Jenny woke up in the almost dark. Safely ensconced in McCoy's arms, she still felt somewhat anxious. About what, she wasn't sure. But the feeling was familiar. Maybe it was just the aftereffects of a bad dream. She seemed to have a lot of them ever since waking up in this century, never quite able to remember what they were about, but leaving a sense of anxiety nevertheless. Although, after what had happened the day before, having bad dreams was probably not out of the ordinary. And considering how many scary missions she'd been on since joining Starfleet, dealing with things in dreams was probably something most Starfleet officers experienced. Maybe she'd ask Leonard about it sometime. Or maybe not.

Knowing that she wouldn't be able to go back to sleep anytime soon, Jenny slowly and carefully disentangled herself from McCoy's embrace, got up to get a glass of water, and then settled down on the edge of the bed, silently looking at the sleeping doctor's features. She couldn't think of anything more beautiful than this beloved face or their relationship. He was always there for her, always looking out for her. Had, in fact, been looking out for her since the very day they'd met. Just thinking about the way he cared filled her heart with love and a sense of security that really shouldn't leave any room for anxiety.

She was so lucky to have him in her life, their bond growing stronger with every day. Sometimes it felt as if he'd saved her from a profound loneliness, which was weird, really, given that she'd never led a lonely life. Her parents had been lovely people, and she'd always had friends, now as well as then. And yet, McCoy's kindness and caring, the warmth and tenderness he showed her, seemed to quench an aching need, some deep-rooted yearning inside her. As if she'd finally found water after ages of dragging herself through a desert.

Trying to shake those strange thoughts, the kind you only ever seem to have in the middle of the night, Jenny finally lay back down and slid under the blanket, careful not to wake the doctor. And relishing the comforting warmth he radiated, his soft breath caressing her hair, she went back to sleep in no time.

-x-x-x-x-x-

Feeling her shifting around, McCoy opened a sleepy eye to check on Hope, as he had several times already that night. She was usually blessed with deep and uninterrupted sleep, but after yesterday's traumatic events, she was understandably restless, moaning and talking in her dreams, although mainly babbling in what might or might not be some ancient version of German.

Wrapping his arm around her and caressing her cheek soothingly, he wished he could just take away her pain. But grief was a process she had to go through. There was no pill or hypo to cure it, only time would help. And talking about it. At least that was something he could help her with.

As he'd expected, she tried to pretend everything was all right the next morning, and he played along, letting her believe he bought her act. She had to do her job, face her colleagues, after all. And if she found pretending to be okay the easiest way to get through the day, he'd encourage that. They could talk some more in the evening, when it was just the two of them again.

Hope was the most positive, optimistic person he'd ever met. She always tried to see the best in people and in every situation. But sometimes, even she reached her limits, and although he was confident that she'd revert to her old self with time, he saw it as his job to help her get there sooner rather than later.

At lunchtime, McCoy met Hope and two of her colleagues in the mess and thought she was really convincing in her cheerfulness. It was only when Kirk joined them with news of their attacker, that the doctor caught another glimpse of her inner pain.

Apparently, the attacker had been a member of an opposing group, and hadn't been able to deal with the fact that all other members had made a 180° turn after the Enterprise had saved the planet. Kirk was inclined to believe that, since the president, and the Home Worlders in general, had made a very sincere impression. But of course, everything regarding their potential joining the Federation was up to the diplomats.

-x-x-x-x-x-

The next couple of weeks on the Enterprise were very quiet. No incidents, no spontaneous missions. Plenty of time for dancing, band practice and combat training after hours. Jenny should really have been enjoying it, but for some reason her heart was not quite in it. A fact that others, apparently, picked up on, too.

McCoy was being extra gentle with her, and she noticed that far fewer of her crewmates than usual had come to her for advice or an open ear since Home World. They were either being considerate, or her listening skills were a little off. And while Hikaru and Pavel contented themselves with throwing her worried glances, Nyota kept pestering her all the time, wanting to know what was ailing her. She understood, of course, that Jenny was upset about Calmara's death – they all were, but didn't quite see why this particular experience seemed to affect her so much more than some of the other things that Jenny had already been through.

And the truth was, neither did Jenny. McCoy was giving her massages to die for every other night, clearly hoping to cajole her into talking about what was bothering her. And she really wanted to, she just genuinely didn't know what to tell him. Yes, she'd grown quite fond of Calmara over the few days she'd known her, but they hadn't become that close. Yes, seeing her getting shot had been terrible, but she'd seen people die before. And yes, knowing that she'd died so that Jenny could live made her feel guilty, but Kirk, Spock and Scotty were in the same boat, and McCoy was helping them all get to terms with it.

No, there had to be more to the dull pain, the simmering anxiety than that. It was as if the episode had somehow triggered a memory. Only, she had no idea what that might be. It was more than frustrating. A bit like when you wake up and want to hold on to a dream, but it fades the moment you try to remember it.

And it wasn't the first time, she'd experienced something like this, either. She'd had strange moments of déjà vu before. Most recently when, during Joanna's illness, she'd truly felt a parent's terror. Until Christine had not so gently reminded her that she wasn't a parent, and Jenny had attributed the feeling to her love and empathy for Leonard.

She wondered, if this might be a sign of PTSD. Or maybe she was simply going mad. Her brain had been kept in stasis for three centuries, after all. But there was no way she was bothering McCoy with this, as long as it was nothing more than a vague feeling. He worried enough about her as it was. She'd just have to work a little on her positive vibrations and attitude. Take more time for yoga, find her inner balance again. That had always worked for her before. She'd talk some more about Calmara to Leonard, to help her put her death behind her, and then she'd go back to normal. Feeling low for no particular reason was just not in her make-up.

-x-x-x-x-x-

Hope was making uncharacteristically slow progress, and McCoy was getting really worried. He'd tried subterfuge to coax her into confiding in him, but it almost seemed as if she really didn't have a clue of what was wrong with her. Seeing her trying so hard to not only seem but truly feel happy again, he'd even secretly run a tricorder over her when she was asleep, to find out if there was any physical problem he might have overlooked. But nothing. Nada. Rien. Nichts. The doctor was getting a little desperate.

Then Kirk announced some good news, and Hope really perked up after that. The Enterprise had received orders to pick up a group of ambassadors at a starbase, and the captain had managed to schedule a longer stay by putting in a request for some rare spare parts that Scotty claimed to urgently need in engineering.

The reason behind this was that Jim, bless him, had got hold of a few tickets for a recreation planet near the starbase, which was said to be one of the most beautiful places in the galaxy. Access was strictly limited, the planet booked up for months, if not years in advance, but the captain had still managed to get his hands on enough tickets for everyone who'd missed out on their last shore leave to help McCoy with the serum for Joanna. Well, almost enough. They were one ticket short, and good old Spock had kindly declined.

McCoy was immensely looking forward to the almost four days they'd get to spend there. Hope desperately needed some time off the ship, and he could certainly do with time away from sickbay, too. And when he saw her genuine delight at the prospect, her trademark enthusiasm returning to everything she did, from the dancefloor to the bedroom, the doctor was hopeful that she'd found back to her old self at last.

After one of their 'exquisite marathons', as McCoy reverently referred to them in his head, he and Hope lay on his bed, side by side, both on their backs, exhausted, and holding hands. He was still catching his breath, and noticed with satisfaction that Hope was a little breathless, too.

She's really something else, he thought affectionately.

Being intimate with her was truly mind-blowing. Who'd have thought a tiger was sleeping inside this seemingly innocent young woman? And more surprising still, who'd have thought that he of all people would be the one to awaken it?

"Sometimes I think you just love me for my body, darling," McCoy drawled and squeezed her fingers a little, feeling jocular as he lay there, eyes shut and a very content smile on his lips.

When there was no comeback from her, no quip, as he would have expected, he turned his head to look at her, and found Hope staring into the distance.

"Is it normal that I just can't get enough of you?" she asked after a while, her voice soft and low. "I mean, I've never… and now..."

She fell silent.

McCoy chuckled. She was a hoot! In addition to being gorgeous, and, well, wonderful in every way.

"Is that your way of suggesting that I might not be as attractive as I'd like to think?" he smirked, but when she turned her head to look at him, and he saw genuine concern in her eyes, he knew that she actually expected an answer.

"Of course, it's normal, love," he quickly assured her, slightly taken aback by her sudden change of mood. "We're in love, we can't keep our hands off each other. That's how it is, how it's supposed to be."

He reached out a hand to touch her cheek and chuckled, "I just hope I can keep up with you, girl," then leaned over to press a gentle kiss on her nose.

That still didn't earn him a smile from Hope, who just kept looking at him pensively.

"No, seriously, Leonard. Is it too much? Am I too needy? After all, some time ago, you told me that you'd never met anyone with such a pronounced need for touch."

"But that's not a bad thing at all, love!" he cried. "It's so sweet, it's what makes you you!"

"Am I too needy?" she repeated, fixing him with her eyes.

McCoy propped himself up on one elbow and looked at her intently.

"Is there a better compliment for a man than when his woman can't get enough of him?" he asked in return, thinking that would make her smile at least, but she just kept gazing at him earnestly, a little frown clouding her pretty face.

"I don't know, Leonard, is there?" she asked quietly.

Where in blazes had all that come from? They'd just spent a wonderful evening together, taking joy in their love and each other's bodies. He'd thought everything was perfect, that she'd long left any insecurities behind. Why did she suddenly seem so unsure again? Had he said or done anything to unsettle her?

"You could never get too much for me, Jenny," he tried to be patient. "You're the best thing that ever happened to me, and I can't get enough of you, either. I thought you knew. Or at least I hoped you'd notice when we're together."

She finally smiled a little at that.

"Of course! I'm sorry, Leonard. This is still just kind of new for me, I guess. Forget it!"

But he couldn't simply forget it. He'd just remembered what she'd said after their first night together. About thinking that 'it' not hurting was as good as it got. His heart broke a little at the memory. Maybe now was the time to follow this up?

"Have you not enjoyed sex before?" he asked delicately, saddened at the thought.

Hope took a moment to think, then slowly shook her head.

"No, not like this. Nothing close."

McCoy felt a cold hand clenching his heart. He chose his next words carefully, but he just had to know.

"Jenny, has anyone hurt you during sex? You mentioned something after our first night, but then didn't seem to want to talk about it."

Looking deeply into her eyes, he hoped she'd open up to him now, but judging from the way she looked back at him, his gaze must have conveyed his concern and fear rather than the endless love he'd intended.

Averting her eyes, Hope contemplated his question for unbearably long minutes – or was it only seconds? – appearing to have a hard time remembering.

Finally, she said not very convincingly, "No, I don't think so. Not that I'd remember."

A chill ran down McCoy's spine, and he gently prompted, "Maybe your friend's father? You know, the one who…"

"I know who you're talking about," Hope quickly cut in, "but no! No... I'm pretty sure…"

Pretty sure? What kind of answer was that? Was she blocking something out?

McCoy clenched his fists, yet tried to keep his voice gentle.

"Jenny, how can you not be sure? If you don't want to talk about it, that's okay, just say so."

Hope looked at him, seeming surprised at his words.

"I'm not trying to hide something from you, Leonard. I honestly don't remember anyone hurting me."

"But?" he prompted, because she'd certainly sounded like there was one.

"No buts," she smiled, and it was more convincing this time. "It's just that I sometimes feel as if my memories of 'before' are fading. But then, that's probably what being asleep for 300 years does to you, isn't it?"

She leaned over to kiss him gently on his lips, then put her hand over her mouth to cover a yawn.

"Can we just go to sleep now, Leonard, and pretend this conversation never happened?" she asked, fluttering her eyelashes at him, then added with a naughty wink and a contented sigh, before comfortably spooning into him, "I'd really rather dream of all the pleasant things we did this evening. If only you could feel what you make me feel when we're together."

"I think I have a pretty good idea," he grinned, feeling an intense surge of love and affection wash over him, as he wrapped his arm around her and snuggled closer.

It didn't take Hope long to fall asleep, usually a sure sign that she was free from any tension or anxiety, but McCoy was still worried. Over the past few days, he'd genuinely thought that she'd fully recovered from her emotional stress. But after tonight, he feared that Calmara's death had only been a trigger for something else. There had to be another, deeper reason for her unexpected insecurities and mood swings, which reminded him unpleasantly of the time shortly before she'd spilled the secret about her past. Was there another secret Starfleet made her keep? Even from him? Whatever it was, it certainly wasn't healthy for her. And if he couldn't coax it out of her, he'd have to get her help from a specialist.

Oh boy, that wouldn't go down well with her.

Just as he tried to push aside his worries and follow Hope into the land of dreams, his computer gave a low chime, signalling an incoming call. Knowing that, at this time of night, it was most probably Joanna calling, he quietly slipped out of bed and sat down in front of the screen. And, sure enough, moments later, his daughter's beaming smile lifted his heavy heart.