Amelia Fairchild:
Couple's counseling is not Amelia's favorite part of her job. She doesn't detest it, but there are many other forms of psychological intervention that she finds more rewarding. After a while, you get a feel for the couple in front of you. Either they'll make it, or they won't. You can't tell them that they're wasting their time when there's no saving the relationship. Instead, you have to try to direct them into seeing that for themselves. And when the relationship can be saved, you often enter a honeymoon phase that's difficult for anyone but the parties involved to endure. Such is the case with Straus and Abrams.
"How do you feel knowing that you've made such a monumental decision about your futures?" So far, this session has been fifty-four minutes long, and they've yet to look away from each other. It would be sweet if it didn't seem to also affect their hearing.
"Good." Straus chuckles as Abrams squeezes her hand. "Like we've finally made it out of the woods." She wouldn't say that. The underlying issues of trust and security are still present and probably will be for years. She knows a little something about that from personal experience.
"In fact, we'd like to try dropping these sessions back to once a month." At least they're not quitting altogether.
"I appreciate your thoughts, and we can definitely give it a try, but please keep in mind that the time leading up to a marriage and even the first few months after it occurs are often some of the most stressful in a relationship."
"There's not going to be a time leading up to the wedding." Abrams tells her. "We're getting married next week." That's fast. Three months ago, Straus had a major secret and neither of them were sure this relationship would work out.
"I see. And why have you chosen next week as opposed to six months from now?"
"We want to get our life together started." This time Straus is the one to answer. She can understand the eagerness, but she doesn't personally believe that a life together has to start with marriage. Instead, it's when you realize you're committed to each other. But to say that would be to project her feelings onto the couple, so she changes the subject.
"Have you thought about what that life will look like?"
"We'd like to be in the fleet for another two years before moving into the private sector. Then maybe have children-"
"That's a big maybe." She struggles to keep the frown off her face. They still haven't worked that one out, then.
"Oh, Counselor-" Abrams finally looks away from his bride-to-be. "Evie has something she wanted to ask you."
"Of course." Clearing her throat, Straus informs her,
"You've done so much for both of us, both separately and together, that I was wondering if you'd be one of my bridesmaids." Oh. That's unexpected. There's no regulation against it, but it steps dangerously close to violating a personal boundary.
"I appreciate you asking me, but I'm afraid that's a line that I can't cross."
"Oh."
"But I'll help out with the festivities in any other way that you like." Straus seems to be considering it, then-
"You're an artist, right?" She supposes word of that was going to leak out at some point. She wasn't exactly subtle when she arrived back from Deep Space Six loaded down with art supplies, and recently she's hung a few canvases in her office.
"I dabble in different artistic medias, yes."
"Would you do something for us? Maybe a drawing of some kind?"
"That depends. What would you want?"
"Maybe two joined hands with our wedding bands on and the date incorporated in the picture."
"I think that can be arranged." It won't be her usual subject, but she can manage it. But in… oh god… a week.
"So, when are you and Dr. McCoy going to do it?"
"Do what?" And now both of them are looking at her like she's stupid.
"You know. Get married." Never, or she presumes never. Leonard hasn't mentioned any such plans, and with a failed marriage and the space equivalent of an annulment behind him, he probably wouldn't relish the idea of doing that again. As for her, she's seen plenty of successful long-term relationships that didn't involve papers and a ring. Would she be open to the other? Yes, but it's not a requirement. However, that's not a conversation she's going to have with patients.
"What makes you think that I have future plans in that direction?"
"Well, you've been together for a while now-" Just over a year. Not that long in the grand scheme of things. "-and although neither of you will say anything, it's obvious that you're good together. He's a lot less of a grump with you in the room, and you never smile except when you're with him." That's not true. She'll also smile around Nyota and Christine, although not as readily. Sometimes she just forgets to remove her professional demeanor at the end of the day, and so far, she's only met one person who can slip past it. "I overheard the captain ask him if things were permanent with you two and he said that they are-" Ah, yes. The innerworkings of the Enterprise gossip mill. I overheard that you said that she said. "-so, isn't that the next step?" She's saved from having to answer by her PADD dinging.
"That's all our time for today, I'm afraid. I'd like for you to write out those future goals for me in the time until our next appointment."
"In a month."
"In a month." Abrams pulls Straus to her feet, and they start towards the door. "Oh, and about that drawing?"
"Yes?"
"I'll come by sometime and take a look at your hands if that's alright."
"That's fine, Counselor. Thank you." She nods, this time allowing them to depart. Just in time too, that is if the familiar voice outside her door is any indication.
"Straus. Abrams."
"Dr. McCoy."
"I want to see both of you for physicals before the wedding."
"Mine was just three months ago-"
"And mine was six."
"I know, but it's a Starfleet regulation." She frowns. That's not a rule she was aware of. "I'm scheduling you both for tomorrow afternoon, one at fifteen hundred hours and the other at sixteen hundred hours. Now, who's going first?" Shaking her head, Amelia turns back to her PADD. The term 'attached at the hip' plays through her mind and she struggles to push it away. That is, until she realizes that she's no longer alone in the room and her mind empties.
"Something I can do for you, Doctor?"
"As the matter of fact. I have a stubborn patient who's forgotten about lunch breaks for the past two days."
"I'm not your patient-"
"Then Chapel has a stubborn patient and I said I'd help her out." Powering down the PADD, she stands.
"I'm surprised I don't have an armed escort."
"That was my next move." He reaches out and takes her hand, physically leading her towards the door.
"I haven't been doing it on purpose, you know."
"I know. You never do."
"There's just a lot to catch up on after shore leave."
"Yes, and it'll all be waiting for you when you get back."
"That sounds oddly familiar."
"It's one that my partner likes to pull out and use on me." As they walk through sickbay towards the turbolift, she can't help but think about what Straus said. Do people just expect them to be the next couple to marry? What's more, should she say something?
Leonard McCoy:
It's been a while since Leonard's last away mission. There have been a few since arriving back from shore leave, but none of them have required his presence, nor that of Amelia. Of course, none of them have been to the planet Ataraxia either. It's a hunter/gatherer society. Not very advanced, but its water contains mineral deposits that are invaluable to the production of many life-saving medications, so they have to investigate and try to strike a bargain.
"I understand that you're not interested in education." Amelia repeats back the counsel's words to them. "May I ask why not?"
"Because what we need to know, we've already learned."
"I see. Tell me, Supreme Leader, do you have anyone close to you who has ever been sick or injured?"
"My daughter T'lee. She brings up blood when she coughs." He frowns. That sounds like the equivalent of good old-fashioned tuberculosis.
"Would you allow Dr. McCoy to examine T'lee?"
"Our healers can do nothing for her. What makes you think that your healer is any different?"
"Maybe he isn't. Or maybe he can relieve your daughter's suffering. Either way, isn't it better to take a chance and risk disappointment than to wonder if you could have helped her and know you didn't?" She's got him. Leonard can tell even before the Supreme Leader nods.
"Bring her to the healer."
It only takes him five minutes of examination to know that his initial thoughts were correct. T'lee is thirteen years old, small for her age, and dying. Or was dying before he ordered the hypospray beamed down from the ship and pressed it into her shoulder. Her breathing immediately becomes easier and within the hour, color has returned to her cheeks.
"You're a god." He has to force down a chuckle at the Supreme Leader's declaration.
"I'm a doctor, not a deity."
"How do you give life back to those who are dying?"
"I do it because I've had years of education to teach me how to use medications which were created by people with years of education."
"And we would be able to do this if we were to accept your Federation's offer?"
"Eventually, yes."
"Do we have a bargain, Supreme Leader?" Jim asks. Content that he knows the way the wind will blow, he leaves the captain to settle things and, motioning for Amelia to follow, heads towards the door. Once they're outside, he tells her,
"That was quite a gamble in there, Counselor."
"Not really. I had every faith in you."
"Well, next time warn me when I'm going to be one of the cards you deal."
"I didn't want them to think they were being played, so I needed you to look as surprised as everyone else." Concern is evident in those blue eyes as she looks up at him. "Did you mind?"
"Not really." She heaves a sigh of relief. "Relax, Darling. Take a deep breath-"
"I'm fine. I just hate negotiations." Then he needs to take her mind off it. Ah.
"Did you want to collect some samples of the local flora to take back to the ship?"
"Isn't that the botanist's job?"
"I meant for you to have personally. I've seen you staring at the plants, and I know what that means." She chuckles.
"They're just begging to be painted."
"Well, then-" He indicates the path in front of them. They walk side by side, her stopping on occasion to pluck a flower or leaf, until they reach a tree, and he sees what's unmistakably a hunter's trap. "Amelia-"
"I see it." She chuckles. "Can you imagine if I'd put my foot in that?"
"I love you, but I'd rather not have you as a patient."
"Agreed." She starts out once again, him trailing a few feet behind. He's just about to suggest that they return to the village when a sharp cry issues from behind them. He turns around and sees a man in a red shirt trying desperately to pull his foot from the metal teeth of the trap. Abrams. Without looking to see if Amelia's following, he runs towards the injured man.
"Hold still, Abrams. You're just making it worse." It's a simple mechanism. Easy to spring and easy to open up again if you're not writhing in pain. Unfortunately, if he pulls Abrams free, the bleeding will increase. There's really only one option.
"Amelia-" He has every intention of telling her to get out her communicator, but he doesn't get a chance to before she's announcing,
"Fairchild to Enterprise. Have medics meet us in the transporter room. Three to beam up."
It's all a blur once they're on board. Amelia hails Jim while he and the medics bring Abrams up to sickbay. Unsurprisingly, Straus is waiting for them when they arrive.
"What happened?"
"Stupidity, that's what." Normally, he wouldn't be that harsh to a patient, but Abrams is a security officer! It's his entire job to be aware of his surroundings and any danger they might hold.
"John, I told you to be careful."
"It's just a little accident, Evie." It's an arterial bleed, but he bites his tongue, instead instructing Perez to bring him a hypospray for the pain as he ties the tourniquet. "Is he going to be alright?"
"Yes, if you leave and let me do my job." She starts to protest, but he's not in the mood. "Now!"
"This way, Ensign." Perez leads Straus out of the room as he eases the claws open. There's blood, but it's an ooze, not a spurt.
"Where was your head, Abrams?" He asks it as he begins cauterizing the wound. It should be painful even with the hypo, but Abrams just laughs.
"I was thinking about the wedding."
"Yeah, well, next time, save it for when you're off duty, or at the very least, when you're on board the ship."
"Come on, Doc. I saw you with Counselor Fairchild. Are you going to tell me your head was in the game?"
"If it wasn't, you would've just lost a leg."
"When are you going to make an honest woman out of her, anyway?" He sighs.
"Counselor Fairchild is already and extremely honest woman. In fact, if she gets any more honest, we're all going to be very uncomfortable. Now, hold still. This is going to hurt." Applying another hypospray, he starts suturing.
"You know what I mean. Don't you want to make things official?" He does. In fact, it's all he can think about lately. But he's not going to have that conversation with a patient, especially when he hasn't worked up the nerve to have it with Amelia. "You know, married couples get upgraded quarters."
"Is that all it takes for you to want to marry someone? The promise of better quarters?"
"No. I want Evie for the rest of my life."
"You can have that without the paper."
"Yeah, but it lets people know that we're a unit. We belong to each other. Besides, I'm old-fashioned. My mom and dad are married, and I like the idea of it. And the fleet won't post you separately if you're married. They can do that even with long-term partners." There's an aspect to it that he hadn't considered yet. They've only got six odd months left until the Enterprise returns to Earth. After that, who knows where they'll be assigned? It's worth thinking about. Worth bringing up with Amelia. But for now-
"I'm going to give you something to help jumpstart the healing process, but I want to keep you here overnight for observation just to be safe."
"Is that really necessary?"
"Who's the doctor here, Abrams? You or me?" Abrams scowls but settles back onto the mattress. "That's what I thought." Now, to wash up and change into a fresh uniform. His is blood-soaked and probably beyond salvaging. Telling Chapel that he'll be back in a few minutes, he heads out the sickbay doors towards his quarters.
Amelia Fairchild:
Even from down the hallway, Amelia can hear the sound of chatter and laughter issuing from Straus's quarters. If she had to venture a guess, she'd say she's about to interrupt a bachelorette party. She's been to a few in her time, and they've all been immensely silly, so she's not sure why she's surprised upon buzzing and being told to enter.
Straus is clearly intoxicated, as are the other four women in her company. There's an impressive collection of phalluses littering the room, and when she steps inside, the bride-to-be hugs her, spiling her drink.
"There's my counselor! She couldn't be a bridesmaid, but we still love her."
"Hello, Straus." Amelia disentangles herself and indicates her PADD. "Do you mind if I take a few pictures for the drawing?"
"Sure! Ames, get Fairchild a drink."
"That's-" She doesn't get a chance to say more before a glass is pressed into her hand. "Thank you."
"We were just discussing how long we think sex should last before you get to the main event." Great. So, it's that kind of party.
"Foreplay." One woman drunkenly declares. There's a chorus of 'yes' from the others, and the woman grins. "'s important."
"Yeah, but-" Straus hiccups. "-how long after he's actually… you know…"
"Oh. I'm good with ten minutes."
"No, you're wrong, Ames. It needs to be longer than that." Straus turns towards her. "Whadayou think, Counselor?"
"I think it's a personal preference that should be discussed with your partner."
"That's good. Mature." One of the women giggles.
"She has to be. She's dating an older man."
"I'll bet that experience comes in handy." It feels a little too warm for her tastes. "Speaking of hands, is he good with his, Fairchild? What with being a doctor?"
"The only hands I'm interested in right now are yours, Straus. If you can just hold them out-" Straus does as she says and she snaps a picture.
"Isn't her ring beautiful?" Ames asks, staring longingly at the stone.
"It is."
"What kind of a ring do you think you'll have, Counselor?"
"She's not going to say." Straus shakes her head so hard that her hair hits her in the face. "She's so…"
"Private?" Amelia suggests.
"Yes! But everyone knows they're in it for the long haul. I heard Dr. McCoy say to Captain Kirk-" As Straus recounts what she thinks she knows, one of the women approaches her.
"You have really pretty hair."
"Thank you."
"Like, really pretty. 's it natural?"
"It is."
"Can I touch it?" She needs to get out of here.
"Straus, thank you for your time."
"You don't have to go." Oh, she's pretty sure she does. "Have a drink with us first."
"I really should be getting started on this-"
"Come on. Just one." With a sigh, she lifts her glass and, in one go, throws back the contents. That apparently is the right course of action if the clapping and laughter are anything to judge from.
"Have a good night, ladies." This time, no one tries to stop her as she leaves.
It's been a while since she drank, so the shot she just took is beginning to take effect when she reaches deck seven. It's not enough for her to feel more than a little warm and make her head swim, but she's sure Leonard will notice. He's in her quarters when she arrives and, glancing up from his PADD, offers her a smile.
"Let me guess. They held you hostage until you had a drink with them."
"Are you omniscient by chance?"
"No. Abrams just did the same thing to me." He offers her the PADD. "I hope the picture came out alright. I wasn't sure what angle you wanted."
"I'm sure it'll be fine." It would have been easier to take a picture of the two of them holding hands, but by the time she thought of that, they'd already left her office, and she wasn't about to track them down. Settling into place on the sofa, she removes her charcoals and opens her sketchpad.
"Are bachelorette parties as stupid as bachelor parties?"
"Moreso, I think. Although I've never been to a bachelor party, so I can't draw an accurate comparison."
"So that doesn't appeal to you?"
"No. I'd much rather have a night in with Nyota, Christine, and a bottle of wine than take shots and talk about-" She stops short.
"Talk about what?"
"Trust me. You don't want to know." They sit in silence as she sketches a rough outline. It's not a project she's particularly finding pleasurable, but it's still engrossing enough that she doesn't realize how much time has passed until she feels fingertips brushing her hair behind her ears. It's gentle, the press of lips against her shoulder, but still suggestive.
"You need to turn in, Amelia."
"Sleep isn't what you're after."
"No, but you always sleep after what I'm suggesting." Despite herself, she can feel a smile creeping across her face. "Is that a yes?"
"Just let me wash the charcoal off my hands first."
"And the tip of your nose. You rubbed it when you were thinking." Standing, she places the still incomplete drawing on her desk and starts towards the bathroom.
She knows what will happen once she steps outside. He'll be waiting for her in bed and will reach out and take her hand, pulling her in the right direction. There will be a slow kiss that starts out gentle but grows more heated until it's searing by the end. Of course, it will only end long enough to shed their clothes, him pushing her hair out of the way before asking her, 'Is this okay?' as a preface to easing down the zipper of her uniform. It always is okay, but she appreciates being asked, especially after years with someone who just took it for granted.
She isn't sure who will be on top tonight. They usually trade off on that. It doesn't matter. It's more about effort than control. She's always found good sex to resemble a conversation: an ebb and flow with both parties giving and taking in turn. Sometimes one person carries most of the weight. Other times it's equal. But it won't work if both aren't willing and eager participants. That's not going to be an issue for her tonight.
Amelia dabs at her nose in the mirror and decides to go ahead and remove all of her makeup. She doesn't wear much simply because she doesn't know how to do it. Just enough to cover the occasional stubble rash or love bite. Tomorrow she'll have both along with bruises on her thighs in the shape of his fingertips. It's only fair that he'll have fresh scratches down his back from her nails.
He's never left her after the act itself is over. It's always a precursor to spending the night in one or the other's bed. Usually, the longest he goes away is to retrieve a cloth from the bathroom to clean the mess left over between her thighs. The first time, it shocked her. No one else had cared for her after getting what they wanted, so she was used to handling it herself. With that out of the way, he'll return to bed and hold her until she falls asleep, completely sated and in the arms of someone she loves and trusts. Marriage or not, that's something she could do for the rest of her life.
There's nothing else to do so, finally, she steps out the door. Just as she predicted, he's waiting for her. As he takes her hand, he asks,
"You seem very contemplative. What's going on?"
"Just reminiscing."
"About?"
"Other nights like this."
"Good memories?"
"The very best."
Leonard McCoy:
Leonard has been to a handful of weddings on board the Enterprise. The ceremonies vary depending on cultural or religious preferences, but they all boil down to the same thing: a promise to love, honor and cherish so long as both shall live. He knows from experience that it doesn't always work out that way, but he thinks that Abrams and Straus have a good chance at it. Which reminds him of others who have a good chance…
The party that follows is loud. Both the bride and groom are young and extroverted, so it's to be expected. He's as much for celebrating as the next person, but eventually it's too much for Amelia and when she walks out, he follows.
She's standing in the corridor just outside the recreation room that's being used for today's festivities and when she sees him, she offers him a questioning look.
"You didn't have to leave just because I did."
"If my partner is done for the day, then so am I."
"I'm not done. They still haven't cut the replicated cake."
"Sounds appetizing." They're silent for a few moments, then-
"It was a nice ceremony, I thought. I've never been to one on a starship before."
"Jim does a good job. But it's not really about the ceremony at the end of the day, is it?"
"No, I suppose that could be a total disaster and as long as they came away with a lifelong commitment, it would be alright." He should do it. Just ask her. Otherwise, he'll never know.
"Amelia, what's your opinion on marriage?"
"In general, or-"
"Personally." She chuckles.
"Now that's a difficult question."
"Why?"
"Because you're the one asking."
"Then pretend it's someone else. Uhura or Chapel."
"In that case…" She sighs. "I would tell them that I'm all for marriage, but it's not a goal of mine to enter into one. I would with the right person, but I'd just as easily live beside them without a marriage certificate."
"So, you're ambivalent?"
"No. I just know that not all marriages are good and not all good relationships are marriages. And…"
"And?" Blue eyes peer into his as she tells him,
"And I've found the person I want to spend my life with. Whatever form that takes, I'm committed." So that's not a no. It's putting the ball back in his court. She'll marry him if that's what he wants. But if he doesn't, she's still his. And he thought he couldn't love her any more than he already did.
"Amelia-" A young woman pokes her head out the door and motions for them to step inside.
"Dr. McCoy, Counselor Fairchild, come on. They're about to cut the cake." Amelia arches an eyebrow, and he struggles not to laugh, instead following his partner back through the doors.
They may be on a starship, but the tradition of throwing rice at the departing couple has stayed the same. The Abramses duck and cover, smiles on their faces as they race down the hall towards the turbolift. Of course, after they're gone, a few of the ensigns and younger lieutenants begin a food fight, throwing rice at each other, which is his cue to leave. He offers Amelia his hand, which she readily takes and, keeping their heads down, they make their way out as well. Unfortunately, their escape attempt is blocked off by Jim and Uhura who somehow have managed to corner the market on rice, and by the time they reach the safety of the turbolift, he's got rice in places it never should be while Amelia is tugging at the sleeves of her dress uniform, sending the grains flying.
"I feel sorry for maintenance."
"They don't get paid enough."
"Did they have to throw it overhand?" He snickers at that.
"Once we get back to our quarters, we'll shower."
"Separate quarters, or-"
"Mine, unless you want to go back to yours." She doesn't answer, but as they enter the corridor, she heads towards his door.
The shower is really too small for two people, so they're practically on top of each other. It's too awkward to do anything even slightly suggestive, and as soon as he can rinse off, he steps out and retreats towards his bed, laying out a set of pajamas for her to put on. It takes her longer, which is good, because it gives him time to think. The discussion they were having earlier got tabled thanks to another person barging in, but it still needs to be finished. There's no better time to do it than now.
Amelia steps out of the bathroom, still damp, and settles on the edge of his bed to pull on her pajamas. He watches her as she towels off her hair, trying to find the right words. Finally, he decides to just say it.
"Amelia, I've thought about what you said earlier."
"Which part?"
"About how a marriage isn't always good, and a good relationship isn't always a marriage. You said you're committed. So am I. There's a question I've been meaning to ask you-" She freezes, hands stilling on the towel. "-and I think I know what you'd say. I won't ask it. Not unless you tell me you want me to. But just know that if you ever do decide that you do want that, I'll do it without hesitation."
"I see." That's it. She doesn't say anything more, instead pulling on her pajamas and climbing into bed next to him. It feels like something's been left unsaid, but he pushes that thought to the side in favor of concentrating on her body curled against his. Eventually, he tells the computer to turn out the lights and, with her head on his chest, closes his eyes in preparation for sleep. In fact, he's almost there when he feels her shift. "Leonard?"
"Yes, Amelia?"
"Ask me."
"Are you sure?"
"I am. I want you in every way I can have you. Including this one. I just didn't think…"
"Didn't think what?"
"That you'd want to try again." He didn't. Not ever. And then he met a redhead with eyes so blue you could drown in them, and she keeps changing his mind.
"I do. As long as you want that too." There's a lot of ways he's imagined doing this, but lying in bed next to her wasn't one of them. Still, it seems fitting so, taking her hand, he asks, "Amelia Jane Fairchild, will you marry me?"
"I will." There wasn't a huge amount of anticipation. He knew what her answer would be. Still, a sense of relief, and yes, elation, floods through him and he laughs, her giving in as well.
"That's good."
"I thought so." There are plans to be made. A future to look forward to. And Joanna to tell. But for right now, all of that can wait. Amelia is his, and equally, he is hers.
"Goodnight, Darling."
"Goodnight." He closes his eyes and allows her slow, steady breathing to lull him to sleep.