Waking at 5:00am and determined against squandering a chance to talk before others monopolized her time, McCoy hurriedly dressed and began his vigil in the main mess hall, the one Cara favored. He claimed a small table in a far corner and nursed a cup of strong bitter coffee. Bits of gossip filtered through his musings. "… no they broke up … yep, our first officer reprimanded her and if you ask me, she deserved it … the Sengali twins, really? … did you see our embedded videographer … what's his name … that's right Nick …"

The last caught McCoy's attention. "… Josh said Nick was seen leaving the journalist's quarters early this morning … rumor is they've been together for years …" McCoy brushed it off, gossip always started with a tiny flake of truth and invariably snowballed with each retelling. Besides, he thought, why would Cara's relationship with Nick matter to me?

Two hours later Cara entered and ordered her usual coffee and toast. He quickly joined her at the replicator. "May I?" he asked positioning his hands to carry her tray.

After a nod she added a quiet "Good morning," before following McCoy to his table.

"I …" he started.

"You look tired," she remarked. Her eyes communicated warmth and interest. "Can I help?"

"I …" McCoy again began an apology for what he considered a lapse in good manners when memories of his ex-wife crowded into a comfortable and pleasant moment with Cara in his quarters. But an 'I'm sorry' no longer felt right. And the reason became clear. Cara wasn't put off, she wasn't offended. I think she noticed I abruptly shied away last night when our conversation turned to the violin, but she didn't take it personally. Instead she seems concerned about me rather than … than … assuming everything word or action is about her. Will I ever be able to stop using my ex-wife as a measuring stick for every woman who enters my life?

He said, "Late night, a hazard in my line of work. Company would be nice."

"That I can do," her sincere response and its accompanying kind smile soothed a bit of his hurt, smoothing the rough edges of one of his heart's fractured pieces.

ooooo

Cara entered McCoy's office. "You summoned me?"

"I asked you to stop by," the physician corrected.

She recited the message, "Come to Medbay; this is not optional; this is not a request."

He shrugged. "Well yes, some might interpret that phrasing as an order; I've noted you are exceptional at finding loopholes, so I took no chances. Now take off your blouse."

"Excuse me?"

"Disrobe, blouse and bra off."

The corners of her mouth ticked up. "You wanna play doctor?"

"I never know when you're teasing," he grumped back. "Or when I'm about to be offered up as tabloid fodder."

Cara lifted her chin and cocked her head sideways, her eyes narrowed as she studied him. And studied him. And studied him, head to toe. "Hmmm. You know, that's not a bad idea. It would certainly increase my readership."

Why do I go from pleased to exasperated sixty seconds after she enters a room? Without passing go and without collecting my $200 credits? McCoy jammed hands on his hips and harrumphed. "I'm a physician not a …" He noticed her self-satisfied expression then growled, "Never mind."

"So, my good doctor, what completely unnecessary test do you wish to perform today? Whatever it is, be quick about it, I have a live broadcast in an hour."

"Again?"

"Enterprise is launching today," she replied as if the answer were obvious.

"A tin ship is leaving the safety of home to battle the dangerous in the darkness. What's the big deal?"

Cara began unbuttoning her blouse. "How vivid. And nice job painting a picture with words. I may be out of a job soon … or not." She cupped a hand to her ear. "Did you hear that? Those eager knocks on your door? Must be Starfleet Command. They need a star for their recruitment vids."

"Hilarious," he countered.

"Thanks. And for your information people are interested in the flagship and her journeys, in the treks of all our exploration vessels." She paused. "In case you haven't noticed, I am, as you requested, disrobed from the waist up."

"Huh?"

"The exam?" she prompted.

"Of course." He quickly added, "Was writing my enlistment pitch." He warmed the diaphragm of a stethoscope and instructed, "Sit on the edge of the desk and breathe deeply."

After complying Cara asked, "Didn't you do this listening to my lungs thing already?"

"Shush. Breathe."

"I mean, I doubt much has changed in just a few days."

McCoy frowned. "Shh. Now breath. Again."

Cara complied. "I'm not a doctor or anything but …"

"Try to refrain from talking for three minutes. If you do, you get a lollipop."

"Lollipop?" she repeated. "That's not a word you hear much anymore …"

He removed the stethoscope from Cara's chest and glared down at her.

"Sorry," she said in a sheepish tone.

"Deep breath. Repeat. Repeat."

Her fingers drummed on her leg.

His hand covered hers ending the fidgeting. It lingered without need. "This instrument is sensitive; it's picking up the vibration."

"Oh. I see. Again, I apologize."

Concentrating McCoy bowed his head and closed his eyes. "Breathe."

Her foot twirled in random circles, first clockwise then counterclockwise.

McCoy looked up at Cara. "Is it possible for you to sit still?"

"Sure it's possible …"

"But?"

"Unlikely. Hospital … physicians … they make me nervous."

He flashed a charming smile and said using a pronounced southern drawl, "Surely not little ole' me ma'am."

She returned the smile. "Your accent … I like hearing it. It has a musical quality."

"I'll keep that in mind," he said quietly, too softly for Cara to hear. Her shoulders relaxed and her foot stilled.

"A couple more breaths, deep and exhale slowly. One more … hold it. OK. You can get dressed now. And you're fine by the way."

"Excellent," Cara replied as she rapidly clicked the bra's closures. Her fingers then reached backwards trying to right the tangled, misfastened garment. "Damn … I can't quite …" she muttered. Presenting her back to McCoy she said, "Please help."

"Ah me? … Don't you want me to … I dunno … call for someone else? Someone who knows how?" he answered in a stutter.

"Are you tying to sell the notion you've never before relieved a woman of her bra? I find that hard to believe."

"Getting it off is one skill, getting back on another," he explained.

Over a shoulder she witnessed his deer caught in the headlights expression and suppressed her amusement. "You just saw my upper half in all its flawed glory …"

"That was medicine … this is … personal." He added in his head, intimate.

"Please," she repeated while pointing a finger at the problematic jumble. His touch on her back sent a jolt of electricity up and down her spine. Her soft thanks in response to his ministrations followed a few beats behind but the gap was lengthy and off pace with a normal conversation rhythm.

As she finished buttoning her blouse Cara asked, "Why? You checked my lungs during my onboarding exam. Why again today?"

"Then you didn't mention spending three months imprisoned in a cave, a harsh environment for respiratory systems. Fungi from bat droppings get inhaled in the closed, damp conditions. And yes, to answer your next question, I read the records from the exams conducted after you returned home. But here's the thing, once in the caves on Proxima Delta V a crew member was infected with a fungus our sensors missed, months later it turned life threatening. I finally discovered the only indication of a problem were almost imperceptible labored breaths I originally dismissed as nothing … I won't make that error again …" Noting Cara's suddenly wan complexion McCoy paused his recitation. He pointed to the sofa and ordered, "Sit." Automatically his fingers circled her wrist and timed her pulse.

"B … bats?" she echoed in a hushed tone. "Bats?"

"Shh," McCoy said soothingly. "It's over, you're fine. You're safe."

"I never considered … never thought … there might be bats in those caves," she kept repeating.

He was relieved when the color in her checks pinked to normal. "Okay?"

She nodded.

"So let me get this straight. Thugs with guns, big guns, very big guns, thugs whose numerous crimes would be exposed if you escaped, they didn't intimidate you, but bats were a step too far?"

"I'm not really a 'creatures of the night' sort of person," she replied, the usual twinkle returning to her eyes.

"You … you are … words fail." He stood and offered a hand wanting to gage if Cara was steady.

"An unusual occurrence if ship's gossip is to be believed," she countered and accepted his offer. "And I think the word you are searching for is illogical."

"No, a compliment wasn't my aim."

Cara burst into laughter. "Done?"

He nodded. "No wait. Uh … Parties spring up our first night out of space dock. It's a tradition and termed, unsurprisingly and unimaginatively, 'first night out.' Since you're here to experience and write about life on a starship, well, they're an important ritual and you might want to attend a few." A pause. "Since you're new … I could show you around … introduce you."

She nodded. "Thank you. That's thoughtful and I accept."

ooooo

Two Weeks Later

"So Bones, when are the three of you going to make it official?" Kirk asked with a serious expression, but he couldn't maintain the solemnity. A grin broke though.

"Indeed Doctor, neither you, Ms. Aguirre, or Mr. Taylor are seldom without the other two," Spock concurred.

"That first night out date didn't go quite as you planned," Kirk added.

"For the record and once again I remind," McCoy said through gritted teeth, "that wasn't a date. I was bein' a friendly neighbor …"

"But your quarters are on deck three, and they are housed on deck 8 negating …"

"An expression you pointy eared GPS. Askin' Nick to join Cara and I was only polite," McCoy finished.

"And precisely who issued the invitation Doctor?"

"Well … she did, but that's beside the important. I would have. And y'all could have joined us as well."

"Bones, have you noticed your accent gets more pronounced when you're angry, when there's danger, when your back is against the wall, or when you're in denial?" Kirk pointed out.

"Indeed," Spock said again.

"Federation Standard possesses tens of thousands of words, perhaps you should avail yourself of more of them than indeed," McCoy retorted. "I know a writer who can help you expand your vocabulary."

"A human idiom comes to mind, one identifying overabundant protests," Spock retorted, face composed in his typical deadpan expression.

"You, Nick, and Cara are a throuple," Kirk summed up. "Admit it." The grin returned.

"Although Nick's picture may accompany the entry 'perfect human male specimen' in a dictionary, he's actually a good guy once you get to know him."

"You mean a transporter adverse misanthrope?" Spock queried.

"Exactly," McCoy replied waving his fork in front of the Vulcan.

"So if the three of you are," Kirk air quoted the next two words, "just friends, are they, or aren't they?"

"Whatever do you mean?" McCoy feigned innocence.

"Nick and Cara. Are they lovers?" When no answer was forthcoming Kirk prompted. "Mates with benefits?"

"Dunno." McCoy explained between bites, "The subject has never come up. And as our illustrious leader you of all people shouldn't spread gossip."

"I'm not. I'm in conference with senior staff."

"Captain. Did not Admiral Pike warn you off any romantic ambitions with Ms. Aguirre?"

"I'm asking out of a brotherly concern," Kirk retorted.

"Has that line ever worked?" McCoy chimed in.

Kirk looked perplexed by the question. "Ah … yes," he emphasized.

"Figures."

"As much as I look forward to a good banter with the two of you, I do have one piece of business," the Captain pivoted. "There's been an addition to our mission itinerary. In five weeks, after we complete our survey of the Ceres system, Enterprise will ferry a group of ambassadors to a conference on Risa."

McCoy and Spock cocked eyebrows. The doctor spoke, "Conference? On Risa? Right. Nice work if you can get it." He shook his head.

"The crew needs a break after the double shift pace of this shakedown cruise and before we spend a month warping to the nebula. So I've ordered ten days of shore leave for all spread over two weeks. Spock, see to the scheduling please, as soon as possible so folks have time for family and friends to meet us there."

"I shall begin this evening."

McCoy glanced at the clock.

"Are we keeping you from something more important Bones?"

"Uh. Yes. Actually. I have plans."

Kirk gazed down at McCoy as if looking over reading glasses. "Are where are you off to young man?"

"This quadrant's soccer championship quarter finals," McCoy mumbled while pretending to nonchalantly glance around the room.

"Didn't quite catch that," Kirk prompted.

"The stream of the soccer game in the cargo bay."

"Indeed."

McCoy glared at the Vulcan.

"Is this a new hobby?" Kirk queried. "Going on your own?"

McCoy sighed then admitted, "Meeting Nick and Cara there." Kirk's peals of laughter followed McCoy out of the door as the doctor exited the Captain's mess.