McCoy and Hope were standing side by side on the observation deck, gazing out at the stars in companionable silence. Not quite touching, but close enough to feel each other's warm and loving presence. The last few days, since they'd left the Trias system, had been blissfully peaceful, and between sickbay being unusually quiet, and Hope being busy doing all the things that Hope liked to do in her free time, the doctor had had time to reflect on their relationship.

He'd found that he always tried to be strong for her, to look out for her and protect her, because that was how he liked to see himself, what he wanted to be in his heart. But on closer inspection, truth was that even in the beginning, long before they'd become lovers, she'd been there for him just as much as he'd been there for her. He might have helped her through a difficult time during those first few months aboard the Enterprise, but she'd always proven herself immensely supportive and a great source of comfort in return, basically filling his life with happiness. A kind of happiness he hadn't known before.

And even when she'd seen him at his worst, his weakest, when he'd broken down over Joanna's illness, she'd shown nothing but strength and support, not once wavering in her love and respect for him. He'd been terribly embarrassed about losing it so completely in front of her, but she'd been adamant that that hadn't been weakness at all. On the contrary, she thought that functioning as a scientist while beside himself with fear for his daughter had required exceptional strength, and that, if anything, that whole episode had made her feel even safer with him.

How does she always find the right words? McCoy thought fondly, and felt the sudden need to talk about all this to Hope. To tell her how much he loved and appreciated her, loved being in a relationship with her, but at the same time to open up about his fears, too.

"Our relationship is so different from my former ones," he began quietly. "You are so different. You never nag me about committing myself too much to my job or neglecting you."

"Why would I?" Hope answered, sounding sincerely surprised. "It's who you are, it's part of why I love you. You never "nag" me about immersing myself in my work, either. Or spending time with the band, practicing, or with Pavel, dancing, for that matter."

She chuckled, her eyes twinkling in this gently teasing, adorable way that never failed to lift his spirits.

"Seriously, Leonard," she continued, obviously realising that he needed actual reassurance, "I don't feel neglected at all. In fact, and please don't take this wrong, I need my time away from you. I mean, didn't your exes have lives of their own? I enjoy spending time and doing things with my other friends, too. Just like I wouldn't want you to turn your back on your other friends. I perfectly understand if you want to spend some time alone with the captain, or Scotty, or whoever. We're not joined at the hip."

A naughty glint lit up her eyes.

"Although I definitely enjoy the times when our hips…"

"Stop right there!" McCoy groaned, laughing, "I get the picture, thank you very much!"

And a moment later, he winked at her and whispered, "Uh, by the way, the feeling's mutual."

Hope laughed out loud at that, then got serious again and held his gaze.

"What really matters, Leonard, is that, whatever I do and whoever I spend time with, I'll be coming back to you at the end of the day. That knowledge alone is enough for me to be perfectly happy. You're my anchor, my rock, my… home. Yes, wherever you are, is home to me."

She uttered those last words wonderingly, as if the fact had only just occurred to her.

"You'll be there to share my worries and my joys, just as I'll be there to share yours. And I know that, however busy you might be, you'll always be there for me when I really need you. What we have is perfect, Leonard. At least for me."

McCoy was thrown. Hope's words had gone straight to his heart, making him tingle all over as a comforting warmth spread through his body.

"You're amazing," he murmured, gazing deeply into her eyes. "Not only do you accept everything I do, everything I am, without complaining, you even encourage me to stay that way. Surely, there must be something you'd like to change about me?"

"Not a single thing, Leonard. Because then you wouldn't be you anymore," Hope smiled lovingly, and then, eyes sparkling with mischief, added, "However, had you asked me, if I found some things about you irritating, now that would be a different story altogether…"

She jumped and laughed, when the doctor playfully poked her in the ribs for that last comment.

"Don't be cheeky, Lieutenant!" he chided, squeezing her briefly before resuming his former position beside her, looking out at the stars.

Of course, by now everyone aboard the Enterprise suspected them to be more than just friends, and McCoy was sure they'd even approve of their relationship, but being too intimate in front of the crew just didn't feel right. And he was grateful that Hope fully agreed with him in that respect.

Like she seems to agree with me in most every respect, he thought affectionately.

McCoy let a couple of minutes pass, just enjoying their closeness and the soothing view the picture window offered, before taking up the conversation again. There was still more he needed to address.

"It's just that, sometimes, I worry that I'm asking too much of you," he said softly. "When I can't stop talking about work, even when I'm off duty, and you'll listen patiently, help me get my thoughts in order, even give me new ideas and make me see things from a different perspective."

"But isn't that what partners do?" Hope smiled, turning to look at him again. "Support each other? You sure have given me more than enough support of your own since we met, don't you think?"

McCoy nodded once, taking her point.

"But I can be a real old curmudgeon when I worry about something," he went on, not yet ready to drop the subject. "I know that. What about the times when I'm moody and cranky and not in the mood for… you know what? You're a healthy young woman, you have your… needs."

Hope laughed out loud, tilting her head and gazing at him with a mixture of disbelief and reproach.

"You're not serious now, are you, Leonard?" she asked, shaking her head. "Would you try to, or even want to … you know what … with me, if I wasn't in the mood or had other things on my mind?"

"Of course not!" he shot back promptly, appalled by the very idea. "That would be nothing short of rape!"

Hope said nothing in return, but just kept looking at him, raising a knowing eyebrow.

"Oh, I see," he mumbled after a moment and grudgingly agreed, "you're right, of course. That was silly of me."

Hope looked up at him with an indulgent grin, that mischievous glint, McCoy had come to love so much, returning to her eyes.

Leaning closer, she confided in a conspiratorial whisper, "But there's something else, you know. And please don't tell my partner I said that, but I'm okay with him not always being in the mood, because I know that he'll be trying to make up for it the next time, and that's really something a girl can look forward to. That's when I get all my foot rubs and back rubs, and the most passionate … you know what… imaginable. Maybe I don't tell him often enough – don't want him to get big-headed, but my partner is the most wonderful lover. So, no complaints in that regard whatsoever."

Hope straightened up again, moving slightly away from the doctor and trying hard not to guffaw, when she saw the colour that had risen to McCoy's cheeks.

"And now you're wondering where, the hell, she's gone, this shy and innocent girl you first fell in love with," she giggled, her eyes shining with mirth.

"Something along those lines, yes," he chuckled.

"Well, I've got sad news for you, Doctor," Hope responded with a look of fake regret on her face. "That girl's gone for good. And that sure is one thing you have to take all the blame for."

McCoy couldn't help grinning, and squeezed her waist, before she continued.

"I mean it, Leonard. You're a doctor," Hope's eyes were serious again. "You don't stop caring about your patients when you're off duty. You can't quit searching for solutions until you've found them, when it's a matter of life and death. And you need a sounding board, or you'd go mad with your thoughts going round and round in your head. So, what's the big deal? When you're pouring over a problem, I'll listen. When you're in the middle of an emergency, I'll try to support you and your team the best I can. It's the least I can do. We're on the same side in this. In everything. And you've always supported me, too."

For the umpteenth time, McCoy found himself in awe of Hope's keen insight, belying her youth and making her seem mature beyond her age. How did she always do this? Put his fears into a few simple words and then dispel them just like that.

He admired her level-headedness and appreciated her matter-of-fact way of speaking. That no-nonsense attitude he'd come to like and rely on to help him put his own feelings into perspective. And yet, Hope was far from cold or lacking emotion. On the contrary, she was the most warm-hearted, outgoing and affectionate person he knew. Quite how she managed to unite those two sides so effortlessly within her, eluded him, and certainly never ceased to amaze him.

McCoy had always thought himself a total failure when it came to matters of the heart. Seen himself as unfit for relationships, always feeling guilty for having disappointed yet again. No matter how much he loved them, he just couldn't make a partner happy. Up until now, that was. Until Hope. Now, all of a sudden, he considered that maybe, just maybe, he hadn't been the only one to blame. That maybe it had been them as well. Maybe he'd just never met the right person before. For Hope surely seemed very happy with him.

-x-x-x-x-x-

Spock was sitting in a corner at the far side of the observation deck, suppressing a very un-Vulcan smile. Of course, he'd never say anything, but he was pleased that McCoy and Hope were so happy together. It certainly kept McCoy mostly out of his hair nowadays, his contentiousness having diminished somewhat. And he felt admiration for Hope coping so well with always being somewhat of an outsider in this time, feeling a sort of connection with her there.

He had, of course, been trying not to listen in on their private conversation and to concentrate on his reading instead. Why did humans keep forgetting about the sensitivity of his Vulcan ears? McCoy and Hope had been talking too quietly for any other human to overhear, but it had been more than loud enough for him to be able to make out every word.

And even though he knew that social convention demanded he respect their privacy, his curiosity had got the better of him. Curiosity being the one emotion he allowed himself to have. Even if, in this particular case, it might also have been the interest of a caring friend. Whatever it was, it certainly didn't stop him from wondering where the two of them were headed next, when he saw them leave the observation deck holding hands shortly after.