"I'm sorry I scared you, love," McCoy looked ruefully at Jenny, as they made their way through the corridors, Kirk and Spock following at a little distance. "It was just so good to see you, and you know how I tend to overreact. But there's really nothing wrong with you, least of all with your marvellous mind. What Dakunia told us was … surprising more than anything else. But nothing we couldn't deal with."
Of course, he'd realised how his earlier behaviour had frightened her. He might have been unable to stop himself, but he wouldn't be Leonard, if he hadn't been acutely aware of what hugging her like there was no tomorrow had done to her.
"It's all right, I'm not scared," Jenny mustered a weak smile, grabbing and squeezing the hand that had been lightly brushing against hers with every step.
Their eyes met, and they both had to laugh, a brief moment of lightness, shared humour taking away the unbearable tension, because, of course, they both knew that she was scared witless and he had been far more than just surprised by what he'd learned.
God, how she loved this man. For being exactly the way he was. For pulling off awkward and confident at the same time, as if they weren't opposites. For loving her so fiercely and unconditionally. And for having this unique gift for making her laugh and feel safe, even seconds away from falling to pieces himself. The very gift that made him such an extraordinary healer.
The news might not be good, frightening even, but as long as he could still pull himself together enough to revert to 'doctor mode', it had to be something she could overcome. Or at least survive. Of course, Jenny knew that Leonard was always a doctor first, and that comforting and reassuring were 'his business'. But she also knew that there were exceptions. Limits even for him.
Because just like he'd always be a father first when it came to Joanna, he wouldn't be able to put the doctor before the partner in her case either, if the news really were that terrible. At least not unless the doctor in him could save her.
-x-x-x-x-x-
Once again, Jenny was sitting on the couch in McCoy's - no their - quarters, feeling uneasy and not knowing what to anticipate, with Leonard sitting next to her, his arm protectively around her shoulders, and Kirk and Spock sitting opposite.
Another déjà vu, but with this one, at least, she knew exactly where it came from. She vividly remembered the last time they'd been sitting here like this, over a year ago, when she'd told them about her past and how she'd come to live in the 23rd century.
It had all seemed so straightforward then. So simple. She'd believed everything would be all right, once she shared her secret with them. And for a time, it was. Until new secrets cropped up. Only this time, apparently, they weren't her secrets but someone else's. Or, perhaps, the truth was even stranger than that. Even more 'surprising'. She really couldn't wait for McCoy to finally spill the beans.
"Leonard, please," Jenny shifted in his embrace, looking up at him imploringly. "I know you mean well, but whatever you have to tell me, stop trying to break it to me gently, just say it. All I need is the truth. And I need it now. Your beating about the bush is killing me."
"Of course, love, I'm sorry," he sighed, brushing a quick kiss on her hair.
And then, taking a deep breath, the doctor launched into a detailed recount of everything Admiral Dakunia had told them, carefully watching her as her eyes grew wider with every new fact, and pulling her a little closer every time she shivered with shock and disbelief.
So, she'd nearly been killed, stumbling into some top-secret Starfleet Intelligence time travel mission? And then been brought two hundred years into the future only to be put to sleep for another hundred years? She'd never even had leukaemia? She'd been duplicated?
What next? Is there even anything real in my world? Or is my whole life just one, big lie?
Feeling completely numb and almost detached, the doctor's arm was the only thing still grounding her, as she listened to his preposterous tale, interrupted only by the occasional remark from Kirk or Spock. Surely, this could only be a very bad joke. Only, it couldn't be, because there was no way Leonard would ever join in such a cruel prank. And neither would Kirk or Spock, for that matter. No, it had to be another nightmare. She could only hope to wake up soon.
"Why can I remember the most unspectacular songs but not people, not even my own sons, properly?" Jenny heard herself ask, her voice sounding as if it belonged to someone else.
"We think it's to do with emotions," McCoy answered softly, tenderly hugging her to him and wrapping her in his comforting warmth and love, his arms still the safest place she knew. "Songs, and music in general, make for happy or at least neutral memories. But people and relationships are more difficult. More personal. Spock's confident, though, that with time you'll remember everything. Slowly, but steadily. Don't push yourself, love. Just like with amnesia, you can't force it. You just need to let it happen."
Easy for him to say, Jenny thought irritably, well aware that she was being unfair. Talk about shooting the messenger. Of course, she knew that the whole situation, having to break those news to her, was anything but easy for Leonard, but she needed to vent, if only in her mind.
"Maybe there were things your older self wasn't entirely happy with and found easier to suppress," Spock volunteered. "After all, there was enough for you to come to terms with, even without the additional burden of future – and perhaps less agreeable – memories."
"Well, if there's anyone who might know, it would be you, Mr. Spock, wouldn't it?" Jenny all but snapped, trying to keep the bitterness from her voice. "So far, you're the only one who's seen my 'future memories'."
"Not the buried ones," the Vulcan countered gently. "Not many of them, anyway. And without context, most of them will only make sense with time. However, from everything I've seen so far, it isn't likely that there was a major catastrophe overshadowing your life."
"That's reassuring to know, Mr. Spock," Jenny chuckled drily, feeling only mildly relieved.
But then, she seemed to have stopped feeling altogether. It was like staring into a great, big void. Even Leonard's strong arms enfolding her, which would usually have given her the world of comfort and the most reassuring sense of security, could just as well have been some armchair, albeit a comfortable one, she was sitting in. At the end of the day, of course, it didn't matter either way. Nothing did. Because she wasn't real. She was just a cheap copy of some other woman.
"Strictly speaking, it's not even my life, and they aren't my memories to begin with. Neither my past, nor my future are actually mine."
It was only after the words were out of her mouth, and Leonard's thumbs were gently wiping away a few tears she hadn't even been aware had begun to trickle down her cheeks, that the cold, hard truth struck her with full force.
"One by one, your memories will resurface, love," the doctor murmured, his face inches from hers, gazing intently into her eyes. "And they're all yours, there's no question about it. Try looking at the bright side. You won't have to feel guilty anymore, since you were actually always there for your sons. They never lost you. They never had to live without their mother. If your memories of them are painful, it's because you miss them, not because they missed you."
"So, my sons grew up with their mum. That's a good thing, right?" Jenny looked into McCoy's kind eyes. "But where does that leave me? Who am I, if not their mother?"
Suddenly, she didn't feel numb at all anymore. It was as if her heart had been temporarily frozen and was now defrosting at speed again. All her emotions, her pains, her fears, her insecurities, everything that had or hadn't happened to her, or to her sons, everything she'd believed she was until today, was coming tumbling down on her at once.
Jenny couldn't think straight anymore, couldn't move, didn't know what to say, or where to look, or what to believe. All she wanted was for Kirk and Spock to go away, so that she didn't have to pretend being in control any longer. And all she needed was Leonard's comforting presence, his loving arms around her, safely holding her while she was falling apart and patiently waiting to put her back together again when she was ready.
That was exactly what she wanted to tell him, but what came out instead was, "I'm so sorry for worrying you again. I don't know why I keep doing this to you."
Fortunately, she didn't have to tell Leonard what she really needed. He'd probably known before she did. Because while he was gently cradling her to his chest, she could feel him gesticulating above her head, and then heard the hiss of the door as Kirk and Spock quietly left.
"You know that I consider worrying about you my privilege," he said after a moment, his words slightly muffled by her hair. "We've helped each other through difficult times before, and this is going to be no different. Together, we'll pull through. Nothing can hurt us."
-x-x-x-x-x-
"Nothing? I'm nothing," was the first thing Hope said when the others were gone, lifting her head to look at him, and McCoy felt his heart breaking. "I'm no one. Just a ... projection. A copy."
She wasn't crying or even really looking upset, just very confused and lost.
"You're nothing of the sort, love," he replied, his arms delicately holding her, and his hands softly caressing her face, mirroring the indescribable tenderness that surged through him as he gazed into her questioning eyes. "You're as real as anyone can be. And I should know, I've checked and fixed you more times than I care to remember."
She was looking to him for answers, for guidance, for reassurance, and he'd never felt more protective of anyone in his life.
"You're an amazing individual, no doubt an original! Heck, for all we know, your counterpart could, in fact, be a copy of you! But sticking to Spock's theory, as far as I was able to understand it, you might want to think of her as your twin rather than copy and original."
Hope nodded slowly, considering his words.
"I won't pretend to know how you're feeling, love," he went on softly. "And maybe you don't have a clue what to feel or think yet, either. But I'm here. To help you get your head around this. To talk and to listen. Or simply hold you while you're processing all of this."
Heaving a sigh, Hope just wordlessly sank back into his arms, burying her face against his neck, and McCoy's heart broke a little more. He'd watched her trying to hang on and keep her composure all evening, her questions and remarks almost robotic, as if on autopilot, reminding him of the day after their first night together on shore leave, when Jim had come to tell her she'd been transferred to the Lexington, pushing her off the top of the world in a matter of seconds.
Why was she never allowed to stay happy for long? Just because she was strong and resilient, as Jim put it, and had proven herself capable of bouncing back from anything time and again, didn't mean she didn't deserve to simply be happy once in a while.
"You're holding me as if I were made of glass," Hope murmured close to his ear, and it sounded almost like a complaint. "Are you suddenly afraid to break me? Or am I going to dissolve any moment now?"
"Of course not!" the doctor was quick to assure her, instantly hugging her a little tighter, not even having noticed that he'd started to treat her like the fragile girl she was on the outside. "You're as strong as ever. Sometimes, I just get carried away with how much love and tenderness you need and deserve, and then I can't seem to be gentle enough with you."
That seemed to placate her, as she snuggled a little closer.
"You know, I've been struggling with feeling inferior before," she sighed, "being this Neanderthal among all you brilliant people of the 23rd century. But now I'm even more lacking! In everything. I'm not even a full human being!"
"My God, you're not lacking in anything, love!" McCoy contradicted, appalled at the idea that Hope would even think something like that, but at the same time understanding that she was feeling insecure right now and needed all the reassurance she could get. "You're still exactly the same amazing woman you were yesterday. Apart from still being the most important person in my life, of course. My one and only."
"Oh, Leonard," she rubbed her head affectionately against his cheek, "you're always so kind and sweet. Always saying the right thing. But I still feel like a fraud. Like I shouldn't even be alive."
"That's enough now, Jenny," he said sternly, trying to contain his simmering anger, which wasn't even directed at Hope, but at Starfleet. And fate. "Your life is infinitely precious. I don't want to hear you talking like that again!"
Hope bristled at his words, and he was immediately sorry for sounding so harsh. He really needed to cut her some slack. She was in a most daunting situation, and he couldn't even begin to imagine what she was going through right now. If anyone was entitled to say things they wouldn't have said under different circumstances, it was certainly her.
"Listen," he continued more gently. "What if you'd never learned the truth? Would you still feel like a fraud? Nothing has really changed beside the fact that now you know."
"Well, I guess I wouldn't," she admitted hesitantly.
On impulse, McCoy pulled back a little, tilted his head, and brought his lips down on hers, surprising her with an intense and loving kiss.
"Feel good?" he chuckled, amused by the startled look in her eyes.
Hope just nodded and gave him a little smile.
"See? Nothing's changed at all."
Wrapping her arms around his waist, she gave him another one of her brave little smiles, and he almost wished she'd just burst into tears. Let it all out. That would be easier to handle, he knew how to comfort a crying Hope. The fact that he was still rather shaken himself, didn't help, either, of course.
But he'd keep it together for her sake. Follow her lead. If she needed to put on a brave face and talk rather than cry her heart out, he could do that, too. There'd be plenty of time for tears later. In his experience, people often instinctively knew how best to deal with trauma. Different people had different ways of coping, and as a doctor, he'd learned to go with people's instincts rather than psychological textbooks.
"It's just that not being allowed to return to the past is one thing," Hope tried to explain, looking at him with sorrowful eyes that were boring right into his soul. "But effectively not being able to, because there's just nowhere for me to go, nowhere I belong, is something else entirely. Let's face it, I'm nothing more than an accident."
"And one for which I'll be eternally grateful," McCoy said softly, his voice cracking, glad to see the intense pain in her eyes fading a little as his words sank in. "Your place is here, you belong with me. I know it sounds awfully selfish, but for a while there, before I talked to Dakunia, I was terribly afraid you might have to go back eventually."
"You mean when I'm forty-five?" Hope asked quietly, raising a gentle hand to his face and caressing his cheek affectionately.
"You had the same thought?" the doctor was taken aback.
"Of course, I did, Leonard," she replied, endless love shining through the pain in her eyes. "I can put two and two together just like you can. Although it took me a while to figure out why you acted as if you might never see me again last night. And when I did, I immediately dismissed the idea again, telling myself I was wrong. Because I couldn't bear to even think about it any more than you could."
