A/N: So here it is folks, the sequel to Out of Time. I make no promises as to length or overall quality, but I did up the rating from T to M because let's face it- we all know that Jim and Bones probably swear like sailors. As always, I love comments. Cheers!

Chapter 1- Shotgun Wedding

I followed Jim to the transport shuttles and we sat near the back with Spock, who garnered a few stares from the occupants but sat stoically and pretended not to notice. I wondered if it was because they had never before seen a Vulcan or if it was because he was now classified as a member of an endangered species like the giant panda. I wondered if pandas were now extinct…

"So," Jim said to break the awkward silence, "when we get to the city, we will first stop at Starfleet to settle in and then a bunch of us had planned to go out. Do you want to come?"

"Who is going?" I asked assuming he wasn't addressing Spock. Going on an all night bender just didn't seem to be his thing.

"Uhura, Scotty, Sulu, Chekov if we can get him in. Sometimes they just look at the uniform and assume he's old enough and others actually ask for a damn ID." He lamented.

"What about McCoy?" I inquired. An all night bender seemed to be exactly his kind of thing.

"Probably," He guessed, "but he is a crotchety old man and he needs cajoling sometimes."

I was amazed at the silence of the vehicle as I looked past Spock's immobile face out at the lights of the city as they passed in quick succession. I had never been to San Francisco, but it in some ways reminded me of Chicago, the place I would forever consider my home. I smiled and remembered the public transportation system that seemed ancient even then; I wondered what it was like now. The busses were infuriatingly unpredictable and the famous El trains nearly shook you to pieces. God forbid you be near the tracks downtown as the wheels of the trains grinded against the rails in a high pitched scream over your head that caused you to squint in agony or cover your ears at approximately two minute intervals. I hadn't realized how much I missed it.

The commute was quick and smooth and I found myself sitting on a patch of grass outside what looked to be dormitories; single file metal and glass buildings, architecturally drab and efficient. Jim said he would be right back, so I waited and watched people in various uniforms walk by. Some uniforms were fancier than others and entirely unlike the ones the crew wore. I wondered if they were faculty, or high ranking officials perhaps. I sat on my island of green, picking blades of grass and absentmindedly breaking them into tiny little pieces with a crisp snap.

"Hello, Dr. Collins." Came a thick Russian accent from my left. I jumped in surprise as Chekov sat down next to me. "I'm wery sorry," He added with a sly grin, "I didn't mean to frighten you. The Captain told me that I should vait vith you until the others come." He looked so different in civilian clothes that I might not have recognized him in the dark if he didn't open his mouth. "I'm glad that you could come." He said meekly.

I smiled. "I am too, Chekov," I admitted, "but you don't have to call me Dr. Collins. It is a little too formal, why don't you just call me Morgan while you are off duty?" I requested. It still didn't feel natural, but it was probably best that I just take ownership of it and be happy.

It was his turn to smile and he replied, "I vill if you call me Pavel."

"It's a deal then, Pavel. So, do you have any plans for your time off?" I asked casually to make conversation until the others arrived.

"I vill try to call my mother in Russia, maybe even wisit her if I can arrange transport." His eyes shone with hopefulness and I found myself cheering for his success. It would be nice for him to visit his family. He probably didn't get home often.

"Where are you from in Russia?" I queried.

"A wery small willage in the Urals. I vent to Starfleet Academy in Moscow at 14." He answered proudly. "You said you vent to Russia, yes?" He seemed genuinely excited that I had been to his motherland.

"Yeah," I said laughing, "the bastards made me get a double entry visa to go through a tiny little enclave called Kaliningrad that was completely surrounded by territory owned by the European Union before entering Russia proper. When I got there it was like being interrogated by the KGB. I was made to stand in front of this booth under a harsh light and answer questions by someone I couldn't see behind a mirror while a foot soldier dumped out my luggage." His eyebrows shot up in disbelief. "True story!" I protested. "I was also told to carry US currency because I could be stopped at any time for any reason and be thrown into a gulag unless I paid the cop a bribe. All around St. Petersburg the military was posted in public areas and they had huge guns. On top of all of this, my passport had been confiscated because I had to register with the Russian Federation, so I had no identification or proof of citizenship in the event I had to contact the US Consulate if I ran into trouble. It was all a little unnerving."

"Hey you two!" Sulu called from behind us. "Come on, we are heading to the club!" Chekov and I got up and followed, a little sad that we had to end the conversation so soon.

The nightclub that Jim had chosen was packed and loud, but he had it on good authority that the staff didn't ask too many questions which increased the chances Chekov could slip by unnoticed. We had to wait in line, but it was a beautifully cool night and we passed the time talking amongst each other. McCoy was persuaded to tag along, but he looked tired and said he would only stay for a few drinks to which Scotty loudly proclaimed, "Bollocks you will! We'll be draggin' your arse out at daylight drunker than a priest at Bingo!" Everyone laughed while McCoy scowled at the gregarious engineer, but he didn't refute his statement.

We managed to get a table only because the owner got wind that the man that had saved the planet was waiting to get in. I sat tightly packed between Sulu and McCoy and we all enjoyed drinks on the house. I wondered if the owner knew how much money he would lose just on Scotty and McCoy. I had seen both men drink prodigious amounts at one sitting and I hoped the rest of the patrons would keep him from going broke. It felt good to let my hair down with my new coworkers and enjoy the bonding experience that only free flowing alcohol can bring. It was like a shower for the soul after what we had witnessed in the last few days. Soon there were smiles all around and much dancing when we could squeeze our way onto the floor. We sat drinking, talking, and dancing for hours while the multi-colored lights swirled above our heads and the music pounded with a relentless beat.

It was almost closing time when Jim leaned clumsily on the table, nearly breaking several of the glasses that had accumulated and held his glass in the air. "To another 'cessful mission in which we kept our asses from being blown off…more or less," he slurred looking at Bones with a crooked smile, "and to our new counselor who will be joining us presently. After I lie my ass off to the Admiral." He added. Cheers erupted from the table and I saluted them with the half glass of Bailey's I had left. "Which r'minds me," He continued, "I think the best lie would be to tell him that I hitched the two of you before we landed." He stated gesturing lazily to McCoy and I with bleary eyes. "Bones, you cool with that?" McCoy obviously had too much to drink and mumbled something, but even I couldn't make it out and I was sitting next to him, there was no way Jim could have heard him over the music. "Good," He declared, "Scotty! I need you to witness as an officer 'cause s'no way in hell Spock will falsify paperwork and stuff. 'S too morally grey for him, but I know you will you sneaky bastard!" He yelled and again waved his glass around haphazardly.

"Aye, that I will, Captain!" Scotty shouted back. "But just so you are keen, there will be 5 extra cases of the finest Scotch, I mean axle grease, I can get me hands 'round on the ship's manifest. I will 'blige you if you stay daft about it."

"Never saw a thing, Scotty!" Jim said smashing his glass against the engineer's.

"Congratulations to the two of you!" Sulu said raising his glass and downing the rest of his drink before engaging in a laughing fit with Uhura and Chekov. Beside me, McCoy sank deeper in his chair and mumbled incoherently with his eyes at half mast.

"We s'go." Jim decreed training his eyes on McCoy. "Gotta put the old man to bed 'fore he passes out. Heh." He chuckled, eyes dull and glazed.

We all slowly strolled back to the dorms only a few blocks away. We kept pace with Chekov who, being voted the least drunk of all of us, was charged with helping McCoy stay upright while he shuffled along with his head down. Occasionally he would grumble loudly when Chekov grabbed him to prevent him from doing a face plant on the concrete, but he was otherwise content to be herded along by the gentle Russian. When we finally approached the rooms, Sulu asked timidly who was going to put McCoy to bed.

Immediately, Jim pointed to me with a huge smile. "C'mon! He's your old man now!" He taunted when I disagreed with a slow shaking of my head. Any faster and I may have blacked out myself. This whole sham arrangement was dubious at best and downright awkward at worst for the smooth working relationship we had managed to forge. I wondered if McCoy had a clear knowledge of what he was consenting to at the bar or if he would have no memory of it when he finally woke up. This was the kind of crazy thing that happened in Vegas. Come home on shore leave, go out on the town and wake up tattooed and married. I almost felt sorry for him, the hangover he would be reeling from in the morning would be the least of his problems.

"Ah. Some wife you are." Jim joked with a dismissive wave. "You know, we should dump 'im on Spock's door. Prude bastard didn't go. That's what he should get for bein' all responsible and stuff." After a deep sigh and a few sways to regain balance, he said, "Fine. As cap'n, I will strip him necked and hide his clothes 'cause he deserves it for everything he does to me. Heh." He wrapped McCoy's arm around his shoulder and half drug him down the hall while the others went to their rooms.

It slowly dawned on me that I had nowhere to go. I was considering the safety of sleeping outside on the grass when Uhura offered to share her quarters with me. I gratefully accepted. Although her room was tiny and cramped, I was thankful for her hospitality even though it meant me sleeping on the floor. I just hoped she wouldn't step on my head if she had to get up to go to the bathroom or hit me with the door. She pulled the shade down over the small window by her bed, but daylight had already begun to seep through the bottom like the inescapable eye of God when he knows you have been naughty. It didn't bother me in the least; I was out before you could say Morgan Thompson-Collins-McCoy.