Light and gentle touches of someone's fingers wakened McCoy several hours later. The fingers were drawing small circles on his chest, and these familiar gestures gave him a clue of who was doing it.

"Good morning, sleepyhead," Lee murmured and proceeded to his hair, playing with it like it was a toy she'd always wanted.

"Morning," McCoy muttered without opening his eyes, still half-asleep.

Laying like this was nice. It was a long-forgotten feeling of cozy Saturday mornings in Atlanta when he knew all his week's shifts were over and he had a full day to do nothing and be comfortable with that. He forgot when was the last time he felt this bliss of slow mornings without a need to run somewhere, save someone or kill someone. Great feeling. So he did his best to prolong it.

"It's 0638 if it interests you," the little woman in his arms informed, "I wasn't sure when you usually get up, so I've decided to wake you up and ask."

"I had to be up 38 minutes ago," McCoy grumped but didn't move. If you move, you lose this feeling. He knew that.

Their position was too comfy. But he knew how to make it comfier. He drew her closer, and she cuddled to him too. Yes. This felt like heaven. And he wasn't going to abandon it just yet.

But as his half-asleep state was fading, other thoughts crept into his mind. McCoy recalled yesterday events and his careless decision to ask Lee to stay. He remembered how they almost kissed and how he promised her to do it later if she wouldn't change her mind.

What the hell had he been thinking?

She was crazy. And it wasn't a figure of speech. It was a medical diagnosis he didn't have to be a psychiatrist to form. Now it was clear that she had several mental disorders, including PTSD. Christ, someone had tortured her just recently, and she definitely didn't recover from it.

What he'd done yesterday was absolutely unacceptable. He'd spent the night with her, for fuck's sake. How had he ever allowed so huge lapse of judgment?

Thank God he hadn't done anything stupid, or it might have resulted in losing his medical license. Hell, even innocent sleeping with his mentally ill patient would result in losing his license, if anyone ever found out.

And people would find out. His staff and a half on the ship's engineers were in sickbay and knew McCoy and Lee spent the night together, in his office. Of course, he could claim they didn't share a bed, but would Lee be silent about it?

Fuck, what was he thinking?

"Leo, what's wrong?" Lee's voice was serious, and he realized that she was frowning at him, resting her head on his chest.

He stared at her. What was he supposed to say? Sorry I slept with you? Sorry I promised to kiss you? Sorry I couldn't keep my shit together?

"We should get up," he said and freed himself from her embrace. Hell, he should ask her to keep this night a secret.

She let him go and stood in front of him.

"Leonard," she quietly said, "Please, tell me what's wrong. Please."

Her use of his full name probably meant that she was genuinely worried.

Did he really decide to give these relationships a go? Her insanity must have been contagious, how else could he possibly make this decision? He looked at her, unable to say anything at least remotely appropriate.

"Have I got you into trouble?" she asked, "You had to let me stay here, and now everyone knows we slept in the same room. And as we slept not just in the same room, but in the same bed, you may have serious problems, am I right?"

He gaped at her. Well, what did he expected? She was a smart girl. She could add two and two and get the right result.

"Leo," she went on, "Everything that's happening between us will stay between us. No one will ever know about this night, I promise. We can always say you slept in your chair as you did after this Engineering emergency."

"It isn't just about anyone finds out," he found his voice again, "Regulations aside, I didn't have a moral right to sleep with you. You are vulnerable, and I took advantage…"

"Stop," she interrupted him sharply, "Just stop. I know what you are trying to say. You are trying to say I am insane and that I needed comfort and that it didn't matter who could give it to me. You are trying to say I didn't know what I was doing."

She stood closer.

"But this is complete bullshit, Leo. Yes, I needed comfort, but not because I'm fucked up and you just happened to be there. No, I wanted this because this is you. I may be messed up, but I am not that messed up. I knew what I was doing. And I know it now."

God, he wanted to kiss her. He craved to kiss her and desperately wished that she would do it because he wouldn't be able to stop her. And he as well wouldn't be able to to make a move himself.

But she didn't move this time. Her eyes were red, yet she didn't cry, so it was probably a sign of acute anger.

"Everything that is happening between us is not a result of my mental state, as you might think. It's a result of me liking you and you liking me. That's all."

"I…" McCoy really didn't know what to say.

"I slept on the couch," she stated, not waiting for him to came up with the right words, "and you slept there," she pointed at his chair, "and we never touched more than it was necessary."

"Lee, it was all wrong…"

Fuck, it was so damn hard to admit what he really felt for his mentally ill patient and had decided to try something more than friendly smiles.

"Oh fuck," she threw her hands in exasperation and collapsed on the couch, hiding her face.

"Lee," he quietly said, "you do have mental health issues. You have to sort this out before you decide if you really want something like… Like what we did in the bar. Until then, you can't be sure this is your decision, not your state's consequence."

"Shut up," she hissed and looked at him. This impassive mask of hers was on again. "You made your point. You think I am crazy and there is nothing I can do to prove you wrong. So just shut up. Bring me a robe and I'll go to my bed."

She leaned back, folded her arms and looked away. All he could do was to follow the order.

A half of an hour later she settled in her bed again. She didn't spare him a single glance since this tirade in his office and now was sufficiently ignoring him.

It was for the best, he thought. She definitely had PTSD, panic disorder, and probably other related mental issues. She didn't know what she was doing.

But these thoughts didn't bring him comfort. All he wanted was to beat his head against a wall until the image of her smiling at him vanished completely.

He checked on her vitals and issued a detail heart scan.

"Doctor," she called him, her voice neutral.

"What's up, Lee?"

Please, say something to prove me wrong, he inwardly begged, say something that made me believe you.

"Where is my PADD?"

His heart sunk.

"I'll bring it to you in ten minutes."

She nodded and turned away.

Thankfully, Jim didn't ask uncomfortable questions. He just gave McCoy a sympathetic look and reminded him of the necessity to control Lee. Then the Captain of the Enterprise flew away to do his captainy things, leaving McCoy with sickbay full of curious patients and one patient that wasn't curious at all.

McCoy didn't remember how this day ended. He was doing something. His staff was doing something. His patients were doing something, but what exactly — he couldn't tell for the death of him. He also didn't remember how he ended up in his office, a PADD in his hands, trying to read one of his medic's thesis. He promised to take a look and now was trying to fulfill the promise. Unfortunately, he didn't comprehend a word. He was thinking of Lee, missing her sitting here with her head on his shoulder and her small body that gave him warmth and comfort. Damn her. He threw the PADD on the desk and exited the office.

She was lying still and seemed asleep at first glance. Only her vitals were betraying her. She was awake and judging by her heart rate, aware that it was him standing beside her. Or maybe she didn't bother to control it as she'd done during her first interrogation here.

He checked that report on her heart condition about an hour ago. It wasn't promising. She had a tendency to several cordial diseases and weak aortas. In fact, she needed surgery, but when he tried to talk with her about this, she refused. He didn't push. She was stubborn enough to refuse anything he had to ask, and he was devastated enough to fight her.

He fought back the urge to take her hand. He didn't have the right to touch her like this. And he'd never had it. These days with her were a dream. Time to wake up.

God help him.

He returned to the thesis.

0100 blinked at the clock when McCoy finally gave up on understanding anything in the paper. He highly doubted that he'd be able to sleep, though. Besides, he didn't have a will strong enough to leave sickbay. To leave Lee. He closed his eyes and wished to God for her to came here and hug him, tell him he is an absolute idiot and that he shouldn't have treated her like that.

He heard the door hiss and opened his eyes. Lee stood at the doorframe and looked absolutely lost. She stood here for a good minute just looking at him and McCoy looking back at her. Then she moved, and he didn't register when she stopped being still and appeared at his side, practically sitting at him and clutching at him widely.

The right thing to do now was to find a good sedative and send her to sleep. But when did he ever act right?

He held her close and put her on his lap.

"What's up, Lee?" he demanded, running soothing circles on her back. She didn't respond, just buried her face in his chest. Must be another panic attack, he thought and started to rock them both back and forth. Her grip tightened painfully, but he didn't object. If this was what she needed, then fine. He'd manage that.

The next second she broke apart, pushing off of him and of the chair. She half-sat on his desk and looked down.

"Lee…"

He stood and lifted her chin, making her look at him. He saw this grass-green, bewitching eyes, and he saw tears in them. He moved to take her in his arms, but she jerked away.

"I can't stay away," she whispered, her voice cracking, "I thought I could, but I can't. I know that you think I'm crazy and maybe you're right, but it doesn't change a thing."

She took a deep breath.

"It's so bloody unfair," she continued, "You drew me closer, then you push me away, and then you do it again and again and again. And you know what?"

Anger flashed in her eyes.

"You are doing it because it scares you. You are hiding behind this mental illness thing because you are afraid that I may actually be aware of my actions and that you have to act and at least admit that something is happening between us. You fear that we try something and it won't work out, so you'll be hurt again, like when your marriage collapsed."

She wiped tears with a back of her hand.

"But know that: I'm not fucking crazy. I've seen shit, yes, but it didn't break me. It is you who is doing it now because of you damn fear."

She squared her shoulders.

"And maybe you're right and it won't work out. Maybe we have no future. But I want you to admit that it was you who didn't even allow us to try and that you did it because you're afraid, not because it's not right from the point of view of your goddamn professional integrity."

He stared at her in dismay. She sounded so broken and so undeniably logical, so like a woman who was dumped, not like who had several mental disorders. And she was right. He brought her closer and then distanced himself several times. Still, she always accepted him when his mind was changing from cold to hot again.

You are a coward, Jim said to McCoy, and Jim was right, as was Lee.

He was afraid to take the risk again, after everything that had happened with Joycelyn, after all the pain he'd had to go through. He was afraid he wasn't good enough.

He looked in her eyes and saw pain. It was a reflection of his own that he'd felt when his wife had told him she can't stand him anymore. It meant that Lee wasn't exactly crazy. She was just hurt, and he was the one responsible. This is why there was no reason to hesitate anymore.

McCoy made a step forward, grabbed her waist with one hand, her head with another hand, took her closer and kissed her hard.

She obviously didn't expect that, but when the realization came, she wrapped her hands around his neck and kissed him back.

"You're an absolute asshole," she whispered between their kisses, "I hate you so much."

He silenced her with another kiss, and she responded in kind, drawing as close to him as possible.

She was crazy, but she wasn't insane. So fuck the rules and fuck the regulations. Jim would help him sort things out if something goes wrong. He loved this woman, and he would do everything in his power to make these relationships work.

She hopped on his desk with her legs parted and he stood between them, holding her waist with both hands.

"Privacy," he growled into her neck, and the computer made it sure they wouldn't be interrupted. She used his distraction for planting hot kisses on his face and then proceeding to his throat, murmuring something in a language he didn't understand. The presence of her lips on his pulse point shaken him to his core. He grabbed her lower back and pushed her closer. She wrapped her legs around his waist in response, and it made him hiss.

Damn, he wanted her badly. His dazed mind was telling him to stop, but he didn't listen. Instead, he traced his hands up her thighs, pushing the fabric of her robe up. She threw her head back and moaned loudly. He growled and kissed her neck, getting lower with every move of his lips. His hands were now roaming freely under her robe, tracing lines on her stomach and back while she was emitting sounds on the border between whimpering and moaning.

Apparently, it wasn't enough for her, because she caught his hand and guided it to her center, and it was his turn to moan. She was so wet that he probably could take her now without really harming her. His fingers twitched on their own, and she screamed, actually screamed into the night air of the room.

It jerked him to reality. He remembered that she was a goddamn virgin, so it meant that he couldn't just unbuckle his belt, remove some fabric and thrust into her. It would be her first time, and he didn't want her first time to be like this. It cost him a hell of self-control, but he withdrew his fingers and caught her hand just in time to prevent her from reaching for his most sensitive parts.

"Lee, stop," he breathed, bucking away and making her look at him. The desire that burned in her eyes could flood the whole office and it took every bit of his common sense to stop himself from resuming their feverish movements.

"We shouldn't do it," he whispered, wondering how many times he'd said this line to her already, "We shouldn't do it like that."

She looked at him curiously, panting slightly. Then sighed and nodded.

"You're right," she slid down to her feet, "You're right," and rest her head on his chest. He kissed the top of her head at held her close.

He didn't know her real name, where she'd come from or what she'd been doing before she came to this Tari bar. But he knew that he loved and her and she loved him back. And that was enough.

She pulled him down for another kiss, light and gentle this time, and he allowed himself to get lost in that kiss.

Was it even real? She was so beautiful, so young, so innocent. Why did she choose him? He was a bitter divorcee with alcohol issues; he belonged to Starfleet and its whims to send him wherever they pleased. She didn't choose Jim, she didn't choose Spock, she for some unknown reason chose him. She wanted him, claimed him, and now they were passionately kissing, because she decided that she needed him. And she got him, as she was probably getting everything in her life. Insufferable, spoiled, wonderful woman. He didn't have any chances to fight her, really.

"Leo," she whispered just above his lips, "I want you to promise me something."

"Anything, darlin'."

"Promise me," she said almost non-audibly, "to remember that it is all real. Promise me to know that this me… This person who I am with you… This person is real. This person doesn't lie, this person won't ever harm you. Promise me you know that."

He frowned and looked at her closely. He saw a lonely, vulnerable girl on the verge of tears.

"What is it all about?" he asked.

She blinked her tears away and looked at him firmly.

"Promise me."

He cupped her cheek and nodded.

"Okay, Lee, I promise."

She smiled and gave in to her tears. He gently wiped her cheeks.

"Hey… what's wrong?"

She laughed lightly and planted a small kiss on his lips.

"Nothing's wrong. Everything is perfect."

"Why are you crying, then?"

She threw her head back and laughed again.

"Because you're stupid. Kiss me again, stupid man."

He had to accept already that she had him around her small finger, he thought, crashing his lips on hers one more time. She'd indeed made him do whatever she wanted. And he was fine with it.

They somehow ended on his couch again, making out hard.

"I shouldn't stay the night, should I?" she asked between the kisses.

"Yes, you should go to your bed," he replied, tracing lines on her neck with his tongue.

"Oh god," she moaned. He hissed in reply, fighting the desire to just go for it, consequences be damned.

She grinned at him and swiped her leg on his hip, so he was between her legs again. This little devil.

"You really, really should go to sleep," he said, making no move to let her out of his arms.

"Yeah," she said, and he heard an unexpected uncertainty and a hint of fear in her voice.

He pulled back and regarded her intently. She looked a little off but gave him a genuine smile.

"I'm just afraid that when the morning comes you change your mind again and decide that I'm too crazy to be involved with me."

Well, he deserved this doubt.

"I'm sorry I was so hot and cold, Lee," he sighed, "I won't do this again. I promise."

She nodded and there were tears in her eyes again. She pulled away from him and off the couch.

"So I'll be going, then," she announced.

"Okay," he replied and stood too. "We were here alone for too long already."

They looked at each other one more second and were collapsing into each other's arms again, kissing and licking and biting like hormonal teenagers. She pulled away first, looking so sexy that he forgot how to breathe.

She smiled wickedly, and he knew she saw all the signs of his arousal perfectly well. She licked her lips, and he swallowed.

"Good night, Leo. Sleep well," she sang and danced out of his office.

He watched her go, then collapsed at the couch and hid his face into his hands.