Title: Shades of Grey

Author: Gixxer Pilot

Summary: All he wanted was to spend a couple of relaxing days with his daughter, but apparently the cosmos were of the opinion that they weren't quite done screwing with Leonard McCoy's life.

Author's Notes: Gift fic for Space-Case-Writer13, who, every time I start a new Star Trek fic, asks me straight away if Joanna will make an appearance. Normally, my answer is no because I can never seem to work McCoy's kid into a fic, but this time, I actually had an idea that revolved around her. So, my dear, here you go. This fic's got a little bit of everything - a lot of humor, some angst, a side of drama, and a lot of family themes. (Grandpa!Pike FTW!) Though the end might be shocking, I promise it'll conclude on a happy note. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Star Trek, and all its characters, is not mine. Please don't sue me. If Columbia Records can win a $2 million lawsuit against a woman for uploading twenty-four songs, I think I'd be screwed against the epic that is Paramount. I'm just playing in the sandbox and will return the characters no worse for wear.

Chapter 1

Six-year-old Joanna McCoy bounded down the platform of the shuttle dock to the waiting crowd of people, brown pigtails swinging back and forth at her shoulders. Behind her, a frustrated female voice hollered, "Jo! Wait!" while the young girl plowed ahead, unconcerned with the people in her way. Clutching her newly acquired PADD to her chest, Jo had one goal in mind. She weaved and ducked, moving against the throng of people like a salmon swimming upstream. When a familiar pair of legs materialized in front of her, Joanna planted her right foot and launched herself squarely into the chest of the waiting man, squealing in delight when she felt his arms wrap protectively around her.

"Daddy!"

Giving his daughter a gentle kiss on the head, Leonard McCoy said, "Hello, darlin'. How has my best girl been?"

Giggling into his shoulder, Joanna raised her eyes and said, "I'm your only girl, Daddy!"

McCoy's eyes widened, a shocked, surprised expression of mock-seriousness making its way across his face. As if hearing the news for the first time, he gasped dramatically. "Well, I didn't know that. I'm glad you told me and cleared that right up for me." Walking forward with his daughter in tow, Bones stopped in front of his ex wife. He took an unconscious deep breath, bracing himself for the inevitable onslaught. They'd been making progress, but 'progress' was always separated by about two thousand miles. Gruffly, he said, "Joss."

"Len." Her features were tight; she didn't look joyously happy, but at least she was being civil. Her face wasn't contorted in anger, and she wasn't throwing things at him. It seemed that a little separation and some time had done her well in the temper department, and it was a marked improvement since the last time they were physically in the same room. Jocelyn, for a woman whose biggest athletic achievement was standing on a ladder to hang a new picture, had surprisingly good aim with the vases she heaved at her ex's head. McCoy still had the scar right at his hairline to prove it.

Reaching down, Jocelyn picked up Joanna's pink patent leather backpack and small suitcase from the floor and handed it to him. She twisted her hands together, worrying through the small gesture. "Here's all her stuff. There should be enough clothes in there for four days, but if you need to, just buy her something. Her bedtime is eight o'clock and all the phone numbers you might need are listed in the message I sent you. There's a list of medications she takes-"

McCoy laid his hand gently over Jocelyn's. She halted her rambling and licked her lips. Recognizing it was a big step for her to relinquish control of her daughter for more than a supervised visit, he said, "It's okay. I've got it. I'm a doctor, remember?" It was the first time Joanna was going to be staying alone with her father since their divorce and his subsequent enlistment into Starfleet, and he wanted to have other opportunities. If that meant putting aside all the bullshit of the past two years to be able to see Joanna, McCoy was willing to do it. "I'll be staying in the family wing of the campus for this weekend. If you need me, call me at the number I gave you. Otherwise, Jim has all the information, too."

Jocelyn rolled her eyes, a move she'd most certainly picked up from Len. "Right. Jim. Your sex-crazed, genius but somewhat annoying roommate. Like I'm going to count on him."

"Jim's a good guy, Joss. A little immature, but he's loyal. I trust him," McCoy corrected, though it was without the stinging tone he frequently employed during the dying breaths of their marriage. Shifting his daughter on his hip, he peaked out the corner of his left eye. Joanna was sound asleep against Len's shoulder, her head nestled right in the crook of his neck. She had two handfuls of his shirt and was holding on to it for dear life. Quietly, McCoy picked up Jo's stuff and whispered, "I think it's time to go."

With one gentle hand, Jocelyn reached out and ran her fingers through Jo's hair. The little girl stirred and opened her bleary, sleep filled eyes. "Mommy?"

"Jojo, your daddy is going to take you for a few days, okay?" Jocelyn said quietly.

The little girl's warm brown eyes regarded her mother. "You're not staying?"

Jocelyn smiled and touched Jo gently on the chin. "No, sweetheart. Remember I told you about your big overnight trip to see you daddy, the special one where only he's allowed? This is the one. So, you be good for him and have fun, okay?"

Joanna nodded and settled back in to sleep against her father. "Okay, Mommy."

Len stood and wisely said nothing, instead willing his heart to stop racing before Jo felt it pounding through his shirt. "The trip really must have knocked her out," he said when he felt like his body was under control. It pained him to admit, even to himself, how excited he was to see his little girl for the weekend, and the anticipation nearly killed him.

"She was so excited. I don't think she slept all last night, and she loved the shuttle ride here," Jocelyn replied. "She kept bouncing all over the place. I had a hard time keeping her stationary for more than ten minutes."

"She doesn't get that from me," McCoy snorted. He inwardly shuddered at the mere thought of being in a cramped, confined shuttle, staring out in the endless black of space. Though it was a requirement for all cadets to learn to at least bring in a shuttle to land, it was a course McCoy kept pushing back, procrastinating until the very last moment. He'd have to do it next semester if he hoped to stay in the program, and it was something he had positively zero desire to do. He still felt like he wanted to climb the walls or puke when he got into one of those flying death traps, let alone be the one in control of it.

"No, definitely not," she agreed.

Readjusting his grip on Jo's stuff, he said, "I'll call you tomorrow night, Joss, so you can check in with her."

Shaking her head, Jocelyn said, "You don't have to, Len."

With a wave of his hand, McCoy cut her off. "I want to. You need to feel comfortable here as much as she does. If we're going to be good parents together, we at least have to get along."

Jocelyn offered a watery, nervous smile. "I think I can do that," For once, she was being completely honest. The stress of the divorce proceedings and subsequent custody hearings drained her physically and emotionally, and by looking at her ex's face, she could see it did the same to him. Sometimes, Jocelyn kicked herself for the cruel way she treated McCoy during their divorce. She really didn't need to go for his jugular, leaving him few other options but to join the military if he wanted a prayer to practice medicine again. But she was angry, hurt and embarrassed, and going at him professionally and personally was the only way she knew how to exact her revenge. Jocelyn had no professional career to call her own, and though she felt there was no other important goal than mothering, being an awesome parent didn't really carry much weight on a resume.

But in was in those rare moments of introspection that she reminded herself Len was no saint, either. She'd acknowledged her role in their failed union, but she felt that he was just as responsible for the implosion of their marriage as she. He worked too hard, drank way too much, and neglected his family at home. But she was ready to put it all behind her; all the irrational anger and finger pointing and blame games would only hurt Joanna in the long run if they couldn't stand to be in the same room for more than five minutes. She wanted to move on, and that meant forgiving him. Jocelyn stood on her toes and gave Joanna a kiss, patting Len on the shoulder. Turning, she walked back toward the shuttle, and back to Georgia.

McCoy stood and watched her walk away, Joanna's bags dangling from his fingertips. He had mixed feelings about his ex still, but at least some of the bitterness he'd harbored for nearly two years was beginning to subside. McCoy attested some of that to time, and most of it to Jim. The younger man listened patiently to what little bits the doctor would divulge each and every time, and did nothing more than be a friend. Len had to admit it was worth it, just to be able to hold his baby girl again. "Well, little girl. It's just you and me. What do you say we go check out our new home for the next few days, huh?"

McCoy walked across campus toward the family wing of Starfleet Academy's dormitories. Since starships were designed to house families, it was only prudent the school which funneled the personnel to the ships make similar accommodations. There were few cadets who permanently lived in the units with their families, and most, like McCoy, used them for visits. Truthfully, the doctor was just happy they existed, since he wasn't sure how it would have worked if Jo were forced to share a room with both him and Kirk.

Unlocking the door, McCoy sighed. He moved all his necessary stuff into the fully furnished apartment the night before so he knew there was nothing missing. After being in a dorm with Jim Kirk for the better part of six months, the small individual space he was able to secure for the duration of Joanna's stay was positively heavenly. The exterior door opened to a small entryway with a hallway straight ahead leading to two bedrooms and a bathroom. The kitchen was on his right, with a small dining area behind that. The living room separated the bedrooms from the kitchen, and was furnished functionally by a coffee table, couch and vidscreen. None of the rooms were spacious by any stretch of the imagination, but Len could have cried at the prospect of his own bathroom he knew was cleaned more than once a month.

Setting his keycard on the kitchen counter, McCoy walked Joanna back to the smaller of the two bedrooms. He laid his little girl down on the bed, placing her favorite blanket over her. Leaning over, Len dropped a gentle kiss on her forehead and simply stood, rooted in place, and stared. He'd missed this, the feeling home and love. He missed his real house, his real rooms, home cooked meals that weren't prepared by the truckload for mass consumption, and most of all, he missed the feeling of family.

He missed Joanna.

McCoy never admitted to Kirk how rough his divorce really was, though he figured the kid was able to draw his own conclusions. Kirk got half the story from his roommate during first semester through the impossible-to-miss screaming and swearing comm-fights, commonplace in the shared room; he got the other half when McCoy would drunkenly rant on about his relationship, his daughter and his failed life. Three semesters later, though he managed to cut back on his drinking and was slightly less pessimistic about the universe, the painful reminders that he'd lost his family sat in full view on his bookshelf. A holopic of Jo had its place, the only think Kirk wouldn't ever dare touch, next to McCoy's data PADDs for his classes. He kept the bottle of bourbon next to Jo's holo as a silent warning to himself of what alcohol and work cost him. It was his fault, too, something Kirk helped him realize. The strange thing was that he wasn't ashamed to admit it, though not that his new found sense of accountability made it hurt any less.

But standing over his sleeping daughter's bed, McCoy felt all the stress and tension that gathered the last two years slip from his body. His life might not be right; after this weekend, he'd go back to working hospital shifts while plowing through classes, living in a dorm with kids a decade his junior, all while trying to forget that his future has him destined for the deep reaches of space. But in that moment, standing sentry over Jo as nothing more than a father with his daughter, everything was just fine in the world.

He had to force his feet to move, tiptoeing quietly out of the room. Len pulled the door closed to douse the light from the hall, but left it open a crack in case Jo needed something. Flipping on the vidscreen as he passed, McCoy scowled when he realized there was nothing on. Channel surfing for twenty minutes, he finally gave up and snagged one of the PADDs he'd left on the coffee table. The doctor's concentration was decidedly elsewhere, so he set the article down. He walked into the kitchen, grabbed a glass of water, and headed straight back for the couch. Sinking into the cushions with a muted groan of pleasure, McCoy stretched his legs out on the coffee table, put his arms on the back of the couch, and let his head tip backwards into the cushions. The vidscreen chattered away in the background, the sounds lulling the doctor toward sleep. 'Just five minutes,' he told himself and closed his eyes for a short nap.

Joanna woke slowly to a plethora of unfamiliar smells and wrong sounds. She furrowed her little eyebrows, a gesture that was certainly a genetic McCoy trait. Lifting her head off the pillow, she shoved the pink felt blanket from her shoulders, letting it fall to the ground. Carefully, she slid out of bed and ambled toward the door. She pushed it open and wandered out in to the hallway. It was starting to come back to her; the packing, the shuttle ride, seeing her father. Confusion gave way to excitement as she rounded the corner, expecting to hear her father rattling around in what was apparently their home for the next few days.

Entering the living room, Joanna was met with the sight of her father, but instead of looking busy, he was sound asleep on the couch. Jo stifled a giggle when McCoy snorted in his sleep and continued snoring away. She nibbled on her lip, a mischievous expression ghosting over her face. With a good head of steam, Jo ran toward the couch, jumped up on the coffee table, and propelled her little body right into McCoy's lap.

Len woke with a start, nearly screeching in pain when a little knee made a solid connection with his 'family jewels'. He bit down on his lip and sucked in a couple of deep breaths through his nose, gently shifting Jo over and to the left so his testicle could stop sending rather unpleasant messages of pain to his brain. "Jojo, when did you wake up?"

"A little bit ago!" she exclaimed, bouncing next to him on the couch. "I was hungry. My tummy was rumbling."

At that moment, Joanna's stomach growled loudly, a sound that pulled a light laugh from the doctor. "So it is. I'll tell you what: let's go get a snack, and then we have to go meet a friend of mine for dinner. How does that sound?"

"Is there ice cream?" Joanna asked, pulling out her 'A' game sweet, cute and innocent smile.

"Maybe if you're good. We'll see, Jo," McCoy replied seriously, waving a finger at her in the air.

Joanna clapped happily. 'We'll see,' in daddy speak meant, 'Yes, I will cave to your every demand,' a fact the little girl learned early on to exploit.

Getting up off the couch, McCoy clicked the vidscreen channel to something more appropriate for children. He dropped the remote next to Jo and went to the closet to grab her carry on bag. Setting it beside her, he said, "Why don't you play for a little while so I can make you a snack. Then, we'll go get some real food, okay?"

"'Kay!" Jo answered, digging into her bag with gusto. A tsunami of toys came flying out, littering the floor of the living room with such speed that even the little girl herself didn't know what to play with first.

McCoy went to the kitched and started rummaging through the refrigerator. His search yielded a cup of applesauce and a small handful of carrot sticks. Balancing the snacks in his hand, he shut the door and grabbed a spoon, walking into the living room. Setting all three items on the coffee table, McCoy said, "Jo? Here's your snack."

Jo threw down her tiny plastic space ship and came to join her father. She sat and started nibbling away at the carrot sticks, a fact that shocked the doctor. "Thanks, Daddy."

"You're welcome, sweetheart," he said, tousling her hair. Scooting up closer to her, McCoy asked, "Jo, how would you like to meet a friend of mine? I think you'll like him."

"Okay," she answered after a serious round of contemplation.

Scratching his head, Len asked, "Is that a problem, Jo?" It wasn't as if Joanna was shy; genetics gave the little girl her father's looks but none of his introverted personality. Never had or would she struggle striking up a conversation or lighting up a room with her presence. It made McCoy shudder to think about how similar she was to Jim, and Jo was only six. Meeting Jim should be the last of his worries.

With an expression Len could only have described as 'desperate', Joanna looked him in the eyes and asked, "Does he have ice cream?"

McCoy threw back his head and laughed. Six year olds had wonderfully clear priorities.

Next Up: Jo and Bones have dinner with Kirk.