expression on her face and affirmed, "Nothing."

"No," Marcus argued quickly. "You are about to say something else and then cut yourself off. Now what is it?"

"It's nothing, just a slip of the tongue."

"I doubt that."

"I don't really give a shit," Charlie snapped.

Marcus sighed again, his irritation growing with each passing moment. "Miss Noland, we can do this the easy way or we can do it the hard way. The choice is up to you," he finished, his hands gesturing wide.

Charlie started drumming her fingers on the table as she stared the man down. "I am not a threat," she admitted with finality.

"No you aren't. Not yet."

"Not ever," she emphasized.

"Miss Noland," Marcus growled. "I am not a stupid man. I am not a patient man. I know the world from which you came, and the reputation your family has had through the centuries. You may have fooled the captain by batting your eyes, which from what I know isn't that difficult, but you can't fool me. My job is to protect the Federation and Starfleet from people like you."

"People like me?" Charlie cried desperately. "I'm nothing! I couldn't even protect myself again a man twice my age, nor did I take down an entire crew of Klingons! I don't know who's been feeding you erroneous information, but whatever you think I am, I'm not."

"Well, we have ways of judging that," Marcus resignedly said, standing up and not looking at her. "If you aren't going to cooperate, then I'm afraid we're going to do this the hard way. I'm offering you a chance to help me, Miss Noland."

Charlie started panicking then, the combination of her time with the Klingons and now the added stress of Marcus's accusation causing her heart to beat painfully and her head to become lightheaded. She couldn't breathe and the world felt like it was tunneling into itself.

"Please," she muttered, her wide eyes desperately seeking out his as he moved to walk away. "I don't know what you want me say."

"The truth."

"But I have," she cried, slamming her hands down on the table. "I was brought out of my time to this one because some manic wanted my DNA for something that didn't even work."

"And it's your blood that has me concerned," he growled, leaning over the table, through the projected screen and into her face. "Are you like them? Like him," he accused.

"Like who?" Charlie howled, tears of frustration building in her eyes. The desperation she felt was surfacing like a wave, bubbling over the surface of her control. She started to hyperventilate, her legs bouncing uncontrollably and her hands shaking as she tried to wrap her head around what the admiral was asking for. She glanced over to the woman in the corner for a help, but her stoicism and detachment from the interrogation left Charlie feeling helpless, hopeless, and powerless.

Just as Charlie was ready to break down, a voice from the doorway spoke, "Admiral, I think that's enough for today."

Charlie's head snapped up, her reddened amber eyes gazing a silhouetted Admiral Pike in the doorway to the room, leaning heavily on his cane. While there was a small smile on his face, there was steel in his eyes.

"Pike, what are you doing in here?" Admiral Marcus snapped, rising to his full height and getting out of Charlie's face. "This is an interrogation!"

"Interrogation for what, Sir?" he questioned, limping into the room and coming to stand behind Charlie. "As far as I am aware, this is an evaluation for Miss Noland's health and safety. She hasn't committed a crime, Admiral."

"I need answers from her."

"Well now I understand that, but how are you going to get what you need if you push Miss Noland to the point she can't tell you what you want?"

"If I push too hard, Dr. Greene will inform me," Marcus snapped, gesturing to the woman in the corner. The woman nodded her head at Pike, but gave no other comment.

"You granted my request that Charlie be placed under my custodianship," Pike injected firmly. "And as such I am saying you are going too far. I'm not sure what you are wanting of the girl, but you yourself said she has been through a trauma that many of us haven't faced before. Give her time to heal, to get the necessary help and then question her."

Marcus considered Pike a moment, and then glanced down to Charlie. In the time they had been speaking, she had gained control back over her emotions, but it was a fragile control at best. Somehow, that man had hit a nerve that triggered her anxiety attacks and forced her to relive the Klingon imprisonment over again. She was angry, which could cause her to say and do things that could get her into actual trouble, but knowing Pike had her back allowed Charlie to calm down enough to clear her head.

"Five more minutes, Pike. Then you can take her."

Pike wanted to argue, but Marcus outranked him several times over. He could make his point until he was blue in the face, but when give a direct order, even he couldn't defy that.

"Fine, but I will be watching, Marcus," he elaborated. He sent a quick, affirming nod to Charlie, silently conveying that he would be there for her and then limped out of the room.

She turned back to Marcus, a second wind entering her system as she glared at the man.

"We're both on the same side, Sir," she pointed out slowly. "I do not understand what you want, or why you have targeted me."

"That we are," he agreed. "Maybe I have gone about this wrong," he sighed. "The era from where you come is interesting to me. There are skills there, things that humanity have now lost. Many here would not know how to cope with the events I have no doubt you experienced. You are out of your time, but that doesn't mean we can't be valuable allies. You just don't want me as an enemy."

Charlie shook her head, a laugh wanting to erupt. "From what I understand, you're right. I have witnessed things from my era that no one here could possibly understand," she said, the image of planes flying into buildings a sharp reminder. "But I can't help you."

"You will, Miss Noland," he stated standing up, nodding to the wall behind her. "One way or another, I always get what I need. You're dismissed."

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