McCoy stumbled blindly out of Hope's quarters, praying that his legs wouldn't give way beneath him until the doors had shut behind him. With her last words, Hope might as well have stabbed him in the heart. The pain was blinding, but he somehow made it into the turbolift, stopped it between decks, and sank to the floor, his back sliding down the wall until he was sitting with his arms hugging his knees to his chest, feeling cold and completely numb.

The last two years didn't matter, she'd said, pulling the rug right out from under him. She hadn't meant to hurt him, of course. Sweet, compassionate Hope never would. Quite the contrary, she had, in fact, seen how upset he was and tried to comfort him. And how could she have known? Known that her kind words had the exact opposite effect? Known that those two years had been their years, certainly the most important and wonderful years of his life?

It hadn't even been 48 hours since she'd come out of coma, and he knew, of course, that it was still absolutely possible for her to recover all of her memories, especially considering the impressive progress she'd made in less than two days. But after already having had to move all her things back from his quarters to hers today, trying to make it look like she'd been living there all along, this had just been the final straw.

He'd once thought that his love for her was unconditional, that his feelings for her were the same no matter if she loved him back or not. And it was true. Of course, it was. He still loved her with all his heart, would always love her, couldn't stop if he tried. He'd always look out for her, do everything to make her happy, to keep her safe. But, God, did it hurt not to see that same love mirrored in her eyes, to be just another crewmate to her.

If he was honest with himself, it hadn't always been easy to keep his feelings to himself before Hope had professed her love for him, before they'd become lovers, either. But now that he knew what it was like to be loved by her, to feel truly happy and safe in a relationship, losing that love felt as if his heart were being ripped out. She was part of him. The most important part. The best part. Without her, he was incomplete. Broken.

Was this it? His one chance at true love cruelly taken from him just like that? He'd never believed in happy ever after, not really, but he felt he'd been pretty close with Hope. And now he just felt betrayed. Cheated out of happiness by fate.

But he wouldn't just break down. He'd neither give up hope, nor Hope. Self-pity and despair were suddenly replaced by fierce determination. Wiping the last of his angry tears off his face, McCoy got up, let the turbolift continue to its destination, and then resolutely strode towards his quarters.

He'd dig up every snippet of research on amnesia that had ever been published, and he'd find a way to bring Hope's memories back. He owed it to them. To her, because he just knew that she'd been as happy in their relationship as he had been. And now, she needed him to fight for the both of them.

-x-x-x-x-x-

Sitting at his desk until late that night, McCoy felt a little better. At least he was doing something that might actually help, rather than just wallow in self-pity. Whenever his glance wandered over to the sleeping area of his quarters, however, he caught himself hoping to find Jenny lying there on the bed, reading and waiting for him to join her for a much-needed cuddle and maybe more, like she used to. Then his mind would wander off to her quarters, wondering how she was doing without him, and he could barely breathe at the thought of her all alone in her bed, scared, or at least worried about her condition and her future.

He'd been furious when some idiot had blown up half the biochemical lab this morning, having so desperately wanted to be there when Hope woke up. To have breakfast with her, see if she'd been miffed by his hurried exit the evening before. He'd seen how unhappy she was when he'd left so suddenly, of course. And unbeknownst to her, he'd spent the night on the spare bunk in his office, just to be near her. But having to leave her to the nurse's care, when he should have been the one to help her get ready for bed, to steady her while she cleaned her teeth, had been unbearable, and he just hadn't been able to stay any longer.

Holding her close for the few steps over to the table earlier, had simply not been enough. She needed so much more tender care than that. And, frankly, so did he. Hope definitely wasn't the only one thriving on touch, although it had taken McCoy quite some time to realise that. He'd lived without far too long, never even noticing how touch-starved he was. Until Hope came along. And even then, he'd been convinced for a long time that all their physical contact, the little touches and hugs he'd tried to sneak in, were merely for her benefit. But now that he'd got used to it, his body and soul craving Hope's touch, her closeness, he just didn't know how to function without it anymore.

Yet, maybe giving Hope space in the morning had been for the best. Christine had told him that they'd enjoyed a lovely breakfast together. And being around her all the time was probably just making things worse for him, anyway. He'd almost slipped up and kissed her this morning. With his mind circling around the lab accident, pressing a quick kiss to her lips before hurrying back to his patients had been the thing he'd just do automatically.

Later, he'd watched her with Chekov. She hadn't spotted him standing outside her door, but he had seen how cheerful she'd been, how carefree she'd seemed. He'd been happy for her, of course. But he'd also envied Chekov immensely for being allowed to openly flirt with her, and wished he were free to do that, too. But he was her doctor, and that meant that his conduct towards her had to be beyond reproach.

Then he thought back to holding her the day before. Hope might not have been as carefree as she'd been with Chekov, but the way she'd trustingly snuggled into his arms, how she'd let him comfort her, unhesitatingly allowed him to be close, had been far better than any cheerful smile could ever be. That's what he would hold on to, the knowledge that, even if he didn't have her love right now, he still had her unreserved trust.

-x-x-x-x-x-

Jenny briefly thought about calling Uhura or Chekov, to have dinner together, but found that she couldn't really be bothered. She wasn't hungry at all, and certainly didn't feel up to dancing, but rather felt like having an early night. Quite obviously, the fatigue that came with severe blood loss and coma, wasn't something you could shake in a day or two.

Dr. McCoy had, of course, predicted as much, and had got her some nuts and orange juice on the way to her quarters, placing them lovingly on her bedside table while she'd been snooping around her own room looking for anything that might trigger more memories.

Thinking about the doctor and the gentle, caring way he low-key fussed about her, sent the warmest feeling through her body, and when she slid into bed and pulled the sheets around her, Jenny imagined being wrapped up in his comforting arms once more, his kind eyes so tenderly searching her face. Parallel universe or not, a ship where wonderful people like him were looking out for her, was definitely a good place to wake up to.

-x-x-x-x-x-

The next day, Jenny felt much more energetic again, and went straight to sickbay to tell Dr. McCoy. He looked tired, worn out really, and she thought that the lab incident must have been worse than Christine had let on the day before. But despite his obvious fatigue, the doctor's face brightened at her news, and he sat down with her, wanting to know everything about her evening and night.

Had she slept well? Had she felt comfortable in her quarters? Had she eaten anything since he'd last seen her? No? He looked at her reproachfully, grabbed her by the hand and unceremoniously walked her out of sickbay and towards the mess. And despite his brusque manner, Hope found that she could never get enough of his overprotective mothering.

Over breakfast, which McCoy sheepishly admitted to not having had, either, the doctor explained that he wouldn't clear her for duty just yet, but that she was free to go meet her team and find out how much she remembered about their current project. Jenny was surprised by how much the doctor seemed to know about her work, but he just smiled and told her that she was an interesting person to listen to.

McCoy suggested meeting him for lunch again afterwards, her eating habits seeming to be of utmost concern to him, and tell him how things had gone. To her surprise, or maybe not, Jenny found her heart skipping a beat at the prospect.

The meeting with her staff went really well. It felt strange, of course, to realise that she was in charge of a project and people she'd never seen before, but she guessed it must have been even weirder for them, to have their superior of several months suddenly ask them their names and qualifications. But, like the rest of the crew, they were extremely understanding and helpful. And the joy they expressed at seeing her well again, seemed genuine enough.

When she met the doctor again for lunch, Jenny joyously told him that she felt more than ready to resume her work in linguistics, and the way he shared in her delight, made her feel all warm and fuzzy inside, filling her with renewed longing to feel his strong arms around her again. This infatuation with Dr. McCoy seemed to be getting a little out of hand. She'd really have to watch herself around him.

McCoy had just told her that he was inclined to clear her for duty as soon as he'd discussed it with the captain, when Chekov and Sulu joined them at their table. Jenny was happy to see them, but the doctor's mood seemed to shift the minute they were sitting down. She couldn't pinpoint what it was exactly, but the CMO almost seemed annoyed, as if they were intruding on a date. The thought made her smile.

Jenny had observed these sudden mood swings in McCoy several times already. Warm, protective, and caring one moment, he could be angry, antsy, and in a hurry to get away the next. She couldn't even make out a pattern, he was just unpredictable. Irascible. And she couldn't help feeling that it was somehow her fault.

She'd tried to talk to Christine about it, but the nurse had just waved it off as normal. Sure, the doctor was as moody as he was brilliant, and could be an annoying curmudgeon at times, Chapel had said, but then had been quick to add that he certainly had a heart of gold and would always fight fiercely for his friends' and patients' lives and safety.

Dr. McCoy sounded adorably like a grumpy Papa Bear, and Jenny couldn't deny that she was enjoying every minute of his company.