Cara's shoulders inched down as tension ebbed from her body, she resettled her head on Leonard's chest, pressing its left side into him. He deepened the embrace, tightening his arms around her. A soft sigh fell from her lips. One of his arms slid up her back, its hand cradled her neck, its thumb stroked her right cheek; his other arm encircled her waist, drawing their bodies closer. He tucked the crown of her head under his chin.

For him time ceased.

"Nothing distracts, sleep won't come, it's the dark you see," her voice caught on the last word then whispered, "I'm scared."

"Hush now," he said in a comforting tone while tracing circles on her back. Slight tremors ran through her body like a child lost in the woods at night, unsure how to find the way home and shivering in the cold. Concern surfaced the healer in McCoy's nature. He eased away from her, tilted her chin up and scrutinized her face, noting its bleached complexion and puffy eyes that were dull with bruised-looking skin underneath. Fingers timed her pulse, the back of his hand laid against her temple gauged body temperature. He resisted scolding. "You're worn slap out."

A fleeting smile, more apparition than substance, tugged the corners of her mouth. A faint spark flicked in her eyes. She ducked under his arm, walked to a side table, and rustled through a drawer. "Oh, I have to write that one down."

"Come again?"

"Your colloquialism, it's so … so vividly and perfectly descriptive. A work of art," she said while scribbling in one of her many notebooks.

"Back to the subject at hand," he gently prodded. "There are times when the best choice is intervention rather than waiting out a bout of insomnia. I can beget sleep with an alpha/delta wave inducer."

"Isn't the use of anesthetizers for sleep disorders frowned on?"

"Reserved for extreme cases because of its addictive potential and it requires monitoring in Medbay."

"I'd rather not," she said.

He nodded. "My first choice would be a short course of sleep meds."

"I dislike the inevitable and lingering brain fog side effects of those and can't chance it with the live interviews scheduled tomorrow."

"As of now they are canceled."

Her voice was quiet and telegraphed weariness and resignation. "No Leo. No."

He crossed arms over his chest. "Chief medic's orders."

"I appreciate your concern, your care, I do, but no. The grand jury's decision will be unsealed in the morning. If I hide it signals bullying and threats worked and the Metus warlords win regardless of indictment."

"Threats? You never told me … why didn't you?" he demanded, anger creeping into his tone.

She reached for him. The motion faltered, halted; her hand fell to her side. "All properly reported to the ship's security chief." Cara's voice and expression steadied. "I'm used to this. Not that it happens frequently … but … well … intimidation is a modus operandi with thugs. In truth, it's merely hot air and posturing." Her head tilted left to right and back as her eyes darted to the side. "Usually. Mostly. Though Commander Markopoulos did judge one message a credible threat, at his request local police detained the sender."

McCoy's eyes narrowed. He snorted; hand waves punctuated his words. "And that's supposed to reassure me? Damn it, I'm the third ranking officer on board and should have been informed." She paled further. He sighed. "Alright, I get it, not the time for this discussion. If medication is a non-starter, at least throw me a bone and let me do some doctorin'."

"As in Memee's secret recipe bedtime elixir? Yes please."

His shoulders straightened, moving up and back, pushing his chest out.

"You look chuffed," she said.

He glanced around the room.

"I'm not a bigwig, so no replicator."

"Ah." He started for the door then turned in her direction and wagged a finger. "Don't go anywhere."

Her tone brightened. "Because you'll be back in two shakes of a lamb's tail? I've been memorizing idioms in your dialect."

"Right." He added darlin' in his head.

And returned in ten minutes, finding Cara curled in the armchair. "First, a warm shower," McCoy said. When she protested, he responded, "Who's the doctor here?" then clasped her hands and gently tugged her to her feet. "Remember warm, not hot … never mind I'll see to it. Warm showers or baths lower the body's core …"

"Are you going to narrate?"

"It's called teachin' you a little somethin'," he said without losing the beat of the lecture, "and a cooler body temperature is an important sleep signal to a Human's circadian rhythm."

"Channeling your inner Vulcan?"

"No need to be insultin'." He called from the bathroom. "Are you comin' or what?"

Cara didn't hide her amusement. "Do I have a choice?"

"You're a being with free-will … actually … no. And I won't hesitate to use my southern charm."

"Hmmm. Okay. I'll surrender now then."

Uncertainty pitched his voice slightly higher than normal. "Meaning my charisma is irresistible?"

"I'll let you work that one out." Once face to face with the physician leaning casually against the wall and showing no sign of retreat, she held his gaze with a knowing look. "Planning to help me undress?"

He didn't look away. A wide grin flashed. "No ma'am. What would my Momma say to that knowing she raised me better?" This question was followed by a slow exit.

Twenty minutes later Cara emerged into the living area. Dimmed lights created a warm glow in the room, gently chasing away the dark, and were carefully angled to keep the sleeping alcove shadowed. Its bed was remade with fresh sheets and blanket. She wore the pajamas he had left on the bathroom counter, McCoy tried ignoring how the soft material clung to her curves. He plumped the pillows fronting the headboard and patted the turned down covers.

"Does the CMO tuck in all the ship's guests?"

The corner of his mouth ticked up. "Only the special VIPs." Once Cara was nestled against the pillows, McCoy sat on the side of the bed.

She sipped from her mug. "I've worked out part of the formula. Almond milk. Almonds have a high concentration of melatonin. And its magnesium helps muscles relax."

"Well done. You're the first to glean that much."

"No one beats me at homework," Cara said.

He chattered about this and that as she drank the warm, spiced drink. "How's your piece on Jim coming along?"

"Mostly done with interviews, but the best way to frame his profile alludes me. The swashbuckling hero trope doesn't do James justice. Neither does intergalactic ladies man. But that's how most in the media present his story … why are you smiling?"

"Because you get it." He set her empty mug on the side table and pulled back the sheet and blanket. "Scooch down."

Cara settled on her side. "Does this tuck in service come with a bedtime story?"

He nestled the covers over and around her and resumed his seat on the bed by her side. "Always. Once upon a time a journalist met a brilliant, friendly country doctor."

She chuckled. "Do you have any humility?" Then yawned. "Still don't believe you've had a second date."

Following impulse, his lips brushed against her forehead.

Cara smiled as her eyes fluttered shut. "And?"

"And what?"

"You didn't finish the story," she said in a sleepy voice.

Once her breathing regulated into the steady rhythm of slumber McCoy said, "And she lived happily ever after."