A/N:

Sorry this chapter took even longer than usual, but I got a little distracted by my little "explicit Hope/McCoy side-fic" for Christmas.

It's called "The Night Before Christmas (Or: Don't Start Without Me!)", in case you haven't read it yet, and would like to get to know Hope and McCoy a little more ... ahem … intimately. 😁


Nothing mattered but the woman in his arms. Holding her, protecting her, making her feel safe and loved was all McCoy cared about with Travis Tritt singing straight from his heart and Hope nestling into his embrace with her unique brand of utter trust and unbridled affection. Feeling her pressing against him, virtually clinging to him, wriggling a little further into his arms with every swaying step to the music, nearly undid him. His own emotions in turmoil and precariously close to the surface after the day they'd had, the doctor didn't even mind coming across as overprotective anymore. He just wanted to enfold her. All of her.

He'd promised they'd make it through anything together, and he'd meant it. In fact, he'd never been more serious about anything. That tender, loving look she'd cast him when George Strait had been singing about not being quite the hero, had touched him to the core. Lifting him up as much as weighing him down with the pressure of living up to her image of him. Although putting pressure on him was certainly the last thing Hope had intended. She just had no idea what a single look from her did to him. How it made his heart soar, seeing the endless love in her eyes, while at the same time almost crushing him under the weight of responsibility at that absolute trust showing on her face.

Hope was neither naive nor helpless. Far from it. But she had this total faith in his ability to fix anything and everything, putting him right up there with Kirk and the other 'heroes' aboard the Enterprise, including herself, if anyone cared to ask McCoy. He'd become used to people expecting miracles from him as a doctor, but Hope's endearing faith was not limited to his medical skills. When she looked at him with those wide, trusting eyes, she almost made him feel like a real hero. And just the thought of disappointing her was unbearable. He'd doubtlessly do things for her that he wouldn't even dream of trying otherwise. In a manner of speaking, Hope was his superpower.

The end of the playlist he'd hastily put together brought him back to the present, and he was glad to see that it had obviously had the desired effect. Hope seemed a lot calmer now, and when she stepped out of his embrace, smiling up at him fondly, she appeared much more at peace with herself again. At least for the time being. What more could he ask?

"How about a little snack?" the doctor suggested hopefully, his stomach suddenly reminding him that neither of them had had anything to eat since lunch, or was that breakfast? "I could fix us a quick chicken sandwich or something?"

"Thanks, but I'm not hungry at all," she declined with a warm smile, pecking him on the cheek before draining the last of her tea and cleaning up her cup.

McCoy left it at that. Hope had been really good following his dietary guidelines lately, so skipping one meal wasn't going to hurt her.

"I'd rather just go to bed, if you don't mind," she continued. "Not sure if I can, but thanks to you I'm feeling much better now, so I'd like to give sleep a try. Sometimes, all you need is a fresh eye in the morning for things to start looking up again."

"I couldn't have put it better, love" the doctor agreed, putting a gentle arm around her waist to steer her towards their sleeping area, grateful to see her so determinedly positive again. "Let's just go to bed. Tomorrow's a new day."

"Oh Leonard, you don't have to go to sleep just yet. It's not that late," Hope replied a little too quickly, turning around and gently, but firmly stopping him with both hands against his chest. "You go ahead and have that sandwich. I'll be all right."

It was clear that she didn't want him to come to bed with her, and that stung, even more than he cared to admit. But after what she'd been through, she had, of course, every right to ask for a little space. To find herself, clear her mind, sort her thoughts, whatever she thought she needed to do. It was McCoy, who couldn't bear to let go of her for even a minute. Who longed to hold her tight and reassure himself that she was still there, solid and unharmed. But that was his problem. Not hers.

So, taking the hint, the doctor backed off, giving her another brief hug and planting a tender kiss on her forehead before releasing her from his clasp.

"All right, love. Sleep tight!"

And while Hope disappeared into the bathroom to get ready for the night, McCoy settled down on the couch with his PADD, determined to give her the space she wanted and needed, while still keeping a close eye on her. No matter how much she thought she wanted to be left alone now, she really needed to be cared for.

Mustering up all his self-restraint, the doctor didn't even look up when he heard her return from the bathroom and slip into bed, pretending to be totally engrossed in his PADD.

"Leonard?" she called out softly, and his head flew up immediately.

"Yes, love?" he asked, fighting the urge to get up and hurry over to where she was sitting up in bed.

"Please," she began hesitantly, not meeting his eye.

"Please what?" he prompted gently, when she hadn't said another word for almost a minute.

"Just," she started again, but trailed off once more.

"Whatever you need!" he set his PADD aside, but stayed put on the couch.

"Just don't," Hope went on, shaking her head, still looking for the right words.

"Anything, Jenny! But you'll have to tell me," McCoy said softly, relieved when she finally looked at him.

"I know it's still early, but can you please stay here? Don't go away!"

"Of course, I'm staying, love!" he exclaimed, blinking rapidly to keep from tearing up. "Don't you worry, I'm not going anywhere tonight."

The doctor's heart plummeted, as it hit him how scared, and lost, and insecure Hope must be feeling to outright ask him to stay. Normally, if anything, she'd have encouraged him to 'go and have fun' or something like that, trying to assure him that she was all right, even though she quite obviously wasn't. Not that he'd have taken her up on it, of course, but just the fact that she wasn't even pretending to be okay, explicitly asking him not to leave her alone instead, was breaking his heart.

"Want me to come to bed after all?" he asked tentatively, wishing to offer without being pushy.

"No, no, I'm perfectly fine with you reading on the couch," she smiled gratefully, lying down and snuggling into the covers. "I just wouldn't want to be all by myself right now. Thank you, Leonard. For everything. I love you."

"I love you, too," McCoy murmured, not quite trusting his voice, his eyes glued to her back as she rolled over, facing away from him.

He didn't even look at his PADD after that, unable to tear his gaze away from Hope lying there in their bed, only a few feet from him, yet somehow so far away. Every fibre in his body was screaming for him to go and hold her, talk to her, comfort her, be there for her. But he knew that he had to let her do this her own way. That this was the kind of support she needed most right now. Time to process everything she'd found out today in peace, while knowing that he had her back and was quietly waiting, ready to catch her the moment she started to fall.

It took a long time, and lots of fidgeting and sighing, for Hope to finally fall asleep, the doctor's eyes never leaving her familiar form, as he tried to sift through his own thoughts and find answers to the many questions that kept arising the more he chewed over all the new facts and insights. And, of course, there was still the matter of Section 31 that he needed to discuss with Hope in more detail as soon as she was ready to deal with that on top of everything else. He really didn't want to add to her worries, but this was too dangerous to take lightly, and he had a feeling that she hadn't quite grasped the seriousness of the issue, what with everything else she'd had thrown at her today.

McCoy briefly thought about sleeping on the couch, or even not at all, but then decided that she wouldn't mind him joining her in bed for the night. It was his bed, too, after all, and it wasn't as if they'd had a fight or anything. So, when he was quite sure that she was fast asleep, he got undressed, ordered the lights out, and slid between the sheets next to her. It was the only way he'd be able to get any sleep at all tonight. He needed to feel her. Her warm, delicate body against his, for his own sake as much as hers. To be there to soothe her, when she moaned in her sleep, and, above all, when she woke up.

-x-x-x-x-x-

It would have been so easy to just stay in Leonard's comforting arms and let him take care of her. To go on dancing and pretend that nothing had changed, that this was just another tender evening with her wonderful, loving fiancé. Everything always seemed easy when he was holding her. But this wasn't, and she needed time to reflect on it. Space to think about it without the doctor making it seem to just go away. Because it didn't. She couldn't hide forever, she had to face reality sometime. And she wanted to do that sooner rather than later. For her sake as much as Leonard's.

He'd been terrific, of course. He always was. Loving, kind, supportive, her rock in every way. Steadfast and unwavering. But despite his endeavours to the contrary, Jenny had seen how this was wearing him down. She'd seen his eyes well up several times, watched him run tired hands over his face when he thought she wasn't looking. Had felt his heart breaking with every fearful question she'd asked, knowing fully well that he couldn't have all the answers, yet unreasonably and childishly expecting him to.

Despite quite obviously being shaken to the core himself, Leonard had tried to keep strong for her at all costs. And he was the strongest person she knew when it came to keeping it together for his friends' sake or professional reasons. Or usually both. But Jenny also knew the toll it took on him, how it tore him up inside. Because no matter how crusty he appeared on the outside, there was no question that he had the softest heart. Kind, and vulnerable. So easily hurt. And today, she sadly acknowledged, she'd brought him close to breaking point.

His disappointment at her wanting to go to bed alone had been tangible, and she'd felt bad about it. But much as she would love some cuddles right now, she was grateful that he hadn't made any move in that direction. Instead, the doctor had graciously accepted, probably even anticipated, that she needed space. The chance to reflect on this whole bizarre situation, and time alone to get her head around the fact that she'd been created rather than born and didn't know who or what she really was anymore. Or if she was even human.

A fact that, strangely, hadn't seemed to faze Leonard at all, his main concern apparently being to keep her safe from this Section 31. To him Jenny was still real and human enough. And with him being a doctor, that had reassured her immensely. But maybe he'd still get there. Maybe he hadn't had enough time to really let all the news sink in yet. He'd only learned about the whole thing literally minutes before her. Yet, somehow, she didn't actually expect him to change his mind. His reasoning had been sound enough. And paired with his treating her exactly the same way as always, it had almost convinced her of being a real person, after all.

But she needed to come to that conclusion herself. So far, she couldn't help feeling that something was amiss. As if she were suddenly a mere part of someone else, with the rest missing. Somehow, she just didn't feel whole anymore. Like a two-dimensional projection, no matter how often Leonard had assured her to the contrary. She was confident that she would eventually make her peace with her new self. At least she knew that was what she wanted. But it would take time to get there. To feel comfortable and complete in her own skin again.

Just as it would, once more, take all of poor Leonard's love, and patience, and compassion, to help her through a difficult time, Jenny thought wryly, immensely grateful for the doctor's comforting presence only a heartbeat away. And he wasn't even complaining. Hadn't said a word that would hint at him being fed up with her being a constant pain in the neck, perpetually causing him new worries and headache. He'd never do that. She even believed that he was genuinely glad to be there for her. Unceasingly and unconditionally.

Jenny smiled at the thought that it probably hadn't even occurred to him that he could just leave. That he wasn't obligated to stay with her and face all of her struggles. Knowing that she still meant so much to him, that his feelings hadn't changed a bit after all he'd learned about her today, made her feel a little more 'intact' again. He'd been worried, yes, and angry on her behalf, but neither freaked out nor disgusted, treating her with the same caring kindness he always had.

Nevertheless, she was sorry to put him through this. To draw him into yet another of her life's messes. He didn't need that, he had enough worries of his own. And she was supposed to make life easier for him. More carefree, less complicated. But without meaning to, she seemed to keep putting him through the wringer.

With all those different kinds of thoughts buzzing through her head, Jenny finally fell into troubled sleep, too exhausted to try and make sense of anything anymore. And even though giving herself a little space and going to bed alone had been her idea, she deeply appreciated the tender arm that unfailingly wrapped around her every time she woke up with a start.