A/N: As always, I must thank my wonderful beta, KD Skywalker. She's been a driving force throughout this relatively short story, but her presence and encouragement is always appreciated! Also, as you might have surmised thus far, I don't own Star Trek, which sadness me greatly. And last but not least, thanks to everyone who has reviewed thus far. If I haven't responded to your review, please let me know in your review for this chapter so I may do so. Thanks for sticking with me so far. I promise things are going to start getting interesting soon!

Jim Kirk blinked in surprise, unsure if he was seeing what his brain was processing.

Perhaps it was the fatigue that often accompanied the ending of one of Bones' lectures. Or maybe it was the lack of caffeine he had ingested that morning after a long night of heavy drinking and partying with very little sleep. Regardless of the cause, he knew that there must be some sort of delusion-oriented explanation behind it; because there was absolutely no way in hell that his best friend was flirting. In public. With the girl he - well, how did he feel about her?

At the moment, Kirk wasn't very pleased with Quinn McKnight.

For one, he had spent the better part of two weeks fixing something that didn't even belong to him. Granted, he had broken her PADD when he stepped on it, but it had been an accident. As much as he enjoyed getting a rise out of her, he hadn't intentionally destroyed the hand-held computer; they were expensive. Besides, at the time, he didn't even know that the PADD belonged to Quinn. It was just a coincidence; he hadn't expected to ever see her again, much less at Starfleet Academy. Anyway, he had dedicated almost a week of his time to researching the technology within the confides of the metal exterior - time he could have wasted on much more stimulating activities such as that cute Asian girl from his First Contact Protocol class - and another week fixing the twisted mess of wires before he was able to return it to her.

Kirk told himself that he had only fixed her PADD because he felt guilty for breaking it and he did, but it wasn't the entire truth. No, he had repaired the damaged PADD to prove that he wasn't as bad of a guy as she made him out to be. Not that he cared about her opinion - he just didn't want her spreading unpleasant rumors about him across campus, even though she didn't seem like the type of girl to resort to such tactics. But what did he know of her? After all, he had been expecting a thank you or at least some sort of acknowledgement for his work, but he had received none.

That alone was enough to evoke a bad taste in the back of his mouth. Never mind the fact that she was making Bones laugh. Kirk shook his head to himself. He gritted his teeth, swallowing the unexpected wave of anger. It was stupid to be angry with her over this. Bones deserved to have a good laugh every now and again, but Jim couldn't deny the surge of jealousy, of possessiveness. He was supposed to be the only one capable of evoking laughter from the temperamental, sarcastic doctor. Not some girl with knobby knees and the tendency to hold grudges.

Jim rolled his eyes as he watched her throw her head back and laugh, playfully swatting at McCoy's arm. The doctor in question seemed to be enjoying the attention. For the first time in a long while, he looked relaxed, the lines of his face much less severe. Jim wanted to hate Quinn for being such an ungrateful bitch, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. However, he could intervene. If there was one thing that James Tiberius Kirk was good at - aside from thinking quick on his feet and picking up women - it was meddling. When he was a kid, he discovered that he had a knack for mucking things up beyond recognition. The talent only increased with age.

He waited until Quinn had left the auditorium, the door hissing shut behind her, before rising from his rather uncomfortable seat and making his way down the steps. Bones was still staring after her, though the hardness had returned to his face, when Jim clapped him on the shoulder. Startled, the doctor jumped about a foot in the air before turning to Jim, his dark eyes narrowed.

"Damn it, Jim, don't do that to me," McCoy grumbled, tugging on the hem of his shirt in irritation. "You scared the shit out of me."

"Obviously," Jim deadpanned, earning himself another stare of deepest loathing. He returned the glare with a mischievous smile, his eyes twinkling innocently. "So," he drawled conversationally as he leaned against the stage, "who was that?"

Beside him, McCoy visibly tensed. "Who was who?"

Was it just Jim or did the doctor sound oddly defensive despite his best efforts to feign ignorance? He combated the smirk threatening to worm its way onto his face to the best of his ability, but he wasn't very successful; the left side of his mouth twitched. "You know who I'm talking about," Jim commented, nodding towards the closed door, which Bones kept glancing at, an almost-wistful expression on his face. Almost like he was hoping she would reappear.

"No, I don't."

Jim rolled his eyes. He couldn't believe that McCoy was being this evasive over something so inconsequential. The only times the doctor acted like this was when Jim impatiently prodded him for answers, trying to figure out why his friend had drunk himself into a stupor.

"The brunette with the legs," he clarified. "What'd she want?"

"Oh, her?" McCoy ignored the 'duh' look he received from the younger man at his side as he formulated his response. He chose his words carefully in hopes of making them sound much more believable. "She had some questions about the lecture," he responded tersely. "Even though I thought I explained everything very clearly and -"

"Cut the bullshit, Bones," Jim interrupted swiftly. "We both know that Quinn didn't want to know more information about your incredibly boring lecture."

The doctor flinched at the sound of her name. "She seemed to find it stimulating," McCoy said stiffly, the defensive note returning to his voice.

"If by that you mean she found you stimulating, then I agree one hundred percent," Jim retorted, ducking before the doctor could slap him on the back of the head. "No need to get so defensive -" he paused to raise a brow "or is there?"

McCoy scowled at him. "What are you implying?"

"I'm not implying anything, just making observations based on what I saw," Jim said airily.

"Which was. . .?"

"An obscene amount of flirting," Jim answered with a smirk. "On both parts."

"What's it to you, Jim?" McCoy questioned archly, grabbing his satchel off the floor and slinging it over his shoulder. He tugged once, tightening the strap. "You flirt all of the time."

"I do," Jim agreed as they made their way towards the door. He placed his palm on the sensor and the door whooshed open. He stepped through first, pivoting on his heel so he could face his friend while he walked - backward. "But you, my friend, don't."

"I flirt!" McCoy objected loudly, causing several curious heads to whip in their direction as they traversed down the hall. One girl giggled. A harsh glare from the medical doctor quickly silenced her laughter, and she lowered her gaze, hurrying into her class.

"No," Jim said as they rounded a corner and made for the exit. "You don't." The doors opened when they approached and they stepped out into the bright afternoon. Both men squinted as the harsh rays of the sun unleashed their fury on their corneas. It took several moments for their vision to return to normal. Once adjusted, they continued down the steps.

"At least, not successfully," he added as an afterthought, a wry smile on his face.

McCoy rolled his eyes, releasing a sharp, impatient sigh. He stopped walking and sent a pointed look at his friend. "Look, Jim," he said carefully, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger. "If you have something to say, just say it. I don't have time to listen to your bullshit."

The smile on Jim's face fell at the serious note in his friend's voice. His opportunity to wheedle Bones for information had come to an end, which was disappointing to say the very least, especially since the opportunity rarely presented itself. However, he didn't wish to fuel the fire that was McCoy's irrationally quick temper and therefore swallowed any dry remarks his brain had created.

"Don't go out with her."

Jim hadn't planned on being so blunt, but McCoy preferred bluntness to hesitance. Could a little more tact have been employed? Sure. But this was Jim Kirk. Though he knew what tact was, he didn't use it. Why not when a more direct approach could have been taken? The only reason why he hadn't proclaimed his feelings outright was because teasing Bones was just too much damn fun.

It was obvious that McCoy wasn't expecting this sudden statement - if his baffled expression was anything to go by, of course. However, the moment of disbelief quickly passed as his dark eyes narrowed into their characteristic scowl and his brow furrowed. It was very clear that he wasn't pleased by Jim's words.

"What?"

"Don't go out with her," Jim repeated firmly. "She's bad news."

"You don't know what you're talking -"

"Actually," Jim interjected rudely, his tone uncharacteristic sharp, "I do." He could hardly keep his impatience out of his voice. Dragging his tongue across his bottom lip, he continued, "That girl you were talking to - she's the same one I was telling you about. You know, the one from the bar back in Cedar Rapids?"

"The heinous bitch?" McCoy said with a note of surprise, recalling his friend's exact words. When Jim confirmed his guess with a nod of his head, McCoy frowned then shook his own head. He refused to believe it; they couldn't be the same person! It was inconceivable: the young woman he had just been talking to was much too pleasant, too funny to be the bitch from the bar in Cedar Rapids that, for some odd reason, Jim kept mentioning.

McCoy voiced his disbelief. "I don't think it's the same -"

"Trust me, Bones, it's the same girl," Jim insisted. The doctor didn't look convinced, so he tried a different approach. "Don't you find it curious that I knew her name before you even told me what it was?" he questioned, quirking a brow in askance.

When McCoy didn't respond, Jim clapped him on the shoulder. "Just consider what I said, okay?"

"Fine," McCoy growled before stomping away, most likely headed to his lonely dorm to drink away his disappointment.

Jim frowned to himself - he hated being the cause of anyone's disappointment, much less his best friend's.

- - -

It took three whole days for McCoy to muster up the courage to send a transmission to Quinn. He had been hesitant for a number of reasons, the primary one being her reaction to his proclamation - he wouldn't be able to go out with her. Since he didn't know her very well - they'd only spoken the one time after his lecture - he wasn't sure how she was going to react, which was potentially problematic, especially if she was the overly emotional sort. While McCoy doubted that she would erupt into tears, he couldn't say that she wouldn't explode and launch into an angry tirade. From what Jim had said, her buttons were very easily pushed.

Then again, McCoy thought to himself as he searched through the cadet directory for her contact information. It's Jim; somehow, he manages to locate and press everyone's buttons. Including mine.

When her information appeared on the view screen, McCoy hesitated. From the short amount of time they had chatted, he had gathered that she was extremely intuitive and would know something was amiss the moment he activated the transmission feed. Which was a problem, considering that he didn't have a legitimate reason formulated as to why he couldn't take her out.

Despite this, he pressed the send button and waited for her to accept his request to open a feed.

The screen blinked to life several moments later.

"Hey!" Quinn greeted enthusiastically, a wide smile on her pretty face as she gave a small, completely unnecessary wave of her hand. Her hair was thrown back into a messy bun and she wasn't wearing any make up, which suggested that she was beginning to get ready for bed.

McCoy glanced at the chronometer on his bedside table - it was a little past eleven thirty, though she didn't seem angry at the lateness of his call. Quite the contrary, she looked ecstatic, her dark brown eyes warm with mirth, which made this all the more difficult. Inwardly, he swore.

"Hello," was his gruff reply.

She ignored the callous greeting, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear instead. "I was beginning to think that you'd forgotten about me," she joked lightly.

As if, McCoy grumbled to himself. She had been the only thing on his mind these past few days, and not necessarily in a good way either.

"Sorry."

"It's okay," she said hurriedly, gnawing on her bottom lip nervously. The silence between them was painful, completely unlike their impromptu conversation following his seminar on astrophobia. "So," she said uncertainly, "how've you been?"

"Fine. You?"

Quinn furrowed her brow, confused by his short, terse responses. Had she read too far into their conversation? Had she been too optimistic about his promise to ask her out? Had he been pulling her leg? She gave her head a small shake, trying her hardest not to frown.

"I've been alright," she answered with a noncommittal shrug of her shoulders. "A little overwhelmed by the sheer amount of homework I've been -"

Quinn was surprised when he cut her off mid-sentence.

"Look, Quinn," McCoy said in an oddly patronizing voice. She stiffened at the tone, the urge to frown fleeing to the deepest recesses of her mind as her agitation began to seep through. What gave him the right to address her like a child? To talk down to her? She might have been a few years younger than him, but she was still an adult and deserved to be treated like one. "I don't think I can take you out tonight-"

"I wasn't expecting you to," she spewed in a defensive scoff.

" - or ever."

Her mouth went dry. "Excuse me?"

"I said that -"

"No," she disrupted shortly, her agitation giving way to anger. She saw McCoy's eyes go wide very briefly; apparently, he hadn't been expecting this reaction from her. "I heard what you said, I'm not an idiot." She folded her arms over her chest and glared at the screen. "I just want to know why you said it."

McCoy sighed heavily, passing a hand over his face. How was he going to put this? Quinn appeared to be a tough girl, able to handle shit when it was thrown at her, but he doubted that even he could say what he wanted to say without hurting her feelings.

"I don't think that it would be a good idea."

"Why not?" she asked before she could help herself. Immediately, she felt like a fool. And a very desperate fool at that.

"I just don't think we should, is all."

Quinn gave an extravagant roll of her eyes, unable to believe what she was hearing. Just when her faith in men had begun to ferment, McCoy pulled something like this. Typical. "How articulate," she spat sardonically.

Like a solar flare, McCoy's anger sparked to life at once. His chest swelled; he even went as far as wagging a finger at the view screen. "Listen here, woman, just because you don't like what I have to say doesn't mean that you have to mock -"

"Damn right I don't like what you have to say!" Quinn exclaimed, clearly affronted. "You were the one who wanted to take me out on a date, so excuse me for being the least bit offended when you do a complete one-eighty and decide that it wouldn't be a good idea. What sort of excuse is that anyway?" Out of habit, she cracked her knuckles. "And don't call me 'woman'!" she added as an afterthought.

"A poor one," McCoy admitted, pointedly ignoring her last remark. He ran a hand over his jaw line. "At this point in time, I don't think that it would be a good idea for me to - er - get involved with someone."

She should have known it was too good to be true, that he was too good to be true. Her stomach sank as her mind considered the possibility that he was already attached. "Oh my God, you're married, aren't you?" Quinn groaned loudly, dropping her head into her hands.

She heard him chuckle. "No, I'm not married. Not anymore, anyway," he added bitterly.

With a sigh, she picked up her head, pushing her hair away from her face. She frowned at the screen. "Is that why?"

"Is what why?"

"Your divorce - is that why you don't want to go out?"

He opened his mouth to dismiss her assumption, but immediately closed his mouth, reconsidering. This could be his excuse. . .why hadn't he thought of it before? McCoy knew the answer: it was because he did want to go out with her, but he had taken Jim's words to heart. His best friend was a lot of things, but a liar wasn't one of them. Besides, when he had asked a few of his fellow cadets what they thought about her, they all could say that she was indifferent and impartial, not very social and somewhat stand-offish. He hadn't seen these personality traits when he had talked to her, but perhaps he was blinded by her pretty smile, easy sense of humor, and the fact he hadn't been with a woman in over a year.

"Yeah," McCoy finally said. "That's why."

When she smiled apologetically at him, his stomach felt heavy with guilt. He didn't deserve her sympathy and more importantly, he didn't want it. Not over something he felt nothing but bitterness and resentment towards.

"I'd better get going," he said softly, not meeting her eyes in fear of what he might see there. That was the last thing he needed - to go back on what he said and make himself out as a bigger jackass than he already had.

"Yeah," she agreed hollowly as she leaned forwards. "Goodbye."

"Bye."

The screen went black.

- - -

While Quinn certainly wasn't heartbroken, she was dissatisfied with the state of things between herself and McCoy. For some reason, when she had been talking to McCoy via transmission, she had a feeling that he wasn't being entirely honest with her. That his recent divorce wasn't the only reason why he didn't want to go out with her. She knew it was stupid to think that he would lie to her - he had absolutely nothing to gain by lying to her. But she couldn't ignore the feeling in her stomach nor the insatiable curiosity that accompanied the sensation whenever she replayed the conversation over in her head, trying and failing to pinpoint any moments in which she might have made a mistake.

It was silly to think that she was getting so upset over someone she had only spoken to on two occasions, the second of which hadn't gone as she had hoped. She'd thought there was something between. Sure, it might not have been magnetic; it wasn't even an electricity. No, it was more of a connection formed by the unspoken yet common ground they shared. Both were fairly reserved people who had very little tolerance for stupidity. Their sense of humor was eerily alike in its dryness and bluntness.

Obviously, she had been wrong; like most things, she had read too far into it.

A part of her mind entertained that all she wanted from McCoy was the human contact. Sure, Heidi was a fantastic friend and she spoke to her family often through transmissions, but it wasn't the same. It wasn't the contact that she needed, it wasn't the kind she wanted. She wanted physical contact, considering the last time she had been near to it, it had turned out to be a complete farce.

A scowl worked its way onto her face as the image of Jim Kirk's face flashed through her mind; she pointedly ignored the way her lips burned as her mind recalled their brief contact with each other. He might have fixed her PADD, but still, he was a jerk. And a huge one at that. Her roommate, Charity, was proof of that. The poor girl was foolish enough to fall victim to his arresting charms. Though they hadn't done much more than kiss (or so she claimed), Charity had sobbed her heart out against Quinn's shoulder for the better part of three hours, saying that she had been led on by the world's most beautiful man. While Quinn didn't think that he was the world's most beautiful man - though, admittedly, he was pretty damn close - she nevertheless gave Charity a comforting hug and said that she knew what it felt like. She merely neglected to tell her roommate that she, too, had been played by the charming farm boy.

With a heavy sigh, Quinn tore her eyes away from the homework she hadn't really been paying attention to in the first place to shake back her sleeve and look at her watch. It was very nearly lunchtime, which explained why her stomach felt so very hollow and why she was having trouble concentrating on her work. She returned her attention back to he PADD and tapped the appropriate buttons with the tip of her stylus, saving her work to the memory bank before shutting the small device down. She stored the PADD in her satchel and gathered up her belongings. As soon as she had sat down underneath the towering oak, she had pulled off her boots and tossed them aside, glad to be rid of the things. She'd been at Starfleet for nearly two months and still, her boots blistered her feet. Another grimace of displeasure worked its way onto her face as she tugged her boots back on, wincing as the leather scraped over a fresh blister, and zipped them up.

Like always, she pulled at the hem of her skirt when she stood up. God, she hated the stupid uniforms - why did the male cadets get to wear pants yet female cadets were stuck in unbelievably short skirts? It was one of the many things that bothered her about Starfleet, but so far, the good outweighed the bad. Quinn hoped it stayed that way.

As she meandered down the pathway towards the mess hall, Quinn let her eyes rove over the campus of Starfleet Academy. At first, she had convinced herself that the grounds were revolting. If she let herself believe that it was beautiful - and it was - then she'd begin to feel at home, and she didn't want that. Not at first, anyway. It took her a while to realize that it wasn't necessarily a bad thing, feeling at home at the academy. After all, she was going to be living here for the next few years of her life - she might as well make herself comfortable. And she did with a little help from Heidi and Charity, whom she was beginning to grow rather close to.

As pretty as San Francisco was, Quinn knew that Starfleet Academy would never bring the same amount of satisfaction and warmth into her life like the house in Kansas City. She had lived in the same house her entire life up until a year ago when she had made the decision to move to Cedar Rapids, Iowa to live with her grandmother for a while - she was sick of her siblings breathing down her neck at every opportunity that presented itself, which was frighteningly often when all five of them lived within fifteen miles of the house. It was strange, being away from home for so long; even when she lived in Cedar Rapids, she made a point of taking a transport to see her mother and Xavier, her youngest and only sibling who still lived at home.

Pushing the thoughts of home out of her mind, she swept her gaze over the courtyard and the fountain situated in the center of it. Though there was normally a fairly dense crowd gathered around the fountain as it was a perfect location for meeting up with friends before embarking for class, today, there was more so than usual. Some students sat on the edge of the fountain, chatting ideally with a small group of buddies while other, much larger groups stood in circles, talking and laughing loudly.

Quinn was just about to pull her gaze away and continue on her path when she saw it. Or rather, when she saw them.

Jim Kirk and Leonard McCoy.

Talking to one another.

Like they were friends.

She stopped walking at once, her brain too overwhelmed by her curiosity to do much else but stare. She tilted her head to the side, observing them with rapt attention. Kirk gesticulated a lot while he talked, and McCoy wore an interested, slightly amused expression. Immediately, she wondered what they were talking about. After all, what were the chances that they were discussing anything other than class. Slim to none, she told herself as she hitched the strap of her bag further up her shoulder. There was no way that an intelligent man like McCoy would ever be friends with an arrogant jerk like Jim Kirk.

It seemed as though the world was determined to prove her wrong, for naught but a handful of seconds later, McCoy laughed reluctantly, most likely at something Kirk had said. Before she could convince herself that it was merely a coincident, a rare stroke of brilliance on Kirk's part, the doctor surprised her and rubbed her nose in her assumptions all at once. He punched Kirk on the arm in an affectionate I'll-see-you-later way before turning on his heel and heading into one of the academic buildings.

Quinn's mind was still processing what she'd just seen when Jim Kirk met her gaze from across the courtyard. The moment his lips pulled back into his characteristic - and quite frankly, charismatic - smirk, she knew. Suddenly, everything made perfect sense; the missing pieces of the puzzle fell into place. McCoy's sudden change in attitude, the gut feeling that he was lying to her - it made sense. Because of that, she wasn't nearly as mad at McCoy for lying to her as she should have been. In fact, it was the very last thing on her mind. Why, you ask? Because the real reason behind McCoy's lie was currently leering at her, an eyebrow cocked in amusement.

Her hand curled into a fist and before she knew it, she was veering away from her path to the mess hall and walking towards the fountain, towards Kirk. His smile grew wider as she drew nearer, his blue eyes becoming clearer, easier to read. As expected, they glittered with a seemingly endless mirth. Why he looked so damn pleased to see her was beyond Quinn; they argued every time they encountered one another. Regardless, the smirk would be easy enough to fix.

The dimple appeared in his cheek as she drew up to him.

"So you've finally come to thank me, have -"

CRACK!

It was a pain unlike any other she had ever known. Her knuckles screamed out as she felt his nose shatter under the force of her punch, the deep ache traveling up her arm at lightening speed. A sticky warmth oozed onto her skin as she pulled her fist back, read to punch him a second time. But then the pain returned to her hand in full-force, immobilizing her.

"Fuck!" she cried out in unison with Kirk, who was cupping his nose in his hands, blood dripping through the cracks of his fingers.

"What the hell was that for?" Kirk shouted at her, his voice muffled by his hands.

"McCoy!"

"What!?" His expression was thunderous - well, as thunderous as one's expression could be with a bleeding nose and rapidly swelling face. "He told you to punch me?!?"

"Yes, you're best friend told me to punch you," she replied sarcastically, cradling her hand against her chest, her knuckles throbbing. She tried to move her fingers, but her index and middle finger didn't respond. When she looked down at her hand, her stomach dropped to her knees. The urge to vomit was overwhelming. So much so that she stumbled over to the fountain, leaned over the edge, and threw up in the water. She could barely hear the shouts of her fellow cadets over the roaring in her ears.

She dry-heaved several more times before a heavy hand came down on her shoulder. Thinking that it was the audacious bastard Kirk, Quinn brought her fist back as she wheeled around, but someone caught her fist in their unusually warm hand. She screamed out in pain as bursts of white light appeared before her eyes, the world suddenly spinning.

When her fist was mercifully released a few seconds later, she looked up to see to whom the hand belonged. As the color drained from her face, she suddenly wished she hadn't.

"Come with me, cadet," ordered Commander Spock, his sharp gaze meeting hers for the briefest of moments.

Quinn did as she was told.