WARNING: This chapter contains nudity with brief references to intimacy but nothing super-graphic or filthy. If you've ever felt less than, or different, or not good enough, then you'll understand this is an affirmation of love. But still, if nudity and the human body bother you, it's okay to skip this chapter. Seriously, no judgement. And it won't hurt the story.

~Coop

CHAPTER 20

The Enterprise reached clear space just as the storm rolled by, although Scotty would later claim that a few wisps of purple cloud must have gotten caught on their nacelles, because he battled an unidentified minor power drain. In truth, the drain was caused by the magnetic storm, but it had more to do with their proximity to it than any hitchhiking clouds.

Lieutenant Uhura had informed the captain that his last minute log entry had cleared the storm, but not to expect return messages for several days. The storm was now between them and Earth, and close enough to create a virtual wall of static with any nearby relay stations. The Enterprise often patrolled deep regions of the galaxy where communication with Earth could take a week or more, but Uhura was always uncomfortable with a complete communication black out. She felt adrift with nothing to focus on, so she had started the boring task of recalibrating her instruments. It kept her hands busy, but she still felt a sense of unease.

Sulu practiced alone in the gym using a modified foil after unsuccessfully trying to recruit Chekov. The last time they had practiced together, the Russian had ended up in Sick Bay underneath the skin regenerator for nearly an hour. He declared that Sulu had turned into a "madman" and demanded that all 'wapiers and swords be blown out the nearest airlock." So Chekov had turned down Sulu's recent invitation in favor of accessing the ship's library to study Security procedures. The captain had hinted that he would make a good Security Chief in addition to Navigation, and Chekov wanted to be ready for the opportunity. (In truth, the captain had called him "paranoid," which Chekov believed was an excellent quality in a Security Chief.)

Spock was virtually inaccessible as he spent most of his time deep in the bowels of the Science Lab, retracing the equations that Aggie had used to unlock the source code. He'd only been able to replicate a third of those equations and—if he would have admitted it to himself—was having the time of his life. He even caught himself smiling. Fortunately, he'd been the only occupant in the lab and had quickly schooled his features into neutrality. Then again, he never did realize that he'd been humming.

The captain had finally been cornered by Rand and sentenced to clear out the backlog of bureaucracy on his desk. It was slow and mind-numbingly boring. He had made a single attempt at escape, but the door had slid open to reveal his pretty, and pretty determined, yeoman. Kirk had taken the new stack of datapads from her mutely and was profoundly relieved when the doors slid shut again. He placed the datapads on his desk and fell back into the chair. "You are captain of one of the most advanced and powerful ships ever built," he said out loud. "You have faced Klingons in battle, survived an interspatial rift with nothing more than an environmental suit, and outsmarted the Gamesters of Triskelion." He narrowed his eyes as he picked up the topmost datapad. "You can do this, Kirk."

After Origin, Aggie had requested some time alone, and McCoy had given her that time. But it had cost him dearly. He had suffered quietly, knowing that Aggie was in a pain that all his vast medical knowledge could not treat. There wasn't a pill or hypo that could wipe out the lonely childhood, the neglect from the only parent figure in her life, or the deformed versions of herself floating in murky fluid.

At least he knew that Aggie was still eating (something she forgot to do when stressed). Christine had been coming up with excuses to drop in on her, bringing an assortment of foods and making idle conversation as she ate. McCoy's lip curled at the thought of his Head Nurse. Even Spock couldn't outmaneuver Chapel when she set her mind to a purpose, so he wasn't surprised the first time Chapel came back with an empty tray from Aggie's quarters. Still, McCoy forced himself to honor Aggie's wishes until Christine marched into his lab that afternoon and told him to "get his ass in gear."

"Aggie said she needed some space, Chris. I'm trying to give her that," he had replied, trying to sound as if he was okay it. "There's certainly a lot to think about, not only her past but her future," he added softly, almost to himself.

Christine, always so professional and respectful in front of the Sick Bay staff, snorted loudly. "Leonard, for being a brilliant doctor, you're still a man and therefore capable of being a complete idiot. Aggie just needs to be reminded that she's a living, breathing human being. She needs to feel alive again." She arched a delicate blonde eyebrow and gave him a meaningful look. "A man can do that for a woman, you know."

McCoy's face grew warm but before he could reply, Chapel had grabbed him by the shoulders, spun him around, and marched him out of Sick Bay. "And stay out," she said firmly before the doors slid shut behind him.

He had waited outside of Aggie's quarters for nearly ten minutes before pressing the buzzer, and he felt horribly self-conscious in the moments before the door opened. His eye bags had almost disappeared after taking a sedative the night before, but the worry lines around his mouth had only deepened, giving him what Kirk always called his "rugged cowboy" look. McCoy was in the middle of nervously smoothing down his shirt when the door slid back.

It was barely 8:00 pm standard time, but Aggie was already in her sleeping clothes: Star Fleet issued sweats and tank top, both a heather gray, and with the pants one size too large. The top of the sweats had been rolled down once, leaving a pale strip of flesh showing beneath the tank.

Although dressed for sleep, Aggie's hair looked as though she'd already spent the night tossing and turning. Concern made McCoy confident.

"Aggie," he started firmly, about to inform her that he would be coming inside, that it would be he, and not Chapel, that would be visiting her from now on, and nothing she could say would stop him. McCoy wasn't able to get the rest of the words out, however, as Aggie had flung herself against him, burying her face into his shoulder as his arms wrapped around her.

"Aggie?" Her only response was to bury her face harder into his chest. After a few gentle prods and more than a few amused glances from passing crewmembers, McCoy maneuvered them as one into the privacy of her quarters.

"Come on, Ag," he said after the doors closed. "Tell me what's on your mind." He ran his fingers through her hair, heard her sniff, and then felt her sigh against him. Finally, she pulled away far enough to look up at him.

"You don't want to know, trust me."

"I do want to know," he countered gently. "I want to know everything about you, Aggie. Like I keep telling you, I'm in love with you."

The lower half of Aggie's body was still pressed against his, and he could feel her inhale deeply at his words. It was a strangely intimate sensation —humans instinctually protected their abdomen—but in this case, McCoy discovered that he quite enjoyed it.

"Too many thoughts," she confessed after sighing noisily. "Crazy thoughts."

"Tell me."

"You won't like them," she cautioned and McCoy made a face.

"So tell me anyway," he said, and began rocking gently from side to side. "I'm not made of glass, darlin'."

She bit her lip then shrugged. "I can't stop thinking about them," she whispered, and McCoy knew she was referring to the clones. "And me, too. The fact that we were—what's the word? Built? Programmed? We're made things. He did things to us I can't even fathom. He changed us, hurt us, before we were even born. Who am I, Len? Who am I really? I know I'm the person that killed that Romulan. I did it without even thinking. And if I did that without thinking, what else could I do? Hurt someone else? You?" She shook her head in despair. "I feel like I've been put together wrong. I can't even look at myself in the mirror, because I'm afraid of what I'll see. Another deformed thing. Some man-made freak." Wrapping her arms around his waist, she hid her face against his chest.

McCoy took in her words and knew there was nothing he could say to sooth away her fears. He thought of the sixteen clones back on Origin and suddenly realized there was one clone left that desperately needed to be seen.

"Then let me look at you, my love," McCoy said huskily, reaching behind to gently pull free from her grasp. He held her hands between his own as he continued. "Let me look at you and tell you what I see," he said. "Trust me, Aggie. Trust my eyes."

She looked up at him, clearly startled by his words. He let his fingers slip beneath the bottom of her tank to brush the skin there. "Please," he whispered, desperate for the chance to prove to her, beyond all doubt, that she was not a monster. He rested his forehead against hers. "Let me look at you, Aggie."

Long seconds past before he felt a tiny nod, and he kissed her forehead in relief and gratitude. As he did so, his hands slipped beneath the tank, drawing it upward slowly so as not to startle her. It was went as far as it could without Aggie moving, and he could feel her muscles tense before she stiffly raised her arms.

The tank fell to the floor.

Aggie's breasts were small and rounded, and for the first time in too long, McCoy saw color bloom across her skin in the form of a blush. It was endearing but McCoy tore his eyes away. He was concentrating on pushing the heather-gray sweats down over Aggie's wider hips and backside. The material grew taunt and then, as it cleared her panties, dropped freely to pool around her bare feet.

The only sound in the room was Aggie's gasp as McCoy slid one hand around her waist and the other behind her knees, and swung her up into his arms. He was reminded of the last time he'd held her like this, the day he'd ran with her to Sick Bay. How little he'd known that day would change his life forever.

The sheets rustled slightly as he placed her on the bed, and their eyes locked for a moment. He could see that she understood what he was doing, and she gave him another tiny nod. He nodded back then and stood back to gaze down at her. She needed him to see her, all of her, and he wanted to do just that.

McCoy walked to the foot of the bed, deciding to start from the bottom and thoroughly work his way up. Before he could begin, however, there was one more thing he needed to do. McCoy leaned forward, and with a tug, pulled Aggie's panties down her long legs. He kept his eyes locked on the panties until they were free. And then, with a confident flick, they went sailing over his shoulder.

Toes. Ten lovely toes, he thought as he wrapped his hands around them. They felt cool against his skin, and he squeezed them until they felt warmer. When he let go, he saw they'd turned bright pink. Ten blushing toes, he corrected, then slid his hands around her heels to grip her ankles. He mentally began listing the ankle bones—Talus, Fibula, Tibia—but stopped. This wasn't a medical examination.

Slowly, McCoy worked his way up. He'd always appreciated the curve of a woman's calf, and he didn't fail to appreciate it now. Aggie's calves were firm and smooth in his grasp, and he couldn't stop himself from kneading them before reaching behind her knees. He lifted her legs so that her knees were bent and feet flat against the mattress. It was at this point, he realized, that he couldn't continue without pulling Aggie toward him or by climbing onto the foot of the bed. McCoy parted Aggie's legs, his knees sinking in-between her ankles. In this new position, he found himself fairly comfortable and able to continue his exploration of her body. He twisted slightly to one side, focusing his attention on the left knee followed by the right. Once satisfied, he placed a hand on each knee, and with firm even pressure, slid his hands down until the tips of his fingers bumped into her pelvic bone where he then reached behind to cup Aggie's backside. The flesh was plump due to her improved diet, and McCoy liked the fullness of them. He pressed upward to the point of lifting her slightly off the bed before dragging his hands up the backside of her legs.

Another nudge and Aggie's bent legs fell open farther. McCoy gazed down at the mound of flesh between her legs, momentarily awed by the realization that he was the first man to be in such a position. And the last, he thought possessively. The thought caused him to inhale sharply, which was the wrong this to do: instantly McCoy's nostrils were flooded with a heady feminine scent and beads of sweat popped out on his forehead and between his shoulder blades. His body was responding to the scent of her sex and he glanced up guiltily at Aggie, but her eyes were closed and her features smooth. The faint blush that had colored the top of her chest had bloomed to cover the tops of her breasts as well.

Careful to breathe through his mouth, McCoy mentally berated himself. He could not, would not, make this about anything other than what Aggie needed. Unconsciously, his hands had been caressing the flesh of Aggie's inner thighs, and he was afraid that he would not be able to resist the temptation that a closer inspection would bring. Gritting his teeth, McCoy pressed his face into the crook of her knee, his nerve endings firing like a strobe light. He wanted nothing more than to plant a kiss directly between her legs. It took all his willpower to move up Aggie's body.

When he placed the flat of his hand on Aggie's stomach, the muscles were tense and firm. He glanced at Aggie's face but her eyes remained close. He did see, however, that her nipples had grown hard.

McCoy wiped his forward on his shoulder as he felt each rib with his free hand, the other pressing into the bed for leverage. If he went much farther up, he was in serious danger of tipping over, so he supported himself with both hands and placed his forehead between her breasts. He could feel her heartbeat, and he suddenly found it so engaging that he rolled his head to one side in order to hear it, as well. Without lifting his head, he dropped to his elbows and worked his hands underneath to stroke Aggie's shoulder blades, each little dip of vertebrae, and the backside of her ribcage. He heard her heart speed up and lifted his head. Resting on one elbow, McCoy stroked Aggie's breasts in turn, appreciating how the nipples had become harder and darker as they responded to his touch.

Finally, McCoy straightened his body so that his head was equal to Aggie's, and slowly let his weight settle on top of her. Their breaths pressed their abdomens together. Now that his hands were both free, he gripped Aggie's elbows and slid his hands down until he encircled her wrists. He raised them above her head and entwined his fingers with hers as he stared down at her, drinking her in.

"Aggie." He waited a moment then said, "Aggie, open your eyes."

Her lashes fluttered and then he was staring into green eyes that contained everything from fear to love to desire.

"Do you love me, Aggie?"

She bit her lip and nodded.

"And you trust me, right?"

Another nod.

"Then believe me, my love," he said, speaking clearly and slowly. "When I say that you are normal in every way. And so, so very, beautiful."

Aggie's face crumpled and he felt her hands jerk in his. He held them tighter, knowing she wanted to hide her face. There would be no more hiding from him. Not ever again.

Tears formed the corners of Aggie's eyes and he quickly kissed them away. And then with salty lips, he kissed her mouth. The kiss turned into another, and another. And it was this final act that burned away the last of her fears, leaving them both joyful but drained. Finally, McCoy lifted his weight off of Aggie—grinning at her moan of protest—and settled himself next to her on the bed.

He rolled her onto her side and fit his body to hers and, after a short while, he felt her breathing become steady and deep.

It was the restful sleep of an untroubled mind.

It wasn't long before McCoy joined her.

Even though this is an affirmation chapter, I wrote it while standing in a cold shower.

Thoughts are appreciated.

~Cooper

ps. Kalima, I didn't edit too much out of this chapter from your supportive reviews.