2. Rough Sketch

After a prolonged conversation with Dr. M'Benga, who'd called after a patient in the Enterprise's sickbay had taken a turn for the worse in McCoy's absence, the doctor arrived at the park later than usual. Crossing the street from his hotel, he'd been positively alarmed at how much the idea of "being too late" bothered him. Or at the intensity of his relief, when he spotted her still there, right on her usual bench.

He'd only just chosen a place to sit and enjoy his coffee, his heart skipping a beat when the woman of his dreams nodded at him again, her eyes sparkling and her smile even brighter than the day before, and was wondering if he should finally pluck up the courage to go over and talk to her, when she got up from her bench rather abruptly and started to pack up.

McCoy could hardly belief the disappointment he felt at her leaving, nor the way his stomach did a little flip when she gave him a shy little wave goodbye. But watching her hurrying towards the exit at the far end of the park, admiring the way she almost seemed to skip along, it struck him that he'd never even seen her walk before. He really knew next to nothing about her!

Feeling the heat rising to his cheeks, it suddenly occurred to him that the reason why she was in such a hurry now might be that she'd actually waited for him. But before the doctor could give the absurdity of this idea any further thought, a young man came racing by on his bike and ripped the woman's bag off her shoulder in one swift move while roughly pushing her to the ground.

Flicking his coffee into the nearest bin, McCoy was at the woman's side in a heartbeat, yelling after the brute on the bike all the way over to where she was still lying on the ground.

x-x-x-x-x

She must have passed out for a moment, because when she opened her eyes, she looked straight into the worried, impossibly blue eyes of the gorgeous stranger she'd been pining for all week.

"Welcome back, darling," he drawled, his voice low and compelling, and incredibly comforting, instantly making her feel safe and cared for. "Can you tell me your name?"

He was running a sort of medical scanner over her. A doctor?

"Alexandra," she croaked, still a little dazed and not quite sure what had actually happened, the first half of her name almost inaudible.

"Look at my hand, Sandra, can you do that for me?" the stranger went on, his voice gentle but determined. "Now can you tell me how many fingers you see?"

"Two," she answered, starting to feel more clearheaded again, and when his worried frown deepened, she added with a smug grin, "and one thumb."

He lifted a reproachful eyebrow and chuckled, "Ah, got myself a witty patient here!"

She chuckled, too, wincing at the pain it caused her head, and the stranger instantly grew serious again.

"You took a nasty fall, sweetheart," he said softly. "Might even have a slight concussion there. Mind if I feel your head? I'm a doctor."

"Go ahead," she replied, stifling a groan, her heart fluttering a little when she felt him running gentle fingers through her hair and all over her head, his delicate, almost tender touch, and the kind, focused look on his face immensely reassuring.

He was on his knees beside her, his face hovering closely above hers, and she could feel his sweet, minty breath on her skin, mingled with the smell of coffee and that of freshly washed clothes. A very nice smell, she decided, remembering just in time not to lean into his touch, when his hand briefly cupped and then gently patted her cheek on finishing his examination.

"You know, Sandra, scanners are great, but I'd rather rely on my hands," he explained, straightening up and gently inserting a hand underneath her shoulders to help her sit up. Then he held out his other hand and asked, "Think you can get up?"

"I think so," she nodded, gritting her teeth against the dizziness, and gratefully taking the offered hand to pull herself up.

"Take it slow, my dear," he murmured softly as she gingerly got to her feet, and seeing that she was standing on rather wobbly legs, he led her straight over to a bench, a warm hand in the small of her back for support.

"Sorry about your bag, Sandra," he gave her a wry, apologetic smile, sitting down next to her. "But checking on you clearly was my priority."

"Don't worry," she smiled back at him, "there was nothing much in it, anyway. In fact, just some dried-out nail polish and an old-fashioned paper notebook and pencil. I carry all my valuables close to my body."

She patted the pocket of her jeans.

"But your drawings?" he sounded genuinely upset.

"It's all right," she reassured him. "Luckily, I started on a new sketchbook today. So, it's just the one drawing gone."

"God, where are my manners?" he suddenly exclaimed. "My momma really raised me better than this!"

And jumping to his feet, he stood before her, gallantly bowing.

"McCoy's the name. Dr. Leonard McCoy. Chief medical officer of the USS Enterprise, here on home leave. More or less. I'm sorry, I don't get to treat a lot of civilians these days, and it shows."

"Alexandra", she laughed, accepting his proffered hand and chuckling as he dropped the lightest kiss on the back of hers, his lips just short of touching her skin. "Alexandra Dubois."

"Enchanté, Mlle Dubois," he smiled charmingly. "You know, I actually thought, you looked a bit French."

"Belgian, actually," she all but giggled, "and my friends call me Alex. But you can stick with Sandra, if you like. It sounds really nice when you say it."

"Oh, ok," he blushed a bit at his mistake. "I think I'd like that. Sandra really suits you."

"You think?" she grinned, loving his gentle flirting. "It'll just take a little time for me to get used to."

"Well, I'd be overjoyed to get to spend a little time with you so you can!" he beamed, then quickly clarified, "Get used to it, I mean."

Mortified when she realised what she'd just implied, she didn't know what to say.

"At least let me take you to a café or something," he continued kindly, catching on to her embarrassment, "I'd really like to keep an eye on you over the next couple of hours. Just to make sure there's no concussion. And because I just binned my coffee and could really do with another."

"All right, Doctor!" she smiled, drawn in by his gentle, beautiful eyes and feeling rather excited at the idea of spending 'the next couple of hours' with her attractive rescuer. "Coffee's on me! It's the least I can do! I can't thank you enough for coming to my rescue!"

"Uh, nothing to thank me for," he replied, blushing again, "and it's Leonard, please!"

Her heart melted at seeing the charming and confident doctor suddenly turning almost awkward. So, he wasn't just gorgeous, kind, and a high-ranking medical Starfleet officer. He was also modest and even a tad shy!

"I mean it, Leonard," she assured him. "You've been too kind, and I'm very grateful."

"So, are you feeling better then? No nausea or anything?" he changed the subject, back in professional doctor mode now, and she hoped, she hadn't inadvertently scared him off.

"No nausea, no," she answered, careful not to shake her head and briefly wondering, if she should mention the dizziness she felt looking into his hypnotising eyes.

He carefully helped her up, and they slowly walked out of the park and over to the nearest café, arms linked with her having to lean on him more than she'd expected to, and him easily taking her weight.