Amelia Fairchild
Amelia forces herself to take a few deep breaths before informing her patient, "I believe that's our time for today." It's not because something upsetting has happened this session. No, it's because she's nervous about what's coming next. It's eleven hundred hours on the second Tuesday of the month. That means her next session will be with Leonard. It's been six months since they began this mental health journey, which means it's time for a reassessment. She's fairly certain of how it will go, but she's still nervous on his behalf.
The doors open and sure enough, he's right on time. She goes through her usual spiel about how she can be contacted any time if the lieutenant she's just finished up with needs her before the regularly scheduled appointment, and then it's time.
"You can come in whenever you're ready." With a nod, he steps inside the confines of her office and the doors slide shut. It's the same as always. He chooses the chair located farthest from her desk, and she takes the seat almost directly across from him.
"How are you feeling today, Dr. McCoy?" Inside the walls of her office, they often revert to addressing each other by their titles.
"A little nervous. You said today would be a reassessment."
"Try to relax. Would you like to take a moment to focus on your breathing?" The response is a smirk.
"No, I think I'll leave the yoga to you."
"It's not-" A joke. It was a joke. "Alright. Are you experiencing any mental health symptoms?"
"Some worry, I guess, but nothing more than my baseline." That answers her next question.
"Any changes in mood?"
"No."
"Are you seeing or hearing anything that isn't real?"
"No."
"What about changes in sleep or appetite?"
"Yes, actually. I get a full eight hours."
"That's what I like to hear." Typing a note on her PADD, she continues. "Any changes in concentration or memory?"
"None."
"In the past two weeks, how often have you been bothered by little or no pleasure in doing things? Not at all, several days, more than half the days, or nearly every day?"
"Not at all. Are you just going to ask all the same questions you did last time?"
"That's the plan. It is a reassessment after all." He nods.
"And am I going to get an 'uncooperative, hostile and…' what was the last thing?" She can feel the corners of her lips twitching up at that and fights down the urge to smile.
"I believe it was 'irritable'."
"Yes. Is that going in my chart today too?"
"That depends on your demeanor and how you answer my questions."
"Then keep asking."
"In the past two weeks, how often have you been bothered by feeling down, depressed, or hopeless?"
"Not at all."
"And you said sleep is alright." She scrolls to her next page of questions. "Any thoughts that you'd be better off dead or of hurting yourself?"
"No."
"Are you experiencing nervousness, anxiety, or feeling on edge?"
"Maybe a little on edge. I had a patient whose lab results came back positive for an alien STD, and I'm concerned that they might've infected someone else. Only females show symptoms, so there could be males walking around with no idea what's going on."
"Being on edge seems like a reasonable reaction."
"Trust me, with this strain, it is." Grimacing, she moves on. They've established worrying is no more than baseline. Time for paranoia. "Do you feel as if something bad is going to happen?"
"Apart from an outbreak of Rigelian gonorrhea? No."
"Are you easily annoyed or irritable?" That provokes something akin to a snort. "I have to ask."
"Yes, I'm still myself, but my head nurse seems to think I'm easier to work with." She'll skip the screening for Bipolar Disorder, Borderline Personality Disorder, and Schizophrenia this time around. That leads to- "I'm going to make some statements and I want you to rate them on a scale of one to ten, one being strongly disagree and ten being strongly agree. Are you ready?"
"Go ahead."
"I am content with my friendships and relationships."
"Seven." That's technically three points down from last time, but they've established in previous sessions that she wasn't getting the entire truth then.
"My relationships are as satisfying as I would want them to be." He hesitates, and she's poised to make a note, when-
"Kirk to Fairchild." She sighs. The comm.
"We'll get back to this in a moment." Standing, she approaches her desk and presses the comm button. "Fairchild here."
"Report to the briefing room, and if Dr. McCoy is with you, tell him to report too. Kirk out." She looks over at the man in question. He's already standing.
"Raincheck?" She nods.
"Looks that way." Powering down her PADD, she follows him towards the door. "What do you think the captain wants?"
"It's probably an away mission. We are in orbit around Sunultis." That's what would make the most sense.
The turbolift already has two other people inside it, which saves her from having to talk. Ever since her visit from Christine, she's finding conversation with Leonard to be difficult. Every time she starts to say something, she remembers the words, 'He cares for you too', and she suddenly can't recall what it was she was about to mention. She still thinks Christine has it wrong, but she's well and truly rattled either way.
Finally, the doors open, and she starts to step out, only for him to do the same thing.
"Sorry-"
"You first."
"Thank you." She exits the turbolift and walks towards the briefing room, trying not to pay too much attention to the man at her side. He reaches out and for a second, she thinks he's going to touch her, but instead he presses the buzzer.
"Enter."
Captain Kirk is sitting at the head of the table with Mr. Spock on his right. There are two security officers inside as well. Leonard settles in the other seat next to the captain and she takes the seat next to him.
"Now that we're all here, Mr. Spock, will you do the honors?"
"Thank you, Captain. Computer on." The screen comes to life, revealing a blue and green planet that looks similar to Earth. "As I'm sure you are all aware, we entered orbit around Sunultis yesterday at eighteen hundred hours. Sunultis is a class-M planet. The inhabitants are humanoid. They have yet to achieve warp capabilities. Our sensors show that it's a largely uncultivated planet. There are scattered villages, but no cities. Their technology is comparable to that of the Bronze Age on Earth."
"Counselor, how do you think these people would react to a visitation from us?" Amelia frowns.
"I'd say it's likely that they'd react with intense distrust. Even fear."
"I see." The captain leans towards them. "Gentlemen, this is a mission in need of the upmost discretion. If you are caught, you could change the natural evolution of this society. Do you understand?" She doesn't. At least, not why she's taking part in this expedition. "Excellent. Gather your equipment and report to the transporter room at twelve hundred hours. Dismissed." As she stands and starts towards the door, she hears her name being called. Turning back, she sees Kirk. He motions for her to approach. "Counselor, you seem puzzled."
"Forgive me captain, but I don't understand what my part is in this mission." He looks around, confirming that everyone is out of the room before telling her,
"Dr. Fairchild, the goal may be not to interfere with this society, but there's a good chance we won't be able to achieve it. We're not as subtle as we like to think we are." She's more than familiar with the concept. "If we are caught, I want you there to reason with the inhabitants. To make them feel less afraid. Plus, I believe Dr. McCoy has gotten used to working with you."
"I see."
"Are those reasons acceptable?" Swallowing hard, she nods.
"Yes."
"Good. Then report to the transporter room." This time as she leaves, she meets no resistance.
Leonard McCoy
Something's off about Amelia, Leonard thinks to himself as he collects his tricorder and starts towards the turbolift. It has been for the past two weeks. Ever since the incident in the lab. It's as if she's keeping him at a distance. They still talk, but she doesn't say as much. The bite has gone out of her conversation. When she smiles, there's something sad about it. She doesn't laugh as often either. He's been trying to think of a good way to bring it up with her, but every time he starts to, he hesitates, afraid of making it worse.
"Transporter room." He can trace it back to the day after the amnesia incident. She was fine that night when he saw her. The next morning over breakfast, she barely ate and mostly just nodded instead of adding to the conversation. At the time, he chalked it up to a stressful day, but she hasn't gotten any better. The turbolift comes to a stop and the doors open, putting an end to his train of thought.
Spock, Amelia, and the two security officers are already there. All that they're waiting on is Jim. He approaches Amelia, who appears to be completely unaware of her surroundings. From the look on her face, he'd say she's deep in thought.
"What's on your mind, Counselor?" She startles, almost dropping her communicator.
"Dr. McCoy. I was just contemplating something the captain said."
"What was that?" Her gazes shifts away from his face (that's another thing; lately she can't look him in the eye) towards the doors.
"Nothing terribly important. Just a passing thought."
"Obviously it's important to you."
"Yes, well-" The turbolift doors slide open, and Jim steps out.
"I trust you're all prepared to beam down." There's a wave of affirmations, and then Jim's headed towards the transporter platform. He climbs up himself and offers his hand to Amelia. At least she doesn't hesitate to take it.
"Engage." The transporter room disappears as a sick feeling overtakes him, and then they're standing in the middle of a clearing. In the middle of a clearing with a girl, maybe six years old. To his surprise, the child doesn't scream. She just stares at them, open mouthed. "Don't be afraid." Jim takes a step towards her. "We're not going to hurt you."
"Who are you?" The captain glances back at them.
"Counselor?" Amelia's brow knits and he's halfway expecting smoke to come out of her ears from thinking so hard. She slowly approaches the girl and kneels in front of her.
"My name is Amelia. This is my friend, Jim." She indicates the captain. "We're from very far away, and we came here to learn about the plants and animals. I'm sorry we startled you."
"You weren't there, and then you were."
"We travel a little bit differently than you do, don't we?" The girl nods. "What's your name?"
"Igi."
"Igi. That's a lovely name. Do you mind if we look around here, Igi?" The girl peers at them suspiciously, but ultimately says,
"No."
"Thank you." Clearing his throat, Jim tells them,
"Spread out and keep your communicators on. Lopez, you're with Spock. Andrews, with me. Bones, you're with Fairchild. We'll meet back here in an hour." The designated groups separate and head out, leaving him alone with Amelia and the child. This is the perfect opportunity to take a few readings. He walks towards them, and the girl shrinks back. That's when he sees it. She's got a cut on her forehead.
"That looks like it hurts." Her hand goes to cover the injury and she looks over at Amelia.
"It's alright. This is Leonard."
"Is he your friend too?"
"Yes. A very good friend. He's a healer." Taking his cues from Amelia, he kneels on Igi's other side.
"That's right. And this-" He removes his medical scanner from his pocket. "-can tell me if you're hurt anywhere else." He holds out the device to her. "Do you want to take a look at it?"
"Can I?"
"Sure you can." There's not much she can do to hurt it unless she decides to throw it. Hesitantly, Igi reaches out, and he places the scanner in her hand. She examines it closely, turning it this way and that, before asking,
"How does it work?"
"Like this." Taking the scanner back, he turns it on. She jumps at the sound, but when nothing happens to her, her heart rate evens out. He'll have to bring out the medical tricorder to get a better reading, but from what he's seeing right now- "No concussion. You didn't hit your head too hard."
"I fell out of a tree." That explains the bruises that are registering.
"I've done that before. Have you, Amelia?"
"No, I haven't." It's a universal childhood experience, or at least, so he thought.
"Well, it's no fun. Right, Igi?"
"Right." She should be alright, but they really should clean that cut.
"Is there a stream or a river around here? Maybe a well?"
"This way." Without any hesitation, the girl climbs to her feet and starts picking her way through the trees. He stands and offers Amelia his hand, pulling her to her feet.
"Did that scan tell you anything interesting?"
"Nothing except that she's a perfectly healthy little girl." They follow at a distance, the underbrush causing them both to trip on occasion, and then suddenly, it's in front of them. A freshwater spring.
"Alright, Igi. Sit down for me." He doesn't have any sterile gauze, so he goes for the next best thing and tears at the cuff of his sleeve. It takes some effort, but eventually it comes away. Dipping it in the water, he leans towards Igi. "That cut is going to be a little tender. I'll try to be gentle." Amelia takes a seat on the ground next to the girl and holds out her hand.
"You can squeeze if it hurts." Igi takes it and, leaning forward, he begins to wipe at the blood. If he knew any of the herbs on this planet, he might be able to come up with a poultice to ward off infection, but for now, it's the best he can do.
"There. You're all done." He'd try to get a tricorder reading, but she's probably had enough for one day. Igi scrambles to her feet and once again, he helps Amelia up. "Can you lead us back to the clearing?"
"Sure." This time, the pace is more leisurely. Igi meanders ahead of them, and he gets a chance to take in his surroundings. A glance to the side reveals that Amelia is doing the same thing. She catches his eye and murmurs,
"It's a beautiful world."
"Reminds me a lot of Earth." Especially when they come upon a large yellow flower with a black center. He leans closer to get a better look. "Almost like a sunflower, isn't it?" At least, that's what he means to say. In reality, he only gets so far as, "Almost like a sun-" when a cloud of pollen explodes directly in his face. There's so much force behind the explosion that he has no choice but to inhale, immediately coughing.
"Leonard-" His eyes are watering so badly that he can't see, but he can feel a hand on his shoulder. "-are you alright?"
"I think so." He manages to gasp out.
"Igi, what is this?"
"It's an ogipod, the flower of Ogis." He blinks rapidly, clearing his vision enough to make out the grave expression on Igi's face. "You can't touch them. Otherwise Ogis will punish you."
"Who is Ogis?" Amelia asks. Her expression is neutral, but those blue eyes are a shade too dark. She's worried.
"Ogis made the world. He knows all our thoughts. We can pray to him by just thinking."
"Have you ever seen Ogis?"
"No. He's invisible."
"Sounds like a deity." He says it quietly, just loud enough for Amelia to hear.
"Igi, what happens to the people Ogis punishes?"
"They share his mind. It's too powerful for us, so they go mad." Frowning, Amelia opens her communicator.
"Fairchild to Kirk."
"Kirk here. What is it, Fairchild?"
"We've had an incident here, Captain." As she relates the news to Jim, Igi approaches him.
"I'm sorry, Leonard. I liked you."
"I liked you too, Igi. I'll be alright." She looks like she doesn't believe him.
"Fairchild out." Amelia snaps the communicator shut. "He says to beam back to the ship immediately." His gut instinct is to insist that's not necessary, but if it were one of the others instead of him, he'd order them directly to sickbay. So, he takes out his communicator and flips it open.
"McCoy to Enterprise. Two to beam up."
Once they arrive, the trip to sickbay is a silent one. Amelia's expression is still carefully neutral, but her posture is tense. He explains what happened to Chapel, who directs him to the biobeds for a full examination. It's far less pleasant being on the receiving end of patient care, and by the time she tells them that, "The tests are completely normal. As far as I can tell, the pollen was harmless," he's ready to get up.
"She must've missed something, and even if she didn't, being cursed by a god is never a good thing."
"That's awfully superstitious of you, Counselor." Amelia turns to him, a frown in place.
"What is?"
"The whole, 'cursed by a god' thing." Her eyes widen at that.
"How does he know-"
"And Chapel didn't miss anything. She's very thorough."
"This isn't good. I need to call Christine."
"Why do you need to call Chapel?"
"Chapel, we need you in here!" Why does she look so scared? "Leonard, how did you know that I was thinking about the curse?"
"Because you said-"
"No, I didn't. I didn't say anything about the curse or about Christine missing something. I thought it."
"She didn't have to yell. I was just in the other room." Chapel steps into the exam room, and that's when he realizes it. Her mouth isn't moving. "What's going on?"
"You said that last part." And now he's got both women looking at him strangely.
"What does he mean?"
"I knew there was something wrong." No, neither of them has said anything, but he's hearing it as plainly as if they had spoken aloud.
"I really need her to leave. Loved ones get in the way."
"How long can a person hear other people's thoughts without going completely insane?" If he concentrates, he can make out a slight difference in cadence. Amelia's words are coming faster than when she normally speaks, and Chapel's voice is slightly deeper.
"What the hell is going on?" The intrusion of a third voice makes him look up. Jim is striding through sickbay, and if he had to guess, the man has yet to speak. "Bones, what happened?"
"A flower attacked him-"
"Another away team injury due to clumsiness-"
"My chief medical officer is down. This is just great." Pasting a smile on his face, he tells the captain,
"Just a little accident, Jim. But now it looks like I can hear everyone's thoughts. At least if they're in the room." And there's a disturbing idea: what if this evolves and it turns into hearing the thoughts of everyone on the ship? The whole prediction of madness doesn't seem so farfetched when you take that into consideration.
"Hasn't he learned anything from being on so many away missions?"
"'Just a little accident?' Right, and Van Gogh was 'just a little mentally disturbed.'"
"Trust a doctor to downplay an injury." He hears all three of them at the same time. Jim turns to Chapel.
"What do we know about this?" She immediately recalls all the details (some sort of pollen, completely normal vital signs, and then the extra mental input of 'Nobody ever listens to the instructions not to touch anything') and Amelia thinks,
"Nothing. We know nothing."
"Just what I thought: this situation couldn't get worse." Outwardly, Jim smiles and tells him, "Everything's going to be fine, Bones. We'll get this sorted out."
"God, I hope so-"
"Spoken like a true medical novice-" He's got to do something. This can't go on.
"Alright. Either two of you have to stop thinking or leave. Now, who's it going to be?"
"It's not possible to stop thinking-"
"How do I stop thinking?"
"It's got to be the two of them. I'm the medical professional here."
"I'll go." Shooting him one last stormy look, Amelia starts towards the door.
"Keep me posted." Jim follows.
"Finally, both of them are gone. Although that means I have to do something, and I've run out of tests." He starts to reassure Chapel, but he just barely catches one final thought from Amelia.
"If he can hear everything I'm thinking…this is not good, Amelia. Not good."
Amelia Fairchild
Amelia's just coming back from mess when she sees something out of place: Captain Kirk, standing outside her office. He's only come by to see her once, and that was when she assessed him and pronounced him clear for duty without any further psychological treatment. As she approaches, he looks up and offers her a smile.
"Captain, can I help you?"
"I hope so. Have you seen Bones anywhere? I know where one of you is, the other isn't far behind."
"I'm sorry. I haven't." He sighs.
"Well, it wasn't that important. I just wanted to tell him we're organizing another away team. It's leaving in five minutes."
"I'll let him know if I see him."
"Good." He starts back towards the doors to sickbay but hesitates. "Oh, and Counselor?"
"Yes, Captain?"
"Try not to look so worried. We'll have your doctor back to firing on all thrusters in no time." Her doctor? She thinks about protesting his choice of words, but he is the captain after all. With the press of a button, the doors to her office slide open. The lights are already on, which is strange, but she's so intent on the task at hand (reviewing a few medical files), that she doesn't think anything of it. That is, until she hears,
"I thought you were off for the rest of the day."
"Jesus!" She nearly drops the PADD as she jerks around. Leonard's sitting in his usual spot, and at her outburst, he snickers.
"Just me. Sorry to disappoint. That was an impressive string of profanities you just thought, by the way."
"What are you doing here?"
"I needed to stay near sickbay and your office was the only place I could hear myself think."
"What's wrong with yours?"
"Chapel kept popping in and out of it. She won't look for me here."
"Well, I'll leave you to it-" He holds up a hand, stopping her from beating a hasty retreat towards the door.
"That's not necessary. Just do me a favor and try to think quietly." It's a joke, but she really hopes her thoughts have volume control. Otherwise… no. She needs to tune that out immediately and think about something else. Mr. Scott's file, for instance. Settling in at her desk, she begins to review.
Mr. Scott has a nervous tendency to worry about his engines as if they were his children. She's reassessed him recently, and that hasn't changed. It's not terribly concerning although it's a little beyond what most crewmembers feel about their jobs. What really bothers her is his answer to her question about drinking. It's enough to put him dangerously close to functional alcoholism.
"You don't have to worry about Scotty. His drinking is more of a cultural affectation than anything else." Looking up, she shoots Leonard a frown. He grimaces. "I did it again, didn't I?"
"You did. But hopefully this has an expiration date. I ran into the captain, and he mentioned that another away team has been sent down to the planet. Maybe they can find something to fix this."
"Well, in the meantime, I'll try to sit quietly and not make an ass out of myself." She nods and turns back to the file. So, Scott's drinking isn't a problem in a medical professional's opinion. Leonard would know better than she would. He's been on the ship longer, had a better chance to get to know the crew. She's been here almost seven months and the only people she can really call 'friend' besides him are Nyota and Christine. Both of whom have tried to convince her… no. She can't think about that in present company. Setting down her PADD, she asks,
"Don't you have somewhere to be?"
"Is that your way of saying 'get out'?"
"Yes." It provokes a smirk.
"Alright, but before I go, I have one question."
"What is it?"
"What are you trying so hard not to think about?" Oh, nothing much. Just rapidly growing feelings of attraction on a deep and personal level. Oh god, did she really just think that? Maybe he wasn't paying attention. Either way, she needs to distract herself. Perhaps if she mentally recites the alphabet backwards or tries to recount song lyrics-
"Amelia, stop." She looks up. His expression is unreadable. Damn it. He overheard. Swallowing hard, she tells him,
"Dr. McCoy, I'm so sorry-"
"It's Leonard, and why are you sorry?" Because she just ruined a friendship that she values. What she's feeling, the attraction that goes far beyond what's on the surface, was never supposed to be more than her dirty little secret. She knows it isn't returned, and now- He sighs. "You've got it backwards, Amelia. I'm the one with unrequited feelings that I can't talk about."
"What do you mean?" Surely, it's not-
"I mean that you're not the only one who's hiding a dirty little secret. The difference is, you're young and beautiful. I'm old and bitter. I'm the one who doesn't stand a chance. Or at least, that's what I thought." Yes. She thinks he does mean it. The affection she feels isn't a one-way street. "It's not. Believe me, it's not."
"So what do we do now?" He seems to consider it for a moment before suggesting,
"We could give this a chance. I think we could make each other happy." So does she, and she wants that more than anything. However-
"You're my patient."
"And you're mine. That complicates things, doesn't it?" Yes, it does. She can't do anything that would be a conflict of interests. People get attached to their therapists all the time. How does she know- "Because there was a spark there the first time that I saw you. I think there was for you too."
"There was." Still, there are some lines she can't cross. This is one of them. If things were different… but they're not, and there's nothing she can do about it.
"Leonard-"
"I know." They stand there in silence as the minutes tick by. For her, she's trying to compartmentalize the pain she feels at knowing the person she cares for with every shred of her being is so far out of reach. It's agony, knowing he wants to bridge the gap as much as she does.
A buzzing sound from outside her office breaks her out of her melancholy. She still has a job to do. "Enter." The doors slide open, revealing Christine.
"Dr. McCoy, I thought I told you that you were confined to sickbay."
"Technically, this room is part of sickbay."
"Well, I need you to leave Counselor Fairchild alone and come down to the lab. The away team has returned, and they think they've found a plant that can be used to synthesize and antidote." Shooting her one last regretful glance, he follows the head nurse out the door, leaving her alone. A deep sadness wells up in her, and she blinks rapidly. She won't cry about this. She's stronger than that. With trembling fingers, she picks up the PADD and begins to read again.
Leonard McCoy
Five minutes before his makeup session with Amelia, Leonard finds himself pacing outside her door. It's been three days since the incident with the pollen. Three days since finding out that the longing he feels isn't exclusive to him. Three days of missing Amelia's presence. She hasn't joined him in mess. She's started messaging him things to sign off on instead of delivering them personally. When he catches a glance of her, he can't help but notice how sad she looks. It's given him food for thought, not to mention a reason to take a deep dive into Starfleet's regulations about romantic relationships.
"I'll schedule your next appointment for the same time next week. Until then, if you need anything, feel free to message me."
"Thank you, Counselor." The ensign starts across sickbay, leaving him alone with Amelia.
"Won't you come in?" He nods and follows her through the doors. As per usual, once he's inside, he takes the seat farthest from her desk, and like usual, she sits opposite him. Pulling up a page on her PADD, she tells him, "We'll start with the question we were on when your assessment was interrupted. On a scale of one to ten, ten being strongly agree and one being strongly disagree, how would you rate the statement, 'My relationships are as satisfying as I would want them to be' ?"
"Right now, it's at a four."
"I see. And how often do you feel lonely?"
"I didn't until recently. Then I potentially lost someone who means a great deal to me."
"That must be difficult."
"I think you understand just how difficult it is." She grips the PADD tighter.
"Are you having any difficulties focusing on your work or during your leisure time?"
"No." For the past three days, his focus has been laser sharp. When he's at work, he puts Amelia out of his mind. When he's off, he's focused on finding a solution to the problem at hand. And he thinks he has.
"What about your drinking?"
"Less than five times a week." Usually, he spends his evenings with her, and afterwards, he's at peace.
"Those are all the questions I have for you at this time. Your assessment is complete, and I'll see you in another six months."
"Six months?"
"Yes. I'm pleased with the progress that you've made. You sleep better, you drink less, and your irritability isn't as potent. Your symptoms are under control. With the techniques that you've learned here, I'm satisfied that you can maintain a good equilibrium. I'm discharging you." That's exactly the news he was hoping to hear. He knew it was likely, but it wasn't a one hundred percent guarantee.
"Then can I talk to you about something?" She nods.
"You have another twenty minutes left in this session." It won't take that long.
"Are you familiar with Starfleet's regulations about doctors and patients engaging in romantic relationships?" Something shifts in her expression, but she shakes her head.
"No. I'm not."
"That's because there aren't any. At least not between officers within a rank of each other, up or down." He technically outranks her, but not by much.
"I understand, but I'm still not comfortable with the power dynamics that could present themselves-"
"I thought you might not be. Which is why, with your permission, I'd like to transfer your care to Chapel. She has a few patients that she's exclusively responsible for. People who aren't comfortable with a male doctor." Finally, she's meeting his eyes. "Does that sound okay?"
"It does."
"Then, Amelia, can I see you tonight?"
"No." Oh. She's thought better of it. Of course, she has. A woman like her deserves- "I already agreed to visit Uhura's quarters tonight. She said something about watching an old Earth film. But I'm free tomorrow if that's an acceptable alternative." He couldn't stop the smile that's crossing his face if he tried.
"Yes. Tomorrow will be fine."