Leonard McCoy
It's rare for Leonard to wake up before Amelia's alarm, but it happens on occasion. This morning is an example of that. He just lies there next to her, listening to her even breaths as she sleeps. That is until, with a discontented noise, she rolls over to face him.
"What are you doing awake?"
"Good morning to you too, Amelia."
"Good morning. What are you doing awake?"
"I heard a noise in sickbay."
"Did you-"
"I didn't. M'Benga and Perez are on duty." Ever since the argument a few weeks ago, he's made an effort to leave work at work and she's made an effort to be home during her hours off. Things still come up, but he has every confidence in his medical team. That, and despite their marriage, they still share his old quarters next to sickbay, so if something were amiss, M'Benga could come and get him.
"How long ago was that noise?"
"Around ten minutes ago." She stretches and, reaching for her PADD, inputs her passcode.
"We've got five minutes until my alarm would have gone off anyway."
"That's vaguely irritating."
"What can I do to help relieve that irritation?" Now there's an idea, but there's no time. Except for maybe…
"You can get over here." She returns the PADD to its place and lies down next to him once more. He allows his hands to travel, tracing lightly over her arms. "Have I told you lately how beautiful you are?"
"It's dark. You can't see me." Maybe not, but he can hear the smile in her voice.
"I don't need to see you to know that." Her hand finds his, fingertips brushing against his knuckles.
"Doctor, is it possible that underneath it all, you're a sentimentalist?"
"I don't know, Counselor. Is that a diagnosis?"
"Just an observation." Maybe she's right. He's not one to readily express things like this to the average person, but Amelia is not average. She's safety and warmth, comfort after a long day and just enough challenge to keep you on your toes.
"Well, keep it to yourself. I don't want word getting out." She chuckles and, resting on her elbows, leans over to kiss him.
There's something to be said for waking up early because it results in mornings like this. There's no rush. In the dark, soft words and even softer touches have a home. The roles they'll have to take on are still a distant idea. But of course, it can't last, and with the blaring of her alarm, it ends for another day. With a groan, he lets her go.
"Will you shut that thing off?"
"Computer, raise up lights." She says it as she silences the PADD. The lights turn on, leaving him squinting.
"Was it just me or was that a short five minutes?"
"Not just you." Giving his shoulder a parting squeeze, she climbs out of bed. She'll be heading for the shower, and then to the training room. Once the door to the bathroom slides closed behind her, he climbs out of bed. Time to get ready for the day.
Most married couples relocate to larger two-person quarters after making things official. In their case, it didn't happen because they both agreed that the proximity to sickbay and in turn, the counselor's office, was worth sacrificing a bit of space. The downside to that is that there's not much storage. Maybe on their next assignment things will change. Or maybe if they retire… but that's not what he needs to think about right now. Pulling on his clothes doesn't take long and they've gotten used to stepping over each other in their morning routines, so he doesn't hesitate to invade the bathroom to shave and brush his teeth.
It never takes her much time to shower, and he's sitting in front of his computer when she emerges, still toweling off her wet hair. He watches her as she dresses and finally turns to him, asking,
"Getting an early start?"
"I thought I'd try to get in touch with Joanna."
"Send her my best."
"She'll be sorry she missed you."
"Not too terribly. I spoke to her yesterday." He barely contains a smile at that. He suspected that Joanna and Amelia would get along, and although there's been some awkwardness, the two most important women in his life are establishing a relationship. Which reminds him-
"What did you talk about?"
"That's private."
"So now the two of you are keeping secrets from me?"
"There are certain things you tell another woman that you wouldn't discuss with your father." He grimaces, imagining just what that could be.
"Never mind. I don't think I want to know." She snickers and, giving his hand a squeeze, murmurs a quiet, 'I love you' before heading out the door. He waits until she's gone before telling his device,
"Computer on. Begin video transmission. Recipient: Joanna McCoy." The screen changes, revealing quarters similar to what he stayed in when he visited Deep Space Six a few months ago. That and Joanna, wearing her nurse's uniform.
"Hi, Dad. I don't have much time."
"Neither do I. Are you going to work or getting off?"
"Getting off. I have a date." As she says it, she sits and starts unpinning her hair.
"You do?"
"Yes, and I really like her."
"What's her name?"
"Maria. She's a security officer."
"Maria the security officer. What do you like so much about her?"
"I don't know. She makes me laugh. She's kind, especially to kids. And she's… well…" Her hands still where she was working her finger through her hair.
"She's what?"
"Don't make me spell it out for you."
"Got it."
"Has Amelia left already? She's a morning exerciser, right?"
"She is and she has."
"Poor Dad. Left all on your own."
"It's a real travesty."
"Anything new on the Enterprise?" Yes, as a matter of fact. His head nurse and one of his two best friends have paired off together, but that's probably not something she'd care about.
"Not really. Same old, 'visit a planet, almost killed'. What about on Deep Space Six?"
"Same old, 'crooked merchant slash patient contracting a venereal disease'."
"Sounds fun."
"It's a blast." She sighs. "Alright, I need to change clothes, so you have to go."
"Okay. I love you, Joanna. I'll talk to you soon."
"Love you, Dad. And tell Amelia that I love her too."
"You do?"
"Yeah. As far as stepmothers go, she's on the non-wicked side of things." Chuckling, he orders the computer to end transmission. That leaves him with another fifty minutes to kill before he can reasonably go up to mess. Maybe some reading. There's always another medical journal to examine.
The minutes pass quickly, and before he's aware of it, his PADD reads zero seven hundred hours. Powering it down, he stands and leaves his quarters. There are a few people in the hallway outside of sickbay, some of whom wave or offer a good morning, which he returns. The turbolift is crowded like it always is this time of day, and it takes longer than it should to reach the proper deck, but once he's there, he sees Jim and Spock heading into mess, so he knows he won't have to wait for their company. He grabs a tray when he enters the room and heads over to the replicator, idly wondering what Amelia will be getting for breakfast.
"There he is." Jim greets him as he slides into his seat. "I was beginning to think you weren't coming."
"Time just got away from me."
"Ah. Would that have anything to do with our ship's counselor?" He starts to speak, but before he can-
"Negative, Captain. Counselor Fairchild was instructing a yoga class this morning."
"How do you know that?"
"Because Christine planned to be in attendance."
"'Christine.' That's awfully familiar, wouldn't you say, Jim?" The captain grins.
"I'd say so."
"It is the way that Dr. McCoy referred to his partner before she became his wife."
"So that's what you are? Partners?"
"Affirmative." Turning to Jim, he asks,
"What does that even look like?"
"I would assume it's very logical."
"That begs the question of what your marriage looks like, Doctor." He shrugs.
"It looks like a marriage, Spock. Two people who love each other and have made a legal commitment living and working together."
"Is it a state that you would recommend, Bones?" Before he gets a chance to answer, he catches sight of brilliant red hair. She's just sat down at the table next to theirs, Uhura and Chapel with her. When he looks away, he sees that Spock is staring in the same direction. Jim sighs and, setting down his fork, enquires, "Neither of you are going to be able to focus unless we invite them over, are you?"
"No."
"Negative."
"Then, I would suggest one of you go over there and ask them to join us." He thinks about doing it, but Spock is faster. It's not too great of a distance, so he can still hear when his friend informs them,
"The captain, Dr. McCoy, and I would be pleased if you would join us for this morning's meal."
"Boy, he knows how to sweet talk." Jim snickers and tears off a piece of toast, plopping it in his mouth. It might not be the most romantic invitation, but it works because, first Chapel, then Amelia, then Uhura stand and, carrying their trays, approach their table. It'll be crowded, but he's not opposed to brushing elbows with his wife, so he scoots over, allowing her to take the seat next to him.
"Hi, Darling."
"Hi." Spock settles back into place, Chapel next to him, leaving Jim and Uhura sitting opposite them.
"Are we all going to be capable of holding a conversation now?" Amelia offers him a questioning look, and he shakes his head. "Good. Now Bones, I think you were going to answer that question about marriage?" Glancing over at his wife, he tells them,
"I recommend it."
_
Amelia Fairchild
"You're late." Amelia snickers at Leonard's exclamation as she steps into the turbolift.
"Yes, and you wouldn't be here to tell me that if you weren't running late too."
"I'm a doctor. Not a train conductor."
"So, you got hung up in sickbay?"
"A broken toe. You?"
"Lover's spat." It took them a while, but Straus and Abrams have had their first argument as a married pair.
"What did you think of the briefing?" The planet Sattose Alpha is a class M world with a society that is aware of the existence of other worlds thanks to being visited long ago by those on their more advanced neighboring planet. They still don't have warp capabilities, but what they do possess is a rich culture and an even richer supply of duridium, so the Federation is attempting to strike a bargain with them. One of the cultural anomalies is that there is no such thing as a long-term partner. Just a mate for as long as it takes to conceive a child. Overall-
"It should be interesting."
"I thought so too." The turbolift comes to a halt and they step out into the transporter room. The others are all waiting for them: Captain Kirk, Mr. Spock, and two security officers. Upon their entrance, Kirk chuckles.
"Trust the McCoys to show up together." Technically, she's still a Fairchild, but she keeps that to herself in favor of taking Leonard's hand as he helps her onto the transporter pad. "Are you ready Scotty?"
"Aye, Captain."
"Engage."
The good thing about visiting a world that's already seen plenty of extraterrestrials is that they don't have to be circumspect. There's a welcome party waiting for them when they arrive and, touching his fingertips to his forehead in the traditional greeting, the captain informs them,
"I'm Captain James T. Kirk of the U.S.S. Enterprise. These are my crewmen, Mr. Spock-" The Vulcan indicates his head towards the welcoming committee. "Dr. McCoy, Dr. Fairchild, Lieutenant Johnson, and Lieutenant Andrews."
"Welcome, Captain." The words are addressed to Jim, but the speaker (along with the rest of the party) seems to be staring directly at her, or more accurately Leonard and herself. "I am Lunno. This is my second in command, Hunnus, and my son, Ruddo." They still haven't looked away.
"May we look around? Take a few readings?"
"Of course." The two security men take off, as does Mr. Spock, but she's rooted in place by the stares. Finally, Lunno approaches and, still not looking away from them asks, "Captain, are these the two I requested? The pair that is… what did you call it?"
"Married?"
"Yes." Oh. That explains the fascination.
"You're correct. Dr. McCoy and Dr. Fairchild are what we refer to as husband and wife." Lunno smiles, curiosity evident in his expression.
"How long have the two of you been…"
"Married?" Leonard offers. "Not long. Two months."
"But we were partners for over a year before then."
"A year and no children?" He chuckles.
"I have a daughter from a previous marriage, but Dr. Fairchild claims her as well."
"How sad for you, Dr. Fairchild, that you do not have a child of your own." She starts to frown but catches it just in time.
"I don't think so. Instead, I think of it as getting to love a child I didn't conceive. Do you have examples of that in your society?"
"There are those whose parents have passed onto the next life. They are cared for by all."
"Well, it's sort of like that." Although, that begs the question… "If the parents aren't partners, who raises the children?"
"They stay with their mothers until they reach the age of maturity, then go to their fathers."
"And what is the age of maturity?" Leonard asks.
"The first time a girl has her blood, or a boy grows hair on his chin."
"We call that puberty."
"Puberty." Lunno slowly pronounces. "Is it not so with your people?"
"No. The father and mother share responsibility from birth onward."
"What a novel concept."
"Lunno, isn't it traumatic, going suddenly from being solely under one parent's care to the other's?"
"There are tears shed at first for some, but it is how it has always been done here."
"I see." Clearing his throat, Leonard asks,
"Would two of your people, one male and one female be willing for me to examine them?"
"Of course. Ruddo and his most recent mate, Moora, would be willing. Moora has a child in her belly. Will that interfere?" She can sense his excitement at getting a two for one deal with both a maternal and fetal exam even before she looks at him.
"It would be ideal." Excusing herself, she starts towards the village.
It's not a large collection of buildings. She manages to walk a lap around it twice before being joined by her husband. He's still grinning, tricorder in hand.
"That went well, I take it?"
"Two hearts, Amelia. They have two hearts. One large, one small."
"No wonder you look so happy."
"What about you?" She sighs.
"They have an unusual attitude towards childrearing. The mothers are completely ambivalent to the children after their thirteen or so years with them. And as soon as one child is weened, another is conceived. Many of the women here have seven, eight children. The men have many more."
"And I thought just one was difficult."
"You wouldn't have to be involved for most of their childhoods. Just the teenage years."
"I might not have been around for all of it, but from what I saw with Joanna, I'd take the toddler years over the teenage years any day."
"Wouldn't it be easier once they're more verbal?"
"You'd think so. Of course, Joanna didn't talk until she was four."
"You never told me that before."
"I didn't?" She shakes her head. "We never found out why, but it was years of speech therapy."
"That must've been difficult."
"It was. I was in med school, so I'd stay up at night studying then turn around in the morning and take her to therapy, heading to class afterwards."
"Where was Jocelyn?"
"She was working. One of us had to."
"Well, at least that part of your life is behind you."
"It wasn't all bad. I had more time with Joanna than in any other period of her childhood. It still wasn't enough, though. If I had it to do again, that's one thing I'd change." Reaching out, she takes his hand.
"It worked out, though."
"It did. Thanks in no small part to a redhead with a doctorate." Before she can reply, a heavily pregnant young woman walks (or more accurately, waddles) towards them.
"You are the two who are…"
"Married." Amelia supplies. "Yes, we are."
"Lunno requests your presence for the ceremony of Ba'ku, as well as that of your companions."
"What is the ceremony of Ba'ku?" Leonard asks as they fall into step behind the young woman.
"It is a banquet where we partake in the fruit of Ba'ku. Visitors are not often allowed this honor."
"Thank you, Moora. We are honored."
True to Moora's word, the others are gathered inside a tent when they arrive. There are a few Sattosans present, and in the center of it all is an ornately carved dish piled high with shiny red fruit. No sooner has she taken a seat on the floor between a security officer and Leonard than the procession of food begins. All the dishes are unfamiliar, but she takes what appears to be a salad and some sort of rib meat. The meal is a raucous affair. However, eventually the last plate is empty and, standing, Lunno announces,
"Now we, along with our honored guests, partake in the bitter fruit of Ba'ku's body." He picks up a fruit and bites into it, the other Sattosans following suit. Hesitantly, she takes one of the fruits and, waiting for the others in her party, bites down.
Bitter is right. It tastes of bile, and she struggles not to spit it out. If the circumstances were different, the faces pulled by the other would be funny, but as it stands, she's concentrating on not being sick, so the effect is lost on her. And somehow, she's supposed to get the entire fruit down. It's difficult, but she succeeds, as do the others and, thanking Lunno for his hospitality, the captain stands. That's her cue to leave.
Once she's outside and out of view of the tent, she leans over next to a tree and spits harshly. It doesn't do much to remove the taste from her mouth, but it makes her feel better. She feels a hand between her shoulder blades and, wiping her mouth, looks up.
"Are you alright?"
"I'm fine. Just unladylike." Leonard chuckles.
"I don't think I've ever been as eager to brush my teeth as I am now."
"Is that the worst alien cuisine you've ever had to endure?"
"Yes." She snickers.
"Glad to hear I wasn't being oversensitive." Speaking of oversensitive, Andrews approaches and he's got another one of the fruits in hand. To her surprise, he takes a bite, barely grimacing.
"Did you just see-"
"Yeah, I did." He approaches the security officer, frowning. "Something wrong with your tastebuds, Lieutenant?"
"It's actually not so bad once you get used to it."
"If you say so."
"We should probably be getting back." She offers. "It's late, and I'm sure the captain will want to return to the ship soon." Leonard nods in agreement, but as for Andrews, he's staring straight into the swiftly growing shadows. "Are you alright, Lieutenant?"
"Doc, Counselor, are you seeing this?" She looks in the direction he's pointing. All she sees is a shaded area.
"Seeing what?" The Lieutenant's face morphs into a mask of terror.
"It's coming towards us!"
"What is?"
"The shadow. It has a face. The most terrifying eyes that stare right into your soul. And fangs." He takes off at a run, leaving them to follow. The good news is that Andrews only gets as far as the tent they were previously in before running directly into Captain Kirk. The bad news is that he nearly bowls the captain over. That and the other security officer is leaning heavily on Mr. Spock, a loopy grin on his face.
"At ease, Lieutenant. Bones, we've got a situation." He already has the medical tricorder and scanner out, approaching the terrified security officer.
"His heart is beating out of his chest, Jim. Temperature is up, and brain activity is all over the place. Add that to the seeing things that aren't there, if I didn't know better, I'd say he's on hallucinogens." Wait-
"Are you saying he's tripping?" Her question is met with a nod.
"Not to put too fine a point on it."
"Mr. Spock, what was in those apples?" The captain asks.
"No known hallucinogens, Captain." A chuckle reaches her ears, and she turns towards Lunno.
"Your men are enjoying the effects of Ba'ku's fruit, I take it."
"You mean the seeing things is normal?"
"Yes. It is how we honor Ba'ku the seer."
"How long does it last?"
"A few hours for some. Days for others."
"So, tolerances differ." Leonard's question is met with a nod. "Damn it. And we've all ingested it…" Without replying, Kirk attempts to dig out his communicator (no small feat considering he's still holding back a panicking security officer). Her husband turns to her, concern written on his face. "Amelia, how do you feel?"
"I'm fine. Why?"
"Because you weigh less than the rest of us, so it's safe to assume you'll be the most affected."
"I don't know about that. My tolerance was pretty high in college when I experimented with marijuana."
"You…" She frowns. Not the discussion they need to be having right now. "… and mine was pretty low."
"Don't look so worried. They didn't mention overdoses. The worst that can happen is that we go on a trip for a while."
"The worst that can happen? Isn't that enough?"
"You were one of the ones who got paranoid, weren't you?" She doesn't get a reply because that's when the captain finally manages to get his communicator free and announce,
"Kirk to Enterprise. Six to beam up."
Leonard McCoy
"Dr. McCoy, will you sit down?" It's more of a demand than a question. Leonard opens his mouth to tell Chapel to leave him be (he's a doctor, damn it, and there are people in need of medical care), but that's when he sees it. A swirling black vortex where the doors to sickbay should be. That can only mean one thing.
"I think I'm starting to feel something."
"You should be. Your heartrate is through the roof, as is your temperature. That's not even to mention brain activity-"
"I know!" And now he's shouting at his head nurse. "I know the symptoms of a hallucinogen-induced state, Nurse."
"Then you should also know that you're of no use to anyone until this passes." That makes sense, but he still has a nagging question.
"Amelia. Is she-"
"Not in danger, from what I can tell."
"But she's a lot smaller than the rest of us." So small. Tiny, really. Fragile. Where the hell is she?
"Be that as it may, she's holding up a lot better than you." Chapel indicates the ICU. "See for yourself. She's fine. All of you are. Just… well…"
"High, Nurse. High as damned kites." The vortex… it's following him. Blinking rapidly in an attempt to clear his vision, he asks, "Did you take blood samples-"
"Yes."
"From all of us?"
"I did. They're in the lab."
"And did you run-"
"A full spectral analysis on both the fruit and your blood. I've done it, and M'Benga has the results. Now, go sit down." With a sigh, he steps around the vortex. Is it just him, or is it hot in here? He shakes his head. Chapel might be doing everything she can, but he's still got patients to see.
Jim is in a defensive crouch next to the biobed and he's staring intently at something in front of him. As Leonard approaches, the captain doesn't look away. He considers snapping his fingers in the other man's face, but instead kneels next to him and asks,
"Do you think you'll blink anytime soon?"
"I can't, Bones. They'll get me if I do."
"Who?"
"The angels. They're crying. Weeping like their hearts are broken."
"They can't get you. They're a hallucination." His friend takes a shaky breath.
"Who's going to tell them that?" The same person who's going to make the vortex go away would be his guess. Standing, he approaches Spock. The Vulcan is weaving from side to side, grinning.
"Enjoying yourself, Mr. Spock?" If he didn't know any better, he'd accuse Spock of giggling.
"The butterflies are dancing, Doctor. It is most amusing." He wouldn't have marked Spock down as the happy kind of tripper. Which reminds him-
"Have you seen Amelia?"
"I believe the counselor is in your office." Spock reaches out and bats at something. "Please move. You're disrupting the ballet."
"Wouldn't want to do that." The vortex is starting to growl now, sounding oddly like a bear. Or possibly a demon from an old Earth film. He closes his eyes and balls his hands into fists. It's just a hallucination. Just a hallucination. He's a doctor, damn it! He will not be outsmarted by an apple!
Unfortunately, closing his eyes does nothing. Even more unfortunately, in his attempt to open his office door, he accidentally presses the buzzer and an expletive issues from the room within. He steps over the threshold and comes face to face with Amelia. Her pupils are blown, and she's flushed. That and the vortex is trying to eat her.
"Damn it, Leonard! That was an orange sound."
"An orange sound?" She nods.
"I don't like orange very much."
"So now you're seeing sounds?"
"And smelling colors. It's possible that the fruit was a little more potent than what I used to smoke."
"Any feelings of impending doom or dread? Anxiety?"
"I'm fine. You, on the other hand… your aura is black. That's not good."
"Is my aura growling by any chance?"
"What?"
"Nothing. You should probably sit down."
"Only if you're coming with me." He takes her hand and leads her away from the edge of the vortex towards his desk.
"Could you move a little to your left? You're about to fall in."
"Fall into what?"
"A black hole, basically."
"So, you're that kind of tripper."
"Looks that way. And it also looks like you've done this before."
"Not the hard stuff. Just pot. It's legal, so it doesn't count."
"And I'm guessing you were a happy stoner?" She chuckles a little too enthusiastically.
"Oh yeah. I was the friendliest person you'll ever meet. That and the hungriest. What about you?"
"I was barricading the doors and listening for the cops to show up." Her forehead wrinkles.
"But marijuana has been legal everywhere on Earth-"
"Since the twenty-first century? I know. But I was convinced I was about to be arrested for something I couldn't remember doing."
"So how do you feel now?" Other than the fact that he's pretty certain a black hole is about to devour the ship?
"I feel like I never want to do this ever again."
"Agreed." She sighs. "Is it cold in here? I'm freezing."
"Are you sure about that? Because you're flushed." The response is a shiver. "Okay, you're sure. Come here. I think I'm warm enough for both of us." Sliding down from her place on the desk (and straight into the vortex… somehow it doesn't seem to like her very much) she approaches him, and he pulls her into his arms.
"Have you always been this small?"
"I think so." She's petite with the bones of a hummingbird. It's a wonder that she doesn't shatter in his grasp. So very delicate and space is so very dangerous. Who the hell thought it was a good idea for someone this breakable to be sent on an exploratory mission? She needs to quit Starfleet. Immediately. Scratch that, they both do so that he can look after her. "Leonard, we're not quitting."
"Can you hear my thoughts?" Is that happening again?
"You said that out loud. The part about me being fragile and needing to retire."
"We could do it. You and me." She frowns.
"That's a pink idea."
"Is that good or bad?"
"To be determined."
Amelia Fairchild
Amelia is sure her head has hurt worse at some point, but she can't remember when. She felt very cold when she was under the influence of the fruit of Ba'ku thanks to her fever. Now she's covered in dry sweat. That and completely exhausted. It took her longer than everyone else to sober up, nearly twenty-four hours. Now all she wants is to sleep. She closes her eyes, only for the door to open.
"Darling, you need to wake up." With a groan, she pushes herself into an upright position.
"I wasn't sleeping. Yet."
"Well, you can as soon as you drink something. Now, open your eyes." She does as she's told, gaze resting on a concerned-looking Leonard. He offers her a glass, which she takes, swallowing the liquid within.
"What is that?"
"It's an electrolyte compound."
"It's disgustingly sweet."
"Better than Ba'ku fruit, at least."
"Don't remind me." Narrowing her eyes at him, she asks,
"How long since it wore off for you?"
"Eight hours. I just got my legs back under me around two hours ago."
"So are you here in an official capacity, or-"
"No. As a husband who's helping his wife down from a long trip."
"Then is there anything stopping you from lying down with me?"
"I can't think of anything." Kicking off his shoes, he settles into place next to her and starts to pull her against him.
"Leonard, I'm covered in dried sweat."
"I don't care." Despite how uncomfortable she feels, it's nice to be lying in the arms of someone she loves and trusts, so she closes her eyes and allows her body to relax.
"We need to have a conversation, you know."
"About what?"
"What you said when we were out of it."
"Which part?"
"Quitting the fleet." He sighs.
"I was hoping you'd forgotten that."
"Afraid not." A few seconds pass with neither of them saying anything, then-
"Would it be such a bad idea? To get out? You wanted to in the past."
"I did." That was when she saw only one possible future: doing exactly what her boyfriend wanted. Now she sees multiple possibilities. "I don't plan to be a lifer, but if you do, then I can adapt."
"No. I've put in a lot of years. Maybe too many."
"So, you want to leave?"
"One day. I just don't know when that day will be."
"Neither do I. Could you be happy working a nine to five?" He nods.
"I think so. What about you?"
"It would take some getting used to. I've never done it before, but I'll go where you go. If that's what you want, then I can adapt."
"So can I, whichever direction you lean."
"Which means we don't have an answer."
"Looks like it. What do we do about that?"
"I think…" She frowns. "… I think for now, we table this discussion. We'll be returning to Earth in four months, so we'll have to figure out something. My tour is up, and yours is too."
"Four months. That ought to be long enough to make a decision." She should really get up and shower, but as he gently runs his fingers through her tangled hair, a feeling of heaviness settles over her. "Go to sleep, Amelia. We'll figure it out later."