Warnings: mild language, death, mourning

A year on the Enterprise in deep space had really made it home. Everyone onboard got along and knew they could trust each other. There were a few incidents, of course, disagreements like any family has, but that was to be expected. The ship's chaplain found herself acting as a mediator more often then not. She was more popular still for secrets and confessions, and Freddey was more than happy to handle the everyday doldrums. She had the added benefit of seeing her best friends every day. She called her grandparents and brothers whenever she could, wanting to keep them informed about everything that went on and to be kept abreast of their lives in South Jersey.

She also had plenty of new friends to keep her company, as well, friends like Pavel Chekov and Hikaru Sulu and Carol Marcus. She got know Nyota Uhura even better, too. Having so many good friends was a good thing when one was so far from home. One of those friends was Montgomery Scott.

Freddey liked Scotty very much. He was an incredibly good person and a kind soul. Everyone on the Enterprise thought a great deal of him as an engineer and a friend, and no one could say there was anyone who cared for the Enterprise more than he did. Freddey initially found it odd that such a scientifically-minded person would enjoy her company, but Scotty seemed to almost go out of his way to spend time with her, not that she minded. He was always interested in how she was doing, how her family was, if she had read any interesting papers lately, listening raptly as she answered. Kahliya told her they should just make out and get it over with already because they were clearly in love. Freddey told her that just couldn't be.

"I mean, really, Liya… he's a distinguished engineer and at least ten years older than me. He doesn't like me like that. Why would he?"

"Boy, you sure are clueless. I can tell you exactly what he sees in you."

Freddey felt her brow knit, and Kahliya laughed, saying, "I'll be he likes… this!" and giving Freddey's rear a swift pinch. Freddey squealed, swatting Kahliya's hand away but laughing herself. Kahliya went for the hip next, and they went on like that for some time until both were breathless from laughter, sprawled together on Kahliya's bed. When they finally caught their breath, Kahliya gave Freddey an appraising look, saying, "You really have no clue."

"What?"

"I mean you're really clueless. You really can't see why someone wants to be with you."

"Oh, come on, Kahliya, you know why. You know I-… I'm not like everyone else," Freddey said, "I know why he think's he wants to be with me, but no guy wants a partner that won't put out. That's just a fact-"

"I was wrong. You're not clueless. You're oblivious!"

Kahliya rolled over onto her side to face Freddey and told her gently, "Fred, you can't know what he wants. You can't know what anybody wants but you. I'll tell you what, though… I think he doesn't just want what you think he does. That Scotty's a good guy, real good. I don't think he wants anything from you but love."

"Comforting as that is, I'm not even sure I have that to give."

"Hush. Stop talkin' like you're broken. You're you."

"How would you know?"

"Because I know you."

Kahliya's eyes were big and brown and sincere, her expression open and kind. She added, "I mean, you wouldn't be here if you weren't a little messed up, but you're not broken. C'mere…"

She wrapped an arm around Freddey and pulled her in tight. That's why she's one of my best friends. She always knows how to make me feel better. In the middle of their hug, Kahliya gave Freddey another pinch, dissolving them into squealing laughter once again.

A few weeks later, Freddey sat in her office, writing up a report on the last planet they'd visited, when a call started coming over her comm. It was marked urgent.

"Hello, this is LT Mulcahy, USS Enterprise."

"Effie? It's Whit," her brother said, his voice thick, "Do you have a minute?"

"Yeah. What is it, Whit? What happened? Is everyone alright?"

Her heart pounded in her chest, her stomach rolling briefly.

"It's-… um, i-it's Pops… it's Grampa," he told her, "He had- There was nothing we could do, Effie-"

"What? Had what? Whit, tell me what happened!"

"He had a stroke… a-a blood clot or something… He was gone by the time the-the ambulance arrived. There was nothing anyone could do, Effie. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Freddey felt like someone had ripped a hole in her chest, part of her hemorrhaging violently and painfully. She heard herself ask, "When's the funeral?"

"In a few days. Um… On Wednesday. It's when we'll go over the will, too."

The hole grew impossibly bigger. There's no way I can be back on Terra by Wednesday. The Enterprise was a full two weeks out of the Sol System and then another two days from Terra.

"We know-… We know you won't be able to make it back in time. We understand. Grampa-… Grampa would understand, too. We just… You needed to know, Effie."

"Yes. Than-Thank you for calling."

She hung up after their goodbyes. Her chest felt like it was ripping itself to shreds, trying to fill the newfound hole with something, anything, even if it was just blood and bone and sinew. Holy shit, it hurts. She didn't even hear the knock on the door or hear it open or hear someone enter. She felt a hand on her arm and looked down slowly, as if she were underwater. It was a familiar hand, a working hand, with dirt and grease bedded in the nails. The hand was attached to a red sleeve with lieutenant commander stripes. A muffled voice was trying to speak to her. Her eyes followed the arm to the shoulder, the chest, the face.

Scotty's eyes were kind and concerned, his mouth moving as he tried to get through to Freddey. She blinked at him and willed herself to hear his voice.

"-to me, lass," he whispered, "What's wrong?"

"He… He's dead," she rasped out, her voice rough as though she hadn't used it in ages, "He died."

"Who died? Please, tell me."

"I can't… can't believe it," she went on, ignoring him.

Everything suddenly swung to the other extreme. Freddey became acutely aware of her own trembling, of the gentle vibrations of the ship, the chemical smell of lubricants and grease that always clung to Scotty's clothes, the small brown spot in Scotty's otherwise deep blue right iris, the deep and unending pain in her chest. There was a lump in her throat. Tears burned in her eyes.

"It's not fair," she choked out at last, "He raised me. Him and Gramma took us in after everything that happened. They raised us. Made sure we went to school and got good grades and that we were healthy. This isn't fair."

"Come, lass, tell me what happened. I want to help."

"You can't 'help.' There's nothing to help," she snapped, "My grandfather, the man who raised me, just died of a stroke, and I won't even be able to go to the goddamn funeral! I can't even properly tell him goodbye, and there is nothing that can help!"

She didn't know when she got to her feet.

"That's true," Scotty replied softly, still kneeling on the floor, "I cannae fix that. No one can. Believe me, I would break every law of physics to get you home for that funeral… but I can't. I have to help ye as I can, so… so just do whatever you need to do. You can scream at me, hit me, whatever you need. I'd prefer you just talk to me, but… well… I just want to help."

His voice was so earnest, Freddey felt bad for yelling. She slumped back into her chair, once more eyelevel with Scotty, the ache in her chest throbbing violently. The memory of her mind meld with the Other Spock floated to the surface of her mind. She remembered the bottomless emptiness he showed her, the ragged wound left behind. She fought to keep her tears from falling because once they did…

"I just talked to him the other day," she whimpered, "He said-… we were-… we were making plans for when I came home in a few months. It's gonna be deer season. He was gonna take me huntin'… and we were gonna go to some of the museums in Philly and DC… I just- he was fine the other day. I-It's not fair, Scotty."

She felt her lip tremble and her expression crumple. Tears rolled down her cheeks. Scotty reached out and pulled her into his arms, telling her, "There, there, lass. You just go on and let it out. I'm right here."

Those last words sparked a memory of her last call to her Grampa. Whenever they hung up, Freddey would always say, 'See ya back on Earth,' and he'd reply, 'Not goin' anywhere. I'm right here.'

That was it. Freddey sobbed loudly into Scotty's shoulder, cried uncontrollably. He just tightened his arms around her, one hand gently cradling the back of her head, the other rubbing soothingly over her back. Freddey just cried. She cried and clutched desperately at Scotty's shirt, as if he would disappear at any moment. The emptiness hurt so bad and was raw and gaping and feeling like the wound would never close. Scotty tried in vain to soothe her tears. Low words rumbled in his chest, words she couldn't always make out, though she heard an occasional, "Hush, my lassie," and "Don't worry, I've got ye," over her own grief. She couldn't be sure of how long she even cried for. She just cried until she physically exhausted herself, tears rolling down her cheeks as she stayed curled up against Scotty's chest. He pulled back slightly to look at her.

"Y'know, I'm rubbish at comfort, lass," he told her quietly, his eyes a bit red, "I've got nae fancy words or philosophies to soothe your grief. All I've got is this shoulder here for you to cry on and the words, 'It'll be alright.' I've lost all but one grandparent. I've lost an uncle and cousin. I've lost some folk who were very close to my heart, and all I know is that it hurts verra bad for a good long while, but it does get better. It hurts less over time."

"But it hurts real bad right now."

"I know, bonnie wee lass. I know, and I cannae give you any good words for that."

"They're words I prob'ly need to find for myself, I think."

"I could leave an-"

"No!" Freddey half-shouted, clinging to Scotty's shirt, "Please… please, don't go. I don't- I don't wanna be alone. Don't leave me, Scotty."

"Of course, Freddey. Anything you ask."

"I just… I don't wanna be alone."

"Then I'll stay for as long as you need me."

He pulled her back into an embrace, and she just let herself be held by him. Somehow, even in the midst of her grief, Freddey felt strangely content there in Scotty's arms, her head tucked under his chin, arms pressed between their chests. He was warm and gentle and soothing, letting his fingers run through her hair and stroke up and down her arm. Freddey sniffed loudly and nestled in closer to Scotty; he tightened his arms. She focused on his even breathing, the feeling of his fingers on her arm, the faint smell of industrial lubricant in his clothes. Comfortable though she was in Scotty's arms, she still felt like she'd never be happy again. She wasn't aware she had voiced the opinion until Scotty replied.

"Don't say that, lass," he whispered, "Ye will be happy again. I know it."

Freddey didn't reply. Truthfully, she knew she'd be happy again one day. She would overcome this as she had overcome Tarsus IV, had overcome the deaths of 4,000 people in front of her, had overcome having to bury small children when she was but a child herself. Scotty pulled away to look at her again.

"May I tell you somethin', lass?"

"Of course. You can tell me anything, Scotty."

His eyes were shining as he explained, "ADM Archer sent me to Delta Vega in '55, uh, early '55, for performing a transporter experiment on one of his prize beagles, especially because I lost the damn dog. That was my punishment, gettin' sent to an icy hellhole of a planet where was the same routine, day in and day out. He knew my mind would just rot from the stagnation of doin' the same shite day after day. Just to spite him, I tried to enjoy it. I still worked on transporter theorems and warp theory to keep myself occupied. For the most part, it worked.

"Then… in late '57, my cousin became-… became very ill. He and I were verra close as children. We lived on the same street, only a few houses away. Mum and Da' treated Jamie like a fourth child. Och, he was my partner in crime, Jamie was. We were awful wee terrors, always wreaking havoc on our mums and siblings. So, when he-he turned up ill…"

"What happened to him?" Freddey asked gently.

"It was a brain tumor. Inoperable. Malignant. Doc said Jamie would be gone in less than six months, and he would suffer for a lot of it. I called whenever I could, tellin' him tae keep his chin up and I'd be there soon and we'd have one last hurrah before-… well, before. I went through all the proper channels to be sent home for just a few months, just for as long as my cousin would be alive. Archer blocked it. He made sure I was stuck on Delta Vega. By the time he realized what an arse he was bein' and let me leave, it was too late. Jamie, uh… Jamie couldn't take the pain anymore and, erm, opted for a painless, humane euthanasia over a lingering death. Like you, right now, I couldn't get home for his funeral. The Vulcan System was too far away. I didn't even see his grave 'til after I was assigned to the Enterprise."

Scotty ducked his head, tears slipping down his cheeks. Freddey took hold of the hand that wasn't resting on the small of her back, squeezing gently, reassuringly.

"For the next week after he died and after the funeral, I was miserable. Poor Keenser, I probably scared the wee fella half to death the way I was acting. Then, I just… I knew Jamie wouldn't want me behavin' that way, mourning and bein' melancholy and the like. Somehow, it made me feel better, feel like… Jamie was watchin' over me. I started back in on my theorems and experiments, and that was it."

"It just stopped hurting?"

"Now, I didnae say that, Freddey… but it hurts less."

He reached up to wipe a tear from her cheek, letting his hand linger only a moment longer than necessary. His other hand was still resting on the small of her back.

"Do ye still want me to stay?" he asked quietly.

She wanted to say no. She wanted to tell him that she'd be fine, that she wanted to grieve alone, wanted to pray, to find her own answers.

"Would you?" is what she said.

Freddey felt a soft warmth in her stomach when Scotty replied, "As you wish," felt the same strange fluttering she got any time Scotty was near, whenever she saw him, whenever he looked at her. The hand on the small of her back was a warm and gentle weight, an anchor to reality.

"What did you do? To feel better?" she asked.

"I mourned him," Scotty answered simply, "I mourned what I lost."

Freddey felt a few more tears slip down her cheeks and ducked her head. Scotty's fingers twitched against her back, as if he wanted to pull her in for an embrace again but held back. She heard Scotty clear his throat above her, and he said, "I'm sorry if that's not good enough. It's the only advice I have."

"No… no, it's- it's good advice, Scotty. I'm just not sure how to follow it yet."

It was Scotty's turn to fall silent. Freddey worried it would become awkward between them, somehow. She felt her face burning. She didn't deserve to have this wonderful man listen to her grief, to share his own grief with her, to comfort her… yet she couldn't bear to see him leave. A wave of sadness washed over her, frothing up from the ragged wound in her heart, the one still throbbing painfully, and she let out a hiccup of a sob. She wrapped her arms around his waist, leaning into him, letting his hand on her back guide her in gently. His other returned to cradling the back of her head. After a moment, she felt his chest vibrating faintly and realized he was humming.

"What's that?"

"What's what, lassie?"

"The song you're humming. It sounds sad."

"Aye, it's a bit sad," he replied, "It's an old Scottish tune."

"Could you sing it? I'd like to hear it."

"Of course," he said, clearing his throat as Freddey nestled her head against his collarbone.

"Oh all the money that e'er I spent/ I spent it in good company/ And all the harm that e'er I've done/ Alas, it was to none but me/ And all I've done for want of wit/ To memory now I can't recall/ So fill to me the parting glass/ Good night and joy be with you all…"

Freddey let out a small sigh, relaxing against Scotty, her arms looped loosely about his waist. She let the words filter into the open bleeding wound, let them soothe the ragged edges.

"Oh all the comrades that e'er I've had/ Are sorry for my going away/ And all the sweethearts that e'er I've had/ Would wish me one more day to stay/ But since it falls unto my lot/ That I should rise and you should not/ I'll gently rise and I'll softly call/ Good night and joy be with you all."

Scotty's fingers toyed with the hair at the nape of her neck. She let out another soft sigh, enjoying the simple feeling even as she felt a few more tears slip out. Her eyelids began to flutter. Scotty's soft brogue and her own exhaustion had her drifting off.

"You're fallin' asleep, Freddey," he whispered.

"I know. I'm very tired."

"Then ye should go to bed."

"I don't wanna move," she replied honestly.

"Come, my bonnie wee lass, ye should sleep," he murmured, "and in your own bed. I'll tell the cap'n tae come in and see you and give you some time off. You deserve it."

"Thank you, Scotty."

"You're quite welcome."

She allowed Scotty to help her into her quarters and made no move to stop him from taking off her boots or tucking her into bed.

"I need to go, lass," he told her gently, "I'll send Jim down to sit with ye."

Freddey was already half-asleep, exhausted by grief, so she was sure she imagined Scotty pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.

Watching a peaceful death of a human being reminds us of a falling star; one of a million lights in a vast sky that flares up for a brief moment only to disappear into the endless night forever. ~Elisabeth Kübler-Ross

Thank you to anyone who has read, reviewed, and enjoyed this fic. If you like Freddey, she'll be back soon.