Seven Years Ago
Emory University Hospital Pediatric Ward
Atlanta, Georgia
Dr. Abigail Martin scanned the latest blood test results for her patient. She handed the PADD back to the nurse and asked, "Have you administered Joanna's sedative?"
"Not yet ... She always perks up when Dr. McCoy visits. I wanted to let her play a little longer."
The physician glanced through the window of the little girl's room just as Joanna's laughter spilled into the hallway. The sounds of a cow mooing and a pig oinking preceded another round of merriment. "He's here again?" Abigail asked.
"Has been every night since she was admitted. Shall I give her the medication now?"
"Hmmm … no. I'll check-in with them both and take care of it," Abigail replied. "I'd quite like to hear what other barnyard animals our infamous Leo can …"
A bizarre quacking, somewhere between a honk and a snort, interrupted her.
"… or cannot mimic," Abigail finished with a grin.
"No!" a child's voice exclaimed, "That's not right. Like this …" She imitated the animal with the precision of a duck caller. A male voice responded, "If you are so good at this, you read the story." The nearly three-year-old child responded, "You do jackass better …" Another giggle erupted. "Mean donkey."
Abigail's grin morphed into laughter. "Out of the mouths of babes …"
"I heard that," McCoy called back.
"Sometimes I think he's part Vulcan," Abigail said louder than necessary for the nurse beside her to hear.
"You're going on my list," McCoy threatened in a mock grumpy tone careful to smile at Joanna so the child understood he was teasing.
"Today's or the permanent one?"
"Still deciding," McCoy answered as the pediatric hematologist entered her patient's room. "Hey Abby."
"Don't let me interrupt the story," she responded. "I want to hear it as well."
"All done," Joanna pronounced then requested, "Goodnight Moon."
McCoy cocked his head at Abby. She nodded. He started the story. While he read, Abby quickly administered her exam and the sedative. By the last page Joanna was asleep, snuggling her stuffed bunny close.
Abby inclined her head at the toy animal.
He nodded answering it was a present from him.
"Drink?" Abby whispered.
McCoy gestured towards the door, stepping in front of her to open it. They settled into chairs in her office, facing one another. He spoke first. "How's Joanna responding to the medication and gene resequencing?"
"Good, better than good. After three weeks we're only half-way through the first treatment round, yet I think the prognosis is excellent. Most likely we'll be able to cure her aplastic anemia rather than settling for coaxing it into submission. And without a bone marrow transplant or harsh chemotherapy. Catching it this early made all the difference Leo." Abby added in her head, And I can count on one hand the number of physicians with the skill to make that diagnosis at this stage. She then asked, "Where's her mother?"
"I sent Jocelyn home. She's exhausted."
'I see …" Abby paused.
McCoy explained without prompting, "Jocelyn is all alone, she has no support system here, and her daughter is ill. I try to check-in with her each day … make sure she's eating and sleeping. And spend time with Joanna so her mother can have a break. I'm lending a helping hand, that's all."
"Which she undoubtedly needs." Abby swirled her glass. "But … Leo … is this wise?"
"I have it under control. And yes, I'm maintaining a professional distance." He added sounding defensive, "There's no ethical conundrum, I'm not treating Joanna."
"I wasn't insinuating otherwise."
He sighed. "Dancing around the pond isn't your style. Go on. Dive in. I can take the water."
His friend took a long slow sip of her bourbon. "I'm worried about you. Well, not your kindness, the gods know this young mother deserves it, but the ways your attentiveness to Joycelyn and her daughter might be misinterpreted and … spiral into an unfortunate ending."
"You mean come round and bite me in the ass," McCoy translated.
She acknowledged his reply with a slight nod and brief smile. "You know me well."
"I'm setting careful boundaries," he insisted.
"Good. I'm glad to hear it."
He raised his glass in a toast to Abby. "And I am certain you will not hesitate to kick my aforementioned derriere if you believe there is the slightest, tiniest, essentially miniscule, practically imperceptible reason to."
"Damn straight. As I have in the past."
Abby set her glass on the table and leaned forward. "All this talk of your fine bum tantalizes me. I could use a good shag. Shall we?"
He stood and held out a hand. "Lead the way darling."
"Definitely your place, it's closer. And neater."
ooooo
The passion and skill McCoy brought to his life's calling he also gifted when making love. Physical intimacy was never just sex with him; while kissing, embracing, coaxing, and pleasuring all of his attention focused entirely on his lover as he employed a vast knowledge of anatomy and his adept surgeons' hands. Abby found it heady. No beyond heady, intoxicating.
Comfortable with each other's bodies and presence, they individually stripped off their clothes in the soft light then came together for a lingering kiss beginning chaste and quickly morphing into sweeping tongues and nibbled lips. McCoy kneeled in front of her. She braced her back against the wall and ran her fingers through his thick hair while his tongue provoked interesting sensations at the back of her knee. At the same time his hand leisurely caressed up and around her outer and then inner thigh. Fingertips moved to and stroked more sensitive and private spots.
"What do you want first?" he asked in a husky voice.
"Gods Leo, you know the answer to that question, why do you always ask?"
He grinned. "My Mamma taught me always be polite with a lady … and let her call the shots."
McCoy stood; Abby wrapped her legs around his waist. He walked them to the bed, laying Abby against a nest of pillows and hovering by her side. He kissed her, staring with her mouth, then trailing down her chin, neck, and sternum while his fingers again stroked her, with more pressure this time, until McCoy judged she was ready for him.
She cooed. He slipped inside. Braced on one arm, McCoy's other hand fondled her breasts, cupping, kneading, drawing circles around and around, tweaking. Abby gasped. "Your mother … deserves … an award."
"What for raising me right or putting up with me?" he asked with a raised eyebrow, holding her gaze. He always watched her, his experienced eye carefully gaging her responses, adding stimulation if needed, pulling back before discomfort tiptoed in.
"Both," Abby squeaked out. She thrust her hips towards him.
"Angle up a bit … there … relax for me, sweetheart," he encouraged.
Abby grinned, "Detailed instructions, one of the advantages of making out with a physician."
He leaned in for a kiss. "Oh darling, I never just make out."
Several hours and varied interludes later, Abby spooned around McCoy, cradling him with her body. She propped up on an elbow and smoothed hair away from his eyes, gently so not to wake him. Satisfied he slept deeply and peacefully, she gingerly rolled out of bed, donned his robe, and silently exited the room.
With a hot cup of tea in hand, she settled on the couch. Abby liked being wrapped in his robe; as when his arms twined around her, it felt safe and comfortable. McCoy took care of all around him, for her, his robe symbolized that care. Once, in typical Leo fashion, perceiving nuance and lacking fanfare, he stuffed his robe into her medical bag. Whenever she lost a patient, whenever a passionate affair ended, whenever her tenuous relationship with her family frayed a little more, Abby snuggled into his gift.
She considered McCoy a once in a generation medical talent. Many others did as well. One student described it as 'innate healing touch.' Doctoring for Leo was instinctive, natural, and as necessary as air to his lungs. Yet he possessed three blind spots. A difficult loss in childhood. A craving for a family of his own. An abundance of empathy and compassion which at times drove him like a whip on his back.
And Joanna Alderson and her mother stood in the shadow of all of these. Jocelyn appealed to Leo's white knight tendencies. Not that Abby thought there was anything wrong with being a white knight, she'd argue the galaxy needed more of them. But Jocelyn struck her as immature and impulsive; certainly needing someone to lean on; perhaps unconsciously, perhaps knowingly seeking a protector. The attentive, kind physician that saved her daughter's life was perfectly cast for the role.
Abby and McCoy had been on, and off, and on-again lovers since their internships. This friendship with benefits suited them both; each loved the other as a best mate. Leo teased he was her B-team when the varsity league was out of town. Which was untrue. He was the most cherished and skilled of all her lovers. Not that she would spill that confidence to him. If called on it, she'd tease Leo's beyond healthy ego didn't need additional fuel rendering him even more insufferable.
She sincerely wished one day Leo would meet someone who loved him for more than his brilliance, more than his compassion, one with the inner strength to balm his tender heart and protect it; soothing the sadness from his childhood, as well as the euphoric highs and breath robbing lows of his profession. And Abby would be as happy on that day as he. Tea finished, knowing Leo hated waking alone, she slipped back into bed and coaxed McCoy's head onto her shoulder. Wrapping her arms around him, she placed a light kiss on the top of his head and then rested her cheek against it.
Six weeks later McCoy and Jocelyn wed with a beaming Joanna in his arms. After repeatedly and bluntly urging he slow down the relationship, or at the very least chose a long engagement over a quick marriage, Abby stood by his side as best woman.
ooooo
Present
Videotaping the last interview ran late leaving Cara little time before Captain Kirk's welcome dinner began. At least someone with skill did my hair and makeup, that's a change and welcome tonight, she thought hurrying to her quarters. While dressing, she reviewed briefing notes, paying more attention to the information than buttoning her blouse. Cara's meticulous research and preparedness were traits even her critics lauded.
OK, just senior crew tonight. She opened the related file.
Pavel Chekov, Ensign. Navigator and Operations. Only child. Prodigy. Noted hacker (for the greater good). Entered Starfleet Academy at age fifteen. Spent the three years prior at the University of Leningrad studying mathematics after graduating high school at age twelve; cadets younger than fifteen are not considered physically ready for the rigors of astronaut training. He recently published an article on theories sketching a framework for fifth-dimensional mathematics. Has served on Enterprise since graduating from the Academy.
Hikaru Sulu, Lieutenant. Helmsman. Son of a diplomat, spent much of his childhood off-world – Andoria, The Federated Outer Rim Colonies, Wolf 359. Father is a noted stage actor. Married. Spouse Ben is an architect living in Kyoto, Japan. They have one daughter, age six. Hikaru is an Olympic medalist in fencing, bronze then gold; competed in two separate games. And he is a published poet under a pseudonym. Ask if Hikaru and Ben are amenable to an article about the unique challenges of balancing a career on a ship of exploration absent for extended missions with marriage and fatherhood.
Nyota Uhura, Lieutenant. Chief Communications Officer. Orphaned at a young age. Xenolinguist fluent in thirty-seven languages and numerous dialects. Received last year's Hoshi Sato award for building a translation matrix for a tricky Tholian dialect. Musician, training includes voice as well as woodwinds – flute, oboe. Side note, anecdotes suggest she is proficient with the Vulcan lyre as well – check this out. Grandfather owned a restaurant in Nairobi; he passed his secret recipes onto Nyota and only her.
Montgomery Scott, Lieutenant Commander. Though Chief Engineer on Enterprise, he trained first as a physicist. Innovator. Maverick. First in his class at the Academy. Also disciplined multiple times for a variety of minor infractions, many stemming from verbally rowdy arguments with his instructors after identifying flaws in their theories or knowledge. His postulates in advanced relativistic mechanics are controversial. There are rumors a failed beaming experiment and a lost dog landed him at an undesirable post – check this out. Can trace his lineage to a highland Scotts clan involved on the losing side of Culloden.
Leonard McCoy, Lieutenant Commander, Chief Medical Officer. MD. Multiple PhDs include xenobiochemistry, and neuroscience. Already an established physician, he entered Starfleet Academy in his early thirties. Side note – his experience as a non-traditional student could be an interesting article if he is willing. Holds certifications for multiple specialties including emergency medicine, surgery, genetic therapies, and psychiatry. Father, deceased, was also a physician. Is the sole heir to his family's substantial fortune. Rumored technophobe. There is little information about his life outside of medicine. Why? Side note – with those credentials how would he have time for anything but work and study?
The notification chime belled. Cara closed the file. Out of time. That must be my escort.