When the door had closed after a subdued Chekov, McCoy grabbed his favourite coffee mug and flung it forcefully against the wall, satisfied to watch it shatter into a thousand little pieces. Then he slumped in his chair and took a little box out of one of his desk drawers. Opening the box, he looked forlornly at the delicate, dolphin-shaped ring in there.
They'd had to remove all jewellery, fighting to bring Hope back that fateful day she'd sacrificed her life. And his. He'd meant to return the ring with all of Hope's other things from his quarters, but then somehow hadn't been able to let go of it. It was a token of their love, a tiny reminder of what had once been, and she didn't even remember having it, anyway.
Can't really blame Chekov for trying, McCoy thought, feeling the rage and despair slowly seeping out of his body, leaving plenty of room for hopeless grief in their stead.
Anyone in their right mind would, if there was a chance to gain Hope's affection, wouldn't they? And at least the kid had had the decency to ask.
He couldn't blame Hope either. She didn't remember, and he was being increasingly distant with her, while Chekov wasn't. He'd always thought they'd make a nice pair, anyway. Hope needed affection, and Chekov certainly wasn't a bad choice. With McCoy out of the picture, he could actually see her falling for the young Russian. The doctor slumped even further down in his chair. And there he'd thought he'd already hit rock bottom.
Still tenderly holding Hope's ring in his fingers, McCoy was startled out of his thoughts by Kirk's cheerful voice, as the captain stuck his head around the door to his office.
"You wanted to talk to me about Hope and the landing party?" Jim asked brightly, stopping abruptly when he saw his friend's obvious misery.
"What's the matter, Bones? You look as if you've seen a ghost!" the captain went on as soon as the doors had hissed shut behind him, stepping towards the desk and sitting down in the chair across from McCoy.
"Chekov was just here," the doctor murmured so low that Kirk could hardly hear him, "practically asking my permission to date Hope. And who could blame him... "
"Bones!" the captain cut him short, "You can't just give her up without a fight! You really need to tell her!"
"I can't, Jim!" McCoy groaned, lifting doleful eyes to Jim's. "Don't you see? I can't force a relationship on her, dammit! I can't make her love me! I'm just a man she barely knows, a man she has no feelings for."
"You don't know that, do you?" Kirk argued, his voice soft now.
The doctor just rolled his eyes and quietly said, "All I really want is for her to be happy, Jim."
"Then court her, Bones! Surely you still know how to do that? Tell her how you feel! Start anew! You've won her heart once, you can do it again!"
The captain was getting exasperated.
"Can't do that, either," McCoy sighed. "I'm her doctor and her superior."
"Technically, you were that before, too," Jim pointed out. "Even more so, when she was still working in sickbay."
"That was different," the doctor argued. "We'd known each other for a year until I gave in to my feelings. And by then, even I could see how much she loved me. I don't see that now. And I can't make her. She's free to choose whoever she wants. Maybe it's even better that way. I've always felt she deserved better."
"You don't mean that," Kirk huffed, shaking his head. "You know just as well as I do how perfect you are for each other. Hope couldn't find anyone better. And she deserves a chance to have that again. Don't you think? Much as I like Chekov, you and Hope were made for each other. Anyone who's ever seen you together knows that."
"What was it again you came here for, Jim?" McCoy changed the subject, putting the ring back in its box and returning it to its place in the drawer.
He just couldn't keep discussing this now, he needed to clear his head first, needed some time alone to think everything Jim had just said through.
"The landing party," Kirk replied, respecting his friend's wish to move on with their conversation. For now, at least.
"Oh, yes," the doctor said, sighing when he realised that this was still about Hope, after all. "Jenny's in top form again. Physically. But with the issue of amnesia still hanging in the air, I'll only let her go on that assignment, if you let me come, too."
"Sure," the captain replied without hesitation, getting up to leave and smirking at McCoy's disbelieving look at how easily Kirk had agreed. "Another day, another chance! I had planned on letting you tag along, anyway."
-x-x-x-x-x-
The doctor was still staring after his friend, when Hope tentatively knocked on his door.
"Need anything?" McCoy asked dismissively, immediately regretting sounding so gruff.
It wasn't her fault he could hardly look at her. She hadn't done anything wrong, but after talking to Chekov, he just couldn't help feeling betrayed.
"Sorry," Hope said in a small voice, "if this is a bad time, I can come back later."
She looked so lost, that the doctor's heart went out to her, any bad feelings instantly forgotten. If Hope had come here looking for help, he couldn't just send her away.
"What can I do for you, Hope?" he said, much more warmly this time, getting up from his desk and crossing the room towards where she was still standing in the door.
"I … I don't know, really, I … just came to see you, it's nothing important, sorry, Doctor," she stammered, spinning around to slip out the door again.
"Don't go, please stay," McCoy exclaimed, quickly grasping her arm to keep her from leaving. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be rude, I'm just having a difficult time for various reasons, but you can always come to me, if you need something, or even just because you feel like it."
The doctor's heart beat a little faster, thinking that Hope's subconscious still guided her to him.
"I'm sorry to hear about your difficulties," she smiled shyly at him, looking down at his hand still on her arm. "Is there anything I can do for you? If you want to talk, I'm a good listener."
"I know, Hope," McCoy smiled back at her, taking his hand away again. "You always have been, but thanks, not this time."
If only she knew how badly he wanted to talk to her, tell her everything and hear her say that it was going to be fine.
"But it was you, who came to me," the doctor reminded her gently. "So, how can I help?"
"I'm not sure, really," she said, bemused, "I just came here, because …"
"Because?" McCoy prompted softly.
"I'm sorry, I really can't seem to remember why I came here," she admitted sheepishly, and he could see her eyes suddenly turning anxious. "Do you think there's something else wrong with my brain, Doctor?"
"No, love," McCoy tried to reassure her. "The results of your physical were excellent. We all forget things sometimes."
They were still standing in the doorway, and the doctor beckoned her a little further inside, so that the doors would slide shut behind her. He didn't feel like continuing their conversation at his desk, though. Standing here, so close to her, was just too delightful.
"It doesn't even feel like I've forgotten the reason," Hope said, sounding puzzled. "I don't think I had one in the first place. It's more like I wanted to come, because… maybe I like sickbay and loved working here?"
"You remember?" McCoy felt new hope rising inside him.
"No," she sighed, looking crestfallen, "but I do feel comfortable here, so I guessed..."
She shrugged, and McCoy tilted his head encouragingly, sensing that there was still more she wanted to tell him.
"Oh, Doctor," she looked straight at him, the words suddenly pouring out of her, "I know I said it's only two years, and what's that in the grand scheme of things. And you told me I was lucky and that I should be grateful. And I am, I really am. Things could be so much worse. But this not knowing everything about myself is driving me crazy. These gaps in my memories are scary. Does that make any sense? Don't ask me why, but I really feel that something significant has happened in those two years, that I'm missing something … momentous."
For a moment, McCoy was dumbstruck, with no idea how to answer. He could see it clearly now. The missing two years not only meant that she didn't remember their love. She'd also been robbed of all the experiences that had turned her into the confident, self-assured woman she'd become. As it was, she seemed more like the insecure girl she'd been when he'd first come to know her.
She'd always been strong, very capable and mature in her work and her attitude, but emotionally, she'd come a long way in those two years, had done a lot of growing up. He'd loved the shy girl, too, of course, but he only realised now how much he missed, and needed, this amazing woman, who had returned to him from the Lexington, by his side.
"Doctor, I feel afraid. Will I ever remember?" Hope broke into his thoughts.
"Well, physically, there's no reason why you shouldn't," the doctor replied, trying hard to keep his voice steady. "There's still a chance, just give it time."
Looking at the woman before him, gazing at him with pleading eyes and clearly expecting him to pull the proverbial rabbit out of the hat, McCoy had to briefly close his eyes to get his emotions back under control.
Screw impeccable conduct, he thought.
Hope was scared, and she needed him now. She needed warmth and reassurance and security. And she'd come to him of all people looking for it. Not to Chekov or anyone else, but to him. The least he could do was comfort her.
This time, he didn't even ask, but just opened his arms for her, and when Hope instantly stepped into his embrace, closed them firmly around her again. McCoy held her tight, and she hesitantly wrapped her arms around his waist. A little shyly at first, but then she just nestled into his arms, as if she'd always been there. She wasn't even crying, she just needed to be held. And suddenly, everything seemed all right with the world again.
Even though she still didn't remember, and maybe never would, right now, a new start for them didn't seem as unthinkable as it had only minutes ago. That she'd instinctively come to him with her fears, meant that there was still hope. He'd just be there for her, give her time to get to know him again. Falling in love had been wonderful the first time around, and maybe Jim was right. Maybe she would fall in love with him again.
And if, no, when she did, he could tell her all about those two years. She'd treasured all of their memories, delighted in reminiscing about their time together, but what she'd always enjoyed most, was him telling 'their story'. Hope could never get enough of hearing him tell her all about how he'd fallen in love with her. Head over heels that first evening in the mess, and then a little further every day. She'd certainly love hearing all that again.