Amelia Fairchild
"You look entirely too happy for someone who just ran a mile." Amelia snickers at Christine's observation. Currently, she's in the changing room outside one of the Enterprise's training rooms. As she eases the zipper of her uniform back into place, she tells the nurse,
"Exercise releases endorphins. You know that."
"Yes, but it seems like it's more than that." Christine turns to Nyota, who's toweling off her hair after a shower. "Don't you think she's too happy?"
"She was that way last night too. Happy and distracted."
"Happy and distracted? That sounds like Dr. McCoy."
"Does it now?" Christine nods at Nyota's question.
"The man was an absolute pleasure to work with yesterday afternoon, but he kept zoning out. Forgetting where he left things." Amelia has to fight down the urge to grin at that. It's good to know she's not the only one affected by yesterday's turn of events. "At the time, I thought it was because he was still recovering, but now I think it's something else."
"Let's see. The ship's grump is cheerful and the woman who always keeps a straight face is smiling." Nyota pretends to consider. "Do you know what that adds up to, Christine?"
"I think so, but why don't you say it so I can be sure?"
"Well, it sounds to me like something finally happened between them." Grabbing her bag, Amelia asks,
"Is there some reason I can't be in a good mood?"
"That's not a no." Christine points out.
"She can't say 'no' because she doesn't lie." Maybe she shouldn't have made her policy of honesty such public knowledge. To avoid either trading in her integrity or admitting anything, she starts towards the door. She's halfway to the turbolift when the sound of running footsteps reaches her ears. Sure enough, Nyota and Christine have caught up.
"Where are you going, Amelia?" Christine asks.
"Got a date?"
"Don't be absurd. It's breakfast time." Her date is later tonight. To their credit, her friends are silent until they're safely inside the turbolift. Unfortunately, that's when Nyota announces,
"Well, if you won't say what happened, we'll have to make something up. Christine, do you want to go first?"
"I think he kissed her."
"Oh, good one! But my bet is on Amelia having made the first move."
"No." Christine shakes her head. "Dr. McCoy's old fashioned. It would've been him."
"Yes, but he's also repressed. Amelia's a strong, independent woman. If she wants something, I think she goes for it." The doors to the turbolift slide open and they step out. "Do you think it was in sickbay, or-"
"No. I was there all day. It had to be in her office. He had an appointment."
"Ooh! That's sort of naughty, isn't it?"
"It's a little taboo, dating a patient. But it's not against regulations. I looked it up." She thinks about mentioning that Leonard isn't her patient anymore, nor is she his, but she's not at liberty to discuss a patient's medical history with anyone but another professional. Besides, it would just add fuel to the fire.
"Neither of you know what you're talking about." And she plans for it to stay that way.
"Someone's defensive." Nyota teases.
"Methinks the lady doth protest too much." The mess hall doors open, and a man steps out. One who has no idea he's the topic of conversation. Shooting her a wink, Nyota tells him,
"Hi, Dr. McCoy."
"Lieutenant. Nurse." Turning to her, Leonard says, "Counselor, would you mind stopping by my office later? I have a few changes in medication management that I need to go over with you."
"She's free now, Doctor." Nyota chirps.
"Nothing would make her happier." Christine manages to say it with a straight face. Leonard frowns.
"Weren't you just headed to mess?"
"We are. I'll stop by later this morning." Nyota's grinning at her from behind him and she gives her head a slight shake.
"Thank you, Counselor."
"You're welcome, Doctor. I'll see you then." She steps through the doors and picks up a tray, intent on her task of finding something decent from the replicators.
"'Thank you, Counselor.'" Nyota's voice is pitched comically low.
"'You're welcome, Doctor.'" Christine barely makes it through her impression before laughing.
"You know, you don't have to get all formal for our benefit. We know you call him Leonard and he calls you Amelia."
"It's a common practice among friends." Christine shakes her head.
"I don't know. He doesn't go around calling me Christine."
"Well, I think it's sweet." Nyota declares. "It's obvious that whatever happened, it's made you both happy."
"That's all we care about, Amelia. Are you happy?" That, at least, she can answer.
"I am. Why wouldn't I be?" Nyota groans.
"You're no fun."
Leonard McCoy
She's wearing her hair half up today. He's sitting at the table in the center of the mess hall, but from his seat, Leonard can just make out Amelia approaching the replicator and getting… what? He can't tell from this distance. It'd better have substantial nutritional value, whatever it is. She's not much of a breakfast person so lunch is where she starts to get her allotted calories for the day. Is she sitting alone? No, Uhura is waiting for her. So is Chapel. Something had those two in stitches when he saw them on the way down to sickbay this morning. Although whatever it was, Amelia didn't find it funny. She just seemed uncomfortable.
"Bones!" Content that she's in good company, he turns towards Jim.
"What?" The captain is wearing an amused expression.
"You aren't hearing a word we say, are you?"
"That is to be expected, Captain." Spock tells them. "Counselor Fairchild has entered the mess hall, and Dr. McCoy finds her physically attractive, so his concentration is divided." He says it like he's just stating a fact. Not a hint that he might be revealing sensitive and embarrassing information.
"Spock, how about you mind your business and I'll mind mine?" He hopes the 'you green-blooded hobgoblin' is implied.
"There's nothing wrong with that, Bones. She's a beautiful woman, after all." He shoots Jim a sharp look, but if his friend has noticed, he's not letting on. "Don't you think so, Spock?"
"Her body type is one that gives off all of the evolutionary signs of fertility, yes."
"Don't talk about her like she's a piece of meat." Spock raises an eyebrow.
"Forgive me, Doctor. I meant no disrespect."
"Yeah, well, she's more than an attractive woman, alright? She's also highly intelligent. Funny, too, although her humor runs a little on the dry side. And she's a fine counselor, Jim. Cares a lot about her patients. She's someone you can have a conversation with…" Someone whose eyes you can get lost in. She also has the sweetest smile. When she's asleep, she looks completely innocent, but if you provoke her enough, she's a spitfire. Her hand fits perfectly in his, and his brain completely short circuits whenever he touches her.
"You still with us?" Jim wraps his knuckles on the table, making Leonard look up.
"What was I saying?"
"You were waxing poetic about the many qualities of our counselor."
"I just meant there's more to her than simply 'attractive'." He realizes his mistake as soon as he says it. Jim's eyes light up and his smile takes on a wolfish quality.
"Well, if there's so much to her, why don't we ask her to join us for lunch?"
"No-"
"That seems like a logical suggestion, Captain."
"Oh, does it Spock? Does it really?" He turns to the other man. "Jim-" Too late. The captain's already making his way across the room towards Amelia's table. He can't hear what's said, but he sees Amelia look over in his direction, a puzzled expression in place. She stands and, saying something to Chapel and Uhura, follows Jim back to their table.
"Have a seat, Counselor." She takes the seat opposite Leonard, confusion replaced with that perfect neutral expression. Jim settles back into his place and says, "You've worked together with Dr. McCoy quite a bit since you joined the crew seven months ago, haven't you?"
"Yes. There's some overlap in our fields."
"What's your opinion of him?"
"My professional opinion is that he's an excellent doctor."
"What about your personal opinion?" She offers him an uncomfortable look before turning back to Jim.
"It's much the same. I still think he's an excellent doctor, and I greatly admire him."
"What is it that you so greatly admire, Counselor?" Spock asks.
"Well…" She glances down at her tray. "He's good with his patients. He handles them with a balance of firmness and kindness that I hope to one day achieve. He also possesses a keen intellect. And I appreciate his sense of humor."
"Uh-huh." Jim nods. "And when he asked you out, you said-"
"Jim!"
"You aren't required to answer that, Counselor." Spock tells her.
"Forgive me, Counselor. I overstepped my bounds."
"It's alright." It's subtle, but her cheeks are slightly flushed. "If that's all, Captain, I really must get back to work." He starts to tell her like hell, her break's not over for another fifteen minutes, but that seems like it'll just make the situation worse, so he swallows the urge.
"Of course." Gripping her tray tightly, Amelia stands. He can't help it. He watches her go, searching her body language for any sign that she's upset.
"You know, her answers to what she likes about you were almost the same as what you said about her."
"That would indicate compatibility." Jim chuckles.
"Great admiration. It's not exactly Shakespeare, but many a love story has started that way."
"Her pupils dilated when she looked at Dr. McCoy, and she inadvertently touched her hair."
"That's called preening, isn't it, Mr. Spock?"
"Affirmative. It's a sign of physical or emotional attraction in humans."
"And since we've already established that Bones likes her very much, one can assume… what, exactly?"
"One can assume that there's a potential romantic relationship in play. Or alternatively but not mutually exclusively, a physical one." Alright. It's time for him to go.
"You two are too pleased with yourselves, you know that?" He doesn't bother to take his tray to the receptacle as he starts towards the door.
"Oh, Bones?"
"What?" If he hurries, he can catch up to Amelia. He doesn't think she's upset or offended, but he still needs to apologize for Jim and Spock's behavior.
"How about joining us for a game of three-dimensional chess tonight?"
"No thanks. I've got a date." The words slip out before he can stop them, and he freezes. Is there any chance they didn't catch that? He glances over his shoulder. Jim is wearing a smirk and Spock… well, he looks the same as always. Damn it. Well, he supposes it was going to get out at some point. Gossip spreads like the Argelian flu on the Enterprise. It was only a matter of time… although he should probably warn Amelia.
Amelia Fairchild
"Have you been practicing the exercises we talked about, Ensign? The deep breathing and setting up an allotted time for worrying?" The woman sitting across from Amelia is looking at her, but she has a feeling that the ensign is far away. "Ensign Straus?"
"Sorry."
"There's no need to apologize. You've got something on your mind, correct?"
"Is it that obvious?"
"I'm afraid so." She waits a few moments before asking, "Would it make it easier if you talked about it?"
"It's embarrassing."
"This is a safe space, Ensign. I'm here to help you in any way that you need." For a second, she thinks the young woman isn't going to say anything, but then,
"I, um, I think I might be pregnant."
"I see." That certainly explains the preoccupation. "Have you visited sickbay yet?"
"No. I don't want… no."
"Why is that?" The ensign sighs.
"Dr. McCoy is intimidating. I know I shouldn't say that because he's your boyfriend-" Amelia barely manages to suppress a frown. So, the ship's rumor mill has been hard at work.
"As I said before, this is a safe space, Ensign. Whatever you're feeling, it's alright to say it here." That seems to relieve her at least somewhat. "I know you don't want to visit sickbay, but wouldn't it be better to know for sure instead of going through the stress of worrying?"
"I guess so."
"Would it make it easier to have someone go with you? A friend maybe?"
"I don't want to go alone, but I don't want to tell my friends. I'd feel stupid if it turned out to be nothing."
"Would you like for me to accompany you?" Straus meets her eyes.
"You would do that?"
"I would. I'm here to help you in any way that you need me. Do you want to go now or wait until after your session?" It's better if she only presents two options. Less time for the ensign to change her mind.
"Is it okay if we go now?"
"That's fine." Amelia powers down her PADD and stands. Straus hesitates, but ultimately, she follows Amelia out the door.
Christine is nowhere to be seen as they step into the exam room, which rules out one of the ways to make this less traumatic. Of course, she can't see Leonard either. Turning to Straus, she tells her,
"I'm going to look for someone to help us, alright?" She receives a nod in response. It's not ideal, leaving the ensign on her own when she's obviously in distress, but there's not another option. The intensive care ward is empty, which leaves only one other option. She presses the button to Leonard's office door, recoiling at the unpleasant buzzing sound.
"Enter." The doors slide open, and she steps inside. He's at his desk, studying his computer, but he looks up at the sound of her footsteps and offers her a smile.
"Well, this is a pleasant surprise. I thought you were in sessions all afternoon."
"I am, but I actually have a patient for you."
"Who?"
"Ensign Straus." She leans closer and murmurs, "She's a little nervous, so-"
"Tread lightly. Got it." Grabbing his scanner, he starts towards the door.
Ensign Straus is sitting on the biobed, her arms wrapped around herself. She barely looks up as they enter.
"What's going on, Ensign?"
"You didn't tell him?" Amelia shakes her head.
"That would violate counselor/patient confidentiality." Straus gives Leonard a nervous look.
"I don't want to say."
"Ensign, I can't help you if you won't tell me. Now, whatever's going on, I can almost guarantee that I've seen it before." She still looks uncertain.
"What if you just told Dr. McCoy your symptoms?" It's not the best of plans, but it's what she can come up with on the fly. Slowly, Straus begins to speak.
"I have a lot of nausea throughout the day, and I'm tired no matter how much I sleep. I notice smells that I used not to. And I've missed-" She stops short and looks down.
"I think I get the picture." Amelia wishes she could offer the young woman her hand to hold, especially when the scanner comes out and she blanches. "This'll only take a minute, Ensign. If you could just uncross your arms and sit up straight-" Straus obeys, although she looks like she's ready to faint. The scanner whirrs and blinks. Less than thirty seconds pass, and then it's over. "I know what the problem is. Do you want the Counselor in the room when I tell you or would you prefer some privacy?"
"I want her to stay."
"Alright." He sighs. "You're pregnant, Ensign. Around six weeks." It shouldn't be possible in her already blanched state, but Straus goes a shade paler. Her shoulders begin to shake, and tears spill down her cheeks.
"Straus-" Amelia settles onto the biobed next to her. "-tell me what you're feeling right now."
"I can't do this." The words are followed by a gut-wrenching sob.
"Ensign, you don't have to do anything that you don't want to do." The young woman's breaths are coming in short gasps. The tears that were just a trickle earlier have turned into a torrential downpour. An animalistic noise that can only come from deep inside her echoes through the room. "Ensign!"
"Straus, talk to me." Straus shakes her head so hard that her hair comes loose from the knot she's contained it in.
"If we don't get this under control, I'm going to have to sedate her for her own safety."
"Just give her a second." It's bending the rules a little, but she places a hand on Straus's back, just between her shoulder blades. "Ensign, I know you're scared. Do you remember the 4-7-8 method?" She's so far down the rabbit hole that Amelia's not expecting a response. "Breathe in for four seconds, hold for seven seconds, then exhale for eight seconds. I'll count for us, alright? Breath in. One, two, three, four-" Straus gasps, but at least she's trying. "Hold. Two, three-" She seems to be having better luck with that one. "-four, five six, seven. And out. Two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight." They repeat the process for what feels like hours but in reality, is probably closer to three minutes. Finally, Straus's breathing is steady, even if the tears are still coming.
"He's going to be so angry with me."
"Who is?" She already knows the answer.
"John. The… my boyfriend."
"Straus, has John ever hurt you?" Straus shakes her head. "Has he ever yelled at you, called you names or said hurtful things?"
"No."
"Then, knowing what you know about him, does it seem likely that he'd do those things now?" Straus seems to be considering it.
"No. But we haven't been together very long. I don't know if he wants kids." Her voice becomes very quiet. "I don't know if I do."
"Like I said, you don't have to do anything you don't want to." Amelia glances up at Leonard. At least he's not holding a hypospray. "You have options, Ensign. One of them is to keep this to yourself, but I wouldn't advise it. Another is to have a friend with you when you tell him. Or you can do it by yourself."
"Would you want to know? If Counselor Fairchild was-" And they've jumped from 'seeing each other' to 'sleeping together'. "-even if she wasn't going to keep it?"
"If he's a good partner, then he'd want to know so that he could be there for you. Whatever you decided." Hesitantly, Straus stands.
"Can I go now?"
"You can go if the Counselor is through with you, but make sure you follow up later." Straus shoots her a questioning look.
"You're free to go, but I want you to follow up with me too." Glancing back at them one last time, she steps through the sickbay doors. Amelia lets out a breath that she didn't realize she was holding.
"That was-"
"Intense."
"Is that the strongest reaction you've ever had at that news?" He shakes his head.
"It's up there, but no. Not the strongest. What about you? Have you ever had to do that before?"
"I've had to help patients through intense emotional reactions, but never at the moment they found out about an unplanned pregnancy."
"You handled it well."
"So did you." That provokes a quiet chuckle.
"I guess you don't get as far as we have in this job if you panic in the face of an emotional outburst."
"Hardly." Which reminds her, "I have another patient."
"Go. Don't keep them waiting." She starts towards the door only to hear, "Oh, and Amelia?"
"Yes?" She looks over her shoulder. The smile is back.
"See you tonight?" She can feel a smile of her own forming.
"I'll see you."
Leonard McCoy
There's no reason to be nervous. That's what Leonard keeps telling himself. They might not have done this exact thing he has in mind for tonight, but he's spent the evening with Amelia dozens of times before. Of course, then he was spending time with a friend (albeit one he wished was something more). Now he's spending time with the woman he's dating.
It starts like most evenings do. They go up to mess together and talk about their days while they eat (of course this time, he has the distinct feeling that they're being watched, and that's before Jim passes by their table with a knowing smile in place). Nothing important is said, but it doesn't matter. He's just enjoying her company. Then, once their trays have been returned to the receptacle, they leave the bustle of the mess hall behind for the privacy of the turbolift.
"Deck nine." The turbolift comes to life and they plummet.
"Where are we going?"
"Just trust me. You'll like it."
"I do trust you, but I'm still curious. Especially since this is a part of the ship I've never visited before."
"Really?" She nods. "Amelia, it's been seven months."
"It just hasn't been one of my priorities." He guesses he should be grateful for that. Otherwise, he'd run the risk of tonight being boring for her. The turbolift comes to a halt and the doors slide open. As he steps out, he glances around. The halls are empty, and technically they're not on duty so… reaching out, he takes her hand.
"This way." They pass various rooms, both crew quarters and public spaces, finally arriving at their destination. On the outside, it looks like every other room on the Enterprise. On the inside… he presses the button to open the doors, and the scent of freshly tilled earth wafts out.
"Is that…" She looks at him questioningly. "… a garden?"
"Why don't you go inside and find out?" Not letting go of his hand, she steps over the threshold, stopping just inside the door. There are multiple platforms containing soil with plants growing out of them. Flowers, bushes, even trees. "I remembered you visited the botany room, so I thought this might appeal to you."
"It does." She still hasn't stopped staring.
"The botany room is plants that are being studied. This is just for enjoyment." It's one of the three recreation rooms that the Enterprise has to offer, and it's a wonder no one else is in it.
"It's impractical for a starship."
"It is." She turns to him, and the most brilliant smile is on her face.
"Whoever thought of this is a genius."
"People need a connection to the Earth no matter how far away from it they get."
"I'm inclined to agree." Hand in hand, they walk around the room. Amelia stops occasionally to get a closer look at a plant. In particular, she seems to be impressed by a selection of lilies. He doesn't have to read her mind to know she's thinking of the color compositions, how they would look in different lighting.
"You wish you had your charcoal right now."
"Actually, I was thinking of my pastels-" She stops short and shoots him an embarrassed glance. It's a common occurrence whenever she starts to open up about her art. Who made her feel like she has to hide that part of herself, he wonders.
"You can always go get them."
"Another time."
"Why not now?"
"Won't you be bored if I sit here drawing all night?"
"No." He'll be watching her do something she loves. That's interesting enough. "Go on, Amelia. I know you're dying to." He thinks she's going to protest some more, but instead she tells him,
"Five minutes?"
"Take as long as you need. Will you need help carrying anything?"
"No. I can manage." Giving his hand a squeeze, she starts towards the door.
True to her word when she reappears, only five minutes have passed. Perching on the platform opposite the lilies, she opens her sketchbook and begins to draw.
"Do you need quiet while you work, or-"
"No. You can talk." Taking a seat next to her, he asks,
"When did all this start? The art?"
"I guess I was around seven. My parents gave me a beginner's art set to keep me occupied. I used up every supply in the kit about a month in, but we were too far out in space to get more. I learned to ration after that. And then when it was time to choose electives for school, I chose art history."
"So, you've been consistently drawing and painting since you were seven?"
"Except for a five year span where I wasn't doing much of anything with my art, yes." Five years… the same amount of time she dated the man who was unfaithful to her. "What about you?"
"What about me?"
"Your hobbies. When did they start?"
"Well, I started drinking when I was fifteen-"
"That's not what I meant, but it does explain some things."
"Then what?" She shrugs.
"I don't know. Right after I was transferred, I brought you a list of patients who needed medication management. Christine had the results of a test on Rigelian canines."
"Oh. That." He can't believe she filed that piece of information away. "My dad was a country doctor, and I grew up on a farm. Before I had people as patients, I had animals. I thought about becoming a veterinarian, but I preferred for my patients to talk." That provokes a soft laugh.
"As opposed to now when you wish they'd shut up?"
"No, I just don't want them to backtalk. There's a difference. Everyone with access to a medical databank thinks they're a doctor."
"I know what you mean. Everyone who's watched one of those melodramas with a shrink in it thinks they're a psychologist." He chuckles.
"If med school was that easy-"
"Then everyone would do it?"
"Exactly. And it keeps getting harder, especially when you add exobiology and psychology to the
mix."
"I keep forgetting that you have a degree in psychology too."
"Just the basics. Certainly not eight years' worth. More like two semesters."
"You said Joanna is twenty, right?"
"Right."
"So, you were twenty-two when she was born. That must've been difficult, being in school and also being a new parent."
"Are you trying to shrink me, Amelia?" She shakes her head, a hint of a smile playing across her lips.
"Just making an observation."
"It was. Joanna wasn't exactly an expected visitor if you catch my drift." He was twenty-one and stupid and an accident happened. Much like the ensign he saw earlier today. Amelia must be thinking about her too, because she says,
"I hope she's going to be alright."
"She will be, but no matter what she decides, she's going to have to do some growing."
"Is that such a bad thing?"
"No." Time passes like that, in quiet conversation while she works, and he watches. If it weren't for the drawing taking shape in front of her, he would be completely unaware of it. He knows it must be late, but he doesn't want to say anything, to end the evening. Finally, Amelia places her pastels back in their case and turns to him.
"I think that's enough for now."
"Is it done?"
"Hardly, but my hand's starting to cramp."
"Overexertion."
"I haven't sat and drawn like that in quite some time." She closes the sketchpad and stands. "What time do you think it is?"
"Probably around twenty-three thirty."
"Leonard, you shouldn't have let me keep you up this late."
"It's alright. It doesn't happen every night." Besides, he doesn't have to report for duty until zero eight hundred hours, and neither does she.
"We should go." Reluctantly, he stands as well and, taking her hand, heads towards the door.
The hallways are deserted, which means he doesn't have to let go of her the entire trip back to deck seven. Even then, they walk side by side, arms brushing on occasion. At last, they reach her quarters. Amelia turns around, back the doors, and tells him,
"Thank you for tonight. It was one of the best evenings I've had in a long time."
"It was for me too." They just stand there, her looking up at him with those blue eyes. The thought that stunned him so badly when he had it two months ago occurs to him again. It would be so easy to kiss her right now. Something must register on his face, because her forehead wrinkles and she asks,
"What is it?"
"Amelia, would you have any objections if I kissed you goodnight?" The wrinkle smooths itself and the corners of her lips turn up into a soft smile.
"Actually, I'd prefer it." Reaching forward with a hand that's much steadier than the rest of him feels, he tilts her chin upwards. Her eyes drift closed, and that's all the encouragement he needs before pressing his lips against hers.
It's slow at first, gentle. Chaste almost, if it weren't for the fact that she's so close, he can feel her heart beating. She tastes vaguely of oranges, more than likely from the tea she had earlier at mess. A 'thud' sounds from somewhere nearby and he doesn't realize what it is until he feels her hand against his chest. She dropped the sketchpad. Everything in him wants to deepen the kiss, pull her impossibly closer, but he doesn't. This isn't something he wants to rush. It's a moment seven months in the making, and to ruin it by causing her any discomfort would be a crime. Eventually, he has to end it, to pull away, although it's the last thing he wants to do.
"When do I get to do that again?"
"I think it's an open invitation."
"We'll be here all night if you say that." She seems to be considering that possibility.
"Then what about tomorrow?"
"Tomorrow." He nods. "I think I can wait 'til then." Stooping, he retrieves the sketchpad and offers it to her. Delicate fingers brush his as she takes it.
"Goodnight, Leonard."
"Goodnight, Amelia." Reluctantly, he starts towards his own quarters.
It's late, and he really should go directly to bed, but instead he finds himself just sitting there, thinking. That was unlike any other first kiss he's had. More vulnerable, somehow. More honest. For a moment, he was worried that after so much anticipation, the real thing couldn't compare, but he was wrong. It wasn't anything like he was expecting. No, it was better. Maybe the old saying is true: some things are worth the wait.