When Dr. McCoy returned some minutes later, he seemed frazzled, and Jenny's heart went out to him and whoever had been unfortunate enough to cross him in the short time he'd been away. Thankfully, it didn't seem to have anything to do with her results, since the doctor, although rather distractedly, told her that she was in excellent health and could certainly join the landing party after he'd cleared a few details with Captain Kirk.

Seeing her relief and joy at the good news, McCoy even managed a smile, but Jenny sensed that his mind was already elsewhere. So she just quickly thanked him and all but skipped out of sickbay, heading straight for the gym, where she was meeting Chekov for one of their dancing units.

Leaning back against the back panel of the turbolift, she couldn't believe how much she'd just enjoyed her physical, smiling at the thought that she was probably the only crew member who did. But opportunities to be near the doctor were rare these days, and she'd relished every gentle touch, not caring that they had just been part of the examination.

Having the doctor stand so close that she could feel the warmth radiating from his body had given her goose bumps, and, ridiculous as it sounded, she thought he smelled so nice. Jenny didn't know why, maybe her dad had used a similar aftershave or something, but Dr. McCoy, even with the ever-present waft of antiseptic, somehow smelled like home.

After her dancing session with Chekov, where Pavel had once again left no doubt about his feelings for her, Jenny indulged in a real-water shower to celebrate her excellent test results, exhilarated at the prospect of joining her first – at least to her memory – landing party. Later, in bed, thinking about Chekov's eagerness, she couldn't help but wonder if she might actually have reciprocated his feelings before her coma.

Pavel was certainly a brilliant and attractive young man, although she somehow always thought of him as more of a boy. He was kind and fun, and would undoubtedly be a good match as far as rank and age were concerned. She was also pretty sure that he'd make a really attentive boyfriend, but she just couldn't see them together. Not unless being in his arms while dancing could make her feel the way she had in McCoy's arms.

Oh God, can't I even finish a single thought without the doctor invading it? she grumbled to herself, feeling her heart skip a beat just at the idea of dancing with McCoy.

No, there was no way she could see Pavel as anything but a friend. She'd have to find the right moment to tell him that, even if it hurt him and meant that he didn't want to continue their dancing sessions. But she definitely didn't want to lead him on. Maybe that was precisely the pickle McCoy found himself in with her, Jenny thought despondently. That he liked her, but just not in that way.

Trying to shift her thoughts away from the doctor and her non-existent love life, Jenny tried to recapitulate all the information she'd gathered about herself so far, concerning those last two missing years. McCoy – God, here he was again – had encouraged everyone aboard to tell her as many facts about the past two years as they wanted, in the hope that something might trigger her memories, but at the same time had instructed the crew to really stick to the facts, and not to foist any private suspicions, based on guesswork and gossip, on her, especially concerning her personal life. If they wanted her to truly remember, feeding her false information would certainly not be helpful.

There had, of course, been a few personal things that people had let slip nevertheless, but nothing that really seemed of relevance to her. As for the facts, Jenny had so far learned that, to her great astonishment, she'd worked in sickbay – although that might explain why the doctor knew her so well, had been on a dangerous first mission from which she'd returned with a broken ankle after saving the captain's life – a little exaggerated, surely – and also Peterson's from security before that – definitely exaggerated.

She'd further been told that she'd been on the Lexington for six months, and had headed her own department of linguistics ever since her return. That her and Uhura's gigs with the band were legendary, and, her favourite, that she was reportedly good friends with at least half the crew.

Chekov had told her of their many dancing shows, giggling about how McCoy used to freak out over their Rock'n'Roll acrobatics, and that she'd saved Christmas for several crewmates by preparing surprise presents for anyone who would have gone without otherwise. All with Pavel's help of course. Apparently, she had even once performed field surgery on him, which she'd taken for one of Chekov's less tasteful jokes at first, but which McCoy had later confirmed with a soft, almost emotional look in his eyes.

Uhura had been the one to fill her in on all the little things, like what her favourite replicated food was – chicken salad sandwich, the one McCoy had got her after he'd taken her off the drip, which song she'd loved to perform most – To Make You Feel My Love, which had come as no surprise to her, but which, being a classic country song, quite obviously wasn't one of Nyota's favourites, that she'd become some sort of yoga guru on the Enterprise, and many more little facts like that.

Since Nyota was not only her best friend, but also without doubt the most communicative, Jenny kept pestering her about her pre-coma relationships, specifically her love life, wanting to know so badly if she'd been more than friends with anyone aboard. But so far, Uhura had remained annoyingly vague in that regard. She'd admitted to being under the impression that Jenny might actually have been in love, or something to that effect. Lots of words in intricate sentences full of question marks and maybes. She wouldn't even hint at who she had in mind. It had never been more than a sneaking suspicion, anyway, Uhura had claimed, since Jenny had always adamantly denied it.

Closing her eyes with a groan, she tried to wrack her brains once more for some little memory, anything at all. She didn't know why, but she just couldn't shake the feeling that those two years had not only been incredibly adventurous and career-furthering, but also very emotional. The thought that someone aboard might know her much more intimately than they let on, was, to say the least, unsettling, but also made her sad. If she'd been in love with someone, she really wanted to know.

When Uhura hadn't been very forthcoming, Jenny had tried to approach the subject from a different angle, asking her if she knew of anyone who might have feelings for her.

But Nyota, seeing right through her, had just laughed and said, "Take your pick, sugar! There's not a person aboard who's not in love with you."

"You mean it could be a woman, too?" Jenny had exclaimed, disheartened by the now even wider choice of possible 'candidates'.

"Not that I know of, but, hell, yeah. Why not, I guess?" Uhura had chuckled, obviously pleased that she'd managed to confuse her friend even more.

After that conversation, Jenny's mind had gone into overdrive, much to Nyota's amusement. She'd considered Christine – no way, although the nurse was lovely, Peterson – he'd been extremely grateful, mentioning her saving his life several times, and finally had even straight out asked Uhura, if they'd been in love.

Nyota had doubled over with laughter at that, assuring her that, although they'd been very close and she loved her dearly, there had never been anything remotely romantic between them.

"Don't let this drive you crazy, Jenny, you'll figure it out in the end," her friend had said at last, and then cryptically added, "As far as I can tell, you're already on the right track, anyway. Just keep following your heart and everything will be fine. No need to rush into anything, either. If it is who I think it is, he'll stick around."

Back to 'he', then, well at least that was something. Follow her heart? Uhura's advice kept haunting her. Who had Nyota been talking about? There was only one person her heart really wanted to follow. But there was no way Uhura could know about him, was there?

Looking at the time, Jenny realised that she had to go to sleep quickly, if she didn't want to show up for her shift like a zombie the next day. Closing her eyes, she pictured all the possible 'candidates' one more time, thinking how much easier things would be, if McCoy were actually an option.

Well, a girl could dream.

But seriously, she thought, how sad would it be, if there really had been someone, and she didn't remember being in love with them, especially, if the feeling had been mutual. If only she could find out who it was, maybe she could learn to love them again?

-x-x-x-x-x-

Chekov was in seventh heaven. They'd put in a dancing unit almost every evening, and not once, since she'd woken from her coma, had Hope mentioned loving him like a brother. In fact, she'd actually flirted with him, something she'd never done before. Not even in the beginning, when he'd still thought he could win her heart. No, she'd always been very clear about not having any romantic feelings for him, but now things were different, and it really felt like a second chance to him.

Along with the rest of the crew, Pavel had been quite sure that Hope was actually with Dr. McCoy, and, although the thought hurt like hell, he'd accepted it as a fact. But as long as they were still dancing together, there'd always been a tiny spark of hope in his heart, that she might, one day, realise that she was madly in love with him, after all.

Maybe that day had arrived? He wouldn't want to get in the doctor's way, of course, but assuming him and Hope to be an item must have been a mistake after all. Honestly, even suffering from amnesia, you'd surely remember who you were in love with, wouldn't you? No, this was his big chance, and he was going to grab it with both hands. He was going to woo Hope like she'd never been wooed before.

But perhaps he'd still have a little talk with the doctor before making a complete fool of himself. Yes, that seemed like a good idea. He'd go and see McCoy first thing tomorrow.

-x-x-x-x-x-

McCoy was surprised to see Chekov nervously pacing outside his office, obviously trying to summon up the courage to come in. What could the young Russian want to talk to him about that got him so flustered?

"Come in already, Chekov," McCoy grumbled amicably, grabbing the surprised man's arm and pulling him inside, "you're going to ruin my floor if you keep running in circles like that."

Returning to his desk and sitting down in his chair, the doctor looked at Chekov expectantly, motioning for him to sit down as well, but the young man just stood there, nervously twiddling his fingers.

"I need to talk to you about Jenny. Hope, I mean," Chekov suddenly blurted, catching McCoy completely off guard.

Good thing the doctor was already sitting down.

"What about her?" McCoy asked, immediately getting his hackles up and looking at the young man through narrowed eyes.

"You know, I've always thought Jenny is an amazing woman," the Russian continued hesitantly.

Tell me something I don't know, the doctor thought, piqued.

"But she's never been interested in me so far. Romantically, I mean."

"And now she is?" the doctor snapped, feeling his heart beating faster.

What was Chekov getting at?

"I don't know," the other man stammered, visibly losing heart, "but she hasn't mentioned feeling for me like for a brother once since she woke up. And I think she's … flirting with me."

McCoy wanted to throttle him.

"Why are you telling me this, Chekov?" the doctor asked, not even trying to keep the irritation out of his voice.

"Because I need to be sure that you're okay with this, before..." Pavel murmured, his face turning a bright shade of pink.

"Before what?" McCoy barked, leaning forward in his chair and fixing the other man with his eyes.

"Before I ask her out for, I don't know, dinner, maybe?" Chekov's voice was barely a whisper now.

"And why wouldn't I be okay with that?" the doctor asked gruffly, leaning back again and trying to unclench his fists.

It wasn't Chekov's fault that Hope didn't remember their love, was it?

"Well, to be honest, I've always thought that you and Jenny..." the young man's voice trailed away.

"That we what?" McCoy pressed on.

He wanted to make him spell it out. Even if his heartache wasn't Chekov's fault, the doctor wasn't going to make this easy on him.

"Er … that you were more than just friends?" Pavel offered awkwardly.

McCoy snorted, trying to ignore the knot that had formed in his stomach. He had to bring this absurd conversation to an end and get rid of Chekov quickly, before he lost his temper.

"You don't need my permission, Chekov," the doctor said, an icy tone underlying his display of composure, "Hope is free to do as she pleases, or do you think she'd flirt with you, if she were with anyone else?"

The young man shook his head sheepishly, and McCoy found that, despite all his hurt, he couldn't stand the thought of Hope being considered as anything less than decent and loyal.

"Just maybe take it slow," he suggested, surprising himself by how much like fatherly advice this sounded, "Hope might still recover her memory, and you wouldn't want to be involved too deeply, if she finds out that there's been someone else all along."

It was true, there was still hope.

And to take the focus away from himself as well as plant some doubt in Chekov's mind, not something he felt particularly proud of, of course, McCoy nastily added, "You don't know, there might even be someone on the Lexington waiting for her."