Amelia Fairchild

Over the years, Amelia has seen a lot of reactions to doing yoga. Some people make their way through downward facing dog with a stiff upper lip. Others relax into child pose. There are occasional smiles, sometimes grimaces, but usually no one giggles when they fall over. Especially not when they land as hard as Christine just did. Her friend returns to tree pose, but she still looks far too happy. Of course, that could have had something to do with who helped her to her feet.

The session ends and Amelia retreats to the relative safety of the changing room. Relative, because Nyota is there. She's been friends with the communications officer for nearly two years, and in all that time, the woman's preoccupation with the romantic lives of others hasn't dipped. Her favorite subject used to be Amelia's relationship. Now she has fresh meat in the form of Christine and Mr. Spock. Sure enough, once the changing room empties out, leaving just the three of them, Nyota approaches Christine, a smirk in place.

"I know that look."

"Which look?"

"The happy and relaxed one. Someone didn't go to bed alone last night." Christine ducks her head, cheeks growing pink, but there's a smirk on her lips. Still, Amelia feels the need to protest.

"Nyota, you can't possibly know that. Not for sure."

"Two words, Amelia. Yesterday morning." And now the room feels a bit warm to her too.

"How can you tell?" Christine asks.

"Simple. She was wearing makeup. She only does that when she's trying to cover a love bite. She sweated it off after the run, and the mark below her ear was fresh. Plus, she was running late, and she was practically glowing, like you are now. So, how was it?" The head nurse doesn't answer, but her smile doesn't dim. "You know if you don't say anything, I'll have to make something up."

"You do have an active imagination." Nyota just smirks at Christine's words, and turns towards-

"What do you think, Amelia? My bet's on Spock being a gentlemen in the streets and a monster in the sheets." She really shouldn't… but turnabout is fair play, and she still hasn't forgiven them for all of the times they've heckled her.

"I would assume that whatever happened was a logical progression in the relationship."

"They've been dating for… how long now, Christine?"

"Four months."

"Four months, so it makes sense that they'd get to that point sooner or later. How long was it for you, Amelia?" She really brought this on herself.

"Three."

"So really, they're behind schedule."

"You can't put a timeline on something like this."

"I can, and I am."

"Well, you're both wrong." Christine tells them as she picks up her bag. "What you're implying didn't happen."

"But something did." Nyota crosses her arms as they walk out the doors. "So, spill." To her credit, Christine doesn't say anything until they reach the turbolift, but once they're safely inside, she informs them,

"Technically… that… didn't happen, but it was a near miss."

"How near?" This time she doesn't say anything. "Come on. I'm not getting any, and the most I've ever gotten out of Amelia was that it took her three months to wind up in bed with Dr. McCoy."

"I shouldn't have even told you that much."

"Honey, it's been almost two years. It's about time you cracked. Plus, I knew the next morning. Christmas, right?" Nyota is frighteningly accurate. But she can't say that, so she goes with,

"You're seeing plenty of action, Nyota. You have hopefuls lining up around the block for you."

"Yes, but that's for a night or two. This is long-term. It's romantic. Not just sexy."

"I don't know what to tell you, Nyota. Spock is private." They step out of the turbolift, Amelia first, then Nyota and Christine.

"Well, is he a good kisser?" No response. "You can't even tell me that much?"

"I'm very satisfied with his capabilities." Nyota laughs triumphantly.

"Yes! That's what I'm talking about! Give me the details."

"We usually spend the evenings in my quarters."

"What do you do?"

"Just talk, mostly."

"About?" Christine chuckles.

"Everything." She shouldn't do this, but it's low-hanging fruit.

"Are they logical discussions?" That sends both of the other women into fits of laughter.

"Some of them." Christine nods. "Other times he asks for my opinion as a human."

"That's sweet." Her comment makes the nurse's cheeks heat up.

"He can be."

"So, that begs the most important question." Nyota asks it as they step into the mess hall. "Is it love, or just a crush?"

"Nyota!" Christine looks around, and Amelia turns away as well. Leonard is at the table usually shared by himself, the captain, and Mr. Spock, but he's alone for now.

"You're safe. He's not here." Leaning closer to them, Christine says,

"I thought I loved him for all those years, but that was infatuation. This is the real thing." Speaking of the real thing…

"I'll see you both later."

"Amelia, where are you going?" Not bothering to reply, she starts across the mess hall, only just hearing, "I really should've seen that one coming." As she approaches the table, he looks up, expression softening.

"Hi, Darling."

"Hello." She takes a seat opposite him.

"What had Uhura so excited?"

"She's digging for dirt."

"Did you give her any?"

"Inadvertently, but nothing she hadn't already deduced."

"Is that why you're over here instead of with your designated morning companions?"

"No, I was wondering if you spoke with Joanna today."

"I did. Why?"

"Because I think things are getting serious with Maria." His eyebrows shoot up at that.

"it's only been a few months-"

"Sometimes that's all it takes."

"So, what do I do about it?"

"You be happy for her."

"I'll try, but I still think she's a baby in a nurse's uniform."

"She's twenty-two years old."

"Don't remind me."

"Counselor-" She glances up at the sound of Captain Kirk's voice.

"Good morning, Captain. I'm in your spot, aren't I?" He smirks.

"You are, but in the name of maintaining good husband-wife liaisons, I'll allow it. And speaking of liaisons-" He indicates the replicator, where Christine and Mr. Spock are standing, barely any space between them.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say that's a happy Vulcan." Barely containing a laugh, she gives Leonard's hand a squeeze under the table.

"I have to be getting back now."

"Don't forget to stop by sickbay and let Chapel examine you." That's right. It's the one-month follow up after the transplant surgery as well as time for her yearly physical.

"I'll remember. See you at lunch?"

"See you then."

Leonard McCoy

With only two months to go until the Enterprise's five-year mission ends, Leonard is staying busy. Mainly because he has to conduct parting physicals on the entire crew (well, minus the few that Chapel and M'Benga cover). His afternoon is full to the brim, not the least of which is-

"Spock." His friend indicates his head towards him.

"Doctor."

"If you'll give me a minute, we'll get started."

"My plan was to give you exactly sixty of them." He sighs.

"We'll start with the stress test."

Unsurprisingly, that turns nothing up. The Vulcan is stronger than a human could hope to be with a ridiculously high level of endurance. His heart rate and respiration barely pick up during the fifteen minutes until Leonard decides enough is enough.

"Alright, you can stop. You're going to outlive us all."

"A likely scenario. The lifespan of a Vulcan is much longer than that of a human."

"And with that cheery reminder, lie back on the biobed." As he does so, the monitor chirps. "Your heart rate and temperature are abysmal, which means you're completely healthy. Sit up. We've just got the scan left." As Spock sits, he retrieves his medical scanner and tricorder. He's not really expecting to find anything, but it's good to be thorough.

"Doctor, I have an area of interest in which your expertise could be useful."

"And what's that?" There's scar tissue from where Spock took a bullet a few years back and later from where the tumor was removed, but other than that… huh. Heartbeat is a little fast. If he didn't know better, he'd say that Spock is nervous.

"You are involved in both a romantic and physical relationship with Counselor Fairchild, correct?"

"Are you asking me if I sleep with my wife?"

"I would assume that you do. You share quarters and a bed, so it is a logical conclusion that you would enter a REM cycle in close proximity." That's not what he meant.

"Fine. Yes, there is a romantic relationship as well as a physical one. Is that your burning question?"

"Negative."

"I thought that felt a little too easy."

"Would you consider both aspects of your relationship to be successful?"

"I would."

"And what would your advice be if I were to attempt to engage in the physical aspect?" Wait-

"Are you asking me for sex advice?"

"Affirmative." He doesn't get paid enough for this.

"Spock, I know for a fact that you're not exactly a blushing virgin. You've slept-" No, he won't go for that one. "-engaged in coitus with one of my patients."

"I have, as you said, 'engaged in coitus' with six individuals in my lifetime. Five of which were Vulcans. The sixth was a human. However, I was under the influence of spores-"

"I remember."

"So that throws the credence of that engagement into question."

"I'm still not sure how I can help you."

"You can explain to me what a human female expects from a sexual act." Definitely not paid enough. Crossing his arms, he asks,

"Why me? Why not go to Jim with this? I can guarantee he has plenty of experiences to draw from."

"The captain may be experienced in sexual congress, but all of his relationships have ended. Yours is ongoing."

"And you want to see this relationship continue, I'm assuming?"

"That would be the most desirable outcome." Alright. He can do this. Spock is a friend and he's in need of guidance… about how to sleep with his head nurse. Scratch that. He's out.

"This isn't a conversation I was planning to have today."

"I would presume not."

"Which is why we're not having it."

"Doctor-"

"I mean it, Spock."

"I understand, Doctor. I have made you uncomfortable."

"Immensely so."

"I was unaware that you were sexually repressed-"

"I'm not. Just-" Pinching at the bridge of his nose, he tells him, "Alright. Fine. I'll point you in the right direction."

"Point me in the right direction?"

"Just…" Tonight's one of those nights where he's going to make friends with a bottle of whiskey. He can just tell. "… if you need information on techniques, check the ship library's selection of erotica, but take that with a grain of salt."

"I fail to see what salt has to do with copulation."

"I mean don't believe everything you read."

"I understand."

"And if you need advice on the romantic side of things, my advice would be to ask a woman. It's a guarantee she would know what she likes better than a man would."

"I see." Standing, Spock informs him, "Thank you, Doctor. I will take your advice."

"Great."

"I will conduct an interview with Counselor Fairchild after my shift ends this evening."

"That's not-" And, he's out the door. "-what I meant." With a groan, he sets down the medical equipment and makes his way towards his wife's office. The doors are open, and she's sitting at her desk, forehead wrinkled in concentration. It's a sight that makes him smile despite the awkwardness of what he's about to do.

"Something I can help you with, Doctor?"

"There is." He steps over the threshold and approaches her desk. "But I need to speak to Amelia, not Counselor Fairchild." She sets down the PADD and offers him a smile.

"You can have around five minutes, then I really have to get back to these reports."

"It won't take that long. I just needed to warn you about something."

"What's that?"

"Spock is planning to stop by sometime this afternoon. He wants advice."

"I suppose that's to be expected, being in a relatively new relationship."

"Advice of a sexual nature."

"Excuse my lack of eloquence, but what the hell?"

"It might or might not be my fault."

"How so?"

"He came to me, and I advised him to talk to a woman. He made the leap that I meant you."

"I see." She sighs. "Thank you for warning me. I'll try to come up with something logical enough for him to understand."

"So, you're going to do it?" She nods.

"Christine is my friend, and Mr. Spock is yours. I feel a sense of responsibility to make sure he's getting his information from a reliable source."

"Amelia, it's possible that you're a better friend than I am."

"It's possible. It's also equally possible that I lack common sense." He chuckles and, giving her hand a squeeze, retreats towards sickbay. This is a task he doesn't envy her… although he is curious as to what she'll say to Spock.

Amelia Fairchild

Amelia is just preparing to leave for dinner when she hears the buzzing outside the doors. It's the end of her shift, and a certain Vulcan has yet to show up, so she feels almost certain that she knows who it is.

"Enter." She mentally steels herself to have an… intimate… conversation with Mr. Spock. Sure enough, it's him.

"Counselor. Am I to assume that Dr. McCoy has informed you of the reason behind my visit?"

"Yes. He warned me that you'd be along." Taking a seat in the chair nearest her desk, she indicates the spot across from her. "Sit. This isn't a conversation I can have standing."

"I fail to see why your position would change your ability to speak."

"Mr. Spock, if you want my help, then we're doing this on my terms. So, sit." He raises an eyebrow but does as she says. "I'm assuming that you know what to do physically when it comes to sex."

"Affirmative. I have extensively studied the anatomy of the human female as well as, upon your husband's suggestion, the ship's selection of erotic literature."

"That's a good starting point, but there's more to it than just inserting tab A into slot B."

"You are referring to the romantic aspect of sex."

"Correct." How does she do this? "Mr. Spock, sex doesn't necessarily have to begin and end in the bedroom. It rarely does in a relationship that goes beyond the physical. Sometimes, it can begin in the mess hall."

"I find the idea of copulating in the mess hall to be both inappropriate and unsanitary."

"I don't mean…" Time to try a different approach. "Maybe I shouldn't have said sex. Intimacy, rather."

"I see." She very much doubts that. "Intimacy is a factor in sex?"

"It's more than a factor. It's the end goal, even beyond orgasms."

"And intimacy begins in the mess hall?"

"As one example, yes. It doesn't have to be overt, something that everyone can see. It can be as simple as taking her hand under the table, then carrying her tray to the receptacle for her. Throughout the day, there's the sharing of subtle glances-"

"Subtle glances?"

"Yes. Not leering, but appreciating what the other person looks like, maybe how they laugh or the way their eyes light up when they're doing something they care about."

"I know what Christine looks like."

"Well, pretend that you don't. Look at her with fresh eyes. Every woman I've encountered who has an interest in sex wants to be looked at by her partner like she's desirable."

"I do find her desirable."

"That certainly makes things easier. You can move on to sharing a good conversation. Probably not a debate, although there's been a few times…" Particularly one last week. They didn't reach a resolution, but it still ended very, very well.
"Counselor?" Clearing her throat, she tells him,

"Maybe work your way up to that." What else? "Not every touch exchanged has to be overtly sexual. Something as simple as fingertips grazing an arm can be sensual if you've already established intimacy." Which leads her to…"I presume you know what acts come before sex?"

"I am familiar with kissing and what I believe is referred to as frottage."

"That's-" Not a conversation she's willing to have, even for Christine. "-anyway, when you get to the point where penetration is clearly the next move, ask permission. It's both good practice and surprisingly sexy." He's said he's aware of what the act itself entails, so she won't have to walk him through that, at least. "After you're finished, check on the other person's mental state as well as their physical one. Sex is as much about the mind as it is the body when you're in a relationship. Does that clear it up for you?"

"Indeed." He stands and tells her, "Thank you for your time, Dr. Fairchild. It was most… illuminating."

"Mr. Spock, after a conversation like that, I believe that it's a requirement to be on a first name basis. Call me Amelia."

"Amelia. You could not pronounce my first name."

"Then I'll just drop the 'mister'."

"That would be acceptable." As he steps out the door, she massages her temples. That could've gone worse. He could have wanted explicit details about the act itself. Christine still owes her one, though. Her door buzzes again and she groans.

"Spock, I'm not sure what more I can tell you-" The doors slide open, revealing her husband. "Leonard."

"Amelia. I just saw Spock leaving, so I guess that means-"

"It's over." She stands and starts towards the door. "Any chance you still have some of the good stuff available?"

"As a matter of fact. Feeling the need for some brain bleach?"

"Oh god, yes." He chuckles.

"Come on. Up to mess first. Then we'll see about that memory eraser."

"Thank you."

Leonard Fairchild

"I don't agree with that." Leonard shakes his head as he and Amelia approach sickbay.

"Leonard, it's a simple fact. Your daughter is twenty-two years old. She can make her own decisions. If she wants to get a modification-"

"You mean another modification. She already has the universal translator implant."

"Another modification. Then that's something she can do."

"But why, Amelia? Why does she need it?"

"Because she's young, and it's a fad. As far as those things go, it's not a particularly harmful one." He sighs.

"It could be worse, I guess."

"That's the spirit." She starts towards the exam room, only to stop so suddenly that he almost runs into her.

"What?"

"Shh!" She indicates the doorway to the dispensary. The doorway that Spock and Chapel are standing in. He can't hear what they're saying, but what he doesn't miss is the press of two of Spock's fingers against his head nurse's. It's such a personal act that he's surprised to see his friend engaging in it outside the privacy of their quarters. He's unable to suppress a smirk as he turns to his wife.

"I guess you can add 'intimacy counselor' to your resume." She groans.

"If I never have to do that again, it'll be too soon."

"What did you say to him anyway?"

"Leonard, I love you, but if you make me tell you that, you'll be sleeping alone for the foreseeable future."

"That bad?"

"The term 'frottage' was used." He winces.

"That bad, then." With a final lingering look, the couple separates, Spock walking past him without so much as a nod, and Chapel approaching his wife.

"I'm ready for you now, Amelia."

"Thank you." Giving his hand a parting squeeze, she follows the head nurse towards the exam room. He heads towards his office, intent on going over a few medical files before his next appointment.

It's a mixed blessing, the walls being so thin in sickbay. It means that he can keep an ear out for activity in the ICU when he's in the dispensary, but it also means he hears what goes on in the exam room while he's in his office. Today is no exception. He mostly tunes out Christine's questions about diet, exercise, mental health, and drinking habits. He pays attention when she mentions respiration (within normal range) and heaves a sigh of relief. He'll forever be grateful for Amelia's sacrifice, and it's only a matter of two months before they return to Earth and receive yet another transplant, this time of artificially grown organs. Still, he worries that she's suffering because of her choice to save him.

"It says in your chart that you're due for another dosage of Myadma. Would you like to go ahead and receive it?"

"I would."

"Alright, but before I do that, I need to remind you: the effects last for a year."

"I remember."

"Are you sure you wouldn't like something with a shorter reach? Perhaps a monthly medication instead of a yearly one?" He frowns. Why would Chapel suggest that? A monthly form of birth control is usually employed by couples who aren't quite ready yet but soon plan to start trying to… oh.

"No. I'm satisfied with what I'm on now."

"Okay. Just give me a minute and I'll be right out with it." He presumes that Chapel heads towards the dispensary. Why would she make the assumption that they're headed in that direction? He's forty-four years old with an adult child. Even if that weren't the case, the marriage is new. Add that to the fact that Amelia's never expressed an interest in even one day having children together and it doesn't seem like a path they'll walk down. Not every couple needs to reproduce together to be happy, and not every couple that reproduces together is happy. He's had one and come to the conclusion that the other is better. That's not to say that if Amelia brought it up, he wouldn't at least discuss it with her, but she hasn't, and he's content with that.