Thank you to Eclectikon and Wuemsel for your reviews! I've been glowing because I really needed to read those kind words! I'm editing a few chapters ahead and I'm an emotional wreck from the "whumpness" which is coming.

In another chapter or so we will be entering Act II. As my cousin says, "Shit's about to get really real". . . so better buckle up.

~Coop

CHAPTER 9

"Well, I'll be damned," Kirk breathed, looking over the rim of his mug. "McCoy's here."

Spock turned to see the doctor pulling a tray from the food synthesizer. McCoy glanced around the mess, looking oddly unsure of himself until he spotted them sitting at their usual table in the corner.

"Room for one more?" He asked, plopping down his tray before either of them could answer. He reached for the sugar dispenser and dropped several octagon-shaped lumps into his coffee. He started to push the container back but paused to drop one more lump into the dark liquid before returning it to the center of the table.

"Is that a prescribed dosage, Doctor?" Kirk asked, grinning as McCoy shot him a dark look. Despite the return of the doctor's cantankerous mood, he was pleased that McCoy had joined them. He'd missed his friend since Bones had begun eating breakfast—and most of his meals—with Aggie.

"It's this or I break into the Nadrenline reserves," McCoy grumped. "Good morning, Spock."

"Good morning, Doctor," Spock said evenly. "In the practice of normal human discourse, may I inquire after your health?"

McCoy shot him a sour look. "Look that bad, do I?"

Before Spock could answer, Kirk jumped in. "Just a little tired, is all," he lied smoothly. "Where's Aggie?"

McCoy's face went suspiciously blank. "Can't a doctor have a meal without bringing a patient along?" Kirk stared at McCoy until the doctor dropped his eyes to the pile of fruit on his plate. "Christine decided it was time for Aggie to get a new wardrobe," he admitted a bit sheepishly. "She can't keep walking around the ship in patient robes forever."

"I'm surprised she didn't demand a change of clothes sooner," Kirk said, taking a bite of his second chocolate croissant. "I'd go naked before wearing those medical gowns for that long. They're itchy."

McCoy gave him an exasperated look. "You know perfectly well that patient gowns are made from the same material as our uniforms. You just need an excuse to get naked."

Kirk shoved the remaining bit of croissant in his mouth and grinned around the wad. "No excuse needed here, Bones. It's only natural."

The doctor harrumphed but with little conviction. Kirk studied McCoy as he chewed. Spock was right: their friend looked like spliced shit on a transporter pad. Fatigue accentuated the lines around McCoy's eyes and mouth and he held himself stiffly, as though he'd just gone ten rounds with a heavy-weight in the boxing ring. It was clear that Bones was upset over something and was trying to hide it. Grief, longing, and shame all struggled for dominance on his broad face.

So he's finally realized it—he's in love with Aggie, Kirk concluded, both envying and pitying his friend. Being in love with a beautiful woman was the sweetest sort of torture for Kirk; the covert glances, the inviting touches. Soft lips followed by welcoming arms. In all his space exploration, Kirk had never experienced anything quite so addictive or adventurous as "woman." But as Kirk had suspected, McCoy was seeing anything but possibilities.

Easily remedied, Kirk thought confidently, his tactician's mind already seizing the opening that Christine Chapel had given him. He swirled the remaining coffee in the mug as though only half-paying attention to the conversation.

"Well, I think Nurse Chapel is right. I mean, it's not like Aggie's really a patient anymore. It's about time she got some new clothes." He took a sip of coffee, letting his eyes wander around the mess with deliberate nonchalance. "I'll talk to Rand about getting her some quarters, as well."

McCoy frowned. "Her body has recovered but her memory—"

"—won't recover in Sick Bay, Bones. It's depressing." Kirk rolled his eyes then gave his friend a pointed look. "You have to work there; you're a doctor. But Aggie needs to get out, stretch her wings a little."

Spock set down his fork which had been consistently spearing purple vegetables from his plate. "It is widely accepted that relaxed environments can contribute to memory recovery. As Star Fleet has yet to yield any information on the patient's true identity, perhaps it would be wise to pursue other methods."

Kirk had a difficult time keeping the surprised look from his face. He suspected that Spock's sensitivity to the emotional state of others was more acute than the Vulcan would ever admit, and Kirk wondered if the commander had picked up on McCoy's internal conflict. A glance at the Vulcan's face revealed nothing out of the ordinary.

McCoy shook his head, let out a frustrated grunt. "There's also the possibility that she'll never recover her memory."

"In that case, Doctor, it would be prudent for her to start establishing new memories to go along with her new identity. A friend, more than a doctor, would certainly be of help in this transition." With that said, Spock excused himself and headed for the disposal slot with his tray.

A cautiously hopeful look appeared on McCoy's face before it was quickly smothered. Frustrated, Kirk leaned forward, determined to confront McCoy's irrational behavior when a loud bang made him jump. He glared at the bowl of quadrotriticale mush that hit the table not far from his elbow, but when he looked up, the reprimand died on his lips.

"Scotty?"

The Engineer Chief dropped into the chair next to him. His face had been haphazardly shaven, there was a patch of stubble near his ear and another near his chin. The brown of his eyes was rimmed in pink while his hair stood out oddly on one side, as though half of his head had gotten near an open airlock.

"Scotty?" Kirk asked again, softly this time. "Are you all right?" He watched his friend reach for a spoon with trembling fingers. At first, Kirk thought Scotty must not have heard him but then he noticed that the engineer's lips moving. Leaning forward, Kirk could just make out what he was saying.

"Almost got it, Capt'n, almost. Trans-warp . . . Aye, Ah'll have it soon . . ."

"Bloody hell," McCoy muttered after taking one look at Scotty and then shot Kirk a glare. "And you thought I looked bad?" he asked sarcastically. He turned back to the chief engineer with a scowl. "You damned idiot! You promised me yesterday that you were gonna get some rest! How're you gonna prove warp-whatever when I have to heavily sedate your ass?"

Scotty didn't seem to notice the doctor's yelling and Kirk frowned. Things had deteriorated since the last time he'd seen his engineer. When Scotty started playing around with theoretical physics, things could get a bit hairy. An intervention involving binge drinking and belly dancers would snap him out of it, but they were weeks away from the nearest star base. Damn it, he couldn't have both his chief medical officer and his chief engineer in mid-core-meltdowns. Suddenly, Kirk had a flash of insight. Perhaps this could be a case of shooting two Monotours with one phaser shot . . .

"Aggie," Kirk said.

"What?" McCoy asked, his head whipping around to scan the other diners. "Where?"

He shook his head. "No, not here," Kirk explained. "But what about in Engineering?"

"'Fraid I'm not following you, Jim."

"You said it yourself in your last report that she has an astounding grasp of warp physics."

McCoy narrowed his eyes. "Yeah, so?"

Kirk made an obvious glance at his chief engineer. Scotty had apparently fallen asleep and was snoring softly. "Why not let her help out in the Engineering Labs? It'll help Scotty and it'll give her something to focus on other than her lost memories. It might even help with her memory."

"Are you crazy, man?" McCoy looked like he was going to explode but kept his voice pitched low. He jerked his head in Scotty's direction. "Do you wanna feed his mania? Do you remember what happened last time?"

Kirk bit his lip. He did remember. Damn McCoy's over-protectiveness, he thought, then realized it was that particular trait that would send Aggie directly to Engineering. He felt a flash of remorse for the low blow he was about to deliver but decided it had to be done.

"You're right, Bones," he conceded, flattening his lips. "Scotty will just have to work things out on his own. And as for Aggie"—he shrugged his shoulders—"I s'pose she could always help out in the Computer Labs. Spock's had trouble unlocking a panel on the cryo-unit and—"

"No!" McCoy's fist hit the table, causing the silverware to rattle and Scotty to snort in several little puffs before his breathing evened out again. Some of the dining crewmembers sitting nearby glanced in their direction but quickly looked away after realizing who was sitting in the corner.

Kirk watched as several emotions crossed McCoy's face: frustration, worry, a flash of longing, and finally, a look of reluctant surrender. McCoy swallowed visibly. "Sorry, Jim. You're probably right; it'd be good for Aggie to focus on something other than her lost memories. I'll . . . talk to her tonight and see if. . . see if she wants to help Scotty in the Engineering Labs." He gave the sleeping man a dour look. "On two conditions," he added, holding up a finger to Kirk. "One, Scotty has to get eight hours a night and three meals a day or I put him on medical leave." McCoy raised another finger, looking pained this time. "And two, Aggie is to never go near the cryo-unit. I'm serious, Jim, I don't want her anywhere near that damned death box. I don't . . . I don't know what it would do to her. The shock of it could lock her memories away forever."

Kirk held up his hands in surrender. "Agreed, Bones. I just have one more question?"

"What?" McCoy shot him a suspicious look.

"You gonna eat that?" Kirk's hand snatched out to grab a piece of fruit from McCoy's plate but yelped as a fork smacked the back of his hand.

"Yes," McCoy said smugly, popping the piece of fruit into his mouth. "Yes, I am."

Kirk's eyes scanned the report from Star Fleet. Mudd had been transferred to The Ironclad—a Norse mining ship whose captain was under contract with the Federation—and delivered to the authorities on Star Base 10. He still claimed he was an innocent bystander and, lacking evidence other than Mudd's own admission (which he was claiming had been coerced), it looked like he was going to be charged with computer tampering and theft of a UVO—Unknown Valued Object. The charge carried a maximum sentence of a 10 month incarceration in a minimal security facility on Mora.

Disgusted, Kirk threw the report down. Incarceration? More like a networking vacation for criminals. They hadn't even considered charging Mudd with life form trafficking. Damn bureaucracy!

It took a moment for Kirk to control his temper and to distract himself, he reached for another report. It was a follow up summary of their orders to patrol the neutral zone between Zaroth and Delta Phin Vega. Apparently, an older style Romulan Bird of Prey had been spotted several times in the vicinity.

Kirk frowned. Things had been silent with the Romulans of late and he wondered what this new activity might mean. He had hoped that by the end of the Enterprise's five-year mission that he might see the end of conflict between the Romulan Empire and the Federation. With a little less than a year left, he wondered if that was still a possibility.

"Rand, could you come to my office?" he spoke into the intercom. He leaned back in his chair and started counting. Exactly at the thirteen-second mark, which was how long it took to efficiently walk from Rand's office to his, the doors swished open to reveal his pretty yeoman.

"Yes, Sir?" She asked, holding several datapads in her arms. No doubt more reports for him to read, Kirk thought with an internal grimace. Why hadn't there been a course at Star Fleet that prepared someone for the bullshit side of the job?

Kirk tapped his finger on the report concerning Mudd. "I have an old classmate, Sasha Romanoff, on Mora. He happens to be the correctional facility's director there. The same one that Harcourt Mudd will be arriving at soon."

Rand's eyes opened a fraction wider. "How interesting, Sir."

"Yes, it is," Kirk said, wiping at an invisible crumb on his desk. "Would you mind sending a message to Mr. Romanoff, using one of Uhura's channels for personal communications. Just a friendly inquiry on how things are going, you understand. Although, if you happen to mention Mudd, you might want to pass along our impressions of the man. It might help Sasha determine which method would be best suited for Mr. Mudd's . . . rehabilitation."

Rand flashed him a small, tight smile. "Understood, Sir. I'll make it a priority." And, as he'd feared, she left the stack of datapads on his desk before leaving.

As the doors to his office swished closed, Kirk was left thinking about his efficient yeoman and her rare smiles. This smile had sent a chill down his spine, making him grateful that Rand had never applied for a command position. Without a doubt, he would have been shredded in the battle simulations.

Kirk glanced through the titles of the newest datapads: a topography report of the last planet they'd beamed down to, a biannual inventory check on all Jeffries Tubes power source modules, and a short summary stating that the lighting upgrades had been completed throughout the entire ship.

Bored, he left the datapads on his desk without signing them. Rand, as usual, would track him down in the morning, give a quick summary of the reports, and shove the datapads at him to sign. It was, Kirk admitted, a much more efficientway of doing things.

At least for him.

On the way to the bridge, Kirk passed several off-duty red shirts heading for the recreation room. He recognized one of them as being Scotty's right-hand man.

"Mr. Hemsworth," he called, and a lanky young man looked away from his laughing companions to see him. Hemsworth made a motion for the others to go on and hurried to the captain.

"Yes, Sir?"

"I heard you've been working with our guest in Engineering of late. How's that going?"

A besotted grin immediately replaced the young engineer's polite smile. "Oh, excellent, Sir! Aggie's the best; she sure knows her warp transistors. She even improved the heat rods by twelve percent, and then she—" Hemsworth broke off suddenly, realizing he was gushing. He quickly schooled his face into a neutral look, although Kirk could see the pink blush creeping up the man's neck. "Sir, I meant to say that Ms. Aggie is quite knowledgeable. She's more than welcome to assist in Engineering whenever she wishes."

Kirk nodded, ignoring Hemsworth's embarrassment. "Hmm, so outside of theoretical engineering, she's knowledgeable of warp thermodynamics. Guess it goes hand-in-hand."

Hemsworth shot him a confused look. "Well, not just, Sir."

Kirk felt a flash of irritation at Hemsworth's vagueness. "Explain."

Hemsworth looked as though he were desperately searching for the correct answer on a pop quiz. "Well, Sir. . . Aggie's good at everything."

"Do you mean to tell me," Kirk said slowly, narrowing his eyes. "That Aggie is fully capable of working within any department in Engineering?"

"Umm, yes?"

There was a long pause, then Kirk said, "Dismissed." He took two steps before he stopped, turned back around. "Wait, Mr. Hemsworth—one last question."

With a barely disguised cringe, Hemsworth turned around. "Yes, Sir?"

"How's your chief doing?" Kirk's eyes fairly danced as he watched relief spread across the younger man's face. He was already aware that Scotty's new assistant had him fairly skipping down the corridors, but he'd felt a flash of regret at his sharp tone with the young man. How many times had Kirk himself been distracted by a beautiful woman?

"Much better, Sir," Hemsworth replied, grinning. "Ms. Aggie has him speaking in full sentences again. We can even understand most of them."

"Very good," Kirk said, nodding in the direction of the rec-room. "Better catch up with your friends."

"Yes, Sir! Thank you, Sir."

Kirk slid into the command chair so deep in thought that he failed to notice the "captain on the bridge" announcement. How could a girl from one-hundred twenty-five years in the past be familiar with the full spectrum of modern Engineering? She was highly intelligent, he knew, but it was virtually unheard of to be so advanced in such a wide variety of topics. She'd have to be from the future instead of the past, some sort of super-human, or a Vulcan prodigy.

Wondering what McCoy would have made of such comparisons, Kirk winced. The doctor had been living up to his larger-than-life reputation for being a grouchy son-of-a-bitch the past few days. Scotty had commandeered much of Aggie's time in his frenzy to prove trans-warp beaming, and the doctor wasn't taking it gracefully. And Kirk, having been the one to suggest Aggie help out in Engineering, had felt the barb of the doctor's sharp tongue more often than not.

Kirk had had to bite his tongue, sometimes literally, to keep from snapping back at his friend. He reminded himself that McCoy wasn't so much grouchy as lovesick.

All things considered, Kirk reasoned, things were actually going pretty well. As predicted, McCoy's emotions were starting to spill over now that Aggie was no longer his patient. And, from what he'd overheard Chapel telling Uhura, Aggie had been sneaking in to McCoy's empty office at night to sleep on the couch. One could argue that the couch was just super-comfortable, but Kirk had slept there a few nights himself and could testify that a Horta's nest would have less lumps.

A feeling of warm satisfaction bubbled up inside Kirk. Yes, things were going according to plan. And if Kirk's gut was right (and it usually was), all that was needed now was a single spark to light the warp core brewing between McCoy and Aggie. What that would be exactly, Kirk didn't know.

But it was only a matter of time and opportunity.

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