Hello again! Thank you for your wonderful reviews and feedback last chapter, they made my day! I got so many guest reviews that I can't reply to individually, so a quick shoutout to Hannah, Trinity, and Julie for their very kind messages; I'm so glad you have all enjoyed the story (enough to review!) and hope to read more of your comments soon :)

As I said before, shorter chapters but more frequent updates are in store for us now - hopefully I can keep to a schedule. Enjoy, and LLAP! xx

Thirty Two

Victoria More was a coward.

It didn't matter that she had risked her life multiple times for Starfleet, for her crew-mates, for Jim Kirk, and even for her research. It didn't matter that she was an excellent markswoman, improving in hand-to-hand combat by the day, and had studied for a PhD in exobiology alongside her training at Starfleet Academy whilst still managing to graduate in the top ten percent in her class. And it didn't matter that she was smart, sophisticated, excellent at her job, and dove headfirst into any crisis that presented itself, always eager to help.

Because, in her personal life, she was a coward.

Six days. For six days, she had been avoiding Leonard McCoy like a teenager who had kissed the popular boy at the high school football game and was now afraid of rejection. Which was ridiculous, because she wasn't in high school, she hadn't even kissed him, and there was no rejection to be afraid of. McCoy had no idea what she was thinking as she religiously checked the duty roster every morning and made sure to avoid the mess hall during his lunch breaks, no matter how badly she wanted a cup of coffee. She knew he had no idea, because he hadn't come looking for her yet. Because if there was one thing she had learned about Leonard McCoy, it was that he always, always wanted answers.

Especially from her.

Victoria winced as she remembered the conversation she had had with Jim right after Leonard had woken up from his injury, after Victoria had spent all night at his bedside. She still wasn't sure if anyone had told Jim she had disobeyed his orders to return to the bridge only to stay in sickbay, but she had suspected he already knew, because he had been waiting for her in her quarters when she finally returned.

Victoria almost turned around and walked out of her own room, because Jim looked serious and concerned, as though he wanted to talk to her about something and was expecting resistance.

"Don't," Victoria sighed. Kicking of her shoes, she sank down onto the sofa next to him and stared at the wall morosely. "I know what you want to say."

"I just wanted to ask if you've eaten or slept," said Jim quietly. "You looked pretty shaken up."

"I was," said Victoria. Her hands clenched into fists of their own accord. "He – They were my responsibility, Jim."

"You couldn't have predicted that, Tori. Even Spock isn't sure what happened."

"I know what happened. I should have planned for it," Victoria shook her head. "How can I brag about being so good at my job, but I didn't see this coming? All I kept saying was we need to keep an eye on Spock's Vulcan physiology, like he was some kind of science experiment, and look what happened. He lost focus for one second –" she felt her throat close up at the memory of Leonard McCoy falling to the ground in front of her, the red stain on his shirt growing larger by the second, and swallowed thickly. "I can't believe I let that happen to them."

"I think this is about more than just missing something during the simulation, Tori," said Jim. "Which, by the way, you didn't do. Spock has submitted his report. It was an unpredictable anomaly."

"I should have been able to predict it," she insisted, even as she heard how ridiculous she sounded.

Jim gave her a hard look. "You want to talk about it?"

"No." Victoria pretended not to hear the concern in his voice and stared at the wall stubbornly.

Jim sighed. "Tori, come on. I know you're upset. There's still blood under your fingernails."

Victoria winced and clenched her hands into fists in her lap. Suddenly, all she saw was blood again, and a wave of nausea hit her just as it had been periodically for hours. She was surprised she hadn't thrown up yet. She had always hated blood. "It's not mine," she managed to say.

"I know that," Jim reached out and uncurled her fists, allowing her to grip his hands tightly, almost as if he was anchoring her to reality. "Tori, he's fine. You just saw him. You know he's fine."

Neither of them needed to say his name – they both knew who Jim was talking about. "Of course he's fine," she snapped. She tried to ignore the touch of hysteria in her voice, but Jim clearly picked up on it, because his brow furrowed in concern. "He's fine because I knew something was wrong, before any of the doctors or nurses did! And I stopped the bleeding even before they got a gurney over to him, and I –"

"I know," said Jim pacifyingly, and suddenly Victoria found herself crying hysterically into his shoulder, his arms wrapped tightly around her in a hug that was so comforting it made Victoria's heart ache. The memories of all the times she had given him hugs and kisses as he'd cried in her arms came rushing back: first as a child when he'd scrape his knees; then as a teenager when he'd pretend not to cry after a particularly hard day at home; and even as a man, often in a drunken stupor, wondering why his life was so out of control.

And now Victoria was wondering the exact same thing about her own life.

"I was so scared," she choked out, and the words were messy and slurred and hard to understand, but Jim continued to hug her and rock her back and forth, humming in agreement as if he understood every word, and there was an indescribable relief in just being able to talk about it. "I thought – I knew he wouldn't die, but I thought – and the blood wasn't stopping – and he just –" she continued to ramble, tripping over her own words and finally dissolving into sobs again.

"But he's fine, and it's all thanks to you," said Jim, rubbing her back soothingly. "And he knows it too. And he'd be really pissed I'm the one comforting you right now, and not him."

Victoria finally managed to choke back her tears and let out a mix of a sigh and a giggle at his words, resting her forehead against Jim's shoulder. His uniform shirt was soaked. It had been a long time since she'd cried – she wondered how many months of pent up frustration she'd just let out in Jim's arms.

"I shouldn't be this upset," she whispered. "I'm not – we're not – I don't mean anything to him."

"You really think that?" Jim snorted. "Tori, I know Bones better than anyone else on this ship. Trust me when I say you definitely mean something to him."

"But I shouldn't, Jim. I – we can't."

"Are you saying you don't have feelings for him?" Jim sounded confused. "I – I mean, you don't have to like him, Tori, but Bones is a great guy. I just assumed –"

"Stop it," Victoria sighed and finally pulled out of his embrace, giving him a watery smile when he continued to look bewildered. "It doesn't matter, Jim. I know what he wants. He wants a relationship, because he likes stability. Hell, I would love some stability right now too. But I can't give him that, and it's unfair of me to tell him how I feel, have him reciprocate my feelings, only to disappear after a few years and never be allowed to see him again."

"You know you don't have to leave, Tori," sighed Jim. "I was there when your dad was talking. He left the decision for you to stay on the Enterprise as Natira Woodville up to me, not you."

"And I told you what I wanted."

"You gave me a hysterical speech about how the only way forward is if you leave at the end of our mission, because you fall asleep every night worried that when you wake up some merchants are going to wipe out everyone you love just to get at that mineral inside your body," said Jim, and his tone told Victoria exactly what he thought of that idea. "I get that you've been running for a long time, Tori. But you're on the Federation flagship now. No one is getting at me or my crew, and no one is getting at you."

"Even if that was true," said Victoria, hedging around Jim's assurances. "I can't drag someone else into my mess, Jim. Being friends with me is one thing, but anything more is out of the question."

Jim gave her a sad look. "I can't force you to do anything about this, you know that. And I know I don't understand what you're feeling, but maybe he can. Bones isn't a kid, Tori. He's a grown man who can make his own choices. And if you let him, he'll choose you."

Something about that line made Victoria's want to cry all over again. Maybe because she knew it could be true, or maybe because Leonard McCoy was the first man in a long time she wanted to be chosen by, to be put first by. But she wasn't sure, and she had spent too many months avoiding thinking about it to be sure now. "Maybe," she agreed, but it was only so Jim would stop talking about it. And even though he continued to look concerned, he got up and went to the replicator to make her something to eat, while she slipped out of the room to shower.

"Dr. Woodville?" Homer's voice knocked Victoria out of her thoughts, and she looked up from the PADD she had been pretending to read. He looked concerned. "Uh, are you alright?"

"Fine," Victoria gave him a fake smile. "What do you need?"

"Commander Spock's reviewed your report of the on-site training exercises," said Homer, handing her a PADD. "He's asked for some clarifications and wants to schedule a meeting later today."

"Fine," said Victoria, taking the PADD and adding it to the pile on her desk. She stifled a yawn behind her hand and stood up. "I'll be back in a few hours, Homer. I need a nap."

Homer nodded, giving her another odd look as she collected her comm and walked out of the lab. Victoria knew he was probably looking at her weirdly because she was spending too much time in the lab, eating all her meals at her desk and avoiding conversations even more than usual. She was surprised he hadn't tried to confront her about her behaviour, but Homer had never really given her a second thought. Perhaps that was why Spock kept him around; he didn't question the status quo, and was content to let officers operate as they pleased, as long as deadlines were met. For Victoria, it was the first lucky break she had had since coming aboard the Enterprise.

However, her luck didn't hold up. By the time she reached her quarters, she realised she was behind on her correspondence with her father. He was the only one she was still allowed to stay in contact with, and his status as an Admiral meant there was a secure channel they used to communicate once a week that no one except the two of them had access to. Security-wise, it was a good arrangement: Admiral More kept his step-son and his family updated on her well-being, which meant Demora missed her aunt but didn't worry about her disappearance; and on the off-chance someone wanted to get in touch with Victoria in an emergency situation, he forwarded the message. Of course, Victoria had always had a slightly awkward, complicated relationship with her father, so their weekly exchanges were normally short emails and quick video chats, nothing more. But there was only one PADD that had the secure channel programmed on it, and it was her personal one. And she couldn't find it anywhere.

Sighing, she sank onto the sofa and held her head in her hands, trying desperately to remember where she had put it. The last she'd been working on it had been when they'd been designing the simulations, so she had carried it to Engineering and back to the lab, to Spock's office a few times, and then…

Victoria groaned. "You've got to be kidding me," she muttered. She flipped open her comm. "Woodville to Nurse Riley."

"Nurse Riley," came the familiar voice a few seconds later.

"Hi, Julia. It's Tori. Are you in sickbay?"

"Hey, Tori. Haven't seen you in a while," Nurse Riley sounded just as cheery as ever. "I'm off-shift right now. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," said Victoria quickly. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bother you. I've misplaced something and thought if you were in sickbay I could ask you to look around for me. Don't worry about it."

"You can call Dr. M'Benga," offered Nurse Riley. "Dr. McCoy is finally asleep, so Geoff is on-shift for the next few hours. He can look around if you need him to."

So, Leonard wasn't in sickbay? Victoria ignored the odd feeling in the pit of her stomach as she thanked Nurse Riley and switched off her comm. Was she disappointed, or relieved? She certainly wasn't ready to see Leonard again so soon after everything she had said to Jim and everything she was feeling, so maybe this was for the best. She could sneak into sickbay, slip into Leonard's office, grab her PADD, and escape before he ever knew she had been there. She knew she had to see him eventually, of course. But not yet. Stuffing her feet back into her shoes, she quickly headed for the turbolift.

M'Benga was seated right by the doors of sickbay and saw her as soon as she entered. Victoria had become such a frequent visitor over the last few days that it wasn't odd to see her, and the doctor merely raised a hand lazily in acknowledgement before returning to whatever he was doing on his PADD. Victoria returned his wave and paused in front of the door to Leonard's office, glancing around to make sure no one was watching her. Fortunately, there were only two occupied beds and both had the curtains drawn around them, so she slipped into CMO's office unseen.

As the doors hissed shut behind her, Victoria froze. At first glance, Leonard's office looked the same as always: the messy desk, the medical textbooks piled in a corner on the floor because – as he was always complaining – there were no bookshelves, and the computer station that appeared to be running some kind of program, the screen flickering on and off rhythmically. All those things, Victoria had expected to see. What she didn't expect to see, however, was the owner of the office asleep in the far corner on the sofa, breathing peacefully. Apparently, when Nurse Riley had said that Dr. McCoy was asleep, she had failed to mention he was asleep in his own office.

The same office that Victoria had just entered without permission.

She winced. She knew she should probably wake him up so she didn't get into trouble later – and M'Benga would definitely remember her entering Leonard's office – but she remained rooted to the spot. Her eyes lingered on Leonard's face, and she bit her lip. There were dark circles under his eyes, not uncommon for him, but she still felt guilty. His stint in sickbay as a patient had barely lasted a day, but the fact that he had even consented to sleep now, six days later, meant he was clearly still recovering. There was no need to wake him up; she would be in and out in a few minutes, and he'd never know. Making a decision, Victoria bent down and slipped her shoes off her feet, leaving them by the door and padding towards the desk quietly.

Resisting the urge to groan at the mess, she spotted two PADDs lying side-by-side, both switched off, and narrowed her eyes. Her father was always telling her to buy a personalised cover for her PADD, because she tended to take it to places where there were usually other, similar devices, and this wasn't the first time she was having trouble figuring out which one was hers. Praying that there were no surprise sound-effects enabled on Leonard's PADD, she tapped the first one's screen twice with her index finger and it lit up. It wasn't hers; Leonard's PADD had too many meticulously organised folders with names and numbers affixed to them, a direct contrast to how unorganised his desk was. Smiling, Victoria turned off the screen and picked up the other one, tapping it to make sure it was hers. It was, and as she turned it over, she realised there was a neon green piece of paper stuck to it. In red, the single word Victoria was scrawled on it in unfamiliar handwriting, but the red pen lying next to it was one Victoria had seen in Leonard's lab-coat pocket multiple times.

Despite herself, Victoria smiled, running her fingers over the ink. Something about the fact that it was her name – her real name – that Leonard had chosen to mark the device with pleased her more than it should have. Unlike the rest of the crew who knew her real name, Leonard didn't call her Tori unless absolutely necessary. She'd been called darlin' – in that delicious Southern accent – more regularly than Tori. And yet… she tilted her head to the side, lost in thought. He was the first man who had insisted on calling her by her given name when they'd first met. Others had always been quick to jump on her nickname, probably assuming that it implied familiarity. In a way, it did – Victoria usually introduced herself as Tori, and most of her oldest friends and family members, including Jim and Hikaru, continued to refer to her by that name. It was only Leonard McCoy who had continued to call her Victoria, apparently even in his head.

What was even more interesting was that he had made no move to return her PADD to her. The ink wasn't exactly fresh, and he'd obviously been asleep for a while. Victoria hadn't seen him since he'd woken up after the simulation exercise, so did that mean he'd kept her PADD for six days? Had he been waiting for her to realise it was gone, or was he trying to work up the courage to tell her it was with him, and ask her to come get it? Or was she simply reading too much into it, and could it be that he had just been busy and had scrawled her name onto a piece of paper to remind himself that it was hers, so he didn't accidentally pick it up thinking it was his? Somehow, even though it was the most likely, the last option didn't appeal to her.

Victoria tried to remember everything she'd said to Jim, about needing to stay away from Leonard and how stupid it would be to pursue something with him, since she knew she had to leave at the end of this mission. She tried to remember how it had felt to leave Demora, having to sneak out in the middle of the night without saying goodbye because Ben had been afraid the little girl wouldn't let her go if she left in front of her; or how hard it had been to say goodbye to Jim after Yorktown, because she had thought she wouldn't be able to see him again. It had hurt every time, and before joining the Enterprise Victoria had decided she would stop putting herself through all that pain, because there was only so much a person could take in one lifetime. Despite all this, her hands seemed to be moving of their own accord: she peeled the paper off the back of her PADD and stuck it onto the desk, picking up the red pen slowly. There was a voice in the back of her head telling her not to do it, because flirting with Leonard McCoy – even if it was through one-line notes – always seemed to get her in trouble, but she found that it was an easy voice to ignore. She drew a line under her name and wrote out a single sentence in the leftover space, smirking as she read it over.

Nice try, but it'll take more than a hostage PADD to get my attention. – V

As she replaced the pen on the table, she quickly glanced up to make sure Leonard hadn't woken up. He hadn't stirred. Trying not to think about what she'd just done, she held her PADD in one hand and her shoes in the other, and fled the office.

A few hours later, Victoria walked up to her desk to find a steaming cup of coffee lying on it, the scent permeating through the whole lab and causing her to break out into a grin. There was a green note stuck onto the handle, written in a familiar, red-inked hand.

Can't exactly pay for dinner on a starship, so this will have to do. Got your attention yet? – L