A/N: This is a follow-on to my free write 'Sink or Swim – Young McCoy' and takes place a few weeks later. Lenny and Joss were so different, so just what did he do to win her heart?
I was working on this when I got the news about Leonard Nimoy. Even though the story isn't about his character, I almost scrapped it, but felt compelled to finish it, for his sake. I don't think Shatner, Nimoy and Kelley realized when they were making Trek the joy it would bring to millions for decades to come, but more importantly, the influence their characters would have over the lives of everyone they touched.
For the Love of a Good Woman
He couldn't believe his good fortune. The night had gone off without a hitch, and he was even more smitten, if that was possible. And he'd sworn he felt a shift in her. Against all odds, he finally felt like he had a chance at winning her heart. But now, that was all about to come crashing down. He could see their budding relationship crumbling before his very eyes before it even had a chance to begin. And yet, the evening had started off so wonderfully, so perfectly…
oooOOOooo
He looked in the hall mirror, swallowed nervously, and slicked down an unruly patch of hair. So much was riding on tonight. He never thought in a million years he'd be given this opportunity and to his mind, this was his one shot to make a favorable impression.
He'd been helping her with organic chemistry for several weeks now and had finally screwed up the courage to ask her out, fully expecting to be rejected on the spot. Typically, as indicated by her string of previous boyfriends, he was not her type. He didn't have an athletic bone in his body, so he'd nearly passed out when she graced him with a mischievous smile, squeezed his forearm, and said she thought he'd never ask.
Mom was letting him use her flitter tonight. It just wouldn't do pick up Jocelyn in his old broken-down jalopy. And he'd planned the evening with all the finesse and meticulousness of a military campaign, wanting to make sure what he deemed his one and only chance to make a favorable impression on her would go off without a hitch. First they'd take in a holo at the local theater, then he'd take her on a sightseeing tour of town (she had just moved here last summer), and finally pizza at the local teenage hangout before he took her home.
A voice behind him startled him. "Here, let me look at you," his mother said, grasping his upper arms and gently spinning him to face her. "You look fine, and so handsome," she assured him, smoothing a nonexistent wrinkle from his shirt. "How could she resist?" she added playfully with a wink and a nod.
"Really, Mom?" he countered in mock derision. In fact, they were quite close. She had been instrumental in helping him come to grips with his best friend's death when he was eight, and due to his father's increasing absences for work over the years, they had come to depend on each other more and more for dealing with the everyday highs and lows life saw fit to hurl into their paths.
"But seriously, Leonard, from what I've seen Jocelyn Dupree is a sweet girl, and perfect for you."
"Great. Glad I've got you fooled. Think you can convince her of that for me?" He knew this was hard for her, that in many ways he was all his mother had left, but she was putting her own feelings aside in favor of her only child's happiness.
"Won't have to. You'll do fine all by yourself. Just be your usual charming, witty self, be sure to rein in the infamous McCoy temper, and she won't stand a chance."
"Thanks, Mom," he said tenderly, before planting a gentle kiss on her forehead. "I won't be late – Joss' curfew is 10:00, and thanks for trusting me with your flitter," he threw over his shoulder as he tugged the front door to the family plantation house closed behind him. Over the centuries it had housed generations of McCoys, having been rebuilt after being burnt to the ground on Sherman's lightning march through Georgia during the American Civil War.
On the drive over, he rehearsed in his head what he'd say to Mr. Dupree. Being his daughter's science tutor was one thing; being her potential boyfriend was another thing altogether. And even in the five months Joss' family had been living in this small town, her dad's penchant for antique firearms had become well known. That made it paramount that he didn't wind up on Arlo Dupree's bad side for any reason.
When he'd arrived he'd been able to successfully make small talk with the man, answering all of the questions flung at him concerning his plans for the evening until Joss appeared at the top of the staircase wearing a short little purple number that immediately short-circuited his brain and caused his mouth to stop working. He couldn't help but stare, mouth agape. Mr. Dupree followed his gaze and then shot him a look that said "one false move and I'll castrate you right here on the spot." He'd swallowed uncomfortably, absently tugging at his collar, struggling to squeak out assurances that his intentions were pure, but Joss was quick to intervene.
"Now Daddy, you said not last week I needed to find a more respectable boyfriend than my last one. Well, Leonard's about as respectable as they come, and a true Southern gentleman," she stated with conviction.
Arlo Dupree continued to glare darkly at him, unconvinced. She was his only daughter, and he was a Southern daddy after all. "See that she's home by 10:00, boy, and not a second later. I'll be watching and waiting."
"You have my word, sir," he stammered, extending a hand, careful not to wince when Mr. Dupree grabbed it and squeezed. Thankfully, Joss came to his rescue, looping her arm through his and smiling demurely as she planted a peck on her father's cheek.
"Bye Daddy, see you later," she crooned, as Leonard opened the front door and ushered her out.
Things could not have gone better from that point. Joss chattered happily and incessantly on the drive to the theater, egged on by his questions about her and her family. Once seated, she had snuggled close to him when the lights dimmed and the holo started. It seemed only natural for him to throw an arm about her shoulders and gather her close.
Despite his plans to the contrary, after the film they had gone to a local hover rink at her urging. Similar to skating on ice, anti-grav "skates" with strategically placed magnets on the bottom and calibrated for the weight of the individual wearing them provided for a two-centimeter cushion of air between them and the metal surface of the electromagnetic rink below. In many ways it was superior to traditional ice skating, the rink not required to be kept at below freezing temperatures for one, the metal surface covered with a thin layer of foam padding for another.
She was quite good at it, and although he admitted that this was only his third time hover-skating she had been very gracious, helping him and giving him pointers. And although she had laughed when he wound up on his backside more often than not, he found her to be laughing with him, not at him.
For him, the best part had been that after his initial "lessons," he'd gotten to cling to her for much of the evening without appearing unnecessarily forward or presumptuous. And she hadn't seemed to mind, either, a good portion of their hour-long skate spent with her arm looped about his waist "for stability" she assured him.
They were now seated across from one another, happily munching pizza and sipping sweet tea at the local teenage hangout. He gazed at her, praying he wouldn't wake up only to discover this whole evening had been a dream.
"Honestly, Lenny, I don't know how you stand it here," she remarked out of the blue, sighing heavily.
"Whaddya mean?" he asked, nonplussed.
"Aren't you tired of small town life?"
He considered carefully before answering. "I guess I never really thought about it, but I'm happy here. I've lived here all my life. Heck, my family has lived here for umpteen generations. I guess I'm just an ol' country boy at heart, and the good people of Georgia are in my blood. I couldn't imagine being anywhere else."
"Well, even though we live next door to a farm now, I miss the hustle and bustle of Albany. It's not a huge city, I know, but it sure beats being out here in the sticks. I hope to get out of here someday – go to New York or LA or San Francisco."
"And what do you see yourself doing in the big city?"
"I don't know yet – act, model, probably just wind up waiting tables, but I know there's more out there than this and I intend to find it." She stared at him, scrunching her brow with concentration. He felt his insides melt. "And what about you – you'll be graduating this year. What are your plans? Rumor has it that you've been accepted at Johns Hopkins for premed, but then you're so smart you could do just about anything – surely something that will take you far away from all this."
He scratched at the back of his neck, suddenly embarrassed. "Yep. That's pretty much the long and short of it."
"How exciting! That'll be quite a change from being here. And with a degree in medicine, you could live and practice anywhere," she remarked, green eyes shining.
He chewed his lower lip before answering. He already knew he wanted to settle here after college and med school, and he realized with a jolt he hoped to do it with her at his side. He shook his head imperceptibly. Right. Like a girl like her would end up with a guy like me. Won't happen in a million years. He resisted the urge to sigh. "Yes, I suppose I could, but as far as I'm concerned I hope to return to these parts eventually. Small town life really isn't that bad, and we're less than an hour from Atlanta. I do like visiting the city, but I sure as hell don't want to live there, and don't want to raise a family there."
"Ah, so you do want a family someday," she surmised cheekily.
"Yeah, well, if I can ever convince a girl to marry me," he scoffed, feeling himself go red. You, in particular, he added silently.
"I don't see where that would be a problem," she responded immediately through veiled lashes. "You're quite a handsome young man." She reached across the table and brushed his hand with her fingertips, his skin on fire wherever their hands touched.
The moment was broken by a gruff voice behind him. "Joss. I figured you'd be here."
"Scott," she retorted, instantly annoyed. "What do you want?"
"More importantly, the question is what do you want? Surely not this skinny science geek. If you were trying to make me jealous, you could have picked someone more convincing," he sneered, snickering and shaking his head in disbelief.
Leonard immediately felt his cheeks flush with anger. Scott was Joss' latest ex in a long line of exes. And it seemed the 6'4" 220-pound star pitcher of their high school's baseball team hadn't gotten that particular memo. He grabbed Jocelyn's wrist, tugging her to her feet. "C'mon, let's blow this joint."
Leonard was on his feet in an instant. "Let her go, Scott. She doesn't want to go with you."
He whirled to face Leonard, fury alight in his eyes and demeanor. "Oh, so now you're not only an expert in chemistry, you're an expert on what she wants, too? I've got news for you, Poindexter no one knows what she needs like I do. If you know what's good for you, you'll just let it drop and walk away before I snap you in half like a twig, you get me?" He turned and reached for Jocelyn, throwing an arm about her waist and steering her toward the door. "C'mon, Baby, point made. My flitter's outside. I'll take you anywhere you want to go."
But Joss wrenched herself free of his grasp. "Get your hands off me, Scott. You don't own me and I'll do and be with who I please. And by the way, I'm not your baby." The words were said sotto voce, her anger smoldering, breath bursting forth in short, quick gasps.
Before conscious thought had a chance to make him realize the futility of his action, Leonard was in Scott's face, a hand on Joss' arm, shoving her protectively behind him. "I said, let her go, or perhaps you didn't understand me the first time. I'll try to use smaller words." A smattering of laughter erupted throughout the shop, and Leonard grinned in spite of himself.
The laughter died quickly, the silence now deafening, all eyes glued to the two teenagers as Scott's hand slowly transformed into a fist.
"Who's gonna stop me? You? You and what army?"
"It's not my call, or yours, but Joss'. She can go with whom she wants."
A punch full in the face caught Leonard off guard, dropping him like a crate of neutronium ingots. He felt a gush of warm liquid trickle down the sides of his face and drip onto the floor below. "Well, seeing as you're not mobile at the moment, I guess the decision's been made."
Joss screamed and immediately knelt at Leonard's side. "Lenny, are you all right? Your nose is bleeding." Scott grabbed her arm again, but she shrugged him off, the anger no longer below the surface as she whirled to face him. "Stop it, Scott. I wouldn't go with you now no matter what you said."
"Well, unless you want to see poor Lenny suffer more of the same, you'd better come along," he declared dismissively, reaching a hand down to her.
The low voice of the owner could be heard in the background. "One kid is down already. Please hurry." He then stepped around the counter, squatting beside Joss, pressing a clean towel into her hand. "Here, use this." He then stood, confronting Scott. "Get out of my establishment. You know I don't allow any physical violence in here."
Scott chuckled, a dark, menacing sound. "Then I guess we'll just have to take it outside. You game McCoy? Or are you still seeing stars?" Grabbing Leonard by his collar he roughly manhandled him to his feet. The owner tried to separate them and was tossed onto a table for his trouble. Scott shoved Leonard through the door onto the street, Joss pummeling Scott's back with her fists and screaming for him to stop the whole time, a small crowd of diners spilling out of the shop behind them at a respectable distance.
"It's fine, I'll go with you, Scott," Joss said, crossing in front of them. She cast an apologetic glance at Leonard rapidly followed by one dripping with venom at her ex.
"No you won't," Leonard offered, swaying unsteadily on his feet, "Not unless it's what you want."
"It's not what I want, but it's the only way to keep him from really hurting you," she whispered, the words pitched for Leonard's ears alone, a gentle hand on his chest.
"We'll just see about that, Poindexter," Scott retorted, releasing his hold on Leonard and bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet, fists clenched in front of his face.
Leonard's mind raced. Thanks to his family background he quickly assessed his opponent's anatomical weak spots. The groin was way too obvious. Hit Scott there and he'd be forever labeled a coward in the eyes of his peers. The eyes were a clear choice, as were the temples, but he couldn't risk doing any permanent damage. A punch in the midsection might temporarily knock the wind out of his opponent, assuming he was strong enough to penetrate the stockier boy's toned wall of abdominal muscles, but it was a longshot, given that Scott had the advantage of height and reach.
"What's the matter? You gonna just stand there, boy?" Scott taunted, landing a slap on Leonard's already abused face.
Leonard was careful to backpedal, making the other think he was more wounded than he truly was. As expected, Scott closed in, a triumphant grin on his face. "Just as I thought, all talk and no action," he said to the crowd that had gathered, taking his eyes off Leonard for an instant.
Leonard took advantage or the momentary lapse, slamming the side of his hand into the base of his opponent's throat, careful to gauge the intensity of the blow so that it did no permanent damage to the cartilage surrounding Scott's windpipe. To Leonard's satisfaction and amid cheers from the throng of onlookers, the bully toppled to the ground as if felled by a phaser stun.
Just then, sirens could be heard approaching. "Lenny, you were wonderful," Joss said, eyes sparkling with appreciation and admiration, "but we need to go before the police get here," she insisted, trying to tug him toward his flitter.
"Can't," he murmured, digging in his heels and pinching the bridge of his nose in an effort to staunch the flow of blood. "If I run now, they'll think I started it, no matter what the witnesses say. I can't put my mom through having the police show up at my house." In a valiant display of amity, he reached a hand down to Scott, with the intention of helping him to his feet as the squad cars arrived.
oooOOOooo
He sat on the back porch, feet propped up on the railing, sipping at his secret stash of moonshine as he reflected on the evening. To his mind it couldn't have gone better, and to think, he had Scott to thank for that.
The police had let them go with only a verbal warning as Maurizio had declined to press charges, citing the fact that no damage had been done to his restaurant or the patrons therein. Scott had been permanently banned from the shop, and while Maurizio indicated he was secretly proud of the way Leonard had stood up to the taller, heavier boy, protocol dictated that McCoy was not welcome for a month, either.
He had gotten Joss home just in time, and while the initial sight of Leonard had infuriated Arlo Dupree, that anger rapidly turned to gratitude as the story unfolded. Joss' father hadn't liked her previous suitor at all, but was already warming up to this latest young lad.
Mrs. Dupree had fussed over him, gently cleaning the remaining blood from his face and clothing and giving him a cold pack for his nose. Despite their insistence that he see a doctor, for his mother's sake if nothing else, Leonard assured them his nose was not broken.
His mother had been beside herself when he arrived home, a call from Mrs. Dupree tipping her off to what had happened. It had taken some doing, but Leonard calmed her down, convinced her he was fine, sent her off to bed and retreated to the back porch. His nose was sore, his face throbbing, but all in all the evening had been a smashing success. He was already anticipating his next date with Joss. Surely it would prove to be much less melodramatic than their first. Amid all the excitement he realized he hadn't even kissed her goodnight, a mistake he certainly wouldn't make next time...