Obviously, with amnesia, there wasn't all that much you could do but give it time. And hope. McCoy was still spending his nights researching, but he always seemed to end up with the same disappointing result. There were so many different kinds of amnesia, so many different outcomes and experiences. As he'd told a disappointed Hope long ago, the human brain was still quite a mystery, even in the 23rd century with all its advanced science and opportunities.

The more research he did, however, the more reason he saw to be thankful. That Hope had recovered such a large portion of her memory in such a short time, and was able to just continue with her job as well as all the things she liked to do in her free time, was certainly not the norm. She had been incredibly lucky, and the doctor was grateful for that. Giving up their relationship suddenly seemed like a small price to pay for her to continue her life and her career otherwise unimpaired.

Nevertheless, McCoy still hoped for her to remember. But days turned into weeks, and he started to resign himself to the possibility that she might never recover the past two years. The thought was painful beyond belief, and he was sorry not only for himself, but also for what she had lost. She'd been truly happy, and she'd loved those memories. Spending whole nights reminiscing with him had been one of her favourite things, he thought fondly, hoping against hope that they'd at least get the chance to make new memories.

But things were different now, and she seemed happy, too, fully functional as an officer and having fun getting to know everyone again. Hope was exactly the same woman as before, did the same things, had the same passions and the same wonderful personality. She was the same wonderful woman he'd fallen in love with, the same woman who'd fallen in love with him. But she wasn't his wonderful woman anymore.

She was getting to know him again, of course, and he was grateful that she was still so comfortable around him. Trusted him, felt safe with him, liked to spend time with him. But since she wasn't working in sickbay anymore, they just didn't see as much of each other as they used to during her first year aboard. She was having her evening coffee mostly with other people now, was growing close to other people, too. Their connection wasn't as special to her as it had been the first time around.

And it certainly didn't help that he sometimes actively avoided her, because being near her, without being close, was often just too much to bear. Hope was his life, but he had to pretend that she was just a patient, just another crew member. They belonged together, but she simply didn't remember. At times, the desire to sweep her into his arms and hold her forever was just too overwhelming, and he had to get away from her as fast as he could. Other times, it was the helplessness turning into anger, that made him run off without explanation before he could say or do anything he'd definitely regret afterwards.

There were no words to describe how terribly he missed her. From the minute he woke up in the morning to the moment he crawled into his cold, empty bed at night. The nights were the worst. He yearned for her warm, delightful body nestled against him so comfortingly. And it wasn't even the sex he missed most. It was the closeness, the tenderness, the intimacy. Of course, he'd been alone in his bed, dreaming about her more often than he cared to remember during her first year aboard, too. But it was so much worse now that he knew what it was like to be with her. How good they were together.

What probably hurt most, though, was the fact that he couldn't discuss any of this with her, couldn't share this burden with her, couldn't depend on her optimism and draw comfort from her unconditional support. He'd got so used to telling her about everything on his mind, including medical matters way beyond her expertise. And even though she might often not have been able to make any scientific recommendations, just talking about things usually helped.

But he was truly alone in this now. After months of convincing himself that it was okay to drop his shields and let someone in again, to trust and rely on someone once more, he was back to where he'd always known he belonged, yet had hoped never to find himself again. Alone.

-x-x-x-x-x-

Jenny was feeling better and stronger with every day that passed. She loved her work, feeling immensely proud that her plan to focus on her studies and career had obviously worked out so well. Rank of lieutenant, head of her own, if small, department, and all that within five years of waking up to a completely different world and time.

The thought that she'd just come out of another coma, sleep, stasis, whatever it had been, with no real idea of how long she'd been out, was, of course, still a little unsettling. But for some reason she had this total, instinctive trust in Dr. McCoy, and, frankly, couldn't see any reason why he, or any of the others, should have been lying to her. Not to forget his genuine shock and concern, when he'd found out that she didn't remember him.

Besides, she'd definitely heard of Captain James T. Kirk and the Enterprise during her Academy years. And the captain looked exactly like the holos she'd seen of him, so she really couldn't have been asleep that long.

The Enterprise.

Jenny still couldn't believe that she'd not only been cleared for starship duty, but had even made it to the Fleet's flagship. Apart from her work, she loved everything about the Enterprise. All the activities she engaged in in her free time, the band and dancing mostly, of course, but, above all, really, she liked the crew. Jenny might only begin to know them again, but they already felt like friends.

The doctor was still her favourite. Maybe because he'd been there when she'd first woken up, and had so kindly and caringly looked after her ever since. Or simply because he'd been the one to take her in his arms, and she just couldn't forget how wonderful his warm embrace had felt. Jenny was also aware that he was still dedicating a lot of his free time to doing research on amnesia, for which she was immensely grateful, and which sent a warm feeling to her stomach every time she thought about it.

McCoy knew how vulnerable she felt, with who knew how many of her memories still missing, maybe even lost forever, and his protectiveness was just what she needed. Although the doctor's mood swings seemed to have become more frequent recently, and she sometimes got the impression that he was actually angry with her.

One moment he was kind and fun, seeming to enjoy their conversation, and looking at her with a tenderness that went straight to her heart, and the next, he couldn't get away fast enough, suddenly seeming angry, or maybe disappointed, with her. And she had no idea why.

She'd even tried to talk to him about it, outright asked if she'd done anything to annoy him, if there was some disagreement between them she didn't remember, some unfinished business. But he'd just brushed it off as something she imagined while actually getting mad at the question, only to touch the gentlest hand to her face, tenderly caressing her cheek and looking deeply into her eyes the next moment.

Maybe the obligation he felt, as her doctor, to look after her was getting too much, and he was fed up with playing the babysitter. Or maybe she'd been too obvious, he'd noticed how incredibly drawn she felt to him and just didn't want to lead her on. Just because she loved to be near him, didn't necessarily mean that he wanted that, too.

Perhaps she should stop taking up so much of his time and spend more time with her other friends instead. Relieve him a little of babysitting duty. The strange thing was just that, whenever she did, McCoy still seemed to hover somewhere nearby, not quite able to stop watching over her.

Anyways, she really wanted to keep focused on her career, no matter how often she might dream of the doctor's arms and smile. She'd be going on her first landing party soon, and she couldn't wait. All Jenny had to do was pass a physical exam before then, and she truly hoped that McCoy would let her.

-x-x-x-x-x-

"You can get dressed again, love," McCoy smiled at Hope when he'd finished his examination, perching on the edge of the nearby computer desk and skimming through the results of her blood tests.

He just couldn't stop calling her 'love', but thankfully, she didn't seem to mind, simply taking it as his way of talking. Like he called other patients 'darling' or 'sweetheart'.

When he looked up from his display again, however, Hope still hadn't moved and just kept staring at him, sort of expectantly. Then the penny dropped. She was waiting for him to leave, or at least turn around, while she took off the medical gown and changed back into her uniform.

"I'll be back in a minute to talk about your results," he mumbled, making a quick exit and sitting down heavily at the desk in his office next door.

He'd simply forgotten. But this was the woman he knew inside out, as intimately as you could know anyone. He was familiar with every one of her birthmarks, knew what every single inch of her skin felt like, hell, even tasted like. He knew how to make her melt under his touch, how beautiful she looked when she was in the throes of passion. How to rub her back to make her purr with pleasure and where to tickle her to make her squeal and giggle. And now he had to leave the room while she got changed.

McCoy rested his head in his hands, wondering how much more he could take. He loved Hope more than anything else in the world, and always would. But the hurt was just overwhelming, and he could feel himself approaching breaking point. Sitting with her before she'd woken from her coma, he'd believed to be prepared for anything, happy to stay by her side and care for her no matter what. Determined to deal with whatever physical and/or mental handicap she might have been left with, making sure that she got all the love and care she needed, never leaving her side. But that wasn't possible now. He was forced to keep his distance. Give her privacy. Take care of her from afar.

And in less than a week, she'd be on her first assignment joining a landing party again. De facto her first, as far as she was concerned. McCoy remembered only too well how nervous she'd been on her actual first assignment. And how dangerous it had turned out despite starting off as completely harmless. Well, if Jim wanted her to go, he'd have to let the doctor join the landing party, too. There was no other way McCoy was going to clear Hope for this assignment.