Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

A/N: Honestly, I just want a happy McCoy. Depending on interest of this story I would like to write a long story. I hope you enjoy my story of my favorite character. Takes place in the Kelvin Universe

The medical bay was quiet. Too quiet for 0600. Leonard McCoy stood at the console, skimming over crew health logs, squinting against the sterile light overhead. He wasn't due to report for anything in particular today, but habits died hard—and if he wasn't working, he was thinking, and lately, thinking was the last thing he needed.

The doors hissed open.

"Damn, Bones. You even sleep?" Jim Kirk's voice was that familiar mix of amused and concerned.

Leonard didn't look up. "Sleep's for the sane."

Kirk stepped inside, wearing that half-cocked grin that made you feel like he either knew something you didn't or was about to make something up on the spot. "You're not on duty. And we dock in two hours. Thought you'd be packing or—God forbid—relaxing."

"I'm packed." Leonard tapped twice on the screen, shutting it down. "What's up?"

Kirk held up a PADD and waved it like it was an invitation to a wedding. "Just confirming you're still good for that distillery tour on the station. I put us down for four—me, you, Spock, and Uhura. Bourbon, Bones. Over 30 kinds from all over the galaxy.."

Leonard arched a brow. "You sure Spock's gonna be thrilled about that?"

"Don't underestimate Spock's curiosity. He may not drink, but he likes to judge the process. And Uhura's excited. It'll be good to get off the ship for a bit. You in?"

"Yeah, I'll be there."

Kirk nodded, satisfied. "Alright. Station room's already assigned. Check in, get settled, meet us at the South End Lounge at 1800."

With that, Kirk pivoted and left, boots thudding lightly against the floor. Leonard watched the doors close behind him, then exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulders.

Starbase 116 was massive, more like a luxury resort wrapped around a trade hub than a place for starship repairs. It shimmered with ambient light and pulsed with the activity of travelers, engineers, and vendors hawking their wares to anyone with credits and curiosity.

Leonard found his room easily enough: spacious, clean, a hint of lavender in the air from the recycled atmosphere. He dropped his duffel on the bed and let himself sit for a moment. Just long enough to forget he wasn't on the Enterprise.

His communicator chirped.

He pulled it out and smiled faintly. "Hi, Ma."

Her voice was warm and familiar. "Just wanted to check in. Your signal's been bouncing all over the place this week."

"We've been between systems. You know how it is."

There was a pause. "You sound tired."

He rubbed his eyes. "I am."

Another pause. "You okay?"

Leonard let out a quiet breath. "I miss home. But there's not much to miss anymore. Since Jocelyn and I split, Atlanta doesn't feel the same."

"Oh, honey…"

"I'm fine, Mama. Really. I've got work, and I'm good at it. Just… sometimes I forget what it's like to have people to come home to."

There was a beat of silence that said more than words ever could. They caught up for a moment, filling him in on the latest gossip back home. He looked at the time and realized he needed to go. He told his mom he was meeting with people and would talk to her later.

"Go have fun tonight," she said finally. "You deserve that."

"Yeah. I'll try."

By the time Leonard arrived at the South End Lounge, he was five minutes early and already regretting it. The place was sleek, dimly lit, with glass walls that looked out onto the void of space. Shelves lined with aged bottles of alien-made spirits curved around a central bar. It felt intimate, almost romantic.

Spock and Uhura were already seated at a table near the window, talking in low tones. Uhura noticed him first.

"Leonard!" She waved, smiling. "Come sit."

He hesitated, then made his way over. "Where's Jim?"

Spock answered without looking up. "The Captain was called to a command briefing regarding the incoming crew transfers. He will not be joining us."

Of course. Something always came up.

Leonard looked between them, Spock with his unreadable Vulcan calm, Uhura leaning into him with ease and comfort built from years of shared service and love and felt a twinge in his chest.

"You two should stay," he said, forcing a polite smile. "Enjoy it. You don't need a third wheel hanging around."

"Nonsense," Uhura began, but he was already stepping back.

"Really. I'll find something else to do. You two enjoy the evening."

He turned before they could argue. The cool air of the station wrapped around him as he left the lounge. Bourbon could wait. Whatever was gnawing at him couldn't.

He walked for a hour after that past observation decks and quiet gardens, through loud arcades and still meditation rooms. Letting the ache stretch, letting his mind wander.

The truth was, he was tired. Tired of pretending he didn't mind being alone. Tired of throwing himself into his work because it was the only thing that hadn't left.

Somewhere deep inside, he knew he wanted more. He just didn't know what that looked like anymore.

Dinner seemed like the least lonely option. Leonard wandered until the quiet bustle of the station led him toward an open observation deck lined with scattered shops.

A woman stood near the intersection of two corridors, arms crossed, gaze flicking around like she was scanning the area for threats. Not in a panicked way—more like someone who was used to being in control but had just stepped into unfamiliar territory.

She was stunning.

Not in a delicate, fragile kind of way, but in a way that demanded attention. Strength coiled in the way she carried herself—shoulders squared, back straight, movements purposeful. Her smooth brown skin caught the light beneath the station's overhead glow, warm against the cool metal surroundings. Short dark brown hair framed a face that was all sharp edges and smooth curves, her expression unreadable.

Leonard wasn't the kind of man who lost his words over a pretty face. He had seen plenty of them. But something about her—something about the way she stood there, half-expecting trouble—pulled him in.

The southern gentleman in him wouldn't let it go. He stepped forward, hands slipping into his pockets as he kept his voice casual.

"Pardon me, ma'am," he said, smooth as whiskey. "You look like you're searching for something or lost."

She turned, eyes cool and sharp, scanning him before answering. "I'm fine."

Didn't even blink.

"Wasn't saying you weren't," he replied casually. "Just figured if you were new here, I could help."

"I'm not new to figuring things out on my own," she said, tone clipped. "And I'm not lost."

Leonard raised his hands in surrender. "Didn't mean to assume." Leonard smirked. "Just an observation." Leonard rocked back on his heels. "It would've been a shame if someone like you got turned around out here. Space stations can be tricky, though. All these identical halls, these confusing signs, real easy to end up wanderin' in just in case you're lookin' for somethin', I've been told I make a decent guide."

She shot him a sideways look. "Are you always this persistent?"

"Only when I sense a challenge."

That earned him a small smirk, the barest hint of amusement flashing in her dark eyes. It was gone just as quickly.

"I'm looking for food," she admitted. "That's it."

Leonard smiled. "Well, now, that's a coincidence. So am I."

She exhaled, clearly debating whether or not to entertain this any further. She didn't seem the type to offer up details freely, and Leonard had known enough people like that to know one thing, he had time.

"Well, since you don't know where food is, I can at least point you in the right direction. Be cruel to let you starve out here." She huffed, clearly not thrilled but not walking away either.
"Lead the way, then."
Leonard started down the corridor, and she fell into step beside him.

"Name's Leonard," he offered, watching her reaction carefully.

She gave him nothing.

"Not gonna return the courtesy?"

She tilted her head, that same unreadable expression settling back over her face. "Nope."

Leonard let out a chuckle, shaking his head. "Alright then, looks like I get to play detective."

She raised a brow. "Detective?"

"See, if you ain't gonna tell me who you are, then I gotta fill in the blanks myself," he said, crossing his arms. "And I got a good imagination."

She exhaled sharply, but he caught the way the corner of her mouth twitched. "This should be interesting."

Leonard rubbed his chin, pretending to scrutinize her. "I'm thinkin'… you're some kinda high-profile diplomat, here to negotiate peace between two rival factions. But you don't trust anyone, which is why you keep your name under wraps."

She scoffed. "Not even close."

"Alright, alright, let me try again," he said, smirking. "Bounty hunter? Nah, you're too well-dressed for that. Black ops? No, you'd probably have killed me by now for askin' too many questions."

She rolled her eyes but didn't interrupt.

"Oh," he said, snapping his fingers dramatically. "Lost princess. You snuck out of some royal court and now you're tryin' to blend in, but you're terrible at it. Which is why you look like you're about to fight somebody in the corridor."

That actually made her laugh. A real laugh.

Leonard grinned. "Now, see? That weren't so hard, was it?"

She shook her head, arms still crossed. "Fine. If you get to guess about me, then I get to guess about you."

He gestured for her to go on.

She studied him, eyes sharp. "Not a civilian," she stated first.

"Correct."

"But not a soldier, either. Not in the way most people would think."

Leonard hummed. "Interesting. Go on."

"You don't seem like you live on this Starbase," she continued. "You've got confidence, sure, but it's a different kind. You're comfortable in your own skin. You analyze things, not like threats, but like puzzles."

Leonard was impressed. "Sharp eye."

"You work with people. Probably deal with them at their worst, considering the way you look like you've been running on caffeine and spite."

That made Leonard chuckle. "Now that's just rude."

"You're obviously Starfleet," she said confidently.

Leonard sighed dramatically. "Damn, thought I was bein' subtle."

"Not even remotely."

He grinned. "Fair enough. But see, you don't know what I do in Starfleet. Could be anything. Engineer, helmsman, captain—"

"You're not a captain."

Leonard clutched his chest in mock offense. "Ouch."

"Captains have a certain…arrogance." She gave him a knowing look. "You don't."

Leonard exhaled through his nose. "I'm takin' that as a compliment."

She tilted her head, the corner of her lips twitching. "It was."

"If I were to guess, you must be in the medical or science division." She said confidently as her final answer.

"I work as a doctor," he said, giving her an approving nod. "I'll admit, you're good. But I ain't lettin' you off the hook that easy, Lost Girl."

Her eyes narrowed. "Lost Girl?"

"Well, since I still don't know your name, I gotta call you somethin'."

She gave him a long look, then shook her head. "That's ridiculous."

Leonard just grinned.

By the time they reached the food hall, he realized he had actually enjoyed himself—something that hadn't happened in a long time. She was different, unpredictable. He liked that.

He figured that was where they'd part ways, but before he could say his goodbyes, she nodded toward an open table.

"Well?" she said. "You're the one who said you were looking for food too."

Leonard raised a brow. "Oh, so now I'm invited?"

She smirked. "Can't exactly let you starve after you provided such excellent entertainment."

Leonard let out a low chuckle "Guess I'll take what I can get."

Chapter Text

The Andorian restaurant they picked was tucked into the corner of a corridor, bathed in a deep blue glow from the overhead lighting, its walls lined with intricate ice-like carvings that shimmered under the artificial light. The place smelled rich and unfamiliar; a mix of slow-roasted meats and something distinctly mineral, like the scent of cold air before a storm.

Leonard pulled out a chair for her without thinking about it, an old southern habit, and slid into his own seat across from her.

“So, Lost Girl,” he said, leaning back, one arm draped over the back of his chair. “You always this prickly, or did I just catch you having an interesting day?”

She let out a short exhale, more of a breath than a laugh. “I could ask you the same thing.”

Leonard smirked, then tilted his head. “Nah, I’m just naturally charmin’. People say it’s one of my better qualities.”

She arched a brow. “Who exactly says that?”

“Oh, y’know, folks. Strangers, colleagues, anyone lucky enough to share a meal with me,” he drawled. “Some say I’m a delight.”

She rolled her eyes, but he caught the ghost of a smirk before she reached for the menu.

“Listen,” she said, voice quieter now. “I was—” She hesitated, the words fighting their way out. “I was a little sharp earlier.Very long travel. Been on my feet all day. Wasn’t really in the mood to be…approached.”

Leonard studied her, nodding slightly. “Fair enough.”

She looked up, surprised. “That’s it?”

“Well, you already admitted it, which means I win,” he said, flashing a grin.

She sighed. “You’re insufferable.”

“Now that,” he said, picking up the menu, “I have heard before.”

Her expression softened, just a fraction, but enough that he felt the shift between them. She was still guarded, still holding something back, but she wasn’t outright shutting him down anymore.

They both looked over the menu, scanning unfamiliar words in Andorian script with human translations underneath.

“Ever had Andorian food before?” He asked.

She shook her head. “No. You?”

“Nope. But I reckon if they’ve got a whole damn restaurant, it must be decent.” He tapped a finger against the menu. “How bad can spicy icefish be?”

She lifted her gaze, skeptical. “Spicy ice fish?”

He shrugged. “Guess we’re gonna find out.”

She set her menu down and leaned forward slightly, resting her forearms on the table. “So, Doctor, what are you doing out here?”

He smirked at the way she slid the word in so casually. “So you did listen.”

“I listen a lot,” she said simply.

He nodded approvingly. “Good skill to have.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“Well,” he said, setting his menu down. “I’m passing through.”

She huffed, amused. “That’s a hell of a non-answer.”

He lifted a brow. “Funny, I seem to recall you avoidin’ my questions.”

She sat back, conceding the point. “Touché.”

They fell into a comfortable silence as the server arrived, an Andorian woman with pale blue skin and white hair twisted back into braids. They ordered the icefish and a few other dishes neither of them could pronounce properly, and Leonard made sure to get something with Andorian ale.

Once the server left, Leonard tapped a finger against the table. “You ever get tired of it?”

She lifted a brow. “Tired of what?”

“The travel. Always bein’ in between places. It’s got its perks, sure, but at some point, don’t it get old?”

She hesitated, looking past him, as if considering her answer carefully.

“I love it! I was built for the stars.” she admitted.

He nodded. “Figured as much.”

She studied him for a moment, as if weighing her next words. “You seem like the kind of man who’s used to being planted somewhere.”

Leonard let out a short chuckle. “That obvious, huh?”

She tilted her head. “You’ve got the energy of someone who’s spent more time on a porch than in a shuttle.”

That made him laugh, a real one, deep and real. “Alright, I’ll give you that. But I can adapt. I do fine in space.”

“You tolerate space,” she corrected.

He pointed at her. “Now that’s accurate.”

The food arrived, and they both eyed the icefish warily before taking cautious bites. It was an odd combination—cold but laced with heat, the spice creeping up at the end.

Leonard wiped his mouth with his napkin. “Huh.”

“Huh?” she repeated, amused.

“Didn’t think I’d like it, but it ain’t bad.” He took another bite, nodding to himself. “Gotta hand it to the Andorians, they know how to make a weird concept work.”

They ate in companionable silence for a while before he leaned forward again. “Y’know, Lost Girl, I think I’ve figured you out.”

She raised a brow. “Oh?”

He nodded with confidence. “You’re in Starfleet too.”

She didn’t react immediately, but there was the briefest flicker in her eyes—something unreadable, something amused.

“Why do you think that?” she asked, swirling her glass.

He gestured toward her. “You carry yourself like someone trained for it. You’re alert, you assess situations fast, but you don’t act on ‘em unless necessary. That, and you’ve got the distinct vibe of someone who’s been through Starfleet bureaucracy hell at least once. Not sure which division though.”

She considered him for a moment before finally, slowly, nodding. “Not bad, Doctor.”

Leonard took another sip of his drink, watching her. “Y’know, I don’t think you’re as cold as you want people to think.”

She let out a small, quiet laugh, shaking her head. “And I don’t think you’re as grumpy as you pretend to be.”

Leonard gave her a half-smile. “Guess we’ll have to find out, won’t we?”

For the first time that night, she leaned forward, arms resting on the table, and met his gaze directly. “Guess we will.”

The meal had been good. Better than expected, really. But now, as the empty plates sat between them, the energy of their banter faded into the kind of silence that felt like a decision point. The moment where most people would say their goodbyes, maybe nod politely and go their separate ways.

Leonard exhaled, straightening slightly. “Well, Lost Girl, it’s been real. Hope you enjoy the rest of your—”

“I’m not ready for the night to end.”

Leonard paused mid-sentence, his heart giving the faintest flicker of surprise. He tilted his head, studying her expression—calm, unreadable, but there was something there. A quiet challenge.

Her fingers drummed idly against the table. “Unless you are.”

Leonard smirked. “Well, now, I ain’t one to turn down a good time.”

She nodded, seemingly satisfied. “Drinks?”

“I was hopin’ you’d say that,” he admitted, tossing his napkin onto the table. 

She let out a small chuckle and stood. “Come on, then. Let’s find a place with a strong pour.”

Leonard followed her out, feeling lighter than he had all day.

They had only made it halfway down the promenade when his communicator chirped.

Leonard sighed, already knowing who it was. He pulled it from his pocket and flipped it open. “Yeah?”

“Bones, where the hell are you?” Jim’s voice carried an air of amusement, but there was a hint of curiosity underneath. “We were supposed to meet up.”

Leonard glanced at Lost Girl , since she still hadn’t given him her damn name. She didn’t look impatient, just mildly entertained as she slowed her pace, waiting for him to handle his call.

“I’m busy,” Leonard said simply, walking a little ahead. “Plus, you didn’t show up tonight, I’m pissed.”

There was a pause on the other end.

“…Busy?” Jim repeated, clearly intrigued. “Busy doing what?”

Leonard exhaled through his nose. “Just…busy.”

“Oh, this I gotta hear.”

“No, you don’t.”

Jim’s laughter crackled through the communicator. “Oh, come on, Bones. You never skip on the details. Is it a woman? It’s a woman, isn’t it?”

Leonard pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m hangin’ up now.”

“Bones—”

Click.

Leonard shut the communicator with a sharp snap and stuffed it back in his pocket.

“Your friend seems persistent,” She noted, her tone casual but amused.

Leonard sighed. “My friend’s got a nose for trouble.”

She smirked. “Maybe you’re trouble too.”

Leonard huffed, shaking his head. 

The bar they stumbled upon wasn’t flashy or packed with officers on shore leave. It was dimly lit, cozy in a way that felt intimate. A few scattered patrons occupied the booths, engaged in quiet conversations, and a single bartender—a Tellarite with a gruff demeanor—barely looked up as they walked in.

Leonard gestured to the bar. “This’ll do.”

They slid into seats, and the bartender made his way over.

“What’s your poison?” the Tellarite asked, voice deep and rough.

Leonard glanced at Lost Girl. “Ladies first.”

She gave him a look but ordered anyway. “Saurian Brandy.”

Leonard smirked. “Now we’re talkin’.” He turned to the bartender. “Same for me.”

Their drinks arrived, and Leonard raised his glass in a casual toast. “To not bein’ lost.”

She smirked and clinked her glass against his. “To stubborn doctors.”

Leonard chuckled before taking a sip, letting the burn settle. “Alright, Lost Girl. We’ve spent a whole meal and half the night dodgin’ details, but I think it’s time we trade at least one piece of information.”

She arched a brow. “And what piece would that be?”

“Where’s home?”

She took another sip, considering him over the rim of her glass before finally answering. “Chicago, Illinois.”

Leonard’s lips curled into a slow, knowing smile. “That tracks.”

She tilted her head. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’ve got this bold, don’t-mess-with-me energy,” he said, leaning forward on the bar. “Chicago’s got grit and soul. It's tough, but it’s got heart. Just like you.”

She let out a short laugh, shaking her head. “That was almost poetic, Doctor.”

He grinned. “I got layers, darlin’.”

She swirled the whiskey in her glass, watching him. “And what about you?”

“Atlanta, Georgia,” he said with a drawl that got just a touch thicker at the mention of home.

Her eyes flickered with something, curiosity, amusement. “So that’s where the accent comes from.”

Leonard smirked. “Guilty.”

She hummed, taking another sip. “I like it.”

Leonard wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol or the way she said it, but something warm settled in his body.

Time slipped away after that.

They talked about places they had been, food they had tried, and the strange things they had both encountered in deep space. She was sharp-witted, quick with a comeback, but she also listened—really listened—in a way that made Leonard realize how rare that was.

At some point, another round appeared. Then another.

And then, suddenly, it was 1 AM.

Leonard blinked, looking around as the bar had mostly emptied out, the bartender half-heartedly cleaning glasses with a rag that had seen better days.

“Damn,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “I think we lost track of time.”

Lost Girl checked her wrist chrono and let out a low whistle. “Guess we did.”

Leonard stretched slightly before standing. “C’mon, Lost Girl. I’ll walk you to your room.”

She gave him a look. “I can take care of myself.”

“I don’t doubt that,” Leonard said easily. “But humor me.”

She didn’t argue.

The walk was quiet, a comfortable kind of silence settling between them as the dimly lit halls of the space station stretched ahead. The air felt different now—not charged, but something close to it. A warmth, an understanding.

When they reached her door, they hesitated.

Leonard shifted slightly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well… guess this is goodnight.”

She watched him for a moment before extending her hand. “Georgina Knox.”

Leonard blinked.

She smirked. “But my friends call me Georgie.”

Leonard took her hand, shaking it slowly, letting her name settle in his mind. “Georgie,” he repeated, testing it.

She nodded.

Leonard let go, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Well, Georgie, I gotta say—this was the best damn accidental night I’ve had in a long time.”

She tilted her head, a quiet smile tugging at her lips. “Yeah. It was. Good night, Leonard.”

He stepped back. “Sleep tight, Lost Girl.”

As he turned and walked away, he felt her watching him.

And damn if that didn’t put a grin on his face.

Leonard lay on his bed, one arm thrown over his eyes, trying—and failing—to stop thinking about her.

He hadn’t felt this way in a long time.

Hell, he wasn’t even sure what this way was.

It wasn’t love at first sight. He wasn’t the kind of man who believed in that nonsense. But there was something about her, about the way she carried herself, the way she challenged him without being cruel, the way she laughed when she finally let herself.

She was sharp, quick, and guarded—but not in a way that made her closed off, just… careful. Like a woman who had spent too much time being underestimated and had learned to let people earn their place in her life.

He respected that.

Maybe that’s why he had enjoyed her company so much.

But it didn’t matter.

She was just passing through, and so was he.

They had shared a night of drinks, conversation, and something that could have been something if life were different.

But it wasn’t different.

And in a few hours, they’d be back on their own paths.

Still, as he closed his eyes, the last thing he thought about before sleep finally took him was her voice, the way she had said his name.

The next morning, Leonard met up with Jim in the station’s café, where the captain was already halfway through his second cup of coffee.

“ Bones , there you are,” Jim greeted, looking him over with amused scrutiny. “You look… well-rested.”

Leonard rolled his eyes. “Don’t start.”

Jim smirked but let it go. “So, what’d you get up to last night? You didn’t have to bail on Spock and Uhura.”

Leonard took a sip of his own coffee before answering. “Nothin’ much. Just had a dinner, met someone interesting, had a good time.”

Jim leaned forward, eyes bright with curiosity. “Met someone interesting, huh?”

Leonard gave him a flat look. “Not in the way your damn mind is thinkin’.”

Jim held up his hands in surrender. “I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t have to,” Leonard muttered.

Jim grinned. “Alright, alright. So you had fun. Good. You’ve been acting like a crotchety old man for months—nice to see you’re capable of socializing.”

Leonard huffed but didn’t argue. “So, what’s on the schedule?”

Jim sipped his coffee. “New transfers are arriving soon. I figured I’d stick around, greet the fresh faces, make sure they’re all properly intimidated by their charming captain.”

Leonard snorted. “Yeah, ‘charming’ is one word for it.”

Jim grinned. “You sticking around?”

Leonard shrugged. “Might as well.”

Jim gave him a knowing look but didn’t push further.

They finished their coffee, and Leonard followed Jim to the docking area where the new transfer crew was assembling.

Leonard stood near the back, arms crossed, letting Jim do the usual captain thing—introducing himself, setting expectations, throwing in a charming quip here and there.

And then Jim looked down at his PADD, scrolling through names.

“Lieutenant Commander Georgina Knox.”

Leonard’s stomach dropped.

No.

That name.

That name couldn’t be right.

And yet—

Georgina stepped forward in her pristine red uniform, standing at attention, sharp and composed.

Leonard barely stopped himself from reacting, but he knew his face had betrayed something , because the moment her eyes landed on him she froze.

It lasted only a second, a flicker of recognition in her dark eyes before she schooled her features back into neutrality.

Jim, of course, noticed.

His brows lifted slightly as he glanced between them. “Wait. Do you two know each other?”

Leonard opened his mouth, closed it, then cleared his throat.

Georgina, to her credit, managed to keep her expression impressively neutral.

“We’re… uh,” she started, then hesitated.

Leonard sighed and ran a hand down his face.

“We’re friends,” he admitted, glancing at her briefly.

She nodded quickly, eyes flicking to Jim. “Yeah. Friends.”

Jim, who had spent years reading people, immediately caught onto the awkward tension between them and smirked.

“Huh,” Jim mused. “Small universe.”

Leonard shot him a look, silently begging him not to start.

Jim just grinned.

“Well, Lieutenant Commander Knox,” he said, shifting gears effortlessly. “Welcome aboard the Enterprise .”

Leonard didn’t hear her response.

He was too busy coming to terms with the fact that Lost Girl —Georgie—wasn’t just passing through after all.

She was here.

On his ship.

As soon as Jim dismissed the new transfers, Georgina made her way toward Leonard, her expression unreadable.

He braced himself, already sensing the conversation wasn’t going to be an easy one.

“You didn’t tell me you’re on this ship,” she said, arms crossed.

Leonard gave her a pointed look. “Funny, I was about to say the same damn thing.”

She exhaled through her nose, tilting her head slightly. “I thought you were just passing through.”

Leonard smirked. “I was.”

She narrowed her eyes but didn’t argue.

Jim, who was still standing there, arms crossed and looking far too entertained by all of this, cleared his throat. “Well, I hate to interrupt this reunion , but since we’re all acquainted now, let’s get formalities out of the way.”

He turned to Georgina, all charm and authority. “Lieutenant Knox, you’re the Enterprise’s new Chief of Tactical and Security. You’ve got a hell of a reputation, your record is solid, and your previous Captain and First Officer had nothing but high praise. You’re exactly what we need.”

Georgina nodded sharply. “Thank you, sir. I won’t disappoint.”

Jim smiled. “I don’t doubt it.”

Leonard recognized that tone in Jim’s voice, warm, intrigued, curious.

He also caught the way Jim’s eyes flicked over Georgina, not just in appraisal of her skills, but as a man looking at a very beautiful woman .

Leonard knew Jim too well.

He was interested.

And that thought? It did something weird to Leonard’s stomach.

Jim clapped his hands together. “You’ll get your official assignments shortly, and until then you can get settled into your quarters. I’ll check in with you later.”

Georgina gave a curt nod. “Looking forward to it, sir.”

Leonard swore Jim’s grin widened just a little.

Damn it.

Her attention went to Leonard. “I guess I will see you around.”

“Likewise.” He said, giving her a smirk. Georgina turned to leave, giving Leonard one last unreadable glance before disappearing down the corridor.

Leonard exhaled, rubbing a hand over his face.

Jim elbowed him. “So… friends , huh?”

Leonard shot him a look. “Don’t start.”

Jim raised his hands innocently. “I just think it’s interesting. This has to be the mystery girl from last night. You meet her one night , and the next morning, she’s on our ship? That’s some fate -type shit right there.”

Leonard groaned. “You’re worse than a damn soap opera.”

Jim smirked but said nothing.

Then, after a moment, he glanced down the hall where Georgina had disappeared and hummed thoughtfully.

“She’s impressive,” Jim mused. “Smart, confident, gorgeous—”

Leonard cut him off. “No.”

Jim blinked, feigning innocence. “No what?”

Leonard pointed a finger at him. “ No . Whatever’s goin’ on in your brain, stop it.”

Jim grinned, unbothered. “Bones, I haven’t even done anything yet.”

“Yet,” Leonard grumbled, folding his arms.

Jim clapped him on the shoulder and teased. “Relax. I’m just sayin’—if you’re not gonna go after her I could—”

Leonard groaned loudly and started walking away.

Jim laughed.

Chapter Text

Back on the Enterprise , Leonard found himself restless.

It had been years since someone had gotten into his head like this, and it frustrated him.

He wasn’t even sure if Georgie wanted to see him again. They had talked, laughed, shared something, but that was before she knew he was stationed here. Before she knew they’d be working on the same ship.

She had a hell of a career ahead of her. And he was just… him . He sighed, running a hand through his hair. He wasn’t going to chase her down. If she wanted to find him, she would. And damn it, part of him hoped she would.

It had been a week since Georgie had officially joined the Enterprise, and he had barely spoken to her.

He had seen her around, though.

Once in the corridors, focused on her work, barking orders at junior security officers with the kind of commanding presence that made it clear she belonged in that role. Another time in the lounge, reviewing reports on her PADD while ignoring the conversation happening around her. And once, just yesterday, they had exchanged a nod on the bridge, nothing more, nothing less, like two professionals acknowledging each other and nothing deeper.

He figured she was just busy settling in, proving herself to the crew, making her mark.

Why would she come visit him?

They had shared one night of drinks and conversation, but now? Now she was his colleague. The universe had a cruel sense of humor like that. Still, she lingered in his thoughts more than he wanted to admit.

Leonard had gotten into the habit of hitting the gym early in the morning. It wasn’t that he loved working out, hell, he’d rather be drinking coffee, but he knew his body needed it, especially with the stress of this job.

Jim, naturally, showed up late, looking a little too pleased with himself, as if he had just rolled out of bed and decided today was a good day to be insufferable.

“Bones,” Jim greeted, stepping onto the treadmill next to him. “Morning.”

Leonard grunted in response, focusing on his run.

Jim adjusted the speed on his treadmill, then casually said, “So, I invited Lieutenant Commander Knox for a one-on-one .”

Leonard nearly tripped.

He recovered quickly, eyes narrowing. “You what ?”

Jim smirked. “Relax, it’s work-related. You know, team bonding, captain checking in on his new department head, all that good stuff.”

Leonard huffed. “And let me guess she turned you down?”

Jim sighed dramatically. “Hasn’t even accepted yet. Which is rare. I’m very charming.”

Leonard rolled his eyes. “You’re a damn menace, that’s what you are.”

Jim just grinned.

Before Leonard could change the subject, movement on the other side of the gym caught his attention.

Across the room, Georgie was engaged in an intense sparring match with Spock .

Leonard slowed his treadmill to a stop, arms crossed as he watched.

It was a sight to behold.

The two moved with precision, their bodies shifting and striking in calculated rhythms. Georgie was fast, damn fast , her athletic build making every motion seamless. Spock, ever composed, countered with Vulcan efficiency, every strike and block executed with absolute control.

It was almost brutal, but it wasn’t lethal.

Leonard had seen fights before real ones and this wasn’t that. This was something more disciplined, an exchange between two warriors testing their limits.

And she was holding her own . No, scratch that, she was pushing Spock.

She moved with a kind of strategic grace that made it look easy, anticipating his attacks, countering with precision. She struck, he blocked. He lunged, she dodged. It was an even match, and he could see the briefest flicker of something in Spock’s  expression, acknowledgment.

Then, with one final strike, they both landed a hit at the same time.

A draw.

Spock took a step back, lowering his hands. “Impressive, Lieutenant. Your proficiency in hand-to-hand combat is formidable.”

Georgie smirked, breathing evenly. “You’re not so bad yourself, Commander Spock.”

Spock nodded his head, clearly satisfied.

Leonard was still staring.

He had known she was good at her job. Tactical and Security officers had to be. But this? This was something she had trained years for.

Jim let out a low whistle. “Damn. I gotta say, I love seeing someone go toe-to-toe with Spock.”

Leonard huffed, shaking his head. “That was more than toe-to-toe. She kept up with him.”

Jim’s grin widened. “I think I should take a shot.”

Leonard turned sharply. “You what?”

Jim was already stepping forward, rolling his shoulders like he was warming up.

“Lieutenant Knox,” he called, striding toward her.

Georgie turned, one brow raised in mild amusement. “Captain.”

Jim stopped a few feet away, smirking. “I’m impressed with your fighting abilities. But I’m also curious.”

She crossed her arms. “About?”

Jim cracked his knuckles. “How you’d fare against me .”

Leonard groaned.

Georgie, to her credit, didn’t even blink. Instead, she studied Jim like he was a puzzle she was already solving. “Are you sure you want to do this, sir?”

Jim grinned. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

Leonard muttered under his breath, “You get your ass handed to you.”

Jim ignored him and squared his stance.

Georgie exhaled, shaking her head. “Alright, Captain. Your funeral.”

It lasted three moves .

Jim went for the first strike, too eager.

Georgie side-stepped effortlessly, hooked his wrist, twisted his arm behind his back, and then swept his legs out from under him in one fluid motion.

Jim hit the mat hard.

Leonard burst out laughing.

Jim groaned from the ground, blinking up at the ceiling. “Okay. That was fast .”

Georgie smirked, standing over him. “You asked for it, sir.”

But Jim wasn’t finished. Still on the ground, he twisted and swept his leg out, trying to knock Georgie’s feet from under her in one last-ditch move.

She saw it coming.

Just before his leg could connect, Georgie shifted her weight, pivoted on one foot, and hooked his ankle with hers, sending him to the mat with precision. In one smooth motion, she stepped forward and pressed her foot lightly but firmly against Jim’s chest, holding him down without breaking a sweat.

“Nice try,” she said, not even winded.

Jim blinked up at her, dazed. “I… really thought that was gonna work.”

Leonard leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, a wide grin tugging at his mouth. “That was the best damn thing I’ve seen all week.”

Still flat on his back, Jim lifted a hand and pointed toward him. “Not a word, Bones.”

Leonard held up his hands, the smirk not leaving his face. “Didn’t say a thing.”

Spock, observing from the sidelines, tilted his head. “Captain, did you take Lieutenant Commander Knox’s combat background into account before initiating this sparring match?”

Jim sighed. “No, Mr. Spock, but I’m sure you’re about to enlighten me.”

“Based on her records, Lieutenant Commander Knox has been training in martial arts since the age of seven,” Spock said evenly. “She is proficient in Tae Kwon Do, Hapkido, and Muay Thai. She has won several hand-to-hand combat tournaments at the Academy and placed first in inter-fleet sparring competitions. Given this information, your odds of success were minimal.”

“Appreciate the heads-up,” Jim muttered. Georgie stepped off of Jim and offered a hand, which he took with a groan.

Leonard raised a brow, low whistle escaping under his breath. “Hell of a résumé,” he muttered, genuinely impressed.

Georgie finally turned toward him, calm, composed, but the smile she gave him now was different. Not a polite smirk. Not the guarded amusement she’d flashed before.

Warmth flickered in Leonard’s chest, unexpected and a little too welcome for comfort.

She tilted her head, eyes narrowing slightly, like she knew he’d been watching. Like she knew exactly what he was thinking.

“Excuse me, gentlemen. Duty calls.”

As she passed, her arm brushed his, light and deliberate. “I’ll be in the gym tomorrow,” she said, glancing back at him over her shoulder. “If you want a turn next, Dr. McCoy.”

Leonard grinned. “Not unless I’m in the mood for a bruised ego and a dislocated shoulder. I’ll stick to observing.”

And just like that, she was gone, leaving the scent of sweat, fruity, and something else entirely in her wake.

Leonard sat alone at the ship’s bar, nursing a drink as he watched the Ole Miss vs. University of Illinois football game on the screen above him. His face was set in a scowl, arms crossed as the final play sealed his team’s fate.

A deep, irritated groan escaped him.

“Damn it,” he muttered, shaking his head as the game ended in a loss.

From the other side of the bar, a loud cheer erupted.

He turned his head toward the sound, brow furrowing.

At the far end, a small group of crew members were exchanging high fives, their celebration clearly tied to the very loss he was groaning about. And right in the middle of them, Georgie.

He leaned back, watching as she smirked, shaking hands with one of the officers, her short brown hair slightly tousled from the excitement.

She liked sports. Huh.

He hadn’t known that.

He pushed off his seat and wandered over, sliding his hands into his pockets as he came up beside her.

“Let me guess,” he said, tilting his head toward the screen. “You cheerin’ for Illinois?”

She turned, looking up at him with that same unreadable expression she always had, but there was a spark of amusement in her dark eyes.

“Yup,” she said simply. “I'm from Chicago, remember?”

He blinked. “Oh I remember.”

She smirked, taking a sip of her drink. “Yeah. It’s my Alma mater.”

He sighed dramatically. “Well, your Alma mater just beat mine.”

She chuckled. “That so?”

He exhaled, rubbing a hand down his face. “Yeah. And I gotta admit, it stings.”

She raised a brow. “You really take your football seriously, huh?”

“I’m from Georgia ,” Leonard deadpanned. “College football is damn near a religion.”

Georgie smirked. “And here I thought I was competitive.”

He gestured toward her empty glass. “Well, in the spirit of being a good sport , how ‘bout I get you a celebratory drink?”

She tilted her head. “Now that, Doctor, I’ll accept.”

He ordered them both another round, and as they waited, the group she had been sitting with turned toward her.

“You coming with us, Knox?” one of the ensigns asked.

Georgie glanced at the fresh drink Leonard had just set in front of her, then shook her head. “Nah, I think I’ll hang back for a bit. Besides, I’ve got more work to do later.”

One of the officers smirked. “Workaholic already, huh?”

Georgie shrugged. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

They laughed, gave her a few playful nudges, and headed off, leaving Leonard and Georgie at the bar.

He raised an eyebrow. “Already makin’ friends, I see.”

She took a sip of her drink. “Getting there. I’ve met a few crew members so far. Those were some people I knew back at the academy.”

He nodded, watching her carefully. “That’s good.”

Georgie smirked at him. “What?”

He shrugged. “Just… glad to see you settlin’ in.”

She hummed, taking another sip. “Well, I’d say the Enterprise is starting to grow on me.”

He smirked. “Even after watchin’ Jim get his ass handed to him?”

She let out a low chuckle. “ Especially after that.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “That was the best damn thing I’ve seen in a long time.”

She leaned against the bar slightly. “Kirk is not exactly what I thought he’d be.”

He gave her a curious look. “How do you mean?”

She hesitated for a moment, then exhaled. “Can I ask you something off the record?”

He nodded. “Course.”

She set her glass down. “You seem close to the Captain, but is Kirk always this… flirtatious?”

His brows lifted slightly. “He been givin’ you trouble?”

She shook her head. “Not trouble exactly. Just… he’s just nonstop.”

His expression darkened slightly. “You sure you’re alright? ‘Cause if you ain’t comfortable, I can—”

Georgie held up a hand. “It’s not a big deal. I know how to handle guys like him.”

He exhaled slowly, still watching her carefully. “Still. If he ever crosses a line—”

“He won’t,” she assured him, meeting his gaze. “I won’t let him.”

She finished off the rest of her drink and set the glass down. “Anyway, I’m sorry I didn’t get with you sooner. Just been busy.” She sighed to herself. “I say that now but you just watched me watching a football game with some crewmates.”

He waved it off. “Ain’t no thing, Georgie. You got a lot on your plate, you don’t owe me anything.”

She exhaled, then glanced at him. “I enjoyed getting to know you on the starbase and I’ve been wanting to connect again. How about lunch sometime?”

He lifted a brow. “Lunch, huh?”

She tilted her head. “Unless you’ve got better plans.”

He smirked. “Lunch sounds real good.”

She nodded. “Good. I’ll message you.”

And with that, she stood, gave him one last glance, and disappeared down the corridor, leaving him staring after her, that same damn warm feeling creeping into his chest.

A few days later, Leonard sat in the mess hall, poking around on his PADD with a tray of food to the side while trying not to check the door every five seconds. He was trying to play it cool, but the nerves were there tight in his chest.

When Georgie finally walked in, tray in hand, she gave him a nod and came to sit across from him. "Hey, stranger," she said, setting down her tray.

He smirked. "You’re late."

She raised a brow. "I’m five minutes early."

He shrugged. "Time moves differently when you’re hungry."

Georgie chuckled, then picked up her fork. "This the legendary mess hall food I’ve heard about?"

"Legendary might be generous," He said. "But edible, most days."

They chatted for a while, mostly about her department. Georgie explained some of her current duties, how she was rotating through tactical drills and observing simulation scenarios, prepping for a leadership pipeline. Her voice, already expressive, took on a sharp, animated rhythm as she spoke about live training ops and decision-making under fire.

Leonard listened, at first with polite interest, but that soon shifted into something deeper. The way she spoke, it wasn’t just confidence, it was conviction. Her hands moved as she described running a security exercise where everything had gone sideways, and how she had to think three steps ahead to keep her team from failing. He found himself smiling, not just at what she was saying, but at how she said it. Her whole face lit up. She was passionate, unapologetically proud of her work, and her emotions… she wore them right there on her sleeve, as unguarded as she was composed.

“You really love what you do,” Leonard said quietly, half to himself.

Georgie glanced over, still a little breathless from her last story, and grinned. “I do. It’s not always easy, but… I feel like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be, you know?”

He nodded slowly. “Yeah. I know that feeling. Doesn’t always last, but when it hits… it’s like breathing for the first time in weeks.”

That made her pause, her brows gently furrowing. “What about you? You’ve probably seen it all by now, ever get tired of it?”

Leonard chuckled low in his throat. “I don’t know about ‘seen it all.’ I’ve seen enough to know that people surprise you… sometimes in the worst ways, but often in the best.” He glanced down at his food, pushing his fork around idly before looking back at her. “I became a doctor because I wanted to fix things. I think I thought it’d be easier than it is. But, turns out, even if you can’t always fix the body, you can still do something for the person.”

She looked at him differently now, softer. “That’s kind of beautiful.”

He shrugged, sheepish. “Don’t forget, it’s kinda messy too, you know, dealing with bodily fluids and all.”

Georgie laughed. Before he could ask another question, a familiar voice cut in.

"Hey, Georgie. Hey, Doc," Sulu said, approaching the table with a tray.

Georgie smiled. "Hey, Hikaru."

Sulu glanced between them. "Mind if I join you guys?"

Leonard hesitated just a beat too long. "Sure," he said, forcing a smile.

Sulu sat down beside Georgie, launching into a story about a flight sim gone wrong earlier that day. Georgie laughed and Leonard felt something twist in his stomach. He watched the way Sulu nudged her elbow, the familiarity between them.

He couldn’t help but wonder.

Were they... interested in each other?

Leonard tried to shake the thought, but it lingered. Everyone seemed to be catching Georgie’s attention these days.

And he wasn’t sure what to do about it.

Chapter Text

Leonard strode into the conference room, already bracing himself for another round of status updates, maintenance schedules, resource forecasts, and whatever fresh chaos the week had to offer. The lighting was bright but not harsh, the room cool and still, the faint hum of the ship barely audible under the quiet murmur of voices already gathering.

Kirk was at the head of the table, leaned back slightly in his chair, data padd in hand, stylus spinning idly between his fingers. Spock was already mid-scroll on his own, face neutral as always. Uhura nodded at Leonard as he entered, and Scotty gave him a brief, tired smile.

But it wasn't any of them he was looking for.

It was supposed to be Georgie's first senior staff meeting, officially. She'd filled in before, here and there, especially during away missions or red alert briefings, but this was her new role.

And if he was being honest with himself, if he could shut off the rational, regulated part of his mind for half a second, he'd been looking forward to it.

He wanted to see how she held herself in this kind of space. How she handled these strategy-heavy settings, not just tactical field planning. There was a calm precision to her presence that contrasted just enough with her fire. He liked watching her think. He liked it more than he should.

But when he slid into his seat next to Jim, he glanced around the table, brows immediately knitting.

She wasn't there.

He leaned in, voice low. "Where's Knox?"

Jim didn't look up from his PADD. "Called out sick."

Leonard blinked. "Sick?"

"Yep. Sent a comm this morning."

Leonard sat back, arms folding across his chest. "Huh. Funny. I wasn't aware of any sickness."

That got Jim's attention. "Bones, people get sick. It's not a conspiracy."

Leonard shot him a look. "She's new. And if she's missing this, it's gotta be bad."

Still unconvinced, he pulled out his PADD under the table and tapped out a quick message.

Leonard McCoy: Heard you're sick. You okay?

A few moments later, the reply came.

Georgina Knox: Not feeling great. Just needed to rest.

Leonard frowned, thumb hovering over the screen before he typed again.

Leonard McCoy: You need anything? I can swing by after the meeting.

A pause.

Georgina Knox: No, I'm fine.

He sighed. Stubborn woman.

He was about to put the PADD away when it buzzed again.

Georgina Knox: Actually… yeah. That would be nice.

His fingers moved before he could second-guess it.

Leonard McCoy: I'll be there after the meeting.

He slipped the PADD into his pocket, shaking his head with a quiet huff.

Jim gave him a side glance, the corner of his mouth twitching. "Something you wanna share with the class?"

Leonard didn't look at him. "Just start the damn meeting."

As soon as the meeting ended, Leonard made a beeline for her quarters.

The door slid open at his request, and the moment he stepped inside, he knew this wasn't just some minor cold or flu.

She looked miserable.

Her short brown hair was slightly damp from sweat, her normally sharp, alert expression dulled with exhaustion. Dark circles lingered under her eyes, and she looked like she hadn't gotten a good night's sleep in days.

She was curled up in bed, gripping a pillow tightly, her jaw clenched against whatever pain she was feeling.

Leonard's chest tightened.

"Georgie," he muttered, stepping closer. "You look like hell."

She let out a weak chuckle. "Feel like it, too."

McCoy pulled out his tricorder and ran a scan over her. "Talk to me. What's goin' on?"

She sighed, pressing her face into the pillow before mumbling, "Period cramps."

He blinked. "Period cramps?"

She let out a sharp exhale. "Bad ones. I get them all the time. This time, they're worse."

He frowned at the readings. Her pain levels were high, and her vitals showed signs of stress from sleep deprivation.

"How long've you been dealin' with this pain?" he asked, voice low and steady.

She hesitated.

"Since yesterday, but the pain has increased in the last couple of months." she finally admitted. "I was trying to push through it."

McCoy exhaled sharply, muttering a curse under his breath. "Dammit, Georgie. You should've called me sooner."

"I didn't wanna bother you over this," she said, wincing. "It's just… something I've learned to live with."

"Well, now I'm dealin' with it, and I don't just let people suffer through things. We're gonna figure this out."

He looked at the tricorder again, eyes narrowing at the latest reading. The screen pulsed with a diagnostic probability: 90.4% likelihood of endometriosis.

No wonder she was in this much pain.

He glanced back at her, his voice gentler now. "This might be more than just cramps, Georgie. We'll run some scans, get you properly diagnosed. You don't have to keep toughin' it out alone."

She rolled onto her back, wincing, gripping the pillow even tighter.

He didn't think, he just acted.

He reached for her free hand, wrapping his own around it. "Squeeze as hard as you need to. It won't hurt me."

She turned her head slightly, her tired, pained eyes locking onto his. There was hesitation there.

Then, a sharp cramp hit, and she let out a strained breath, instinctively gripping his hand hard.

He barely flinched.

Instead, he reached for his medkit with his free hand, pulling out a hypospray. "Alright, darlin', this is gonna take the edge off."

She closed her eyes as he pressed the device against her neck, the small hiss filling the room.

After a few moments, she let out a slow exhale, her grip on his hand loosening just slightly.

He brushed his thumb over her knuckles absentmindedly, watching her expression ease, the pain finally dulling.

"Better?" he asked.

She nodded weakly. "Yeah. Thanks."

He set the hypospray down and grabbed another. "This one's a mild sleep aid. You need rest."

She tensed. "Leonard, I don't—"

"Georgie," he said gently, his voice lowering. "You need to sleep."

There was a long pause before she gave a small, reluctant nod.

"I'll have my Head Nurse, Christine Chapel, check in on you," he continued. "And I want you to follow up in Medbay. This wasn't in your record, and I want to make sure we don't miss anything. You don't have to see me if you'd rather not, but someone on my team needs to take a look."

She didn't respond, just gave the smallest nod again.

He administered the dose. Within minutes, he watched the tension ease from her shoulders, her grip on his hand soften, her breathing grow slower and deeper. Her eyelids fluttered.

Just before she slipped under, she mumbled, "This is just… embarrassing."

He shook his head and gently brushed a damp strand of hair from her forehead. "Ain't nothin' to be embarrassed about," he said softly.

Her lips barely moved, but he caught the ghost of a smile.

"Thank you Leonard."

He sat there for a few more moments, watching as her breathing evened out, her face finally free of tension.

Then, quietly, he squeezed her hand once more before slipping his own away.

And damn it, he still didn't want to leave.

It was one of those days where everyone on the ship was pissing him off. Leonard had barely sat down when his office door chimed. He groaned, rubbing his temples. It wasn't even late, just barely past 2 PM, but it had already been one of the longest days he'd had in months. Sick crew members, minor injuries, an engineer who somehow managed to get a plasma burn and a head injury in the same shift, hell, even Spock had stopped by for a routine check-up, and he had to spend fifteen minutes convincing him that his stress levels were higher than usual.

He had been hoping for just five damn minutes of quiet.

When the chime rang again, he sighed, sitting up. "Yeah, yeah, come in."

The door slid open, and Georgie stood there, looking much better than she had the other day.

His tension eased immediately.

She looked good, her red uniform crisp, her posture back to the strong, composed stance he had first seen when she arrived. But there was something softer in her eyes, something hesitant.

He tilted his head. "Lieutenant. What can I do for you?"

She stepped inside, hands clasped behind her back. "I won't take up much of your time. I just wanted to… thank you. For the other day."

He shrugged, leaning back in his chair. "Ain't nothin' to thank me for. Just doin' my job."

She smirked slightly. "I don't recall house calls being standard protocol."

He smirked right back. "Well, I like to go above and beyond."

Her expression flickered with amusement, but there was something else too, something a little nervous, like she was debating something.

Finally, she pulled something from behind her back and set a small tin and fork on his desk.

He glanced at it, then back at her. "What's this?"

She gestured to the tin. "Open it."

He popped the lid off, and the second the scent hit him, he froze.

Peach Cobbler.

His stomach twisted, not from hunger but from memory.

Just like the same damn cobbler his mother used to make. The same that filled their house with that rich, sweet smell of peaches and warm vanilla. The same she'd pack when he was away at school. He hadn't had a cobbler in years.

He looked up at Georgie, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Alright. Now you definitely got some explainin' to do."

She crossed her arms, a small smirk tugging at her lips. "Okay, I have to admit something."

He raised a brow, curious. "Oh yeah?"

She nodded. "I hate asking for help. I struggle with it, so… I can be a little stubborn."

He gave a low chuckle. "Tell me something I don't know."

She rolled her eyes but smiled anyway. "When I wasn't feeling well and the one person who reached out was you, I was glad. Not just because you're the doctor, but because you've been a real friend to me."

He softened. "Just doing my job."

"You didn't have to come check on me," she said, her voice quieter now. "You could've just left it at the message. But you didn't."

He opened his mouth to respond, but she cut in first with a flicker of mischief in her eyes.

"I also figured you'd get a kick out of this."

"Oh?" he asked, wary now.

She exhaled like she was confessing a long-held secret. "In a weird way I was named after the state of Georgia."

That caught him off guard.

"Georgia?" he repeated, brows lifting.

Georgie nodded. "Yep. My grandmother, Henrietta Abel, was born and raised in Savannah. Lived her whole life there until she moved to Chicago with my Papa. My parents wanted to honor her by naming me after her, but thankfully they didn't go with 'Henrietta.'" She grinned. "So they settled on Georgina."

Leonard laughed, a warm rumble in his chest. "That's not bad. Has a nice ring to it."

She tilted her head, studying him. "You're just saying that because you're from the South."

He gave her a look. "Damn right I am." He blinked, still trying to wrap his head around this. "So you this yourself?" he asked, voice quieter now.

She nodded. "Replicators are useful, but some things need to be done right. This is Grandma Henri's recipe."

He exhaled through his nose, shaking his head slightly. "And here I was thinkin' you were just tryin' to bribe your doctor."

She smirked. "Maybe a little."

He picked up the fork and dipped right in the middle.

The second the flavor hit his tongue, he felt home.

The warmth of cinnamon, the soft sweetness of peaches, the buttery crumble that melted just right.

For a moment, he wasn't in his office on a damn starship, he was back home in the kitchen, sunlight filtering through the windows, the scent of sugar and vanilla in the air.

He swallowed, nodding as he set the tin down.

"This is… damn good," he admitted.

She tilted her head slightly, watching him. "Figured a taste of home might mean something to you."

She was right.

It did mean something. More than he expected.

He cleared his throat, sitting back in his chair. "Well, consider me impressed."

She smirked. "That's the goal."

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment before she added, "And… thanks. For bein' a friend. Getting used to a new ship isn't easy, but you've made it a hell of a lot better."

He met her gaze.

"Anytime, Georgie."

The lounge was quiet, save for the low ambient hum of the ship and the occasional clink of glass from the bar. Most of the crew had either turned in for the night or rotated off duty hours ago. Leonard wasn't much for crowds, especially not at this hour,but he needed to stretch his legs and enjoy a little solitude.

Or at least, that was the plan.

He spotted Georgie before he even made it halfway across the room.

She was perched at the bar, padd in front of her, posture slightly slouched, her boots resting on the bottom rung of the stool. Her hair had come loose from its usual neat pin, and the light above her caught the faint gleam of tired eyes. She hadn't noticed him yet, too focused on whatever she was working through.

He found himself smiling, just a little.

"Don't tell me you're still on the clock."

Georgie looked up and smiled faintly when she saw him. "No clock. Just trying to get ahead on deployment patterns. And maybe triple-checking a few sensor blind spots."

"Ah," he said, sliding into the stool beside her. "The fun stuff."

"You say that like you don't spend half your week elbows-deep in biology logs."

He lifted his brow. "Maybe."

A beat passed before he nodded toward her drink. "You taking a break?"

She sighed. "Fifteen-hour day. If I stop moving too long, I might fall asleep upright."

Leonard gave a low whistle. "Fifteen hours? That's not dedication, that's a cautionary tale."

"I know, I know," she said, lifting her hands in surrender. "I'm about to be medically scolded, aren't I?"

"Only lightly," he said. "Put the padd away."

"Doctor's orders?"

"Absolutely."

She grinned, but she did it, powered down the screen and slid it away. "Alright. But if I start spiraling from not multitasking, I'm blaming you."

"I'll take full responsibility."

They ordered drinks, hers something with citrus, his dark and simple. The minutes passed easily, the tension that usually followed them in command settings slowly melting under the low lighting and soft atmosphere. It wasn't often they were off-duty at the same time. Rarer still that neither of them had anywhere else to be.

After a while, Georgie leaned her cheek into her hand and looked sideways at him. "Wanna play something dumb?"

Leonard narrowed his eyes. "I'm afraid to ask."

"Never Have I Ever."

He gave her a look. "What are we, first year cadets?"

"C'mon," she said, nudging him lightly with her elbow. "It would be fun. It's past midnight, and we're off duty. Let's pretend we're not responsible adults for ten minutes."

He groaned, but the corners of his mouth curled up. "Alright, alright.

She held up her glass. "I'll start. Never have I ever… skipped class at the Academy."

Leonard took a drink.

She laughed. "Seriously?"

"Organic Chemistry II. Completely unnecessary."

She nodded approvingly. "Respect."

His turn. "Never have I ever punched a superior officer."

She paused.

Then drank.

He nearly choked. "You're kidding."

Georgie winced. "Technically, it was a slap. He grabbed my butt during a training demo. I reacted. Reflexes."

"Hell of a reflex."

"They cleared me. Eventually."

He chuckled, shaking his head. "You're full of surprises."

They played some more, testing the waters. Light stuff. Silly things.
"Never have I ever faked an injury to get out of a training drill."
Leonard drank. Georgie cackled.
"Never have I ever sung in the shower."
She drank. He gave her a smug little smirk.

Then, as the drinks flowed and the hour grew later, the questions got bolder. Goof ups back at the academy. Sneaking out as a teen. Mistakes they never wanted to repeat.

She tapped her glass thoughtfully. "Okay… my turn."

She turned to face him a little more, knee brushing gently against his.

"Never have I ever… imagined what someone on this ship looks like out of uniform."

Leonard's brows shot up. He turned his head slowly to look at her.

Georgie's cheeks flushed instantly. "That's not a confession, it's a trap, a bold one."

He laughed.

She bit her lip, but held her ground. "You don't have to answer."

"No, no, no," he said, already lifting his drink. "That'd be rude."

He sipped, eyes still on her.

She blinked. "Seriously?"

He didn't respond right away, just gave her a lopsided smile. "What can I say? I'm a visual learner."

That earned him a swat on the arm, but she was laughing, embarrassed, yes, but also glowing in a way that had nothing to do with the lighting.

"Okay, fine," she muttered. "You win that one."

"Oh, oh my turn," he said, leaning on the bar, chin in hand. "Never have I ever… baked a cobbler for someone who was just doing their job."

She gave him a narrow-eyed look. "That's cheating."

"It's accurate."

"Fine," she said, and drank.

He chuckled. "I meant to tell you, I finished it."

Her eyes widened. "Already?"

"Gone," he said. "Every last bite. No regrets."

"That was a lot of cobbler."

"And not enough, if I'm being honest."

She laughed, warm and surprised. "Well… I can always make more. If you ever want it."

He looked at her, eyes soft. "Careful. I'll start making up reasons to get on your good side."

She nudged his boot with hers. "I mean it."

"Georgie," he said, patting his stomach, "my waist is already threatening mutiny."

"You look good," she said, too quickly, and then clearly realized she'd said it out loud.

He tilted his head. "Yeah?"

She flushed again, but there was no backpedaling now. "I mean for someone who just ate a lot of cobbler."

Leonard just smirked.

The air between them shifted, just slightly. Causing him to finish his drink in one swallow.

The lounge was empty now except for them, and they were talking in hushed voices like the ship might overhear. Topics had shifted again, memories of home, embarrassing stories, what they used to be like before they were Starfleet officers.

When they finally rose to leave, they moved in sync, no need to say they were walking together.

The corridor was quiet, lights dimmed to night mode, their footsteps soft on the floor.

When they reached her quarters, she stopped and turned toward him.

"That was the most fun I've had, well, since we first met."

Leonard smiled. "If you think that was fun then you should see me on a second date."

She raised a brow. "Was this a first?"

"I don't know," he paused nervously. "Did it feel like one?"

She thought for a second. "Yeah. Maybe it did."

Another pause. A little longer this time.

"Night, Leonard. I'll see you tomorrow for the away mission."

"Night, Georgie."

She stepped inside, the door closing behind her.

Leonard stood there for a few seconds longer than he needed to, replaying the conversation in his head.

Definitely felt like a date.

The sun bore down like a hammer on the red-orange sands of Therra-4, a desert colony on the brink of environmental collapse. Even with the thin, breathable suits designed to regulate temperature and block UV rays, the crew of the Enterprise felt the heat in every step.

Leonard wiped the sweat from his face and grumbled as he scanned a patch of arid terrain. "Remember, folks," he called over the comms, "think fluids, every hour. If you ain't sweatin', you ain't drinkin' enough."

"Duly noted, Doctor," came Jim's dry voice through the comms, followed by a chuckle.

They were here to support a struggling Earth colony, a small outpost hit hard by shifting tectonic patterns and supply chain shortages. Today's mission was a mix of medical triage and resource inventory.

He adjusted his tricorder, stepping away from the main shuttle as he focused on a few faint life signs underground. Maybe water? He muttered a hopeful, "Come on, give me somethin' good," when he heard the soft crunch of sand behind him.

He turned to see Georgie approaching with careful steps, arms wrapped around a small child, no older than six. The girl's leg was covered in a makeshift bandage, red seeping through.

"She took a nasty spill down one of the ravines," Georgie said, her voice calm but edged with concern. "She won't let anyone near her except me."

Leonard's gaze dropped to the little girl, who was clinging tightly to Georgie's neck, her wide brown eyes darting between them. She looked terrified.

"Hey there, sweetheart," Leonard said gently, crouching to her level. "I'm Doctor McCoy. You got yourself a pretty mean scrape, huh?"

The girl shrunk back into Georgie's shoulder, shaking her head.

Georgie gave Leonard a sympathetic glance, then leaned in to whisper to the girl, "It's okay, sweetie. Dr. McCoy is one of the best. He's a little grumpy sometimes—"

"I heard that," Leonard muttered.

"—but he's my friend," Georgie finished. "You can trust him."

The girl blinked at Georgie, then slowly looked at Leonard again. Her lip trembled. "You promise?"

Leonard held up a hand, placing two fingers against his chest. "Cross my heart, darlin'. I've got a soft spot for brave girls."

She hesitated. Then, shyly, she reached out her leg toward him, still wrapped around Georgie's hip like a little koala.

Leonard gently peeled back the bandage, frowning as he examined the wound. "She'll need some dermal regeneration. Infection hasn't set in yet, but it's close." He looked up at Georgie. "Hold her steady?"

"I've got her," she said softly.

He pulled out his medkit, working carefully while the girl winced and buried her face into Georgie's neck.

"You're doin' great," He murmured, his voice low and warm. "Not many people can tough out a wound like that."

After a few minutes of cleaning, disinfecting, and a quick zap of the dermal regenerator, the worst of the injury faded beneath newly formed skin. The girl peeked down, eyes wide with awe.

"It doesn't hurt anymore!"

Leonard gave her a small smile. "Told you I was good."

The girl tilted her head at him, thoughtful for a moment. Then she looked at Georgie and said loudly, "He thinks you're cute. He likes you."

Leonard's hands froze mid-pack.

Georgie blinked.

He looked up, mouth already opening. "Now hold on a—"

But Georgie was already grinning. "Is that so?"

"I did not—" He huffed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I mean, I didn't say—kids these days…"

The girl giggled and clung to Georgie tighter.

Georgie winked over the girl's shoulder. "It's okay, Doctor. You're pretty cute too."

Leonard flushed bright red beneath his sun shield. He muttered something under his breath as he stood and finished packing up his kit. But even as he turned away, a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

Cute, huh?

Maybe that wasn't so bad to hear.

The familiar hum of the transporter faded as Georgie and Leonard materialized on the Enterprise, the cool air of the ship washing over them in stark contrast to the sweltering heat of the desert planet below.

They began to peel off their suits, still covered in a thin layer of sand, and exhaled with relief. "I think I've sweated out every ounce of moisture in my body."

Leonard smirked as he adjusted the strap of his medkit. "And that's why I said, 'Think fluids,' every hour."

They stepped off the pad together, the rest of the away team dispersing down the corridors. Georgie and Leonard lingered behind, walking slowly side by side.

Then she turns her head toward him, soft but sure. "Hey… thanks."

He looks over at her, a little caught off guard. "For what?"

"That little girl. You were really good with her. You didn't just patch her up, you calmed her down. She trusted you." A pause, then, with a quiet smile; "You have a way, Doctor."

Leonard's mouth quirks. "I just told her the truth. She was brave as hell."

She bumps her shoulder gently against his. "Still. You made a difference."

He shrugs, trying to play it cool. "Comes with the job."

"Her parents were waiting at the edge of the village. She went running into their arms the second we turned the corner. Her mom thanked me. Said they were terrified when she went missing."

He nodded, quiet.

"I didn't realize she was Betazoid until her mother told me," She added, glancing at him with a mixture of embarrassment and awe. "Explains the whole 'blurt-your-thoughts-out-loud' thing."

He raised an eyebrow. "Ah. That explains a few things."

"Like her telling me you think I'm cute and you like me?"

His steps faltered, just a fraction. "Yeah, that'd be one of 'em."

Georgie grinned and bumped his arm gently with hers. "So. Do you?"

He scoffed, looking forward. "Kid's got a vivid imagination."

"Mmhm," she teases, looking far too pleased with herself. "You turned all pink under your helmet."

"I did not turn pink."

"You so did. Looked like your ears were about to combust."

"I was hot. We were on a desert planet."

"Sure," she says, folding her arms, leaning in just a little. "Totally the heat. Not the flustered, flattered, hopelessly-smitten doctor heat. Not at all."

He stops walking. So does she.

For a second, it's quiet.

Leonard studies her, eyes narrowed, trying to read the intent behind the grin. Behind the glint in her eyes.

"You're trouble," he says finally, almost in awe.

She lifts an eyebrow, voice soft now. "Not always, but when I am, you will know."

His throat bobs. He shifts the medkit on his shoulder again. "I'll… keep that in mind."

They start walking again. Neither of them says anything more, but their arms brush, just once.

And neither of them pulls away.

Chapter Text

Since their… interesting exchange about a week ago, Leonard hadn’t seen much of her. If he did catch a glimpse, she was moving too quickly down a corridor or hanging around Sulu. No PADD messages. 

Had things gotten too awkward after that whole "cute" comment from the colony girl? Or was she waiting on him to make a move? Hell if he knew. What he did know was that she’d been under his skin ever since.

“Bones!” Jim barked from across the 3D chessboard. “Any day now. Make a move.”

Leonard blinked, yanked from his thoughts. Right. Chess.

“Alright, alright,” he grumbled, sliding a pawn up one level.

Jim immediately countered with a smug grin, knocking Leonard’s piece out with his knight.

“Unwise move, Doctor,” Spock said without looking up from his PADD.

“Clearly.” Leonard muttered, slouching in his chair with a dramatic sigh.

Jim leaned back in his seat, stretching his arms over his head. “You’re getting rusty. You used to put up a decent fight. What’s eating you?”

“Nothing’s eating me,” Leonard lied, stacking the captured pieces like he was building a tower.

“Uh-huh.” Jim glanced at Spock. “What are you working on that’s more exciting than watching me crush Bones in chess?”

Spock didn’t look up. “I am reviewing recent teamwork metrics. Sulu and Knox were paired for several assignments. Their compatibility is above average, cohesive communication, synchronized response time, shared initiative.”

Leonard stiffened.

Jim noticed.

“Impressive,” Jim said, then shot Leonard a look. “Wonder if that extends off-duty.”

Leonard rolled his eyes a bit too hard. “Oh, please.”

Jim raised an eyebrow. “Something you wanna say, Bones?”

“Just that she seems to spend a lot of time with Sulu,” Leonard muttered, focusing very intently on the chessboard.

Spock looked up. “Given their performance metrics and shared recreational preferences, I surmise they have developed a mutual rapport. Statistically, that could lead to a romantic connection.”

“That’s enough, Spock.” Leonard said quickly, voice low.

Jim smirked. “Huh.”

Leonard glanced at him. “Huh what?”

“Nothing,” Jim said, far too innocently, but the twinkle in his eyes said otherwise. “Just didn’t realize you were keeping track of her whereabouts, that’s all.”

“I’m not,” Leonard grumbled. “It’s an observation.”

Spock tilted his head. “A rather emotionally charged one. It would explain your elevated cortisol levels.”

“I’m surrounded by jackasses,” Leonard muttered, pushing himself up from the table.

Jim chuckled. “Where are you going? We’re tied.”

“We are not. You’re winning,” Leonard called over his shoulder. “And I need a drink.”

Leonard collapsed onto his couch with a groan, stretching out and rubbing his face with both hands. The low hum of the ship was the only sound around him, no beeping monitors, no hissing med-scanners, no James T. Kirk being a pain in the ass.

For once, things were quiet.

He poured himself a small glass of bourbon from the mini-bar, swirled it once, and stared into it like it might have answers. Why the hell was this so hard? Hell, did she even like him back? She seems pretty flirty, but what’s up with Sulu?

He sighed, then leaned forward and tapped the console on the table. “Computer, initiate subspace call, Elenora McCoy.”

A few moments passed. Then the screen flickered to life, and there she was, his mama, sitting at her kitchen table with a coffee mug and a half-finished crossword.

“Well, there’s my boy,” she said, smiling. “You look tired.”

Leonard huffed. “You always say that.”

“Well, you always look tired,” she replied, arching a brow in that way that always made him feel like he was twelve again.

“Good to see you too, Ma.”

They caught up for a few minutes, talk of weather back home, gossip about Mrs. Parker two houses down, and Elenora’s ongoing battle with her tomato plants.

Then, with a sip of his bourbon, Leonard finally said, “Had a patient bring me somethin’ a while back.”

“Oh?” Her eyebrow rose.

“Homemade peach cobbler.”

Her eyes lit with interest. “No.”

“Yes.”

She sat back, clearly impressed. “And who is this patient?.”

He smirked. “Her name is Georgina. Goes by Georgie.”

His mother’s smile turned sly. “You like her.”

Leonard let out a sigh. “Yeah… I do.”

“I knew it.”

“She’s the new head of tactical and security. Sharp as a tack. Can knock a grown man on his butt and still manage to smile politely while doin’ it.”

“She sounds intense. You don’t usually go for intense girls.”

Leonard gave her a flat look. “Ma, be serious.”

“I am serious.” Her tone softened. “Leonard, you haven’t said anything about a woman in years. Not since Jocelyn.”

He swallowed hard. “This… it’s different. But heck, I don’t know. I keep thinkin’ maybe it’s all in my head. That she’s just nice. That maybe she’s got a thing with this guy named Sulu or... heck, even Jim’s been floatin’ around with his little charm offensive.”

“And that bothers you, doesn’t it?”

He looked away. “Yeah. More than it should.”

She was quiet for a second, letting that hang in the air. 

“Honey,” she said, “I need you to hear me. You are a damn good man. You’re kind, loyal, smart, and I know you’ve got one of the biggest hearts out there.”

He gave a half-smile. “Flattery ain’t gonna fix this.”

“You want my opinion?” She leaned in. “Start by bein’ her friend. Let her see you. Don’t rush it. If it’s real, it’ll grow.”

He nodded slowly. “What if I screw it up?”

“Then you’ll pick yourself up and try again. But you won’t screw it up by being honest.”

He stared into the screen for a long moment. “Thanks, Ma.”

“Anytime, baby. And next time you talk to her, tell her your mama approves of her cobbler.”

Leonard chuckled. “Goodnight, Ma.”

“Goodnight, sweetheart.”

The screen went dark. Leonard leaned back into the couch, letting her words settle in his chest.

Yeah. Maybe it was time to stop second-guessing.

Maybe it was time to start showing up.

He paced in his quarters, thumb hovering over the PADD. He stared at the blank message for the third time that night. What the hell was he supposed to say?

Hey, haven’t seen you around… you and Sulu dating or what?
Absolutely not. He deleted the line. Again.

He ran a hand through his hair and tried again.

Leonard McCoy : Haven’t seen you in a bit. Everything alright?

Simple. Safe. He hit send before he could overthink it.

A few minutes passed. Then his PADD buzzed.

Georgina Knox : Hey, yeah, all good. Just been busy training officers. Why?

He stared at the screen a moment longer than necessary.

Leonard McCoy : Just figured I must’ve done something to offend you. Didn’t think a compliment would scare you off.

Another pause. Then.

Georgina Knox : Who said I was scared?
Georgina Knox : (But for the record… it was a pretty good compliment.)

His lips twitched into a smirk. Okay, she wasn’t brushing him off.

Leonard McCoy: Good. Then you won’t mind if I ask you to dinner tonight.
Georgina Knox: Dinner? Like, in the mess?
Leonard McCoy: Mess hall doesn’t count. I’ll make something decent. My quarters. Nothing fancy. Just... time to catch up. Properly.

A longer pause this time. Leonard leaned back in his chair, trying not to feel stupid.

Then his screen lit up again.

Georgina Knox : You had me at “decent food.”
Georgina Knox : I’ll bring dessert. 1900 hours?

He smiled for real this time, and for the first time all day, the tension in his chest eased.

Leonard McCoy : See you then.

The dinner invite had been casual, low stakes, he told himself. Just a meal between two colleagues who’d said they were cute once. Still, he’d taken the time to tidy his quarters, even dimmed the lights a bit. He wasn’t formal by any means, but he’d still combed his hair and swapped his usual uniform for a soft Henley and dark slacks. Georgie showed up in a loose sweatshirt and jeans, but he caught the touch of gloss on her lips and the shimmer at her eyes. She’d put in effort, too.

They sat across from each other, plates of roasted vegetables and ribeye steak between them, something rewarding and easy after a long shift. She had brought a container of gooey butter cake ice cream, which he learned was her favorite.

“I have to admit,” Georgie said, spearing a carrot, “you’re better in the kitchen than I expected.”

He smirked, swirling his glass of wine. “I know my way around a scalpel. Cooking’s not much different, just less screaming and blood.”

She laughed, eyes sparkling as she took a sip of wine. “I’ll take your word for it.”

Their conversations were smooth, where they talked about books they had read, crew gossip, the ridiculous things Jim had done lately, which always provided plenty of material. But Leonard, even while laughing, felt that familiar knot in his throat.  But as the meal began to wind down, Leonard couldn’t stop the question gnawing at him.

“So,” he started casually, twirling his fork, “Spock mentioned something. Said you and Sulu have solid teamwork scores.”

Georgie paused mid-bite, brows lifted. “Oh? She paused, then laughed lightly. “That doesn’t surprise me. We’ve always worked well together.”

He tried to sip his wine and act disinterested. “Always?”

“Since the Academy.” She twirled her fork thoughtfully. “We used to run flight tactical simulations together until 3AM. He’s one of the best pilots I’ve ever worked with. We made a good team.”

“Still do, apparently,” He said, attempting not to sound like he was fishing.

She cocked her head. “Why did Spock bring that up?”

Leonard shrugged, a little too quickly. “Just a passing comment.”

Georgie leaned back, smirking. “Right. Just a passing comment.”

Leonard shifted in his seat, suddenly regretting bringing it up. “It’s none of my business, anyway.”

“You’re being weird.”

“I’m not being weird.”

“You are.” She leaned forward. “Do people think I’m dating Sulu or something?”

He froze for a beat too long, and suddenly found his wine very interesting.

Her eyes widened. “Oh my God. Do-you think I’m dating Sulu?”

He opened his mouth, closed it again, then muttered, “I mean… it crossed my mind.”

She dropped her fork. “ Leonard. ”

“What?” he said defensively. “You two are always paired up. Laughing at each other's jokes. Eat together. I don’t know what the hell your arrangement is.”

She burst out laughing. “He’s gay , Leonard.”

That threw him. “Wait—what?”

“He has a husband named Ben. I introduced them, at a bar on Mars. During spring break. I literally was his best woman at his wedding.”

Leonard stared at her, utterly dumbfounded.

Her laugh came full and genuine. “Hikaru is like my brother. If we ever dated, I think we’d both combust from secondhand embarrassment.”

Leonard’s shoulders sagged in relief, though he tried to mask it by picking up his wine again. “Well… I stand corrected.”

She was still watching him with that amused glint in her eyes. “Were you… jealous?”

His grip on the glass tightened. “What? No.”

“Leonard.”

He stared at his plate.

“Oh my God. You were jealous . ”

“I wasn’t—” he started, but she leaned forward, elbows on the table, that damn smile spreading wider.

“That’s adorable . ”

“I’m not adorable,” he grumbled.

She nudged his foot under the table with hers. “You kinda are.”

He looked up at her, finally letting himself smile. It was crooked and soft, a little exasperated, but his heart was beating faster than it had in days.

Georgie took his empty glass. “You sure you’re not jealous?”

He scoffed, standing to help her. “What would I be jealous of?”

She leaned in, voice low. “That you thought I was someone else’s, maybe.”

He looked at her, heart thudding like hell, and didn’t answer.

"Darlin’, I don't know what you’re talkin’ about." he drawled, his accent thicker than usual.

Georgie grinned, clearly enjoying this.

They cleared their plates together in the small kitchen, bumping shoulders every now and then. Leonard handed her the last dish, and as she reached to take it, her fingers brushed over his.

He stilled.

She looked up at him, closer than before, eyes soft, curious. The moment stretched between them, quiet and electric, like the air just before a storm.

“Thanks for dinner,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

His throat tightened. “Anytime,” he said, rougher than he meant to.

Neither of them moved.

For one suspended second, he thought she might lean in. Or maybe he would.

But then she stepped back, cool and composed, turning toward the sink like nothing had happened at all.

Leonard stayed rooted in place, his palms braced on the counter, exhaling slowly. The ghost of her touch lingered on his skin.

Damn, she undid him without even trying.

Weeks had passed since their quiet dinner, and whatever spark had started then… hadn’t fizzled. If anything, it smoldered steadily, slow and sweet, like something waiting to catch.

They’d fallen into a routine without quite realizing it, little messages on their PADDs between shifts, impromptu lunches, subtle check-ins. Sometimes just a single line that didn’t say much but said everything.

Georgina Knox : Still alive down there, Doc?

Leonard McCoy : Barely. Flu outbreak in Engineering. If I go down, tell Christine she can have my liquor stash.

Georgina Knox : I’ll fight her for it.

More than once, she stopped by medbay under the guise of catching up with Christine. The two women started to build a real friendship the past couple of months, but Leonard could tell, it was him she was looking for. The way her eyes darted around for him. The way her posture relaxed when he entered the room.

Christine caught on quickly. “She’s got it bad,” she whispered once as Georgie left, raising an eyebrow. “She can’t seem to keep her eyes off you.”

Leonard had tried to play it off with a grunt and a wave of his hand, but the heat crawling up his neck betrayed him.

So when Georgie invited him over to her quarters for a movie night, he didn’t hesitate. “Movie night,” she’d said casually, like it was no big deal. Like they hadn’t been dancing around something for weeks.

When he arrived, he noticed she wasn’t in uniform, relaxed in a soft T-shirt and joggers, hair up in a loose bun, barefoot. She still looked gorgeous. He suddenly felt foolish for agonizing over what shirt to wear.

“Hey,” she said, smiling as she let him in. “You brought the snacks?”

“I come prepared.” He held up a bag. “Real popcorn. Replicator popcorn is a crime.”

They settled on the sofa, a blanket tossed between them, and the movie playing softly. They didn’t talk much during it, but the way their arms brushed now and then, each time lingering a little longer, spoke volumes.

When the credits rolled, neither of them made a move to turn it off. They stayed curled on the couch, the lights low, soft sounds of the end theme playing behind them.

“I’ve got a question,” Georgie said, turning to face him. “Can I give you a nickname?”

Leonard raised an eyebrow. “Huh, a nickname?”

She grinned. “Yeah. I feel like I’ve earned one. I give all my friends one.”

He smirked. “Depends on what it is.”

“Something respectable,” she teased. “Probably.”

He gave her a sideways glance. “I’ll think about it.”

She hesitated, then added, “Actually… I’ve been wondering. Why does the captain call you Bones ?”

The air shifted slightly, still warm, but heavier.

Leonard leaned back, exhaling slowly. “It’s a long story.”

“I’ve got time,” she said gently.

He paused, fingers drumming once on his knee. “Back when I joined Starfleet, I was in a rough place. Newly divorced. My ex-wife took everything, house, money, even the damn dog. Left me with nothing but my bones, as I used to joke.”

Georgie’s smile faded, softened into something more careful.

“Jim thought that was hilarious. The nickname stuck.” He gave a quiet shrug. “At first it pissed me off, but over time... it became part of me.”

She was quiet for a moment, then leaned in a little closer. “I’m sorry. That must’ve been hell. I didn’t realize you were married before.”

“It was,” he admitted. “But... life has a funny way of giving you second chances.”

Their eyes met, lingering.

Georgie’s voice was low, soft. “You deserve one.”

He searched her face, looking for doubt, for hesitation, but found none.

“Careful,” he said quietly. “Say things like that and I might start believing them.”

She nudged his leg with hers, eyes shining. “Good.” She placed her warm fingers on his forearm, letting them linger there.

They sat and chatted some more. Now they were sitting cross-legged on the floor, having abandoned the couch in favor of something more relaxed. She had kicked off her socks, leaning back against the edge of the sofa, wine glass in hand.

Leonard swirled his own glass, watching the way she looked so at ease in her space. It felt intimate, sitting here with her. Like he was being allowed into a little piece of her world.

“So,” he asked, casually, “you’ve heard my whole marital sob story. What about you? Any long-term disasters in your past I should know about?”

She gave a small laugh, but there was no sting in it. “Nothing quite. Dated a couple of guys. A few brief ‘maybe this is something nice’ moments. But I think I always kept one foot out the door.”

“Why’s that?”

She shrugged, thoughtful. “I was just… focused. School, the Academy, tactical training. I wanted to prove myself. There wasn’t really time to build a life with someone when I was still building mine. Not that I still feel the same way though. I’ve come a long way.”

He nodded slowly. “Yeah. I get that.” He glanced around the room, neatly organized but personal. He took a few slow steps toward the shelf by her desk, eyeing a cluster of framed photos. “These all from the Academy?”

She got up and joined him, her gaze falling fondly on the collection. “Yeah. That one was from flight drills. That’s me and Sulu, back when he still had that mop of curls.” She pointed to another. “Graduation. And that one… is my family.”

He leaned closer, eyes catching on one particular frame. There she was, years younger, standing between a woman with her same bright smile and a man in Starfleet uniform, his arm proudly around her shoulder.

He blinked. Then looked again.

“Wait a second.” He pointed at the man. “Is that…Dr. Robert?”

Georgie smiled, surprised. “Yeah. That’s my dad.”

Leonard’s mouth opened slightly, stunned. “Your dad is Dr. Robert Knox. The Robert Knox, pioneer of neural regeneration?”

She chuckled. “There’s only one, far as I know.”

Leonard looked from the photo to her, like he was recalibrating everything. “You know… he’s one of the reasons I became a doctor. The way he approached trauma cases, I mean, he’s the reason I even looked at xenoneural medicine.”

She tilted her head. “Really?No way!”

He nodded. “When I was in med school, I read his work on trauma resuscitation during deep-space missions. Guy was a legend in my textbooks.”

She grinned, eyes softening. “I’ll have to tell him that. He’d get a kick out of hearing it.”

Leonard leaned against her desk, still trying to wrap his head around it. “Can’t believe I didn’t make the connection. Now that I see it, you look just like him.”

“Well, I don’t exactly lead with it,” she said, smirking. “Don’t need anyone thinking I got where I am just because of him.”

“I don’t think anyone would make that mistake,” he said sincerely.

She smiled at that, nice and warm.

“Funny timing,” she said after a pause. “Enterprise is going to be docked at Starbase 99 next month. I’m supposed to meet up with my parents while we’re there.”

Leonard raised a brow. “Yeah?”

She nodded, then glanced at him, a little uncertain. “You’re welcome to come with me. I mean, if you’re curious to meet the man who influenced your career. He would love to meet you.”

His lips curved. “You inviting me to meet your parents?”

She grinned, shrugging a shoulder. “Maybe.”

He took a slow sip of his wine, eyes never leaving hers.

“Well,” he said, voice low and warm, “I think I’d like that.”

Chapter Text

The Enterprise had just docked at the Gamma 7 space station, a hulking structure orbiting a vibrant blue gas giant. It wasn’t much to look at, but for Georgie, it held sentimental value. The sight of her animated face as she talked about during breakfast had brought Leonard nothing but joy.

It was the first place she’d ever been posted during Academy field training, and she’d practically beamed when she saw it listed in the mission briefing.

They were scheduled to meet with a delegation of Federation diplomats and security officials to discuss border protection. As a senior tactical officer with direct experience in the region, Georgie would be presenting the initial protocols and field reports. Starfleet Command had specifically requested tactical recommendations from the Enterprise’s team, citing her field proximity and previous work along this sector.

She was practically bouncing during breakfast in the mess hall, her excitement unmistakable, even before the first sip of coffee. Leonard watched her from across the table, hiding a grin behind his cup.

“Tell me,” he drawled, “did you add extra sugar to that, or are you always this hyper before a briefing?”

Georgie flashed him a bright grin, eyes sparkling. “Might’ve added a little.”

She leaned forward, elbows on the table. “Gamma 7 was my first field assignment. It’s where I realized I could actually do this—that I was good at it.” Her smile softened for just a moment. “Coming back here now… older, wiser…”

“More impressive?” Leonard offered, smirking.

She popped a bite of toast into her mouth, shrugging playfully. “Exactly.”

Leonard shook his head, amused. “Well, I’m lookin’ forward to sittin’ in on your presentation. Ambassador Rhel’s lucky to have you leadin’ this protocol. Don’t know how the hell you do what you do, but I’m sure glad you’re on our side.”

A soft blush crept into her brown cheeks, but she waved him off. “Somebody’s gotta keep you all out of trouble.”

Still, as much as her confidence showed on the surface, Leonard could catch the flicker beneath it, the way she tapped her thumb absently against the rim of her mug, the slight breath she took before speaking again.

“It’s… a big deal,” she admitted more quietly. “Starfleet didn’t have to ask for my input personally. They could’ve sent someone from Command. But they asked. And I want to get it right.”

Leonard’s expression softened, his eyes steady on hers. “You will.”

She straightened, eyes brightening again. “When the briefing’s done, I want to walk the station. See if it’s how I remember. Would you… tag along? If you’re free?”

Leonard raised an eyebrow, his smile softening. “If you’re askin’, I’d be a fool to say no.”

Before she could respond, the comm buzzed overhead, signaling the away team’s departure.

Leonard stood, gathering his tray. “Guess that’s our cue.”

Georgie pushed back from the table, still beaming, but now with that little extra spark of purpose beneath the smile. “Let’s do this.”

The conference room aboard Gamma 7 was larger than Leonard expected, sterile and bright, banners of the Federation draped between polished steel beams. A wide oval table anchored the space, already filling with diplomats, security officials, and Starfleet personnel. The quiet murmur of conversation hovered beneath the hum of the overhead lights.

Leonard followed Georgie inside, alongside Jim, Spock, Sulu, and a handful of officers assigned to the security detail. As they took their seats, he caught the way Georgie squared her shoulders, posture tall, steady. She moved like she belonged here, because she did.

Leonard felt it then, the familiar swell of pride tugging at his chest as she stepped forward, keying up the console at the head of the table.

When Georgie began to speak, her voice carried steady and clear across the room. Confident, but never cocky. 

“As outlined in the field reports,” she began, tapping the screen behind her as charts and maps appeared, “the proposed border protection protocols prioritize quick response without provoking escalation. These measures are designed to maintain defensive readiness while respecting diplomatic boundaries.”

Leonard leaned back in his seat, one hand resting on his knee, eyes on her, and nowhere else.

She had them. The room leaned in, heads nodding as she broke down each phase of the plan. Strategy. Vulnerabilities. Contingencies. Every piece laid out sharp, logical, airtight.

From time to time, Georgie’s gaze flicked toward Leonard, and he gave her a small, steady nod,a silent, You’ve got this.

She didn’t need the reassurance. But he could see the way she drew from it just the same.

Jim leaned forward on his elbows, fully engaged. Even Spock tilted his head slightly, following her reasoning with what Leonard recognized as rare approval.

Leonard couldn’t help but sit a little taller, watching her command the room with ease, holding their attention like she’d been born for it.

Everything was going well—

Until it wasn’t.

Ambassador Rhel, an older Tellerite male with graying tusks and a permanent sneer, interrupted Georgie mid-presentation with a low grunt.

“This protocol is needlessly cautious,” he scoffed, voice gravelly. “Typical of a woman who doesn’t know what she is talking about. Is that what they’re teaching at the Academy now? Over-preparedness and under-performance? You’re not much of a strategist, just a pretty face in a skirt. You should stick with that!”

The words hung in the air like smoke.

The silence that followed wasn’t polite. It was sharp. Cold.

Leonard saw it—the brief flicker in Georgie’s eyes, the tight inhale she covered so well. She didn’t flinch. Didn’t stumble. But she clasped her hands a little tighter behind her back, her shoulders drawn straighter, chin lifted just enough to signal she wouldn’t let it show.

But Leonard saw it. Knew the damage was done.

Before Jim could speak, Leonard was already rising, voice low and dangerously even.

“Watch your damn mouth.”

The room’s attention snapped to him instantly.

Leonard’s jaw flexed, eyes hard. “Lieutenant Commander Knox has logged more successful away missions in the past few months than some officers manage in their whole careers. Her strategy has saved lives, outmaneuvered hostile engagements, and kept this crew intact when the odds were stacked against us.”

He took a step forward, each word deliberate, steady. “She’s the reason you’re sitting here right now—because Starfleet knew you needed her. Not the other way around.”

Leonard’s gaze locked on Rhel’s without blinking. “So unless you’d like to stack your record against hers, Ambassador, I’d suggest you sit down and show some damn respect.”

The room stayed dead quiet, the tension crackling, every pair of eyes flicking between Leonard and Rhel.

Rhel gave a dismissive grunt—not quite an apology, not even close, but enough to let the meeting limp forward.

Georgie didn’t move. Didn’t even blink at first. She stood there, hands still clasped tightly behind her back, her posture a little too perfect. Too still. The sharp set of her jaw the only sign that she’d absorbed the hit.

Spock’s eyes slid her way subtle, assessing, but he said nothing. Sulu, seated further down the table, shifted in his chair, his mouth pressed into a hard line. Even Kirk, ever the diplomat, had leaned forward just slightly, watching Rhel with an unreadable expression, his hands folded too neatly in front of him.

But Georgie didn’t let the weight of the room pin her down. She continued her presentation, voice level, not a waver in it if anything, quieter than before, but steady. If anyone noticed the white-knuckle grip she had on the edge of the console when she changed slides, they were too polite or too afraid to mention it.

The briefing wrapped with a hollow formality. Nods exchanged. Diplomatic platitudes offered. The moment the final acknowledgments were given and the group stood to disperse, Georgie was already gathering her PADD, her eyes avoiding everyone else's.

“Lieutenant Commander,” Jim started softly, standing.

But Georgie shook her head, eyes on the floor. “Permission to be dismissed, Captain?”

Jim’s lips pressed together briefly, then he gave the smallest nod. “Granted.”

She didn’t wait for anyone else to speak. Didn’t give Leonard or anyone the chance to catch her eye. She turned on her heel, walked out briskly, head high.

Leonard stood frozen for half a second, staring at the door as it closed behind her. Then he was moving, jaw tight, following without a word.

Outside the conference room, down the first quiet corridor, he found her.

She stood against the wall, arms folded tight across her chest, her shoulders squared, but he could see the tremble in her jaw, the way her eyes stayed locked on a fixed point across the hall, blinking hard like she could will the sting out of them.

“Georgie—” he started, softer now.

“Don’t,” she said, voice sharp enough to stop him in place. But then she took a breath, the edge softening. “Just, give me a second.”

She pressed the heel of her hand against her brow, eyes squeezed shut for one long beat.

When she looked at him again, the anger in her eyes wasn’t for him.

“I’ve had worse said to me,” she murmured. “I’ve had worse. But not in front of a room like that.”

Leonard didn’t argue. Didn’t try to soften it.

“I know,” he said quietly.

She shook her head once, harsh, like she was trying to clear the weight off her shoulders. “I couldn’t—I couldn’t even respond. I just… froze.”

“You held the line,” Leonard answered. “You finished what you came there to do.”

Her jaw clenched, but she nodded, swallowing hard.

It wasn’t victory, not exactly, but it wasn’t defeat either.

It was the cost of being who she was, where she was. And for the first time, she let him see what it took.

“You really didn’t have to do that,” she said quietly.

“I did,” Leonard replied, steady. “Because you didn’t deserve what he said. No one talks to you like that. Not on my watch.”

She finally turned to face him. Her eyes were glassy, but no tears had fallen. She was holding herself together by sheer will, posture straight but breathing just a little too slow, like steadying herself against the quake still rumbling beneath her ribs.

“Tellarites always push. I’ve trained for it. But that—” she broke off, jaw tightening, then exhaled hard. “It still got to me. I hate that it got to me. I’m just so damn tired of not being taken seriously.”

Leonard stepped closer, slow, careful—like he would with any patient protecting a wound.

“Hey,” he said, voice low, gentle. “You’re allowed to be upset. You care. That’s what makes you good at this.”

Her eyes dropped, lashes shadowing her cheeks. But then she did something that caught him off guard.

Fingertips brushed against his hand, just the lightest touch—testing the space between them.

When he didn’t pull away, when he stayed steady and open, she laced her fingers through his, grounding herself there.

Her other hand came up, pressing lightly against his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his uniform.

“Thank you,” she whispered, voice soft but sure. “Not just for what you said in there. For giving a damn. For knowing how hard I’ve worked.”

Leonard’s heart kicked hard against his ribs.

He reached up, thumb brushing gently along the curve of her cheek, his eyes searching hers—careful, patient, asking without words. Waiting for the smallest sign, the quietest green light that this was wanted too.

She didn’t look away. She leaned into his touch just slightly, her eyes softening, breath catching faintly.

The space between them dissolved, breath by breath, until there was nothing left but the pull.

Slowly,he leaned in.

So did she.

Their lips met—soft at first, barely a brush, testing.

Then just a little more.

It wasn’t rushed. Wasn’t desperate. But it was enough to spark. Enough to taste the promise of something that had been quietly growing between them for far too long.

Leonard’s hand slid gently to her waist. Her fingers tightened at his uniform.

And just as they might have leaned closer—

“Hey, Georgie—oh, hell—” Sulu’s voice broke through the moment like a dropped tray, loud enough to crack the tension wide open.

They sprang apart, blinking at each other like they’d just been caught sneaking out past curfew.

Sulu stood frozen at the edge of the hall, eyes wide, halfway raising a hand as if he’d knocked on the air itself.

“Shit—sorry! I, uh… didn’t mean to—” He gestured awkwardly toward the floor like that could somehow erase what he’d walked in on. “Sorry.”

Georgie cleared her throat hard, one hand slipping behind her back, the other smoothing down her uniform with practiced calm.

“It’s fine,” she managed, her voice steadier than she felt. “What’s going on?”

Sulu still looked like he wanted the floor to open beneath him. “Ambassador’s asking for updated orbital maps. Thought you’d want to handle it personally.”

She nodded briskly. “Yeah. I’ll take care of it.”

Sulu gave Leonard a quick glance—somewhere between apology and I saw nothin’—then beat a hasty retreat down the corridor.

Silence rushed back in.

Neither of them moved at first.

Georgie stood there, eyes still wide, lips parted like she wasn’t sure what to say next. The faint blush on her cheeks gave her away, but so did the way she kept glancing toward him, like waiting to see if he’d call it out first.

Leonard stayed where he was, posture softening, shoulders loosening the tension that had coiled tight across his frame.

Then Georgie cleared her throat again, the corner of her mouth twitching like she might smile or might bolt.

“Another time,” she said softly.

Leonard nodded once, throat tight, voice low. “Count on it.”

For just a second longer, they held each other’s gaze, eyes speaking the things neither of them quite had words for yet.

Then she turned, walking down the hall and disappearing around the corner, leaving Leonard standing there, heart still racing, the ghost of her kiss lingering warm on his lips.

And more questions than he knew what to do with.

Leonard didn’t get three steps into the briefing room before Jim’s voice caught him.

“Bones,” Kirk said, arms crossed, leaning against the table. “Wanna explain why you nearly started an interstellar incident with the Tellarite ambassador?”

Leonard strode in, jaw still tight, and dropped a data slate on the table with a little more force than necessary. “He was out of line, Jim.”

Spock, seated across the room, tilted his head. “While Ambassador Rhel’s… abrasive style is consistent with Tellarite negotiation customs, his comments today were unusually aggressive—even by their standards.”

Leonard narrowed his eyes. “Don’t care what species he is or how ‘traditional’ the insult. Doesn’t give him the right to demean her like that.”

Jim let out a slow breath, uncrossing his arms. “You’re not wrong. What he said was unacceptable. But you going toe-to-toe with him in the middle of a diplomatic forum? That’s where we’ve got a problem.”

Leonard crossed his arms, unyielding. “You would’ve let that slide?”

Jim’s expression softened. “No. But I would’ve found another way to shut him down without risking formal complaints.”

Spock folded his hands neatly on the table. “Your response, Doctor, was… highly emotional.”

Leonard gave him a look. “You saying I shouldn’t have defended her?”

“I am saying,” Spock replied calmly, “that your defense exceeded the expected scope of professional conduct.” A small pause. “Though, in this case… not entirely unjustified.”

Jim leaned a hip against the table, eyeing Leonard. “Tell me the truth, Bones. That wasn’t just about protocol.”

Leonard let out a long breath, the fight slowly bleeding out of his posture. He scrubbed a hand down his face, then leaned forward, bracing his hands on the table.

“I know,” he admitted. “I know I crossed the line.”

Jim blinked, surprised by how easily Leonard offered it.

“I’m not sorry for defending her. I’d do it again.” Leonard’s eyes lifted, steady. “But I shouldn’t’ve done it like that. Not in the middle of a formal briefing. I let him get under my skin.” He shook his head, jaw tight. “Hell… maybe I let my pride get the better of me, too.”

Spock gave a small nod of acknowledgment, watching him closely.

Leonard straightened a bit, exhaling hard through his nose. “I recognize that my approach wasn’t aligned with Starfleet diplomatic standards, and I’ll make sure to maintain proper channels next time.”

Leonard’s jaw clenched. He stared down at the floor, chewing the inside of his cheek.

“She’s my friend,” he muttered. “She didn’t deserve what he said. And no one else was gonna call him on it fast enough.”

Jim’s gaze softened further. “Hey. I get it. I do. And for the record, I’m glad someone in that room had her back.”

Spock inclined his head. “Doctor… may I also point out that your ‘friendship,’ as you call it, appears to involve a heightened level of personal concern.”

Leonard looked up sharply. “You think I did it because I’m sweet on her?”

Jim lifted his palms. “Hey, I didn’t say that.”

Spock, completely unbothered, nodded once. “I did.”

Leonard’s mouth opened—and then shut again with a sigh. He rubbed the back of his neck.

“She’s a damn good officer,” he grumbled.

Jim pushed off the table, stepping closer. “Yeah. And you care about her. Which is fine. But if we’re gonna keep this from blowing up into a formal complaint or worse, you’re gonna have to let me do the clean-up.”

Leonard exhaled hard through his nose but gave a grudging nod.

Spock regarded him carefully, then added, “Might I suggest, Doctor… that in addition to avoiding future diplomatic outbursts, a gesture of reconciliation toward Lieutenant Commander Knox may also be appropriate.”

Leonard blinked. “Are you tellin’ me to buy her flowers?”

Spock’s brow lifted ever so slightly. “It is my understanding that Earth customs often favor such gestures following… emotionally charged incidents.”

Jim smirked, crossing his arms again. “Spock’s right. Nothing says ‘sorry I almost got you tangled in a diplomatic nightmare’ like a nice bouquet.”

Leonard groaned, grabbing his slate again. “I hate both of you.”

Jim clapped him on the back. “Nah, you love us.”

Spock’s hands remained neatly folded. “Regardless, Doctor… fewer outbursts in the future.”

Leonard shook his head as he headed for the door, muttering under his breath. “Next briefing’s all yours.”

Jim waited until the door slid shut behind him before glancing over at Spock.

“Think he’ll listen?”

Spock raised a brow. “Unlikely.”

Jim grinned. “But at least he knows we’re right.”

Georgie was running a few minutes late, not unusual, considering the back-to-back meetings she’d been juggling since the incident. Leonard stood near the docking port where they’d agreed to meet, a bouquet tucked casually under one arm, pretending to read something on his PADD while his stomach turned circles.

Hell, he wasn’t even sure if this was the right move.

But the way she’d left the conference, the way the wind had gone out of her sails… he couldn’t shake it. This station was supposed to mean something good to her. He hated seeing that spark dulled because of one arrogant diplomat with too much bluster and too little sense.

When he saw her rounding the corner, he straightened instinctively, pushing off the railing where he’d been leaning.

She spotted him right away, but the smile she tried for didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Hey,” she said softly as she approached, her voice gentler than usual.

“Hey yourself.” Leonard stepped forward, holding out the small bouquet with an awkwardness that made it all the more sincere. “Uh… these are for you.”

Georgie blinked, caught off guard. “Flowers?”

“Yeah,” Leonard cleared his throat, shifting his weight. “Figured after the mornin’ you had… maybe you could use somethin’ good to balance it out.”

His hand rubbed the back of his neck, eyes dropping briefly before he looked back up to meet her gaze. “And… for the record, I’m not sorry for standin’ up for you. I meant every word of that.”

There was a pause. His jaw worked once before his voice softened.

“But maybe I could’ve handled it better. Timing wasn’t right. Swingin’ like I did in front of the whole damn room… that part I am sorry for.”

Georgie’s expression eased, the tension behind her eyes giving way to something softer. She reached out, taking the flowers gently, fingertips brushing his as she did.

“Thank you,” she said quietly. “For the flowers. And for caring enough to be that mad at all.”

Leonard stood there a moment longer, awkward but steady, watching the way her fingers traced the petals, like she was weighing not just the gift but the meaning behind it.

She lifted her eyes to meet his again, steady. “You know I can handle myself, right?”

Leonard gave a small nod, swallowing once. “I know. Hell, I know better than anyone.”

Her mouth curved, but she didn’t let him off the hook just yet. “I’ve been dealin’ with men like Rhel my whole career. I know how to take the hit and stay standin’.”

Leonard’s jaw tightened, his voice dipping lower. “Doesn’t mean you should have to.”

They stood there in the quiet of that moment, neither backing down, but neither hardening.

“I didn’t need you to rescue me, Leonard,” she said, a gentle edge to her tone. “But I do appreciate that you give a damn enough to want to.”

Leonard gave a soft huff of a laugh, some of the weight lifting off his shoulders. “Maybe just a little damn.”

Her smile softened even further as she stepped closer, cradling the flowers against her chest. “I’m not mad you lost your temper. I know where it came from. But next time…” She reached out, giving the front of his uniform jacket a playful tug, pulling him just a breath closer, “…maybe let me throw the first punch.”

Leonard’s grin found its way back, warm and lopsided. “Deal.”

Her hand slid up to his cheek, thumb brushing lightly against his stubble. “You’re a good man, Leonard McCoy.”

“Tryin’ my best, darlin’,” he murmured, leaning into her touch.

Georgie stepped even closer, the flowers still between them, and smiled softly. “Well, the good news is… Rhel signed off on my proposal. Looks like they’re moving forward with implementation.”

Leonard’s grin turned genuine, pride shining through. “Knew they’d be fools not to.”

She smiled back, but he could see it, the weight still lingering behind her eyes, the way she was trying not to let the earlier insult dull the win.

So he closed the space between them, gaze softening, steady.

“About earlier,” he said, voice lower now. “When we kissed, it wasn’t just the heat of the moment. I meant it.”

Georgie’s breath caught slightly. She swallowed but didn’t look away. Her eyes stayed on him, calm and clear.

“I know,” she said softly. “Me too.”

He reached up, fingers brushing her jaw before cupping her cheek gently.

And this time, when he leaned in, there was no hesitation.

The kiss was soft but sure—steady, earned, like the moment itself. Not rushed or frantic. Her hand settled against his chest, the faint press of petals between them soft beneath her palm.

When they parted, still close, Georgie gave a quiet, breathless laugh.

“Wow,” she whispered, eyes bright. “I’ve wanted to kiss you for so long.”

His lips curved, tender. “Yeah… me too.”

She leaned into him again, forehead resting lightly against his, her fingers tracing the collar of his jacket.

For a moment, they simply breathed together, the tension finally easing into something softer, steadier.

Then she reached down, lacing her fingers through his.

“Come on,” she said, her voice lighter now, a smile blooming as sure as the flowers she held. “I still want to show you around.”

Leonard squeezed her hand, nodding toward the corridor ahead.

“Lead the way.”

The walk back to the Enterprise was quiet, but full of that soft, buzzing warmth between them. Georgie still held the little bouquet close, fingers brushing the petals absently as she talked through one of the many stories on the station. Leonard mostly listened, watching the way her smile had fully returned.

When they reached the turbolift, they stepped inside together. Leonard leaned casually against the rail, hands tucked behind his back like he wasn’t still half-focused on the way her hand kept playing at the flowers.

The doors began to close. Then chirped and hissed open again. Jim stepped through first, Spock trailing behind with the usual air of composed precision.

Jim gave them a quick once-over as he entered, his smile easy, genuine. “Knox. Hell of a presentation today.”

Georgie straightened slightly, professionalism sliding into place as she gave a small nod. “Thank you, sir.”

“Seriously,” Jim continued, leaning lightly on the railing, “your proposal hit all the right marks. You held that room. Be sure to take time today to let that sink in.”

Georgie’s shoulders eased, her smile softening, but there was real gratitude in her eyes. “I appreciate that, Captain.”

Jim’s gaze drifted toward the flowers cradled in her arms. His head tilted ever so slightly, casual.

“Well now, that’s a nice bouquet you’ve got there. Somebody’s got good taste,” he remarked, easy as anything, like he was commenting on the weather. “Don’t you agree, Mr. Spock?”

Spock gave the faintest nod, one brow lifting just a fraction. “Indeed, Captain. An excellent choice.”

Leonard’s jaw flexed, arms crossed tight over his chest, his eyes fixed straight ahead. His expression held steady, but the line of his mouth was just a little too neutral.

“Thank you,” Georgie replied smoothly, offering nothing more.

Jim’s polite smile didn’t waver, but Leonard caught the flicker of amusement in his captain’s eyes. That small, unmistakable glint that said he knew . Knew exactly where those flowers had come from. But, to his credit, Jim kept the comment to himself.

Spock, standing on the opposite side of the lift, inclined his head toward Georgie in that calm, deliberate way of his. His eyes lingered on the bouquet for just half a second longer than necessary.

Before the moment could hang too long, the turbolift chimed softly, arriving at the officers’ deck.

Jim pushed off the rail, nodding toward both of them. “See you in the debrief tomorrow. Rest well, Commander. Doctor.”

Spock offered a faint nod. 

The doors slid shut behind them.

Leonard let out a quiet breath through his nose, still watching the closed doors like they might somehow reopen to give him hell one more time.

Georgie shifted, bumping his arm lightly, that teasing smile creeping back across her face.

“They definitely know you got me these flowers,” she said, voice low.

Leonard grunted, shaking his head. “I think Jim Kirk’s the nosiest bastard alive.”

She laughed softly, leaning her shoulder into his for just a moment.

“Still a good call, though,” she murmured.

Leonard smirked but kept his eyes forward as the lift moved again. “Yeah, well… don’t let it go to your head, sweetheart.”

Her smile only widened.

The thing about falling for someone slowly is that it sneaks up on you in the quiet moments. Like the way her hand would brush his when they passed each other in the corridor. The way her fingers would linger just a little longer than necessary when she handed him a PADD. The way, when the hallway was empty and no one was looking, she’d catch him by the elbow, lean in, and steal a kiss soft enough to make his knees go loose under him. And he was absolutely losing his mind.

They hadn’t talked about it, not really . No labels. No what are we doing here? Just the kisses. The way they found each other at the end of long days. The small smiles that meant more than either of them was saying out loud.

Hell, maybe that was the problem. Because now, standing outside the transporter room, waiting to head down to the station to meet her parents, Leonard’s brain was tying itself into knots.

Am I just the guy she’s kissin’ right now? Does she even see this the same way? Do her folks know? Good God, what if they assume…

“Hey,” Georgie’s voice pulled him back, easy and light. She nudged his arm with her shoulder. “Do you still want to do this?”

Am I your date? Are we just friends? Friends who kiss? Does your mama know I’m sweet on you? He thought.

“Yeah. Lookin’ forward to it.”

But then he paused, gave her a little side-eye smirk, and added, “You know… when you first invited me, I figured I was just your starstruck plus-one for meetin’ your dad. Now I’m startin’ to wonder if I’m the guy you’re bringin’ home.”

She grinned, not missing a beat.
“You’re still here to meet your hero, Leonard. But… maybe it’s not just that anymore.”

Then, softer, more honest. “Does it feel weird?”

Leonard met her gaze, steady. “Not weird. Just… different. But I’m good with different if you are.”

She smiled, the kind of smile that made the knot in his chest loosen just a little. “Good.”

She reached out, casually straightening the front of his uniform, smoothing the fabric where he’d clearly fussed with it too much. Her fingers worked quickly, but they didn’t miss the opportunity to rest lightly against his chest for a second longer than needed.

“Can’t bring you to meet my parents lookin’ all rumpled, now can we?” she teased, eyes flicking up to meet his.

He gave a small, sheepish smile, his hand catching hers before she could pull away entirely. He squeezed her fingers once, then let go, the space between them charged and close.

She leaned in just a bit, lowering her voice like they were sharing a secret. “Just so you know, I don’t usually invite people to meet my family.”

His throat bobbed as he swallowed. “No?”

She shook her head, smile softening into something a little more real, a little more vulnerable. “No.”

Leonard could feel the words building in his chest, the I care about you more than I know what to do with sitting heavy on his tongue, but he bit it back. Not yet. Not here.

Instead, he gave her that lopsided grin of his and offered his arm. “Shall we?”

She tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow, like it belonged there.

“Let’s go make a good impression,” she said.

God help me, Leonard thought as they stepped onto the transporter pad. I’m already gone for her.

Chapter Text

The walk through the station felt longer than it should’ve. Leonard walked alongside Georgie. She looked relaxed. Like they were just on another assignment, not headed straight into brunch with her legendary father and mother. He, on the other hand, was absolutely not relaxed.

Two weeks ago, this had been a casual thing, just meeting the famous Dr. Robert Knox, a personal hero. But now? Now he was the man who’d kissed their daughter, several times. They hadn't put a name to whatever was happening between them, but their kissing hadn’t exactly been neutral. And now they were walking into a brunch with her parents like everything was normal.

Leonard’s brain was chewing through possibilities like bad diagnostics. Was he her partner? Her date? Was this just still “exploring something,” or had he already signed on to something deeper without realizing it? Should he hold her hand? Should he not?

“Hey,” Georgie said, bumping his arm with her shoulder, voice low but teasing. “You’re breathing like we’re headed into a battlefield.”

Leonard gave a tight laugh. “Do I look that bad?”

“You look like you’re trying to solve warp field equations with a hangover.”

He ran a hand down his face. “Can’t help it. I’ve imagined meeting your father for most of my damn career. Just never figured I’d be doing it while also… you know.”

“Kissing his daughter?” she supplied with a grin.

“Exactly.”

She paused, letting the foot traffic pass before turning to face him more fully.
“If it helps…” she lowered her voice just enough for him to lean in, “this wasn’t the original plan either. But I like where it’s going.”

Leonard’s brow twitched upward. “Yeah?”

Good God, am I your date? Are we friends-who-kiss? Do your parents know I’m in love with your stupid face? he thought.

She smiled, smoothing the fold of his uniform with her palm—but letting her hand linger just a second too long against his chest. “Let’s go,” she murmured.

The café overlooked one of the inner gardens, all sunlight and leafy greens under the station’s artificial sky. A table near the back had already been claimed. Georgie spotted her parents first and waved, her smile lighting up like a switch.

Leonard swallowed hard.

Dr. Robert Knox had the same warm brown complexion as his daughter, with a touch of gray at the temples and a sharpness to his posture that made him instantly recognizable even seated. Beside him was Diane Knox, slightly shorter than Georgie, hair buzzed platinum-blonde, and already on her feet with open arms.

“There’s our girl,” Diane said as she pulled Georgie in for a hug. “I expected more muscle tone with all the space-hopping you do.”

Georgie laughed. “Hey, I hide it well.”

Robert stood next and pulled her in with a quiet, fatherly warmth. “We missed you,” he said against her cheek. “You’re not allowed to go this long again.”

Leonard hung back, unsure when or how to approach. He adjusted his collar again, wiped his hand discreetly against his pants, and rehearsed his greeting for the fifth time.

“Dad,” Georgie said brightly, turning and motioning to him. “This is Dr. Leonard McCoy.”

Leonard stepped forward and offered a hand just a little too quickly. “Sir, it’s a real honor to meet you.”

Robert raised a brow but shook it firmly. “Chief Medical Officer from the famous Enterprise. Nice to finally meet you. Georgina has spoken highly of you.”

Leonard’s brain short-circuited. “I, uh thank you, sir. I’ve followed your work for years. Especially your neural recovery studies after cryostasis. And the epidemic protocol revisions? Brilliant.”

Robert smiled, small but not unfriendly. “Appreciate that. Most folks just remember the one where I nearly blew up a sterilizer.”

Diane stepped in smoothly. “And I’m Diane. I’ve read your work, too. You're very thorough.”

Leonard blinked. “Thank you. That means a lot.”

They all sat down, menus mostly ignored as the conversation flowed. Georgie caught them up on life aboard the Enterprise, Diane interrogated her about personal replicator hacks, and Robert launched into a story about performing field surgery mid-quake on an away mission decades ago.

Leonard tried not to sweat through his undershirt. He answered politely. Nodded. Laughed at the right moments. Did his best not to look at Georgie too long, even though her hand had brushed his under the table, twice.

About halfway through, Diane glanced between them, then smiled faintly.
“You two have known each other a while now, haven’t you?”

Leonard cleared his throat. “Yes, ma’am. We’ve served together for about five months.”

Robert nodded, tone casual but eyes sharp. “Glad Georgina’s got someone on that ship who looks out for her.”

Leonard’s gaze flicked to Georgie, who looked a little flushed, but pleased.

“She’s someone worth looking out for,” Leonard said, his voice steady.

Georgie glanced down at her plate, a soft smile pulling at her lips.

Diane raised her brows but didn’t comment.

Leonard cleared his throat, adding quickly, “I mean—she’s a talented officer. We’re lucky to have her aboard.”

Good job, Leonard, he thought. Real smooth.

The conversation rolled on, easing into something warmer. Leonard laughed genuinely at one of Robert’s field stories, and Georgie caught herself watching him.

He fit here. Not just politely, but fully. And more importantly he wanted to.

As they finished their meal, Leonard reached beneath the table, brushing his fingers lightly against hers. This time, she held on.

Robert noticed. Their fingers threaded quietly beneath the table, and when Leonard glanced up, Robert was watching him, not stern, not suspicious. Measuring.

Leonard held the look. Didn’t shrink from it.

Robert gave the faintest tilt of his head, eyes softening as he returned to his coffee.

And Georgie leaned a little closer.

The station’s arboretum hummed with quiet life, the air soft with the scent of alien flowers and the faint buzz of maintenance drones floating overhead. Sunlight artificial, but convincing, filtered down through glass panels above, dappling the stone path beneath their feet.

Robert had wandered ahead, predictably absorbed by a datapad as he paused in front of a plaque about genetically engineered citrus trees. Georgie trailed behind him, giving Leonard and Diane just enough space to fall a few steps back.

Diane slipped her hand easily into the crook of his elbow as they walked, graceful and sure, her tone casual as she nodded toward her husband.
“He’s always been like that,” she said, voice light. “Finds a plant and forgets the rest of the world exists.”

Leonard chuckled softly. “Well… it’s a good plant I’m sure.”

Diane smiled at that but didn’t let the silence stretch long. She glanced over at him, her gaze sharp beneath the softness.

“You know,” she began, easy as ever but with just enough weight behind it, “Georgina’s never brought anyone home before. Not like this.”

Leonard blinked, swallowing. “Oh.”

Diane gave a thoughtful little hum. “She’s had admirers. Men who tried. But she doesn’t exactly let folks in easily. Career’s always been the first thing. She’s focused.” Diane’s smile softened, something almost proud there. “I admire that about her.”

Leonard nodded slowly. “Yeah. I… I admire it too.”

They walked a few more steps, the crunch of gravel beneath their feet the only sound between them.

“So,” Diane continued, tilting her head toward him, still watching. “What do we call you, Leonard? Are you her… friend? Partner? Something more?”

Leonard exhaled through his nose, rubbed the back of his neck like he always did when his brain raced ahead of his words.

“I, uh…” He cleared his throat. “I don’t know if we’ve… put a name on it yet.”

Diane’s smile tugged a little higher on one side. “But you care about her.”

Leonard met her eyes, steady this time. “Yeah. I do.”

Diane gave a small nod, approving but not satisfied just yet. “She means a lot to you.”

Leonard’s voice dropped quieter. “More than I probably know how to say.”

For a moment, Diane seemed to weigh that answer, then gave a soft laugh and squeezed his arm.
“Well,” she said warmly, “I hope you’re ready, Doctor McCoy. Because my daughter doesn’t do anything halfway.”

Leonard smiled, a little breathless but genuine. “Yeah. I’m startin’ to figure that out.”

Ahead of them, Georgie had turned to look back, brow raised as if she suspected what her mother was up to.

“You two conspiring over there?” she called out.

Diane’s smile turned sweetly innocent. “Just getting to know your charming friend, baby.”

Leonard gave Georgie a crooked grin, heart hammering a little less now. “I’m holdin’ my own,” he said.

Georgie narrowed her eyes playfully but couldn’t hide the smile tugging at her lips.

Diane leaned in slightly, voice lowering as they continued toward the others.
“Just so you know,” she murmured, “I’m rootin’ for you.”

Leonard’s heart gave one hard thump, but all he did was nod.

“Appreciate that, ma’am.”

The path curved toward a quieter corner of the arboretum, shaded beneath towering bioluminescent flora that glowed faintly in the soft, filtered light. A pair of mechanical birds chirped from overhead branches, too precise to be real, but charming all the same.

Georgie dropped onto a curved bench beneath the shade and patted the spot beside her, her smile big but still carrying that flicker of something unspoken. Leonard followed, settling down with a soft sigh, his elbow brushing lightly against hers as he leaned back.

“My parents went off to ogle the new docked ships,” Georgie said, tipping her head toward the far end of the garden. “Mom’s on a mission to convince Dad to finally retire and get something smaller than a science vessel. I give it six months.”

Leonard chuckled, tracking the way the light played across the path. His shoulders had loosened, the worst of his nerves melting away now that the initial hurdle was behind him.

Georgie leaned sideways, nudging him gently with her shoulder. “So, tell me… how you holdin’ up?”

He gave a soft snort, eyes lifting toward her. “Better than I thought I’d be, honestly. Your folks… they’re really nice people.”

“I know,” she replied, grinning. “They can be a lot sometimes, you just got the tamed version of them today.”

“They’re warm,” Leonard corrected, eyes softening. “Kind. Easy to talk to, once I stopped sweatin’ through my shirt.”

Georgie laughed, tilting her head. “Sorry about my mom. She has a way of… gettin’ right to it.”

Leonard waved a hand, the other finding hers without him quite realizing it. “She wasn’t wrong to ask. If I were in her shoes, I’d wanna know too—especially about someone who’s got their hands all over their daughter.”

Georgie gave a soft, mock-scandalized laugh, thumb brushing over the back of his hand. “Are my parents gonna need a warning before you drop lines like that?”

“Maybe,” he drawled, the corner of his mouth tugging into a grin. “But I like them. A lot. And I see where you get it now.”

“Get what?” She raised an eyebrow, playful but curious.

“That sharp mind. That backbone. The way you can read a room and still catch people off guard,” he said, squeezing her hand gently. “You’ve got your mama’s directness and your daddy’s quiet observing eyes. You’re funny… and yeah, a little intense when you care about something.”

She arched a brow, feigning offense. “You just called me intense.”

His smile softened. “In the best damn way.”

The tension between them softened, a quiet moment blooming in the space where words might’ve rushed in too fast. Georgie leaned in, resting her head briefly against his shoulder.

Leonard cleared his throat lightly, shifting just enough to glance down at her. “I, uh… I know this wasn’t how you planned this trip to go.”

She looked up at him, eyes steady. “What do you mean?”

“Well, when you first asked me to come here, I was just the guy you wanted to meet his hero. And now we’ve got…” He gestured vaguely between them. “This.”

Georgie’s lips pulled into a softer smile. “I’m still really glad you’re here. That hasn’t changed.”

His gaze held hers for just a beat longer than casual.

“You good spending the rest of the day with them?” Leonard asked, his voice softer now. “I know they’ve missed you.”

“I was planning on it,” Georgie admitted. “But… I don’t want you feelin’ like you’re gettin’ shoved to the side. You just met your hero, after all. You gettin’ all your fanboy jitters out of your system?”

Leonard shook his head, smiling. “Not yet. Might need one more round of him quoting his own research before I pass out.”

She let out a soft laugh, the warmth between them easy again. “You sure?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, giving her hand a gentle squeeze as he laced their fingers together again. “I was thinkin’ I’d track down Jim anyway, make sure he hasn’t sweet-talked his way onto some ambassador’s speed dial.”

Georgie smiled, thumb brushing lightly over the back of his hand. “If he hasn’t done so already.”

He leaned in a little, eyes soft. “Swing by my quarters later?”

“Count on it,” she replied, her smile settling into something quieter. 

Just then, Robert and Diane reappeared from the far path, Robert mid-rant about docking procedures while Diane listened with the patience of someone who’d heard this speech before.

“There you two are,” Diane called, waving. “Robert nearly talked his way onto one of the docked Constitution-class ships.”

“I was close,” Robert added with a grin. “Another thirty seconds and that ensign would’ve folded.”

Leonard stood as they approached, brushing off his pant legs. “I was just tellin’ Georgie she should spend the rest of the afternoon with you two. And I wanted to thank you both again—for brunch, and for bein’ so kind. Meeting you, Dr. Knox, really has been a dream come true after all these years.”

Diane offered him a warm smile and stepped forward, pulling him into a quick hug. Leonard, a little stiff at first, eased into it by the second heartbeat.

“You’re welcome anytime,” Diane said as she stepped back, her gaze knowing but gentle.

“We’ll see you tomorrow?” Robert asked, his tone casual but his eyes sharp. “Georgie promised us the grand tour of the Enterprise.”

Leonard nodded. “Absolutely.”

His gaze drifted back to Georgie, and he gave her hand one last gentle squeeze before releasing it, then turned to head down the path, the soft hum of the arboretum fading behind him.

As he rounded the corner, Diane leaned toward Georgie with a stage whisper that wasn’t quite as quiet as she thought. “So… that’s definitely not just a ‘friend.’”

“Mom!” Georgie hissed, face heating. “Could you maybe wait ‘til he’s not still within earshot?”

The station’s lounge was dimly lit, all deep blues and warm golds, with soft ambient music humming beneath the quiet murmur of station traffic. Floor-to-ceiling windows stretched high above the room, offering a view of the docked starships, the Enterprise gleaming under the artificial sky.

Leonard spotted Jim right away, seated at a curved table near the back, drink in hand, wearing the expression of a man half-amused, half-trapped. There was a light flush to his cheeks, and his grin stretched a little wider than usual, the unmistakable glow of one drink past sober.

Across from him, Uhura and Spock sat in close, quiet conversation. Spock, as ever, remained composed, but Uhura’s smile was soft and knowing as she leaned her elbow against the table, sipping something clear and strong.

Jim perked up the moment Leonard stepped into view, raising his hand like a man being tossed a lifeline.

“Bones!” Jim called, standing so fast he nearly knocked over his glass. “Look at that, you do exist.”

Leonard smirked, sliding into the seat beside him. “Don’t sound so surprised.”

“I was about five seconds away from fakin’ a faint just to escape whatever this is.” Jim dropped back into his chair with a dramatic sigh. “Thought I was meeting Spock. Just Spock. Didn’t know I’d be the third wheel on some kind of Vulcan date.”

“Hardly a date,” Spock replied, not looking up from his drink.

“We’re simply enjoying a quiet evening,” Uhura added, giving Leonard a small wink. “But thank you for rescuing your captain.”

Leonard chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “Always happy to serve.”

Jim flagged down the server with a little more enthusiasm than necessary, ordering another round before leaning forward, eyes sharp despite the slight haze of alcohol.

“Alright, Dr.McCoy, what’s been going on with you?” Jim asked, narrowing his eyes. “Feels like I haven’t seen you outside Sickbay in weeks.”

Leonard shifted, his fingers tapping once against the side of his glass. “Yeah, well… a lot’s been happening.”

Jim’s eyebrows lifted, expectant.

Leonard sighed, staring down at his drink for a beat before giving in. “Georgie and I… we’re seeing each other.”

Silence.

Jim blinked. Slowly leaned back like he’d been hit with a shockwave. “You’re kidding.”

Leonard shook his head, voice even. “Not even a little.”

Jim stared at him, then pointed. “You and Georgina Knox are… a thing. Like… an actual thing?”

Leonard gave the smallest nod. “That’s usually what ‘seeing each other’ means, Jim.”

For a moment, Jim just sat there, lips parted, eyes wide. Then he let out a low, almost reverent whistle. “Finally. You have no idea how close I was to staging a turbolift malfunction just to force you two into a conversation.”

Uhura laughed softly, raising her glass. “I told you, Jim—I knew something was going on.”

Even Spock gave a slight nod, his expression unreadable but his tone factual. “There have been observable behavioral shifts between the two of you for some time.”

Leonard raised an eyebrow. “Good to know my personal life’s been under surveillance.”

Jim leaned forward, his grin widening. “So. Come on. Who made the first move? Was it a kiss? Was there music? Did she threaten to deck you if you didn’t speak up?”

Leonard gave him a flat look, but the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth betrayed him. “You sound like a damn teenager.”

“And you sound like a man dodging the story,” Jim shot back.

Uhura leaned her chin into her hand, eyes twinkling. “So… was there a kiss?”

Leonard let out a breath, then gave a quiet nod. “Yeah. There’s been… several.”

Jim slapped the table, looking victorious. “I knew it!”

Leonard shook his head, still fighting a grin. “None of it was planned, alright? It just… happened. And then…” He paused, glancing at his glass. “I met her parents.”

That froze Jim in place, mid-sip. “Wait. What?”

Leonard nodded, lifting his drink. “Brunch. This morning.”

Jim set his glass down carefully, squinting at him like he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. “You kissed her, and then immediately met her parents?!”

Leonard held up a hand, already regretting sharing. “It wasn’t because of the kiss. Her dad’s been someone I’ve looked up to for years. She wanted me to meet him. The timing just worked out.”

Uhura grinned. “Still. Must’ve been a hell of a kiss.”

Spock, calm as ever, added, “Statistically, early introductions to parental figures are often correlated with significant emotional investment and long-term relationship potential.”

Jim blinked at him. “Spock… was that a toast?”

Leonard groaned, dragging a hand down his face as Jim and Uhura lifted their glasses.

“To Leonard McCoy,” Uhura said with a bright smile, “for finally making a move.”

“And surviving brunch with the parents,” Jim added with a grin, raising his glass a little shakily. “Somehow.”

Leonard raised his own glass reluctantly, his ears pink despite his best efforts. “You two are insufferable.”

Spock lifted his glass, dignified as always, though the smallest glint of amusement sparked in his eyes.nTheir glasses clinked softly, a light, genuine sound against the backdrop of music and station chatter. Leonard took a sip, feeling the warmth settle in his chest, the tension in his shoulders easing just enough to smile for real. His gaze drifted toward the window, the Enterprise shining steady outside.

“Honestly,” he murmured, more to himself than the others, “I’m still catching up to all of it.”

Jim caught the soft note in his voice, his grin softening a little, tipping into something quieter.

Uhura’s smile gentled. “Feels good though, doesn’t it?”

Leonard nodded, eyes still on the stars. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, it does.”

And when Jim started teasing again, Leonard didn’t even mind.

Mostly.

The door chime sounded softly against the quiet of Leonard’s quarters. He was stretched out on the couch, a book resting on his chest, still half-distracted by the earlier conversation with Jim, Spock, and Uhura—but mostly distracted by the way his thoughts kept drifting back to her.

“Come in,” he called, sitting up, setting the book aside.

The door slid open with a gentle hiss, and there Georgie stood—still in uniform, jacket unzipped, hair a little tousled from the day. She hovered at the threshold, eyes bright but cautious.

“Hey,” she said softly. “I was hoping it wasn’t too late to come by.”

Leonard’s smile came easy. “For you? Never.”

That was all the invitation she needed. The door closed behind her as she crossed the room, leaning down to kiss him first—slow, sure, fingers brushing lightly along his cheek. It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t shy. It was honest.

When they parted, her forehead hovered close to his, almost touching. “Missed you.”

Leonard reached up, fingers curling gently around her wrist, thumb tracing the soft inside of her palm. “Missed you too.”

She eased down beside him, tucking her legs up, leaning into his side like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“So,” he asked, voice softening, “how was the rest of your day with your folks?”

Georgie let out a small breath, half a laugh. “Good. Really good.” She leaned her shoulder into his, smile playing faint at the corners of her lips. “You were a big hit, by the way. They wouldn’t shut up about how nice you are.”

Leonard huffed through his nose, shaking his head like he couldn’t quite believe it. “Guess I passed the test, then.”

“Oh, you passed.” She grinned, squeezing his hand. But after a moment, her smile softened, her eyes drifting down to where their fingers wove together.

“They, uh… had a million questions, though.”

Leonard raised an eyebrow. “About…?”

“About us,” she said, giving a small shrug like she was trying to play it casual, but her voice dipped quieter. “Where this is going. What it means.”

Leonard stilled, eyes searching hers. “That bother you?”

She shook her head quickly. “No. It didn’t.” She hesitated, then looked back up at him, steady now. “I realized I didn’t even hesitate to tell them I care about you. That I’m not interested in anyone else.”

His heart thudded hard against his ribs at that. He gave her hand a soft squeeze.

“Funny thing,” she added, her smile tugging faint at the edges again, “they didn’t seem surprised.”

Leonard chuckled low, shaking his head. “Smart folks, your parents.”

The quiet settled between them again, easy but full. But Leonard could feel the words rising in his chest, and this time, he didn’t swallow them down.

“I’ve been thinkin’ about that too,” he said, his voice softer now, more careful. “I know we’ve been takin’ it slow. No labels. And I’ve been fine with that, didn’t wanna push you.” His thumb traced idle circles against her knuckles. “But I guess I need to be honest about where I stand.”

Georgie tilted her head, listening, giving him space.

Leonard swallowed once, then met her gaze squarely. “I’ve been through enough to know I don’t want somethin’ casual. If I’m with someone… it’s because I’m thinkin’ long-term. Because I’m thinkin’ about buildin’ a life with ‘em. I’m not talkin’ right this minute, but… that’s the road I’m on.”

His throat worked again, the fear showing at the edges of his words now. “And I just—I needed to know if we’re walkin’ the same road.”

She didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink. She held his gaze, fingers tightening just a little more around his.

“I’ve spent so much of my life thinkin’ relationships were something I couldn’t afford to give real time to,” she said quietly. “That they’d be the first thing to fall apart the moment the job got hard. But I don’t want to half-ass this, Leonard. Not with you.”

She smiled, small but certain. “I want commitment. I want to choose someone. To show up for them, even when it’s hard. I want this to be real. I want us.”

Leonard exhaled slowly, the tension in his chest easing—but not completely gone. His eyes searched hers, needing to be sure.
“You mean that?”

“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t,” she answered, her thumb brushing softly over the back of his hand.

He nodded, quiet but sure now. “Good,” he murmured. “Because the idea of losin’ you…” His voice caught, rough at the edges before he steadied it. “I don’t think I’d come back from that.”

God, it scared him how much he meant it. He hadn’t let himself admit just how deep this thing between them had settled into his bones. Hadn’t let himself say out loud how easily she’d become the place his mind wandered when the noise of the day finally died down.
It wasn’t just the kissing. Not just the soft looks or the easy banter. It was the way she showed up in his life like a damn anchor. The way she held her ground, didn’t flinch from hard things. It was how he felt calmer when she was near. How he caught himself wanting to make space for her, to fit her into the corners of the life he hadn’t even realized he’d been keeping empty.

You’re falling for her, Leonard Horatio McCoy, he thought.
Not just in the sweet ways. Not just in the soft, good-night kind of ways. But in the terrifying, let-me-build-you-a-home kind of ways.
And that… that was what scared him most.

But hearing her say it—hearing her call this real, hearing her choose him right back, it settled something sharp inside of him. Like all the loose wires he’d been holding onto had finally found their place.

Georgie leaned in, pressing her lips to his, slow and steady.

When they parted, she stayed close, her forehead resting lightly against his, eyes half-closed. “So we’re agreed then?” she whispered. “One team, one fight?”

Leonard gave a soft, breathy chuckle, the smile breaking through again, a little shaky but real. “Yeah. One team, one fight.”

She tucked herself beneath his arm, her head against his chest. His hand rested at her back, fingers tracing gentle lines along the fabric of her shirt.

And as they sat there in the quiet, Leonard let himself breathe for the first time in what felt like years.

The Enterprise gleamed, as always, but there was something different about the way Georgie walked the corridors today,her gait slightly slower, more deliberate, more aware.

Her parents walked between her and Leonard, Robert occasionally pausing to admire the design of the ship, Diane’s eyes roaming every detail with curiosity. Crew members passed by with the usual polite nods, but more than a few spared second glances at the familiar pair leading what looked suspiciously like a personal tour.

Leonard stayed at Georgie’s side, hands tucked casually into his pockets, a quiet ease in his posture, but there was no mistaking the flicker of pride in his expression.

“I still can’t believe you work here,” Diane said, looking up at the polished panels overhead as they turned a corner toward Deck 5. “This ship is incredible.”

Georgie’s mouth curved into a smile. “You should see it when the shields are up and we’re at red alert.”

Robert smirked as he followed their pace. “Let’s hope we don’t get that kind of demonstration during this visit.”

Leonard chuckled softly beside her, his gaze drifting to Georgie for a beat before he nodded toward the next junction. “Figured we’d start with Medbay. Give y’all the grand tour.”

They stepped into the medical bay, and Leonard’s entire frame shifted, straightening slightly, the quiet casualness giving way to the steady confidence of a man standing exactly where he belonged.

The pristine room buzzed with soft activity, nurses and junior officers pausing to offer polite greetings, a few exchanging brief, curious glances as the visitors followed Leonard’s lead.

“This is where the magic happens,” he said with a small grin. “New panel over here runs triage in real time and syncs with bio-bed readings. Just got it installed last month.”

Robert stepped forward, eyes narrowing with sharp, impressed focus. “They gave you the new Vi-CX interface this early?”

Leonard blinked, pleased. “You know it?”

“Know it?” Robert scoffed. “I consulted on its second-stage testing. Most facilities and ships won’t get clearance for another quarter.”

And just like that, they were off.

Georgie watched from a few feet away, arms crossed, eyes wide, torn between amusement and horror as the two men started geeking out over diagnostic subroutines and power rerouting.

“Oh no,” she muttered to her mom. “They’re speaking in fluent MedTech.”

Diane laughed softly. “Look at them. You’d think they were old colleagues.”

Leonard turned slightly toward Georgie, catching her eye for a second, and—yep—there it was. That crooked, dimpled grin that said I’m enjoying this, but I know you’re dying a little inside.

Georgie just shook her head.

The next stop was the bridge, where Jim, miraculously, was on his best behavior.

He stood as they entered, offering a charming, respectful smile. “Dr. Knox, Mrs. Knox, it’s an honor. I’m Captain James T. Kirk.”

Robert extended his hand with an easy nod. “So you’re the one in charge of my daughter’s logs.”

“And a big fan of her tactical evaluations,” Kirk replied smoothly, not missing a beat. “She keeps this crew sharp.”

Georgie rolled her eyes behind him. “You mean I don’t let you do half the reckless things you try to pull off.”

“Semantics,” Jim said, grinning.

As they moved across the bridge, Diane and Robert asked thoughtful questions about command protocols and ship coordination. Even Spock made an appearance, offering a polite greeting and then stepping aside so Robert could admire the navigation console.

Leonard had kept a respectful distance, hanging back near one of the engineering panels, hands tucked into the pockets, but his eyes didn’t stray far from Georgie or her folks.

Jim, naturally, clocked it.

As they paused near the tactical station, Jim leaned over toward Leonard, voice pitched low.
“Givin’ the future in-laws the grand tour, Bones?” His grin was just crooked enough to be teasing but not mean. “Real smooth.”

Leonard shot him a look, jaw tight, though the faintest curve of a smile gave him away. “Just makin’ sure they don’t get swept up in one of your damn diplomatic stunts.”

Jim’s grin widened, but before he could get another word in, Georgie’s voice cut across the space between them.

“You know I can hear you two, right?” she called, brow raised, but the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her fondness.

Jim turned, completely unapologetic. “I was countin’ on it, Commander.”

Leonard gave her a sideways glance, the faintest flush creeping into his ears. But he just shook her head, amused.

Her eyes softened a little when they met Leonard’s, the teasing fading into something quieter, steadier, the kind of look that said she wasn’t the least bit bothered. If anything, it told her more about how much he cared.

At that moment, they ran into Sulu and the second Diane laid eyes on him, her face lit up.

“Hikaru!” she said like they were long-lost family.

“Mrs. Knox!” Sulu beamed, pulling her into a warm hug. “Still keeping this one grounded?” He nodded toward Georgie.

“Trying,” Diane replied with a playful wink.

Robert clasped Sulu’s hand, offering a warm greeting. “Good to see you, son. You haven’t aged a day.”

“You’re just being kind. I haven’t slept in three days.”

They all laughed, and for a moment, it felt less like a ship tour and more like a family gathering—the kind of connection that made it clear Leonard wasn’t just a colleague here.

He was showing them the place where he lived, worked, and cared and maybe, just maybe, the people he hoped might be part of his life for a long time to come.

The group had just left the bridge, Diane and Georgie walking ahead at a leisurely pace, deep in conversation. Something about replicator glitches and Georgie’s tendency to hoard duty boots. Their laughter echoed softly down the corridor as they strolled toward the transporter room.

Leonard walked a few steps behind with Robert, quiet at first.

“I hear,” Robert began, voice steady, “you’ve taken an interest in my daughter.”

Leonard blinked once, then gave a soft, half-laugh, nodding. “Yes, sir. I have. It’s still new. Still early.”

Robert nodded. “New or not, she seems different. Happier and maybe even lighter. Honestly, we’ve figured she didn’t want to be with anyone, which is not a problem. Just, she really put her career first, even before her health. Just happy she’s able to open up.”

Leonard’s gaze followed Georgie’s form up ahead, animated, smiling, bumping shoulders with her mom like she was sixteen again.

“Yeah,” he said softly. “She makes me feel the same way.”

Robert glanced sideways at him. “You’re a good man, Doctor McCoy. Stubborn, I imagine. But grounded.”

Leonard cracked a half-smile. “That’s what Spock calls ‘emotionally reactive.’”

Robert chuckled. “Good. She doesn’t need passive. She needs someone with a spine.”

His tone softened. “She won’t always say when she’s struggling. Carries things too long sometimes.”

Leonard’s jaw tightened slightly. “I’ve seen it.”

Robert’s eyes held his. “So stay close. See around the corners with her.”

Leonard nodded. “I will.”

There wasn’t judgment in Robert’s face, just trust, and the expectation that Leonard wouldn’t make him regret it.

Before Leonard could say more, Georgie’s voice carried back down the hall. “Are you two still talking about medical equipment?”

Leonard straightened. “That’s classified.”

Robert’s expression stayed smooth. “Just ensuring he’s current on his reading.”

Georgie narrowed her eyes at both of them, amused. “You’re impossible.”

But as Leonard caught Robert’s gaze again, there was a silent acknowledgement passed between them, a respect earned and a promise understood.

When they reached the platform, the final goodbyes came soft but tight with feeling. Diane hugged Georgie long, whispering something that made her smile through the sting of tears. Robert’s hug was steady, encompassing, quiet in the way only fathers manage.

Leonard shook Robert’s hand, then found himself pulled into a brief, unexpected hug from Diane.

“We’ll see you again soon,” she said warmly.

“I hope so.”

As the transporter beam shimmered and faded, Georgie stood still, shoulders lifted, swallowing hard. Leonard gave her space for the first few breaths, but then he moved in, hand at the small of her back.

“They’ll be alright,” he said softly.

“I know,” she answered, but her voice cracked just enough to betray how hard she was holding it together. “It’s just… this is the longest I’ll ever go without seeing them. I always had Earth in my sights before. Now we’re headed deep.”

Leonard didn’t offer false comfort. He just stayed steady, pulling her gently closer.

She leaned into him, pressing her forehead to his shoulder.

“I thought I’d be fine,” she murmured. “I thought the goodbye wouldn’t hit this hard.”

“It hits differently when it’s real,” he said softly.

She nodded against his chest.

Leonard kissed her forehead, his hand rubbing slow, easy circles across her back. “You wanna sit somewhere quiet for a bit? Maybe grab some of that overly sweet ice cream you love?”

Her breath hitched, then steadied. She nodded.

So he slid his hand into hers, holding on as they walked away from the platform towards the corridor.

Chapter Text

A/N: Thank you for the kind words and interest so far. Thought it would be good to give you a little treat of some art I made. I think so far my favorite part was when Leonard defended Georgie. He was ready to ride at dawn for this woman. But I love the moment when they finally kiss in the hall. So here is an image of them kissing in the hall. Happy reading!

Some weeks had passed since they met her parents at Station 99, and Leonard and Georgie had settled into something real. On duty, they kept things professional, two officers, side by side. But outside of work, they made space for each other. Shared meals when they could. Quiet nights in her quarters, tangled up together on the couch, reading or just talking. It wasn’t about grand gestures, it was the constant presence. The simple choosing of one another, over and over.

Their relationship had deepened in so many ways.

One afternoon during a weapons training drill, Georgie shot clean through every target, fast, sharp, precise, landing her well ahead of her colleagues on the leaderboard.

Leonard was watching from the sidelines with a handful of other crew, arms crossed, casual as anything, until she nailed the last shot. The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them, clear across the range “That’s my girl!”.

It wasn’t planned. Just the natural kind of cheer that comes when you can’t help but be proud of the person standing in front of you. A few heads turned. One or two raised eyebrows and grins. Georgie didn’t miss a beat in the drill, but the soft flush that crept up her cheeks was impossible to hide. She shook her head faintly, lips pressing together like she was trying not to smile, but her eyes gave her away.

It had also sparked a conversation they hadn’t quite gotten to yet.

“Someone asked me today if you were my boyfriend?” Georgie said, leaning against the counter in his quarters, arms crossed but her smile soft. “Which I said yes, but…are we really about to be the grown adults who call each other ‘boyfriend and girlfriend’?”

Leonard huffed a quiet laugh. “Feels a little… high school, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah,” she agreed. “I was thinking maybe ‘partner’?”

Leonard nodded, stepping closer to tuck a curl behind her ear. “Partner sounds right.”

And just like that, it felt settled.

But there was one person on the ship Georgie still wanted to loop in a little more directly, Sulu. He wasn’t just a colleague. He was the closest thing Georgie had to a big brother in life. The two had shared years of drills, missions, and the kind of friendship where you knew exactly when the other needed backup.

So, one off-shift afternoon, Georgie invited Sulu to join her and Leonard for coffee in the lounge.

“I figured it was time the two of you had a chance to talk properly,” Georgie had said with an grin. “You know… without an away mission or staff meeting getting in the way.”

Sulu had raised an eyebrow, smirking. “You’re making this sound like a job interview.”

Leonard, to his credit, didn’t bristle. Just leaned back in his chair, arms relaxed. “Figured it was comin’ sooner or later.”

Sulu chuckled, settling in across from them. “I’m not here to grill you, Doc. Just… she’s important to me. I’m happy to see her happy.”

Georgie gave Sulu a playful shove with her shoulder. “You’re being soft about this.”

“I’m always soft,” Sulu replied with mock offense. “I’m delightful.”

Leonard snorted. “I’ll give you that.”

The conversation flowed after that, stories about shenanigans from the Academy, drunken tales on trips they took, and more than a few laughs at Georgie’s expense which, to her credit, she mostly took in stride.

At one point, Sulu leaned back in his chair, eyes glinting with mischief, and shot Leonard a grin.

“Honestly, Doc, I figured you two were gonna keep dancing around each other forever. I swear, I told her every damn day, ‘Just go talk to him. Ask him out. Say something . ’ But nope. She was too scared. I practically had to shove her in your direction.”

Leonard’s smirked, one arm draped casually over the back of his chair. “Didn’t realize I was such an intimidating figure.”

Sulu grinned wider. “It wasn’t that. Well… maybe a little.” He flicked a glance toward Georgie. “But mostly she was afraid of how much she actually liked you.”

Georgie groaned, dragging a hand down her face. “Hikaru, I swear—”

Leonard raised an eyebrow, smile softening as he turned to Georgie. “That true?”

She peeked at him through her fingers, cheeks flushed, but there was no denying the warmth in her eyes. “Maybe.”

Sulu leaned in, whispering toward Leonard with a grin. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

Leonard chuckled, shaking his head. “Appreciate the assist.”

Georgie let out a dramatic sigh but couldn’t keep the smile off her face. “You’re both impossible.”

The teasing rolled on,  affectionate, never mean. No suspicion, no overprotectiveness, just the care of a friend who’d been in Georgie’s life long enough to know exactly where the soft spots were.

Then Sulu gave Leonard a once-over, head tilting thoughtfully, that same grin creeping back.

“You know… I’ve gotta say, you really are exactly her type.”

Leonard raised an eyebrow, half-curious, half-smirking. “Oh yeah? What’s her type?”

Georgie immediately groaned again, sitting up straighter, hands waving in protest. “Nope. No. Absolutely not. We are not doing this right now.”

But Sulu ignored her, delightfully undeterred.

“She likes ’em confident. Big heart, little bit stubborn. Witty enough to keep up with her, smart enough to know when to let her win.” He grinned wider. “Which, let’s be honest, you check all those boxes.”

“Hikaru!” Georgie hissed, smacking his arm lightly, her cheeks visibly flushing now. “I can’t believe you’re saying this.”

Leonard, leaning back in his chair with that slow, lopsided smile of his, clearly enjoying every second, just nodded once. “I’m takin’ that as a compliment.”

Sulu raised his cup again, eyes sparkling. “It was.”

Georgie groaned, burying her face in her hands again, but her shoulders shook with laughter. “I regret bringing you two together.”

“But,” Sulu added, softer now, the teasing fading into sincerity, “it’s nice to see her with someone who makes her this happy.”

There was a beat, a comfortable one, before Sulu leaned back, grinning. “Also, for the record... sorry about walking in on you two on Gamma 7.”

Georgie dropped her hands, narrowing her eyes at him. “We had finally kissed and you interrupted.”

Sulu put a hand over his heart, feigning deep remorse. “I have carried that shame ever since. Truly. But also you guys were making out in the middle of the hall, so I don’t know how anyone would not be able to interrupt.”

Leonard chuckled, low and genuine. “Could’ve been worse. You could’ve tripped and landed on us.”

Sulu pointed at him. “Don’t give her ideas. She’ll blame me for that too.”

As they stood to go, Sulu clapped Leonard on the shoulder, firm, approving.

“I’m genuinely excited about you two being together.”

Leonard gave a small nod. “Glad I am too.”

Georgie lingered a half-step back, watching the two of them with a smile that was softer now, quieter, but all the brighter for it. She reached out and brushed her fingers against Leonard’s hand as they walked out, the small gesture saying exactly what words didn’t need to. And Sulu, trailing behind with his grin, looked like a man who’d known he was right all along.

Leonard stared at the comm terminal longer than he cared to admit, thumb hovering over the call key like it might bite him. He hadn’t checked in for weeks, maybe longer, and the excuses had piled up just as fast as the mission logs.

The real reason was simpler: life had been moving fast lately. And for once… it was good. Which somehow made the call harder to make. Harder to explain.

But he missed his mother.

With a soft sigh, he tapped the screen.

It rang twice before the familiar kitchen came into view, sunlight filtering through the curtains, the faint hiss of a kettle in the background, shelves lined with cookbooks and mason jars of dried herbs. His mother’s face filled the frame, one brow already arched like she’d been waiting for him to feel guilty.

“Well,” Elenora said, arms crossing over her chest. “Look what the cat dragged in.”

Leonard’s lips twitched. “Hey, Ma.”

“I was startin’ to think you’d forgotten how to use a comm link. What’s it been? At least nine weeks?”

“Something like that,” he admitted, sheepish. “Sorry. Things have been busy.”

“They always are.” But her voice softened as she shook her head. “Still, I’m glad you called, baby. Is everything alright with you?”

Leonard leaned back in his chair, tension easing from his shoulders just hearing her voice. “Actually… there’s somethin’ I wanted to tell you.”

Elenora narrowed her eyes but smiled. “You’re not callin’ me with bad news, are you?”

“No, no—nothin’ like that.” He rubbed the back of his neck, stalling. “It’s about someone.”

That got her attention. She straightened, leaning closer to the screen. “Oh?”

Leonard’s smile turned small, a little shy. “Remember the girl I told you about? Georgie—the one who made the cobbler? Well… we’re together now.”

Elenora’s hand flew to her heart, eyes shining. “Leonard, baby, really? Oh, that’s wonderful!”

He chuckled, eyes dropping briefly. “We’ve been seein’ each other for a little while now. It’s new… but it’s good.”

Elenora’s smile softened into something knowing. “Are you happy, baby?”

Leonard nodded, his smile turning real. “Yeah. I am.”

“Well then.” Her eyes crinkled with warmth. “When do I get to meet her?”

Right on cue, the doors to his quarters hissed open. Georgie stepped inside, still in uniform, jacket unzipped, hair a little tousled from the day. She froze when she spotted the screen.

“Oh—sorry. Didn’t mean to interrupt—”

Leonard stood, waving her in. “Actually… perfect timing. Georgie, this is my mama.”

Elenora leaned in, eyes bright. “Well, aren’t you somethin’ lovely.”

Georgie gave a soft laugh, stepping into view, caught but not rattled. “It’s really nice to meet you, Mrs. McCoy.”

“Please.” Elenora waved her off. “Call me Elenora.”

Georgie’s gaze flicked toward Leonard, playful. “Heard a lot about you.”

“Oh, I bet you have.” Elenora shot Leonard a look, her smile sly. Then she leaned her chin into her palm, studying Georgie through the screen. “You look like you could hold your own with him. That’s important.”

Leonard groaned quietly. “Ma, seriously—”

“Hush. I’m just makin’ conversation.” Elenora’s attention returned to Georgie. “Tell me, baby, what’s it like workin’ with him all day and still wantin’ to see him after?”

Georgie snorted, crossing her arms loosely as she leaned against the back of Leonard’s chair. “Most days? A miracle.”

Both women laughed, and Leonard slumped down in the chair, already seeing where this was headed.

“Well,” Elenora grinned. “Sounds like I’m gonna like you just fine.”

Georgie’s smile softened, her arm resting comfortably along the back of Leonard’s chair, fingers brushing his shoulder. “I was hoping you might.”

Elenora nodded, warmth steady in her eyes. “Long as you’re good to each other, that’s all that matters.”

“We are,” Georgie answered softly. She gave Leonard’s shoulder a small squeeze, and he reached up to catch her hand, lacing their fingers.

Leonard looked up at the screen, eyes soft. “I’m lucky, Ma.”

Elenora’s gaze shone even brighter. “I’d say you both are.”

The conversation rolled on well. Elenora asked about Georgie’s family, her work, the places she’d served. At one point, she asked if Georgie liked cats, because, apparently, that was an important factor when dating her son.

When the call wound down, Elenora promised to call again soon, and Leonard promised,less convincingly, that he’d answer faster next time.

As the screen dimmed, Leonard leaned back in his seat, still holding Georgie’s hand.

“Well,” he said, voice soft but warm, “that went better than I expected.”

Georgie leaned down, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “She’s wonderful, Len.”

Leonard smiled, letting the last bit of tension melt away. “Yeah. She is.”

After a few seconds, he said, “It meant a lot. You meetin’ her. The way y’all hit it off.”

Georgie softened. “She’s great, Len. You’re lucky to have her.”

“I am,” he murmured. “I don’t say it enough. But I am.”

Standing up he moved to the couch. He rubbed at his jaw, then leaned slowly into the couch, head resting against the cushion, gaze turned upward like he was reading something invisible on the ceiling. Georgie moved to sit next to him, legs tucked underneath her, careful not to crowd him. She placed a hand on his knee. He looked down at her hand, then covered it with his own.

“She’s always been strong,” he said quietly. “When my dad got sick, she never once let us see her lose it.” Georgie stilled, letting him lead.

Leonard’s eyes stayed low, voice steady but weighted. “David McCoy. My dad. He was a good man. Not warm like her, but kind in his own way. He had this... quiet dignity about him. Didn’t say much, but when he did, you listened.” He took a breath, then let it out slowly.

“He got sick when I was in med school. Some degenerative disease. No cure. Not then.” Her hand curled tighter around his.

“I left school for a bit to be with him. Watched him go downhill faster than anyone expected. I kept thinking, maybe I missed something, maybe there’s a trial, a drug, a procedure no one’s tried yet. But there wasn’t. Not fast enough.”

His voice cracked, barely perceptible. “He died a month before the cure came out.” 

Georgie’s throat tightened.

“I remember the day it was published,” Leonard went on. “Sittin’ in the library at school. Saw his name in the list of patients they tested the final version on. Not ‘cause he lived, but because his case helped ‘em get it right.”

He finally looked at her. Eyes rimmed in red, jaw tight.

“Just another reason why I became a doctor so no one else would have to sit through that. So no one else would be too late.”

Georgie didn’t say I’m sorry. She just leaned forward and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him in. Not tight. Just enough.

He sank into her without hesitation, forehead against her shoulder.

“I don’t talk about him much,” he murmured.

“I know,” she said softly. “ But I’m glad you did.”

They sat like that in the quiet hum of the room, no rush to move, no pressure to speak.

After a while, Georgie whispered, “He’d be proud of you, Len. What you’ve built. Who you are.”

He nodded against her. “I hope so.”

“You’re doing more than just being on time now,” she said. “You’re saving lives. Every day.”

He let out a shaky breath, the words rougher than he meant them to be. “Some days… it still feels like I’m chasin’ somethin’ I already missed.”

“You’re not,” She said softly. “You’re not chasing anymore, Len. You’re leading.”

The words landed deep, right where he’d been holding tight without even knowing it.

He pulled back just enough to meet her eyes. “You always know how to say the exact thing I need to hear.”

Georgie’s smile was soft, eyes glassy but sure. “No,” she whispered. “But I always mean it.”

Leonard leaned in, pressing a kiss to her lips, slow, quiet, grateful.

When they finally reclined onto the couch, her hand resting in his, the grief didn’t feel quite so sharp anymore. Still there, still a part of him, but softer now. Just one piece of the map he carried. And for the first time in a long time, he wasn’t walking it alone.

It was a lazy Saturday, the kind of day where the clock didn’t matter and neither of them had anywhere to be. The lights in his quarters were dimmed to a soft gold glow, casting everything in gentle warmth. Through the viewport, rain fell in slow, steady ribbons against the simulated glass, the faint gray of a stormy sky outside. Georgie had set the room to mimic a rainy afternoon, claiming she was “in a cozy mood.”

It fit.

She was curled against him on the couch, tucked beneath his arm, their legs tangled under the same soft blanket they always seemed to end up sharing. She was wearing one of his old Academy sweatshirts, oversized on her, the sleeves swallowed halfway down her hands,her head resting comfortably against his chest. One hand absently traced lazy patterns along the fabric of his shirt.

He leaned back, settled deep into the cushions, feeling the weight of her against him like the best kind of anchor. His voice broke the quiet, rough at the edges but honest. His fingers traced the curve of her shoulder through the fabric, slow and absent as he spoke, voice quiet, half-lulled by the peace of the moment, half-carried away by his thoughts.

“I catch myself thinkin’ about it sometimes,” he murmured. “Maybe it’s just ‘cause everything’s been so good lately. Makes you wonder what good could look like if things were slower. Somewhere warm... a place with no alarms. Just you tellin’ me to get the hell outta the kitchen while I ruin breakfast.”

Georgie smiled against his chest, amused. “You’d be a menace.”

“I’d try my best,” he said, huffing a small laugh. “We’d argue about silly things. You’d win.”

She tilted her head to glance up at him, catching the softness in his eyes, the way his words slowed and started to ramble a bit too earnestly.

“Len…” she said gently, eyebrow lifting as she shifted just enough to meet his gaze, “are you… are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

He paused, suddenly unsure. “I didn’t mean to get ahead of things. I just... it’s been so good. Guess I’m afraid of messing that up.”

Then he blinked, freezing. His hand stilled on her arm. “What? No—I mean—” He rubbed the back of his neck, color creeping high into his cheeks. “I wasn’t proposin’, sweetheart. Not—uh—not yet, anyway.”

She bit her lip, watching him scramble for the brakes on a conversation his heart had clearly already started.

He groaned softly, burying his face briefly in his hands. “Dammit. I didn’t mean to… that came out wrong.”

“It didn’t come out wrong,” she said, reaching up to gently pull his hands away from his face. Her voice was warm, teasing, but kind. “You were just thinkin’ out loud.”

He gave a sheepish grin, eyes soft. “Yeah. Loud enough to sound like I was down on one knee.”

She leaned in, kissed the corner of his mouth. “You’re lucky I didn’t make you sweat and let you keep goin’.”

“Oh, you would’ve loved that,” he teased back, recovering his usual drawl but still visibly flushed.

Georgie snuggled closer, threading her fingers through his. “For the record… I’m enjoying where our relationship is going.”

Leonard looked down at their joined hands, thumb brushing over her knuckles, then back up to her face. “Me too, obviously.” He chuckled.

The weight of the words wasn’t heavy. It felt good. Like something they could carry together.

Just then, the comm chimed.

“Chapel to Dr. McCoy. Medical emergency. We need you in Sickbay.”

Leonard sighed, forehead gently bumping hers. “The universe really hates my timing.”

Georgie gave a small smile. “Go on, then. I’ll be here.”

He stood, pulling on his jacket, but turned back before the doors could open. He crossed the room, cupped her face in both hands, and kissed her like she was the reason for his grounding.

“I’ll burn the pancakes tomorrow,” he whispered.

Georgie smiled. “You better.”

“Be good, darlin’.”

Georgie grinned up at him, soft and sure. “Always.”

It’s funny how much can change in just a few weeks. One minute, he’s introducing the woman who makes his heart soft to his mama, watching them hit it off so well, he’s sure they’re already plotting against him.The next, you’re deep in what the crew had started calling hell week —barely sleeping, sickbay stretched past its limits, the Enterprise rerouting to assist a stranded vessel after a brutal ambush.

There hadn’t been time to breathe, let alone catch up. Georgie and her team were working around the clock with the stranded ship’s command to provide support. Leonard, meanwhile, was elbow-deep in treating wounds, running triage nonstop.

It wasn’t that he didn’t understand. He did. They both had jobs that didn’t leave much room for choice.

But the silence between them felt heavier this time. And maybe, deep down, part of him expected her to know what he hadn’t managed to say out loud yet, that even in the middle of the worst weeks, he still needed her. Not all the time. Not in big ways. But in the small, consistent ways they’d promised each other.

And it was just enough of a gap for frustration to sneak its way in. But still, the silence. The missed dinners. The absent “goodnight’s. The small rituals they’d quietly built between them, gone. At first, he let it go. Rationalized it. They were both where they needed to be. But then six days passed, still not seeing or speaking to her. A short message from her, “Can’t talk tonight. Sorry. Hope you’re holding up.” Another day gone with nothing but just business.

And somewhere in the middle of all that noise, frustration began to settle into the spaces where affection used to be.

He hadn’t meant for it to bleed out. But it did.

The next time Georgie pinged him, just a simple message—
Georgina Knox : “Hey, how’s triage holding up? I need your injury assessment for the report to Starfleet Command.”
He stared at it longer than he should have.

Leonard McCoy: “Same as yesterday. Busy. Like you. I’ll give it to you by the end of day.”

Short. Clipped. Not his usual warmth.

He read it twice, thumb hovering over the delete key. But instead of softening it, he hit send.

Georgina Knox: “Uh…ok? Leonard…You alright?”
Leonard McCoy: ““I’m fine.”

Later that evening, long past when either of them should’ve been asleep, Georgie showed up at his door. And when he answered, hair a mess, eyes heavy, arms crossed over his chest like he was holding something back, she asked the question anyway.

“Leonard,” she said softly, “what’s goin’ on?”

And that was where it started.

He stood there a beat too long before stepping aside to let her in. No words. Just that tired look. The quiet slump in his shoulders. Georgie stepped through the door but didn’t sit. She stayed standing, arms folded, not defensive, but guarded enough.

“You gonna tell me what that message was about?” she asked softly.

Leonard rubbed the back of his neck, exhaling hard through his nose. “Wasn’t about nothin’.”

She gave him a look. “Len.”

His jaw worked. He turned away, paced a few steps toward the couch, then stopped. Finally, he dropped into the armchair across from her, elbows on his knees, fingers laced together. 

“You know what? Never mind,” he muttered, shaking his head, starting to rise.

“Don’t do that. Don’t shut down on me.”

He took a moment before he spoke. “I know you’ve been busy,” he said after a long silence. “Hell, we both have. I’m not mad at you for that.”

Georgie softened a little but stayed quiet.

“It’s just…” He let out a breath, ran a hand through his hair. “I didn’t realize how much I’d come to count on the little things. Hearin’ your voice at the end of a damn hard day. And I guess I didn’t realize how much I was expectin’ it until it wasn’t there.”

Georgie’s arms dropped, and she took a step closer. “You felt like I wasn’t showin’ up for you?”

He nodded, eyes fixed on the floor. “Yeah. And that’s on me, sweetheart. I should’ve said something before it built up like this. I should’ve told you I was feelin’ that way instead of lettin’ it twist me up.”

She came to him slowly, kneeling down in front of where he sat, resting her hands lightly on his knees.

“I didn’t mean to shut you out,” she said quietly. “I get tunnel vision when I’m in the thick of it. Always have. I tell myself it’s just for now, just until the next shift ends. But I should’ve realized… this isn’t just me anymore. It’s us. I kept looking at the time, thinking, ‘I’ll message him after this shift.’ Then another hour went by. Then two. And I just told myself… he probably needed space with all the chaos going on.”

Leonard looked down at her, eyes softening. “It ain’t fair of me to expect you to read my mind. I know how you are when you’re workin’. Hell, I respect the hell outta it. But… I guess somewhere along the way, I started leanin’ on you more than I meant to.”

She gave a small, rueful smile. “And I didn’t see how much you needed me to lean back.”

They sat like that for a moment, the weight of the past week finally acknowledged between them.

Leonard reached out, brushing her cheek with his thumb. “I don’t need all your time, darlin’. I just need to know where we stand, even on the hard weeks.”

She nodded, turning her face into his hand briefly before looking up at him again. “So… what do we do about it?”

He let out a breath that felt like it had been trapped in his chest all week. “We make a plan. For the bad stretches like this. Even if it’s just one message a day. Somethin’. Not just work related.”

“A quick call when we can. Or hell, just tellin’ each other it’s one of those days and we’ll catch up after,” Georgie added.

“I don’t need perfect,” Leonard murmured. “Just… consistent.”

“Same,” she whispered.

He reached for her hand, threading their fingers together. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. For lettin’ it pile up like this. I should’ve come to you sooner.”

“I’m sorry too,” she replied, squeezing his hand. “For fallin’ into old habits and not making space for us when you needed me to.”

Leonard gave a small smile, finally leaning back in his chair, the tension easing from his body.

“You know,” She said, voice lighter now, “if we’re gonna have our first fight, I’m glad we at least made it a productive one.”

He huffed a soft laugh, leaning up to kiss the corner of her mouth. “Gotta say, That’s the healthiest fight I’ve ever had.” His smile grew, and he gently pulled her into his lap, wrapping his arms around her waist as she settled against him.

“Let’s make sure we keep it that way,” he said, pressing a kiss to her temple.

“Agreed,” she murmured against his shoulder.

Chapter Text

The call had come in three hours ago. A garbled distress signal from an uncharted planet on the edge of Federation space. Starfleet protocols were clear, investigate, assist, extract. The Enterprise picked a distress beacon. Arriving to find no orbiting ships and no clear signs of settlement, only dense jungle stretching for miles beneath the clouded atmosphere.

Initial scans picked up faint life signs and the echo of the distress beacon. It wasn’t much to go on, but it was enough. Jim had assembled an away team quickly: himself, Spock, Georgie and Leonard, each outfitted for rough terrain and the unknown.

Now, the air hung heavy with humidity and tension. A haze curled low over the dense jungle, leaves dripping from the last storm. Leonard stayed close behind Georgie as the away team pushed through the underbrush, Jim leading, Spock at his side, tricorder raised and scanning for the distress beacon that had drawn them here in the first place.

“Signal’s faint, but it’s close,” Jim said, brushing a wide fern out of the path. “We’re getting warmer.”

Leonard wasn’t so sure. There was a tightness in his chest he couldn’t shake, and the unnatural silence in the canopy only worsened it. No birds. No rustle. Just that eerie, expectant stillness.

“Remind me again why I’m not back on the ship with my tricorder and a controlled environment?” Leonard muttered, brushing a low branch out of his way as they moved through the dense underbrush.

Georgie glanced over her shoulder with a faint smirk. “Because you volunteered.”

“I must’ve been temporarily insane.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You also filed the request before we even left orbit.”

Leonard huffed. “I wanted eyes on the ground. Just in case the survivors needed immediate triage.”

“Uh-huh,” she said, drawing out the sound with gentle teasing. “Had nothing to do with me leading the away team?”

He didn’t answer right away.

When she looked back again, his expression had shifted, less sarcastic, more… earnest.

“I trust your command,” he said quietly. “But that don’t mean I’m gonna sit back on the ship while you’re out here and things could go sideways.”

Georgie’s smirk softened into something quieter, “You do realize you’re the one walking into danger with me, not the other way around?”

“Don’t care,” he muttered. “I’m exactly where I want to be.”

They shared a short warm look.

—and then the jungle went still.

No birds. No wind. Even the underbrush seemed to hush itself.

Leonard’s gut clenched. He knew that kind of silence. He’d felt it in ERs before trauma doors blew open.

Spock slowed, eyes narrowing at his tricorder. “Captain, I’m detecting a fluctuation in the—”

The explosion hit like a thunderclap.

Light and heat tore through the left flank, throwing up dirt and leaves. The ground shook beneath their boots. A high-pitched ringing filled Leonard’s ears.

Energy bolts cracked through the underbrush. And then—figures.

Half a dozen of them, bursting from the trees. Broad-shouldered. Green-skinned. Armed.

“Ambush!” Georgie barked, already drawing her phaser. But they were outnumbered.The Orions moved fast, ripping weapons from their hands before anyone could level a shot. Leonard found himself pinned, a boot crushing his back into the dirt.

“Hands where we can see them!” one of the guards barked, Standard rough on his tongue.

Georgie didn’t go quietly. Leonard’s heart stuttered as he caught sight of her taking one down, slamming the Orion into a tree with a brutal sweep of her leg—but two more were on her before she could rise. They forced her down, shoving her face into the ground as they yanked her arms behind her back and snapped the cuffs into place.

“Stop—!” Leonard shouted, struggling uselessly against the weight pinning him. “Don’t hurt her!”

“Quiet, human,” the guard snapped, pressing a weapon to Leonard’s temple.

Forced to his knees alongside Jim and Spock, Leonard could do nothing but watch as the Orions corralled them into a tight circle, weapons trained on their heads. The Orion leader stepped forward, a tall woman, towering over her soldiers, her tusks gleaming under the jungle light. Her eyes were cool, detached, as she sized up each of them.

“This one,” she said, pointing directly at Georgie. “Take her.”

Leonard’s blood went cold. “What? No—she’s not—”

“She holds tactical clearance,” the leader cut him off, motioning to the markings on Georgie’s uniform. “We question her first.”

Georgie lifted her chin, breathing hard, dirt streaking her face but eyes fierce. “You’re making a mistake.”

Two guards grabbed her by the arms.

Leonard lurched forward without thinking, only to be yanked back down, another boot driving into his shoulder to keep him there.

She turned her head just enough to meet his gaze.

“Len,” she said, voice calm but eyes soft. “It’s okay.”

It wasn’t. Not even close.

The Orions dragged her into the treeline, vanishing between the thick green leaves like smoke.

Leonard’s chest heaved, still pinned, his wrists raw against the restraints. But none of that hurt half as much as the sound of her voice fading into the distance.

Leonard's shoulders ached from the restraints, the coarse straps digging into his wrists, cinched tight behind his back. He sat hunched near the base of a moss-covered tree, flanked by Jim on his left and Spock on his right, all three of them bound and bruised in the aftermath of the ambush.

The Orions had stripped them of their phasers, tricorders, and communicators before dragging them to a shallow ravine not far from the initial attack site. Their stolen equipment was nowhere in sight. Leonard and the others were left under minimal guard, probably because their captors were confident enough in the restraints, the rugged terrain, and their own numbers to believe no one would try anything stupid.

Leonard was already doing exactly that.

His hands curled into fists behind his back, the pressure of the bindings biting into raw skin. His pulse hadn’t settled since they took her—if anything, it pounded harder the longer he sat still.

“She said it was okay,” he muttered, jaw clenched so tight he felt it in his teeth. “She said it like she meant it, and then they just dragged her off like—like she was—”

“Bones,” Jim cut in, voice low, calm. Reassuring. “I know. We’re gonna get her back.”

Leonard didn’t respond right away. His eyes stayed pinned on the treeline where they’d disappeared, as if staring hard enough could drag her back.

But the words kept circling in his head.

She’s buying time. How much time does she really have?

Jim shifted slightly, turning toward Spock. “Any guesses why they even hit us in the first place? This was supposed to be a rescue op. We were following a distress signal.”

Spock didn’t look up, his eyes narrowed, focused on the ridge above. “The signal may have been a decoy, Captain. A calculated lure to draw us down.”

Leonard’s voice cracked through the tightness in his throat. “Why Georgie? Why not you? You’re the science officer. He’s the damn captain.”

“She holds a tactical clearance they may find valuable,” Spock answered evenly. “If this is a data retrieval operation, their interest may be rooted in her access to encryption protocols.”

Leonard shook his head, frustrated, the muscles in his jaw working hard. His whole body thrummed with the need to move. To do something. Sitting still, waiting for someone else to make the next move, it went against every cell in his body. But he knew charging blind wouldn’t get her back. Still, it burned.

Spock, calm as ever, shifted his hands slightly against the binding. “I have observed a fault in the weave of this fiber. It appears to be Orion-woven Kevlar, reinforced with a metal lacing.”

Jim raised an eyebrow. “You’re telling me you can break that?”

“With effort,” Spock said simply.

Leonard huffed a bitter breath. “Of course you can.”

But he didn’t miss the way his fingers twitched, aching to fight the binds himself. The tension coiling in his muscles begged for an outlet, and if he could’ve snapped the damn cords with his own hands, he would’ve.

Jim’s hand landed briefly on Leonard’s arm, the touch grounding. 

Leonard swallowed back the frustration and gave a short nod, but his gaze stayed sharp, pinned to the horizon like he could will his way through the trees to wherever they were holding her.

The Vulcan twisted his wrists subtly, then shifted again, slow, measured. The cords began to stretch. With a deliberate jerk, they snapped, the metal weave splitting with a soft snap of tension.

Jim let out a quiet, impressed breath. “I’ll never get tired of watching you do that.”

Spock offered a curt nod, crouching beside Jim to slice his bindings with a jagged piece of stone he’d hidden near his knee. Leonard leaned forward as soon as Jim was free, the need to move crawling under his skin like fire ants. His breath stayed tight in his throat, every second without Georgie chewing at him.

When Spock finally cut through Leonard’s restraints, Leonard shot to his feet so fast the ache in his shoulders barely registered. His hands flexed, wrists stiff and sore, but he was already scanning the darkening trees.

Leonard ran both hands down his face, trying to clear the swell of panic pressing up behind his ribs. “We don’t know what they’re doing to her. We don’t know how far she is. We don’t know anything.”

Jim crouched near a disturbed patch of dirt, his eyes sharp. He brushed aside some branches, revealing fresh boot prints—two large, heavy treads, and one smaller, narrower pair dragging slightly.

Georgie’s.

“She fought them,” Leonard murmured, crouching beside the track, fingers brushing lightly over the scuffed earth. “She fought, even cuffed.”

Spock crouched low near a break in the brush, examining the faint shimmer of disrupted foliage and scorched ground. “There are signs of an energy source ahead. Radiation traces, likely a generator or shielding device, based on visual evidence alone.”

Jim looked toward the slope rising ahead, jaw tight. “Could be their hideout.”

Leonard was already moving before the words were out.

“Wait.” Jim’s hand shot out, grabbing his shoulder. “We go in smart, not hot.”

Leonard stopped, chest heaving. His pulse pounded in his ears. “She’s in there, Jim.”

“I know,” Jim said, firm but not harsh. “That’s why we don’t screw this up.”

Spock straightened, gaze sharp. “We proceed under cover. Assess their defenses first. Regaining our weapons will increase our odds of success.”

Leonard nodded, slower this time. His fingers flexed at his sides, the ache to sprint into the trees nearly unbearable. But the doctor in him knew better. Knew patience could mean the difference between a rescue and a disaster. So he followed.

They moved through the foliage, slow and careful, every crack of a branch underfoot another reminder of how much they had to lose. And then they saw it. Tucked into the base of a cliffside was a reinforced structure, half-hidden by dense overgrowth, humming with faint energy. Two Orion guards flanked the main entrance, rifles in hand. A third patrolled the perimeter, steps slow but alert, scanning the jungle with sharp, predatory eyes.

Somewhere inside that tangle of green and steel, Georgie was waiting.

Leonard’s hands curled into fists, the ache in his wrists forgotten beneath the surge of adrenaline. His heartbeat hammered out a single thought,

Hang on, sweetheart. We’re coming.

Jim motioned for them to stay low, gesturing toward the visible defenses. A frontal assault would be suicide. They needed another way in, fast.

Leonard crouched behind a fallen tree, his breathing steady but shallow, eyes sweeping the perimeter. That’s when he spotted it, a faint flicker in the fence line ahead, a shimmer where the energy field buzzed and sputtered unevenly.

Jim slid up beside him, following his gaze. “There. Low voltage section.”

Leonard nodded, voice low. “Field’s unstable. Could be our ticket.”

Spock, crouched nearby, observed the pattern carefully. “The disruption cycles every six-point-three seconds. It is a narrow window, but manageable.”

Leonard flexed his fingers, muscles coiling. “Then we time it, and move.”

The three men pressed into the dirt, counting the pulses. When the flicker came, they slipped through the gap—low and fast. Leonard felt the static nip at the back of his neck, raising every hair on his arms, but it didn’t burn. They landed on the other side in a crouch, silent.

Beyond the fence, the terrain grew more twisted, a crude maze of metal and jungle. The structure wasn’t just built into the cliffside, it bled into it, with rough-hewn tunnels, rusted catwalks, and pathways lit by dim, flickering orange lanterns. Every corridor looked like it could lead inward...or into a trap.

Leonard’s gut twisted.They had to move fast. But they had to move smart, too.

Jim held up a hand. Footsteps echoed ahead.

A guard rounded the corner, rifle in hand.

Spock moved first—swift and silent. He stepped behind the Orion and pressed his fingers to the base of the neck. The guard dropped without a sound.

Leonard blinked, still slightly amazed. “Wish I could do that.”

The universe responded a beat later, another Orion stepping out from a side hallway, already raising his weapon.

Leonard didn’t hesitate. He surged forward, ducking the swipe of the guard’s arm, then pivoted on instinct. He planted his foot behind the Orion’s ankle and drove his shoulder forward—just like Georgie had made him practice. The guard slammed to the ground and stayed there.

Leonard stepped back, chest heaving.

Jim stared. “Bones.”

Leonard shook out his hand. “She made me drill that move ‘til I couldn’t walk straight for a day.”

Spock knelt beside the downed guards and retrieved two Type II phasers, battered but intact. He handed one to Leonard and the other to Jim.

“We must assume these are the only weapons we will recover,” Spock said quietly.

They pressed on, navigating deeper into the complex. The corridors narrowed, carved into the cliff itself. They moved by instinct, avoiding patrols, ducking into alcoves.

Eventually, they reached a locked chamber dimly lit by a single hanging lantern. Jim fired, and the lone Orion guard collapsed against the wall, unconscious but breathing.

Spock knelt beside him briefly, retrieving his weapon. As he stood, a small silver disc glinted at the Orion’s temple.

“I initiated a brief meld,” he said.

Jim raised an eyebrow. “And?”

“I was unable to determine the reason for Lieutenant Knox’s abduction,” Spock replied, voice even. “But I confirmed her location. She is being held in a converted communications bay on the lower level. It now functions as an interrogation chamber.”

Leonard’s stomach twisted. The word interrogation rang louder than everything else.

He tightened his grip on the phaser. “Then that’s where we’re going.”

Spock met his gaze. “We must proceed with caution. The lower levels are heavily patrolled.”

Leonard’s voice dropped, steady, cold. “Then we move carefully. But we don’t leave without her.”

They crept through shadowed corridors, down a rusted stairwell lit only by pulsing emergency lights. Voices echoed from deeper inside. Leonard couldn’t make out the words, but the tone cut through, calm, cruel.

He didn’t let himself dwell. Just moved.

At the bottom, they reached a narrow hallway. Doors lined either side, sealed tight. Except one.

Just barely cracked. A sickly green light spilled through.

Spock held up a hand. “She’s in there.”

Leonard’s heart slammed once against his ribs. He took one breath. Then another. And then he raised his phaser.

Leonard crouched behind the narrow catwalk railing above the chamber, barely breathing. Jim was to his right, phaser steady. Spock knelt on his left, silent, scanning the scene with sharp calculation.

Below them, the interrogation room glowed a sickly green, lit by flickering floor strips and one buzzing overhead fixture. In the center stood Georgie, arms wrenched back and pinned by two Orion guards. Her hair clung to her skin, damp with sweat. Her lip was split. She stood, barely, legs trembling with the effort to remain upright.

Leonard’s fists clenched at the sight of her. His nails bit into his palms, and he didn’t notice.

Across from her paced the Orion leader. Tall. Muscular. Composed in that cold, coiled way that made Leonard’s skin crawl, the kind he’d only seen in war criminals.

“You hold priority clearance across multiple tactical files,” the woman said. Her accent was thick, her tone sharper than broken glass. “We’ve seen your movements. We know who you are. Now tell me, what defense grid codes does your ship run during docking?”

Georgie looked up, bloodied, but unbroken.
“Lieutenant Georgina Knox,” she rasped. “Starfleet ID 747-92-R. Tactical Officer. USS Enterprise.”

The Orion leader didn’t flinch. She stepped forward and drove her fist deep into Georgie’s stomach.

Leonard recoiled like he’d been hit himself, shoulder cracking against the beam behind him.
“Dammit—” he hissed, breath punched out of him.

Jim’s hand clamped down on his arm. “Not yet.”

Leonard turned toward him, pale, jaw clenched so tight it felt like his teeth might crack.
“She’s gonna kill her.”

His brain was already sprinting, calculating paths, entry points, firing angles. If they moved now, fast enough, maybe they could get in before the next blow. Maybe—

“I can flank left,” he muttered, eyes still locked on her. “Drop in from the catwalk. Draw fire, give you both cover.”

Jim shook his head sharply. “Too exposed. You’d get yourself killed, and we’d lose the only shot we have.”

Spock’s voice cut through, calm but firm. “And if we are discovered before we act, Lieutenant Knox’s resistance will be for nothing.”

Leonard looked back down, just in time to see Georgie suck in a breath and straighten again, barely. Her arms trembled with the effort.

The Orion leader demanded again, fleet movement logs in Sector 18.

Georgie raised her head. “Lieutenant Georgina Knox. Starfleet ID 747-92-R. Tactical Officer. USS Enterprise.”

Another punch.

Leonard’s heart slammed so hard it drowned out everything else.

His fingers curled tightly around the phaser at his hip. She was bleeding now, he could see it on her lip, down her chin. Her knees buckled. The guards didn’t let her fall. They hauled her up like she was weightless.

“She’s gonna pass out,” Leonard said hoarsely. “She’s—she’s barely standing.”

Jim’s jaw was set like stone. “She’s strong. She’s trained for this.”

Leonard’s voice dropped, bitter and broken. “She shouldn’t have to be.”

He gritted his teeth, swallowing the rise in his throat. He had to do something. He had to—

But Spock’s quiet voice came again. “If we engage prematurely, we risk execution of the hostage. We must wait for a shift. A distraction.”

Leonard’s whole body vibrated with helplessness. Every instinct in him screamed to move. To act. But acting now might mean watching her die. Below, the Orion leader pulled back again, but this time, she paused. A guard stepped forward, whispering into her ear. Her expression darkened.

“They’ve escaped,” she snapped.

Leonard’s pulse surged like a jolt to the chest.

“All three,” she barked louder, her voice rising with fury. “Two humans and a Vulcan. They’ll be coming for her. Find them. Kill them on sight.”

The guards turned, dragging Georgie toward the exit. They weren’t just restraining her anymore, they were moving her. And something inside Leonard snapped.

“Now,” he said, voice low. Final.

Jim didn’t argue.

It was the opening they’d been waiting for, if she got through that door, they might never reach her in time. In one motion, the three men dropped from the upper catwalk, Leonard landing hard, rolling to his feet, phaser already raised.

“Let her go!” he bellowed, his voice echoing like a crack of thunder.

The Orion guards froze.

Spock landed beside Leonard and dropped one guard with a precise, surgical shot. Jim flanked right, disarming the other with a sharp kick and shooting him with the phaser. The leader spun to face them, eyes wide but still calculating. She reached for her weapon, too slow. Leonard stepped forward, aim locked.

“Lay another hand on her,” Leonard growled, “and I’ll drop you where you stand.”

Georgie sagged in the stunned guard’s grip, dazed, bloody. But she looked up, saw him and grinned.

Leonard didn’t lower his phaser. His stance was solid. His hands, steady. But the air in the room had thinned to paper. The Orions were regrouping, fast. The leader didn’t flinch. She smiled, a slow, cruel thing.

“You,” she said, stepping toward him as if the weapon didn’t matter. “You’re the one who charged in when we took her.” Leonard’s jaw locked.

“I remember now,” she said. “When we ambushed your team. You fought harder than necessary. I thought it was desperation. But now...”

Her gaze drifted to Georgie, still held upright, blood on her face. Then back to him.

“You’re hers.” Leonard said nothing.

“Oh, that’s delicious,” she purred. “You came all this way for your little princess.”

Georgie thrashed in the guards’ grip. “Don’t touch him!” But the Orion leader moved, Too fast. She lunged, knocked Leonard’s phaser aside, grabbed him by the throat, and lifted him off the floor like a toy.

“Leonard!” Georgie screamed, pure panic tearing from her chest.

Spock raised his phaser. Jim followed. But the leader’s voice boomed, “Don’t move!”

Her hand tightened. Leonard’s boots kicked helplessly against the metal floor.

“One twitch,” she said, “and I crush his neck.”

Georgie’s composure shattered. “No—please! Please , don’t hurt him!”

Leonard clawed at her wrist, struggling to breathe. His vision edged with red.

With terrifying ease, she dragged him across the floor and dropped him in the center of the room, right in front of Georgie. He landed hard on his knees. Coughed. Choked. Gasped. Then looked up.

Georgie’s face, bloodied, wide-eyed. Her fear cracked open into something worse. She looked at him like she was breaking.

Leonard’s throat screamed with every breath, raw and burning. His knees throbbed from the fall. He’d been choked so hard a blood vessel had burst in his left eye, vision swimming, the edges pulsing red.

His hands twitched faintly in his lap, muscle memory begging him to move, to fight, to do something, but the Orion leader’s hand hovered near his shoulder, fingers flexing like she was toying with the idea of crushing his windpipe all over again.

Across the room, Georgie swayed in the guards’ grip, legs barely holding. But her eyes locked onto his like they were tethered. Her lips parted, a soundless gasp, and her whole body tensed, not in defiance now, but panic.

“Don’t—” she croaked, voice cracking. “Don’t hurt him. Please.”

Her voice shook, ragged from strain, but it was the please that gutted him. She never begged.

She wasn’t pleading for herself anymore.

She was pleading for him .

Georgie rasped, her voice breaking halfway through the words. "I swear to—"
"Swear all you like," the Orion leader cut in, voice slick with amusement.
"Here’s how things will go now, Lieutenant Knox," she hissed. "Give me what I want or his blood will be on your hands. I will paint this floor with his blood!"

Georgie didn’t move. Didn’t speak.

The Orion’s lip curled in disgust. She pivoted back to Leonard, seizing him by the back of the neck and shoving him down until his forehead nearly scraped the filthy floor. Leonard's chest heaved. He braced against the floor, desperate to push back, to meet Georgie’s eyes again through the rising fog of panic in his head. And there she was, still looking at him. Eyes wide. Shining. A breathless shake of her head, barely-there, like she was begging herself not to break.

“Don’t you dare,” Leonard rasped, voice wrecked from the bruises tightening his throat. “Don’t you give anything up.”

Her mouth opened, then closed again. The first tear fell, unstoppable.

"Leonard—please, you will die." Georgie gasped, voice so fragile it barely reached him. "No, no, I can't—"

Oh, sweetheart, I know. I know you're holding on with everything you've got.
Please. Please don’t let go. I can take this. Don’t let it be for me, he thought. 

But somewhere deep in his chest, something shifted. The pressure in his ribs. The burning in his lungs. The way the Orion leader’s fingers flexed against the back of his neck like she was choosing the moment to end him. And for the first time since this began, Leonard realized he might not make it. A hollow weight settled in his gut. Not fear exactly. Just unfinished things. Words he never said. Time he’d never get back. His heart twisted as he looked at her, bloodied, shaking, but still standing. He wanted her to carry something else out of here. Not this trauma. Not the sound of him dying without telling her the truth.

The Orion leader’s hand snapped tighter in his hair, yanking his head up, forcing his gaze toward Georgie again.

"Give me what I want!" she barked. Georgie's body buckled. Her shoulders heaved.

"I won't!" she cried, the words slicing the air like shrapnel. "I—I won't—I can't—!"

Leonard gritted his teeth so hard his jaw throbbed. His fists, clenched so tightly, bled where his nails had broken skin.

But his voice, low and final, was only for her. "I'm so damn proud of you," he whispered. "You made my life better... just by being in it. I love you, Sweetheart. Always."

Their eyes locked, hers wide, wild, breaking open.

And then, the Orion leader sneered, teeth bared. She drew her fist back—

“LEONARD!” Georgie shouted.

"NO—PLEASE, WAIT!" Jim’s voice cracked through the air, sharp and cutting. Everything froze .  "You’re about to throw away your only bargaining chip!"

For a breath, Leonard still braced for the impact, shoulders hunched, breath locked in his lungs, but the blow never came. The Orion leader stood still, her fist hovering in the air a mere inch from his skull.  Her head turned slowly, eyes narrowing on Jim where he stood calm, arms open at his sides. "You want access," Jim said, voice cutting clean through the heavy, thrumming silence. "You want leverage. A real prize.  Something you can sell... or keep for yourself."

The Orion leader narrowed her eyes. "Speak quickly."

"I'm the captain of the Enterprise." Jim lifted his chin. His voice didn’t waver.
"I can give you my ship."

Leonard’s stomach dropped like a stone. Jim pressed forward, slow and steady.
"I'm not bluffing. Full command access. Systems. Navigation. Defense. You want Federation power? That's where it is, not in scraps of docking codes that can change in a matter of seconds."

The Orion leader blinked. Her interest flared.
Leonard could feel the entire room shift, tension tightening, coiling inward.

"You don't want scraps," Jim said. "You want legacy. You walk away with a ship like the Enterprise under your flag, you become a queen."

The leader tilted her head, studying him. "And the crew?"

"They won’t resist," Jim said. "I’ll give the order myself. All I want is their safety guaranteed."

The leader stared him down for a long, heavy moment. Leonard could see the calculations racing behind her eyes. Finally, she smiled, a slow, cold thing.

"Interesting," she murmured. "You're a better negotiator than I expected."

The Orion leader turned to her guards.  “Take them all to my quarters,” she ordered. “I want to hear more… about this ship.”

But before anyone could move, she pivoted back to Jim. Her smile had vanished. What remained was knife-edged.

“You’ve earned a conversation. Not a heartbeat more.”

Jim didn’t flinch, but the warning pressed cold against his ribs. He gave a slow nod.
“Then let’s not waste it.”

Leonard felt the pressure on his shoulder ease as he was dragged upright. He staggered once, but stayed on his feet. Georgie was watching him, her mouth still parted, her eyes still full of everything she hadn’t said.

The guards shoved them forward. And the game began again. The door slammed shut behind them, locking with a heavy click. No guards posted inside, just one overhead light and the lingering silence of too many near-deaths.

Their wrists were still bound, their bodies aching. Georgie leaned into Leonard the second the guards left. He didn’t hesitate, tilting his head toward hers until their foreheads met. For a moment, they just breathed. No questions. No apologies. Just alive . Then, barely above a whisper, Georgie said it.
“I thought you were going to die.”

Leonard’s breath hitched. He didn’t pull away.  “I did too.” She shut her eyes, jaw trembling.

 “I couldn’t move. I couldn’t even scream.”

“You didn’t have to,” he murmured. “I heard you anyway.”

She swallowed hard. “I can’t lose you, Len.”

His forehead pressed tighter to hers. “You didn’t. I’m right here, Sweetheart.”

And that was all they had time for. But it was enough, for now.

“Bones, are you alright? Fuck man I thought I lost you.” Jim asked, his voice low, from across the room.

Leonard didn’t answer right away. He kept his eyes on Georgie, studying the dried blood at the edge of her mouth, the bruises lining her jaw. She was still here. Still with him.

“Ask me after a bottle of something strong, twelve hours of sleep and off this damn planet,” Leonard finally muttered.

Jim gave a small huff of a laugh, but the tension in his shoulders didn’t ease.

Spock, arms folded, turned toward the captain. “I presume you have no intention of actually handing over the Enterprise.”

Jim didn’t turn around. “Of course not.”

“Then what’s the plan?”

Jim exhaled, pacing once before stopping to face them. “I ask for the communicator back. I’ll tell her we’re beaming up in a group of six—her, four of her guards, and me. Make it seem like the three of you are staying behind for now. It looks clean. Controlled. No red flags.”

Leonard frowned. “You can’t just beam Orions aboard. Security’ll lose their minds.”

“Exactly,” Jim said. “That’s where the pattern buffer comes in. Scotty beams us all up at once, but he holds them in the buffer for a few seconds while rerouting their coordinates to the brig.”

Spock raised an eyebrow. “That requires real-time override of default materialization parameters. Complex, but achievable.”

Georgie’s eyes narrowed, processing. “Sequence 893-220DD,” she said. “That’ll do it. It flags a low-visibility boarding threat and silently alerts Security. Scotty will recognize it.”

Jim nodded. “He’ll see the code, know something’s off, and use the buffer to stall. It gives Security time to prepare, no alarms, no panic, just silent containment.”

Leonard shook his head. “It’s risky.”

“It’s the only shot we’ve got,” Jim said. “We don’t just need to beam out, we need to trap them mid-transfer without tipping them off. That buys us the seconds we need to win.”

Georgie studied him, then gave a small, solemn nod. “Say it exactly. Don’t improvise this part. He won’t need anything else.”

That’s when the door hissed open.

The Orion leader walked in with a slow, confident stride, her cloak billowing behind her. Her grin was all sharpened teeth.

“I assume you’ve come to your senses, Captain,” she said, voice coiling like smoke. “Tell me about this ship of yours.”

Jim straightened, his expression shifting into a diplomat’s mask. “One of Starfleet’s finest. Fast. Heavily armed. Full command relay at my fingertips. You’ll have full access, once we’re aboard.”

She arched a brow. “And your crew?”

“They won’t resist. I’ll give the command myself.”

Leonard felt Georgie stiffen beside him again. She didn’t speak, she didn’t have to.

The Orion leader tilted her head, pacing in a slow, predatory circle. “And how do we board?”

“Transporter,” Jim replied. “Six at a time, maximum capacity.”

She smiled faintly. “Then I will go with my guards.”

Jim raised a hand,controlled, not defensive. “Let me suggest something. If you beam aboard without me and my crew sees you coming in armed, unannounced, security will respond. Fast. But if I’m with you, I can explain. Keep things smooth.”

She paused mid-step. Considered.

Then smiled, a slow, dangerous grin. “Fine. But if I so much as sense a trick, I’ll slit your throat right on the spot.”

Jim didn’t flinch. “Understood. I’ll need my communicator to contact the ship.”

She motioned to one of her guards, who stepped forward, placed the device in Jim’s hand, and unfastened his restraints.

Jim flipped the communicator open with a snap. “Kirk to Enterprise.”

This was it. The line between life and death drawn by a single response.

Leonard’s pulse pounded in his ears. If the transmission glitched, if the phrasing was off, if the Orion leader sensed even a hint of deceit, they were dead.

A short beat.

“Scotty here. Where’ve you been, Captain? We were starting to worry.” Scotty’s voice crackled.

Jim didn’t miss a beat. His voice came smooth, practiced. “All’s fine, Scotty. No need for concern.”

He met the Orion leader’s eye briefly, then continued, “Initiate a six-subject transport, myself and five guests, priority override sequence 893-220DD. No security presence needed. Spock, Knox, and McCoy are remaining planetside.”

There was the faintest hesitation. Just a breath.

“…Aye, sir,” Scotty replied. His tone stayed even, but Leonard could hear it, the subtle edge, the shift. Scotty had understood.

Jim glanced back, just once.

Leonard caught his eye, then looked to Georgie and reached for her bound hand. He squeezed once.

The hum of the transporter began to rise, high-pitched and sharp.
The light flared.

And then—
Flash.

Leonard staggered slightly as the world reformed around him—

But it wasn’t jungle.

He was in the Enterprise’s transporter room.Georgie was beside him. Spock. Jim. All intact. All breathing.

Leonard blinked. “Oh, thank God. It worked.”

The overhead comm crackled to life. “Security here. Five Orions detained. One’s already trying to break the field, with her teeth.”

“Acknowledged.” Jim said.

Another voice cut in, Scotty, this time. And he did not sound pleased.

“Captain, what the bloody hell was that?”

Jim winced.

“You had me run a pattern buffer hold and an emergency reroute without telling me we were beaming armed Orions aboard?” Scotty barked. “Do you have any idea how close that came to overloading the system? I had to pull power from the secondary relay just to stop two of 'em from materializing in the same damn coordinates!"

There was a beat. Then Scotty added, “You want a mutagenic nightmare? 'Cause that’s how you get limbs where your face should be.”

Leonard, still catching his breath, closed his eyes briefly. “Remind me again why I ever agreed to be transported in the first place.”

Spock arched a brow. “I was under the impression you never truly agreed. You merely tolerate it out of necessity.”

Leonard muttered, “That was before I found out we could all accidentally beam into one big scrambled mess.”

Jim stepped off the pad, dragging a hand down his face. “We had to take the risk. It was the only way out.”

Leonard nodded once, winced, and reached for the wall to steady himself.
The weight of it all, the fight, the fear, the near miss in the transporter buffer, was crashing down in waves.

His gaze dropped to Georgie, still leaning against him. Her eyes were closed, her body heavy with exhaustion.

He didn’t hesitate. “McCoy to Sickbay,” he rasped, voice raw but clear. “Medical to the transporter room. We’ve got two injured, myself included.”

A brief pause, then Chapel’s voice crackled through the comm, “On our way. Hold position.”

Leonard let out a breath and adjusted his hold on Georgie, careful of her ribs.

Jim stepped toward them, ready to help, but paused when Leonard shook his head.
“I’ve got her.”

Jim nodded silently. No argument.

Leonard’s throat burned like hell, every word scraping out raw, but he barely noticed anymore.
His arm stayed looped around Georgie, keeping her upright.

She hadn’t said much since they beamed aboard. Her breathing was shallow, her skin clammy with sweat.

He pressed two fingers gently to her neck. Her pulse was there. Steady. But thin.

“Darlin’?” he murmured.

She blinked slowly, eyes unfocused. And then, her knees buckled.

Leonard caught her before she hit the floor, cradling her against him as her full weight collapsed into his arms.
“Damn it,” he hissed.

He eased her to the floor, checked her pulse again, still there. But her eyes had closed. Her face had gone pale and slack.

She’d held herself together until she knew they were safe.
And then her body finally gave out.

Leonard brushed a shaking hand across her forehead, tucking damp hair behind her ear.
“You’re alright,” he whispered. “I’ve got you now.”

The Sickbay team rounded the corner, Christine at the front.

Leonard let them ease Georgie onto the gurney, even though his gut twisted at the thought of letting her go.

He moved to follow, ready to walk beside her, maybe even assess her condition himself, but Chapel blocked him with a firm hand to his chest.

“Absolutely not,” she said. “You’re in no condition to help anybody. Lay down before you fall down. You’re going on a gurney too.”

He almost fought her on it on principle but the room had started to tilt, and he hated giving her the satisfaction of being right. He laid back without another word, and they wheeled them both to Sickbay.

They took Georgie into a side room and closed the door behind her, and suddenly he was left alone with the quiet hum of Sickbay, sterile lights, and the heavy throb of adrenaline wearing off.

Another doctor and a nurse tried to tend to him, but he waved them off. He stripped down to his T-shirt and uniform pants and climbed onto a biobed. Christine had been right, he was a mess.

He ran through every hypospray and regeneration wand he could get his hands on—anything to take the edge off. The burn in his throat dulled. The ache in his ribs loosened. But the storm inside hadn’t passed.

He kept seeing her face. When they held him by the throat. When she screamed his name.
When she couldn’t move. The silence afterward was worse.

He stared at the wall, trying to translate the weight in his chest into something he could name. Not grief. Not guilt. Just that low, buzzing dread that came with almost losing someone you loved.

Hours passed. Sickbay settled into its usual routine ,low voices, soft beeping, calm. He figured that meant Jim had cleaned up whatever chaos the Orions tried to start. No alarms. No breach. No emergency paging. That had to count as a win.

He rolled his shoulder and rubbed his hand across his jaw. What he needed now wasn’t more painkillers.

It was her.

Christine walked by and paused at his biobed.

“She’s stable,” she said softly. “Two broken ribs, missing molar, minor internal bleeding, and a concussion. She’s lucky to be alive.”

Leonard sat up straighter. “Can I see her?”

Christine gave him a you should be resting look, but relented. “Yes. She’s on morphine and she’s out of it, but… yes.”

He didn’t wait. He slid off the bed—legs shaky, but holding—and followed her down the corridor, past recovery rooms and sealed doors, until they reached one tucked into the quiet end of Sickbay.

Georgie was sitting upright in bed, IV still in her arm, her hair pulled back hastily. A faint bruise darkened her jaw. But her eyes—those rich, familiar eyes—found him the moment he stepped in.

He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.
“Oh, sweetheart.”

She gave him a tired, crooked smile. “Hi, Len.”

He crossed the room and sat beside her, brushing his knuckles gently along her arm, checking for warmth, for color, for anything that told him she was okay.

He didn’t say much. He didn’t need to. Just being near her calmed something that had been unraveling in his chest since the moment they were captured.

She didn’t cry. Neither did he. But her fingers found his, and that was enough. They sat there in the quiet for a while. No monitors beeping in alarm. No shouting in the halls. Just breathing.

Then Georgie muttered, voice thick with pain meds, “That bitch knocked my tooth out.”

Leonard huffed. “I heard. I’ll implant a new one.”

Georgie let her head tip toward his shoulder. “Make it sharp. Like a fang. So I can bite the next person to try that again.”

He smiled, just barely. “Done. Tactical enhancement. Starfleet standard.”

She didn’t laugh exactly, but her lips twitched, and her fingers curled more firmly around his.
“I’m glad you’re alive.”

“I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

She nodded faintly, eyes fluttering shut. Her breathing slowed, evened out. And Leonard stayed right where he was, fingers still wrapped around hers. His body ached. His throat still burned. But he was here, in the rhythm of her breath, the warmth of her skin, the quiet weight of safe. He leaned back against the chair, eyes drifting toward the ceiling. He’d said it. Back on that floor, when he thought he was going to die. I love you, Sweetheart. Always. The words hadn’t come from panic. They weren’t desperate or accidental. They were true. And now they sat between them, unspoken again, but not lost.  

Chapter Text

In the days following the Orion incident, the Enterprise was a ship running on adrenaline and aftermath. While Leonard and Georgie recovered in Sickbay, Jim paid them a visit, his usual cocky grin tempered by exhaustion. He informed them that after the Orion leader’s failed attempt to seize the ship, additional security teams had been dispatched planetside. The rest of her crew had been rounded up within hours, cornered in a ravine just west of the original ambush point.

Georgie, bruised and bandaged, had tried to sit up in bed at the news, her jaw tight with frustration. “I should’ve been there.”

Leonard didn’t need to say a word, his hand on her arm was enough. Jim just shook his head and gave her a look that meant I get it, but no.

“Your division had it covered,” Jim told her. “You trained half of them yourself. They handled it clean. No casualties.”

That settled her for the moment.

As for the Orions, the plan was to rendezvous with a prison transport within the week. The Federation intended to launch a full investigation, not just into the torture interrogation, but into why the Orions had been tracking Starfleet officers in the first place. Their motives weren’t clear yet, but Jim had made it very clear to Command that this crew was lucky to be alive. And they’d need time to recover.

He’d even pulled Leonard aside afterward, voice lower, more pointed. “Take care of her. And take care of yourself, too. That’s an order.”

Leonard didn’t protest when the command came down, off duty until cleared . For once, he was grateful for the regulation. He needed rest, and so did she.

What he did protest was the idea of letting her recover alone.

“C’mon,” he’d said, voice soft as he limped out of Sickbay pushing her in a wheelchair, bruises still fresh, bones still sore. “You know damn well you’re not lifting a tray for at least three days. Let me take care of you.”

She’d rolled her eyes. “I’m fine. I’m sure I can manage alone.”

Leonard shot her a look, sharp but fond. “Fine, my ass. In a pig’s eye, you are.”

She opened her mouth to argue, then stopped. That cracked her armor a little. And so, stubborn as ever, but with her hand tangled in his, she agreed.

The first night in his quarters felt... off-balance. Not wrong, just new. Strange in the way unfamiliar softness always is.

They’d shared space before,  late nights stretched across each other's couches, naps between shifts, quiet mornings trading coffee refills in each other’s quarters. But never sharing a bed. This was her curled up in his bed, and him brushing his teeth beside someone else for the first time since his first marriage. It wasn’t just proximity. It was the kind of domestic intimacy that came with permission, with being let in.

And as far as he knew, she had never had a relationship serious enough to do this with before.Now here they were, two people used to tight schedules and starship protocol, suddenly trying to figure out how to share a single mirror.

She wore one of his T-shirts that first night. It hung loose around her hips, the sleeves long enough to nearly swallow her hands. He couldn’t stop staring at her in it, not because it was revealing, but because she looked right in it, like she belonged. And maybe that was the part that caught him off guard most.

She took the right side of the bed. It had always been left in her room. But here, in his room, it shifted without discussion. They lay facing opposite directions, a hesitant brush of feet the only contact, both of them too aware of every breath, every inch of space. By the third night, the awkwardness gave way to something calmer.

She started curling into his chest before the lights dimmed. He started sleeping better when her heartbeat was under his hand. The ache of tension in his shoulders began to soften, except when the nightmares came.

They were never predictable, just sudden. A choke in his throat. Cold sweat. The echo of Orion hands crushing his windpipe. More than once, he woke with a gasp, chest heaving like he was drowning in the memory.

And every time, she stirred beside him, eyes bleary but present, and whispered, “You’re here. I’m here. We’re safe.”

Sometimes she’d press her forehead to his. Sometimes she just wrapped her arms around him without saying anything more. And that was enough. He held her so tightly those nights, he worried he might break her all over again. But she never flinched. She just held him back.

The more he thought about it, how close it had been, the more it hit him like a second wave; he almost died . Not alone, not quietly, but in front of her. That stayed with him. In the stiffness of his jaw. In the way he kept brushing her hair behind her ear like he needed to prove she was still real.

Georgie didn’t just let him take care of her. She made sure to care for him too, in all the small ways that mattered.

One morning, he woke to the scent of fresh coffee, and found her already by the replicator, mug in each hand, limping slightly but standing proud.

“You shouldn’t be up,” he said, eyes still groggy.

“You shouldn’t have to start your day without caffeine,” she shot back, offering him one of the cups. 

She said it with a smirk, but the truth of it was written in her eyes. She wanted to give something, not just receive.

Her bruises were fading. The limp was lighter. Her breathing didn’t hitch as much when she shifted in her seat. But at night, especially when the cold crept in, her ribs still ached.

That’s when He reached for the warming salve.

“You know I could do this,” she murmured the first time, sitting on the edge of the bed, her shirt already tugged halfway up her back.

“Not a chance,” he said, easing down beside her. “Plus, I can monitor your bruising.”

His voice was soft, but his hands were even softer. The salve smelled faintly of eucalyptus, warm under his fingertips as he worked it into her skin. She flinched once. He stopped immediately. Waited for her nod. Neither of them said much. The quiet wrapped around them, warm and still. They didn’t talk much during those moments. The room stayed quiet, just the sound of his breath and the soft drag of his hands. But one night, something in the air changed.

Maybe it was the way her breath caught, not from pain, but something else. Maybe it was the way his hand lingered on the curve of her waist. His hand slowed. She was watching him now, head propped against the pillow, her gaze soft and curious. She reached up and touched his jaw, pulling him down into a kiss.

It started slow, soft, exploratory, but it didn’t stay that way. The tension between them had been building for so long, unspoken but constant, and now it poured into the space between each brush of lips, each deepening breath. His mouth opened against hers, and she welcomed him in, tilting her head to taste him more fully.

He braced one hand against the mattress, the other sliding along her waist until it found the curve of her hip. She pulled him closer, her fingers dragging lightly beneath the hem of his shirt, grazing the skin of his back like she was trying to memorize him by touch.

Their bodies sank into the heat rising between them.

His heart beat hard but it wasn’t lust. It was want. It was reverence. It was the overwhelming, almost unbearable joy of being here, with her, alive.

She looked at him like he was something precious. And he looked at her like she was something sacred.

He kissed the edge of her jaw, then lower, soft, gentle. He took his time, tracing a path down her neck with his lips, letting himself feel every quiet exhale she gave in response. When he reached the soft dip at the base of her throat, she arched into him. He let his hands wander,gentle, open-palmed touches along her ribs, across her side.

She trembled beneath him, not from pain. From sensation.He pressed a kiss just below her collarbone. Then another, lower. And lower still. He settled between her thighs, breathing slow against her stomach, letting himself pause there, his cheek briefly brushing her skin. His hands slid to her hips, thumbs circling, reverent.

He kissed the soft slope of her abdomen, the spot just above the band of her shorts.

Then he hooked his fingers beneath the waistband, eyes flicking up toward to seek permission. 

And that’s when she froze. He felt it immediately.

The change in her breath. The tension in her hands. The stillness.

He stopped.

He drew back just enough to meet her eyes.

She was still breathing hard, lips parted, pupils wide, but her expression had changed. The heat was still there, but beneath it, hesitation. Not of him, not of trust. Just the weight of what came next.

“Wait,” she whispered.

His hand slipped free. His touch stilled instantly.

He sat up slightly, bracing himself beside her, giving her space without moving too far away. His breathing was shallow, heart still pounding, but he reached for calm the second he heard her voice.

“Sorry,” he said gently, voice rough with care. “We don’t have to.”

She nodded once, then again, more slowly, but she didn’t let go of him.

“I want to,” she murmured, searching his face like she was trying to memorize how he looked when he listened. “I really do. Just… not yet.”

He didn’t ask why. He didn’t push. He just waited.

Her voice was quieter now. “I haven’t had sex before. With anyone.”

He blinked. Not in shock, but in understanding. His chest tightened, not from disappointment, but from the sheer gravity of what she was trusting him with.

“I want it to be with you,” she said. “But when I’m ready. Not because I’m still carrying fear, or because we almost died.” Her breath hitched. “I don’t want it to come from that place. I want it to feel whole, not fractured, not with fused ribs trying to heal.”

He reached for her cheek, brushing his thumb along the skin just under her eye. Her face was still flushed, her lips kiss-swollen, her pulse high. But she was clear, honest, brave.

“You’re not proving anything,” he said, his voice warm and low. “You never have to earn this. Not with me.”

She swallowed hard, emotion flickering behind her lashes. “You said you loved me… back in that hellhole.”

“I meant it,” he said immediately. “Every word.”

Her gaze dropped. “But I haven’t said it back yet.”

“You don’t have to,” he said softly. “I didn’t say it because I was hoping you’d say it too. I said it because it’s true. Because I needed you to know at that moment.”

She looked up, “What I can say between us, I’m in it. All the way. And that won’t change.”

Leonard’s expression softened. “That’s more than enough.”

She wrapped her arms around him then, burying her face against his chest like she could disappear into him. He held her close, one hand tracing slow, circles along her back, his other resting over the soft cotton of her borrowed shirt, just above her ribs.

Neither of them spoke for a long moment. When they finally curled back under the covers, the tension had faded, replaced by something quieter, more tender. She lay with her head on his chest, her body tucked into his side. His fingers moved slowly through her hair, calming them both.

He stared at the ceiling, wide awake.He could still see it, her blood on the floor, her voice refusing to break, the way she looked at him like she was already mourning him. He remembered the pain, the helplessness, the fire in his throat.

He’d said he loved her. With what he thought might be his last breath. And the thing was, it hadn’t been fear. It was truth.The kind that didn’t change depending on what came next. And now, here she was, alive and healing. Wrapped in his arms, trusting him with the parts of herself no one else had ever seen.

He thought back to how fast everything had moved with his ex-wife. How easy it had been to fall into intimacy without knowing what real safety felt like. Sex wasn’t the goal. Vulnerability was. Intimacy without expectation. Closeness without qualifiers. And when they were ready, when she was ready, they’d know.

One month had passed since the Orions. Time had stitched up their wounds, but Leonard knew better than anyone that healing didn’t always come with the absence of bruises. It came in quiet choices, in repeated motions, in trying again even when the body still remembered the worst.

He found her in the gym again. But this time, it wasn’t the usual punching drills or sparring routines. This time, Georgie was inside the gauntlet.

A sequence of battle drones, humanoid in form, heavy-limbed and programmed to simulate close-quarter assault, moved with calculated speed, attacking in waves. The simulation cycled through faster with each pass. And she moved like water set on fire.

She was everywhere, dropping low into a sweep kick, flipping herself off a padded wall to land behind one, driving an elbow into its neck seam. She snatched a training baton off the floor mid-roll, cracked it across one’s knee joint, used its dropped weight to pivot into a somersault and bring another to the mat with a clean, stunning blow.

It was beautifully balletic in the most brutal way. She fought with controlled aggression, not just to win, but to dominate. To remind herself she could.

Leonard stood just inside the entry, arms folded. At first, he watched with that same pride he always felt when she was in her element. But there was more pain behind these blows.

She hadn’t talked much about the Orions. Not the cuffs. Not the wounds. Not the helplessness.

But she didn’t have to. It was all here. In every twist of her body, in every breath that came too fast. Every kick that landed a little too hard.This wasn’t training anymore. It was survival. On replay.

He took a step forward when she grabbed one of the drones, already disabled, and slammed it into the wall with a full-body shove. Once. Twice. A third time, until its torso sparked.

That’s when he saw it. Blood. Her knuckles were split wide open, leaking red across the matte metal of the drone’s shoulder. She gripped it anyway, teeth gritted, heart hammering so loud he could almost hear it from across the room.

A few other crew had stopped to watch. What had started as admiration had shifted into uneasy curiosity.

He felt it too. That twist in his gut. The line she was about to cross.

“Lieutenant Commander Knox!” he called, voice sharp.

She didn’t hear him. Or didn’t want to. The music, some thunderous, guttural metal track, rattled through the walls like an extension of her pulse. She raised her fist again.

“Georgina Knox!” he snapped.

That got her.

She froze, mid-motion. Her fist hovered above the dented drone. Her chest rose and fell like she’d just run a mile. Slowly, her gaze dropped to her hand. Blood trickled down her wrist. Her breathing faltered.

The gym had gone too quiet. Around her, the crowd had thinned to silence, watching, wondering if someone should step in. Leonard already was. He crossed the floor fast, placing a firm hand at her elbow, lowering her arm gently but with purpose. 

“Come on,” he said, voice low now. “Let’s step out.”

She didn’t fight him. Didn’t speak. Just let him guide her through the side door, into one of the smaller training prep rooms, quiet, tucked away from the curious stares and pounding music.

Leonard let go once they were inside and closed the door behind them. The sound dulled instantly. All that was left was their breathing. Hers, sharp, uneven, like she couldn’t quite catch it.

She stood still for a beat, eyes flicking down to her hands. Blood coated her knuckles, already beginning to dry around the splits in her skin. Then, slowly, she backed up against the wall and slid down, curling in on herself until she was seated on the floor.

Leonard crouched beside her but didn’t touch her yet. He gave her space to speak first.

“I didn’t mean to lose control,” she whispered.

“You didn’t lose it,” he said gently. “But you were bleeding. That’s usually my department.”

“I scared those people watching.”

“You scared me,” he admitted, voice soft. “Just for a second.”

She let out a brittle laugh, then pressed the heel of her palm to her eyes. “I thought I was past this part. I thought if I trained harder, if I kept moving, I’d stop feeling like something’s stuck under my skin.”

He stayed quiet. That kind of pain didn’t need solutions right away. It needed space. Safety.

Her gaze shifted toward him, eyes glassy. “I hate that it still lives in me. That they still live in me. What they did to you, like you were just a tool to use and toss.”

Leonard settled down beside her, legs crossed, and reached into his med pouch. Without a word, he opened an antiseptic wipe and gently took her hand. He cleaned each knuckle with practiced care.

“I’ve lived through a few too many near-deaths,” he said after a pause. “Some days, I feel fine. I laugh. I do my work. I even forget for a little while. But other days…”

He dabbed softly at the worst of the cuts.

“I’m back there. Back in the moment. Even if I don’t want to be.”

She watched him, quiet.

“I’m not a hundred percent,” he said. “I probably never will be. But I’ve learned to let the bad days pass without letting them ruin the good ones. You don’t have to be okay yet. You just have to keep showin’ up. And you don’t have to do that alone.”

She blinked quickly, a tear slipping down her cheek. “I didn’t mean to snap.”

“You’re not broken,” he said, finally looking up at her. “You’re healing. That’s what it looks like sometimes, messy, hard as hell. But it’s still healing.”

Her voice came small. “I’m trying. I really am.”

“I know.” He nodded. “And I’ll be right here while you do.”

He hesitated, then added carefully, “There’s something I could suggest. Medical options. Noninvasive therapies. Neural-path retraining, even. I’ve seen it help.”

Her eyes flickered, guarded, a little sharp.

“I don’t need therapy,” she said quickly. “Or someone digging around in my head. I’m not crazy.”

“I never said you were,” he replied calmly. “But if there’s something out there that makes it easier to breathe again, makes it quieter in here, ” he tapped his temple “, then maybe it’s worth considerin’. No pressure. It’s your call.”

She looked down at her bruised hands, flexing them slowly.

“I’ve never liked going to doctors,” she muttered. “Bit of a pride thing, I guess.”

“I’m painfully aware,” he said dryly. “I’ve watched you limp around my room to prove a point. Your father’s a doctor, and you ended up falling for another. That must feel like a special kinda hell for you.”

That earned the smallest laugh. Her shoulders dropped half an inch.

Leonard’s tone softened. “But I’m not here to fix you, Georgie. I just want to walk beside you. If you ever want to try somethin’, I’ll be the one who takes you there. No one else. You call the shots.”

She sat quietly for a moment longer. Then she leaned forward, forehead resting gently against his. Her eyes closed as she let out a long, shuddering breath, one that seemed to unclench something deep inside her.

“Then I might just walk through it,” she whispered. “Someday.”

He raised his hand and cupped her cheek, thumb brushing a tear away. “It’s always open,” he said. And then, without moving back, he kissed her forehead.

They stayed like that in the quiet, her heartbeat slowing, his presence wrapped around her like something solid. 

Eventually, she gave a small nod. “Okay,” she whispered. “I’m alright.”

Another month passed. Georgie was healing, not all at once, not without setbacks, but with quiet determination. Some days were better than others. Some nights still ended in tangled sheets and tangled thoughts, but he stayed close. Not fixing, just being there. And she let him. That was the part that mattered.

Their days had gotten back into a routine. Early mornings. Late dinners. Shoulder bumps in the corridor. Brief makeout sessions in the lift. They still weren’t perfect, but they were improving; learning how to live in love, not just fall into it.

And then came the next wave of chaos.

Diplomacy.

If you asked Leonard, that was worse than a dozen red alerts combined.

Now the ship was crawling with Federation officers. Cargo bays turned into banquet halls. Corridors clogged with aides who couldn’t find their own names on a manifest. And the languages, so many languages, streaming nonstop through the comm filters like background noise on a loop. The whole damn ship felt staged. Scrubbed and shined for the sake of appearances. Too much ceremony. Too much smiling through gritted teeth.

He hated it. All of it.

But Georgie thrived in it.

And that might’ve been the only reason he hadn’t locked himself in Sickbay.

“You look like you’re about to chew through your own collar,” Georgie said, appearing beside him, chipper as ever.

Leonard scowled, tugging at the neckline of his dress uniform like it might loosen by sheer force of will. “That’s because I am. Damn uniform is so stiff and itchy. Remind me why Starfleet thought cramming every stuffed-shirt diplomat in the quadrant onto one ship was a good idea?”

“They wanted to test your limits and raise your blood pressure,” she said, like she was delighted by the whole ordeal.

He muttered something under his breath that didn’t need translation.

She slipped a PADD into his hand with a little too much ease. “Speaking of diplomacy... surprise.”

Leonard narrowed his eyes at the screen. “‘Field Stabilization and Combat Readiness| Bridging Tactical Response with Emergency Medicine.’” He looked up slowly. “Georgie. What the hell is this?”

“Something we should present at the conference,” she said innocently.

His face did that slow, incredulous thing. “Present? As in… speak? In public?”

“It’s a breakout session,” she said, waving a hand like that made it less horrifying. “Low-stakes. Short. Just the two of us talking about what we already do.”

“No ma’am. Absolutely not. ” He tried to shove the PADD back at her. “Not unless you want me to collapse from an aneurysm in the middle of your slide deck.”

“I already told Kirk,” she said sweetly. “It’s kind of... locked in.”

Leonard stopped walking. “You volunteered me?”

“I suggested,” she said. “Strongly. And he agreed.”

He stared at her like she’d just asked him to perform a ballet. “You really expect me to stand up there and talk about triage while some Vulcan with three degrees in eye contact critiques my stance?”

“Yes,” she said brightly. “Because you’re brilliant. And, frankly, hot when you’re irritable.”

“This is coercion , ” he grumbled.

“This is partnership , ” she corrected, looping her arm through his.

Leonard resumed walking, muttering all the way. “You better rub my damn shoulders after this.”

“I will,” she said, bumping his arm. “And I’ll let you complain the whole time.”

He exhaled through his nose, still glaring at the PADD. “Remind me again why I love you?”

“Because I make you do things you hate and you still do them better than anyone else,” she said. “And because someone’s gotta say epidemiological mitigation without stuttering.”

He let out a long, suffering groan. “God help us all.”

Much to his protest, they’d gotten started on the presentation immediately and had been working on it for the past couple of days. Leonard could tell she was loving every second of it. She was definitely the kind of student who’d been the group project leader, organized, driven, and annoyingly good at it.

She sat cross-legged on the floor with a half-eaten snack bar in one hand and a stylus in the other, eyes narrowed at the screen projected in front of her.
“You cannot open a tactical medical briefing with a casualty heat map. That is a crime against attention spans.”

He reclined on the couch, arms crossed, and grunted.
“It’s efficient. One slide, one glance, you know exactly where the worst hits landed.”

She tossed the stylus onto the coffee table with dramatic flair.
“It’s color-coded gore, Len.”

He raised a brow.
“So… informative color-coded gore.”

“You’re killing the vibe.” She picked the stylus back up and scrolled to the next slide.
“Let’s ease into the trauma, not drop the room into battlefield despair by minute three.”

“Fine.” Leonard leaned forward and grabbed the PADD beside him.
“What about the triage diagram with the overlay on emergency stabilization times?”

She peered at it.
“That’s good. Pair that with my squad deployment model and it actually tells a story.”

Leonard smirked.
“Look at us. Collaboratin’ like real professionals.”

“Against your will,” she said without looking up.

He scratched his jaw.
“You say that like it’s new.”

Shr shot him a grin, but it faded as she sat back.
“Seriously though... thanks for doing this with me.”

He softened, setting the PADD aside.
“Wasn’t gonna let you go up there alone. And... I’m proud of the work we do. Even if I’d rather present it in a dark room with no audience and a very strong drink.”

She tilted her head, studying him.
“You ever think maybe you’re good at this kind of thing?”

He gave her a skeptical look.
“The public speaking part? Hell no.”

She laughed under her breath. “Not even a little?”

He shrugged. “Only if the presentation includes a bar and a nap afterward.”

She rolled her eyes, still smiling.

He softened, watching her for a second. “But you? You’re a natural. Like you were born to command a room.”

She smiled and reached out to nudge his leg with her foot.
“We’re gonna kill this presentation.”

He leaned back with a sigh.
“Long as I don’t kill someone for asking a dumb question afterward.”

“I’ll handle the questions,” she said smugly. “You just look brooding and brilliant. The people love that.”

“Then we’re screwed,” Leonard said, deadpan. “I left all my charm in Sickbay.”

Georgie reached for her drink and clinked it gently against his.
“Then it’s a good thing I brought enough for both of us.”

The title slide blinked onto the main screen and Leonard sighed through his nose.He still thought it was a terrible name. But as Georgie stepped up to speak, his frustration faded.

She was magnetic.

Clear, calm, poised, her voice slicing clean through the room as she outlined the importance of rapid interdepartmental handoffs in live field combat. Her laser pointer never shook. Her logic never wavered.

He watched the room lean in.

And when he took over, threading her tactical data into real-time medical contingencies, he matched her energy beat for beat, his dry delivery drawing a few quiet laughs from the back. Especially when he raised a brow and said, “Now if you’re planning to bleed out, I recommend doing it on a flat surface. It makes everyone’s lives easier.”

By the end, even the Vulcan ambassador was nodding. A Tellarite in the front row whispered something to their aide and made a note. 

Georgie closed with, “Readiness is more than muscle memory. It’s the ability to adapt, fast, together, and without ego.”

Leonard followed, “You don’t just save lives with medicine. You save them with trust.”

The room erupted in polite, sustained applause.

As the last of the attendees filtered out, a Starfleet admiral approached. He was tall, composed, and moved with the quiet authority of someone used to being obeyed.

Leonard recognized the face, vaguely. He’d seen the man around the Academy once or twice but had never caught his name.

“McCoy. Knox,” the admiral said, offering a handshake so firm Leonard nearly winced. “I’m Admiral Wolf Davis.”

He looked between them with a measured nod.

“You two have something most crews don’t,” Davis said. “Trust. That makes a hell of a difference when things go sideways.”

Leonard gave a quiet nod, but it was Georgie who straightened slightly, shoulders squaring, chin lifting.

They weren’t just being seen. They were being recognized.

“You ever get tired of starships,” Davis added, eyes flicking to Leonard, “the Academy could use more teams like this. I look forward to following your careers.”

“Thank you, sir,” they said in unison.

Then he turned and walked away, leaving a quiet ripple behind him.

They stood there for a moment, the silence thick enough to feel. Long enough to let the weight of what they’d just done settle between them.

Georgie bumped Leonard’s shoulder. “You didn’t stutter once.”

Leonard gave her a slow grin. “You make a decent partner, darlin’.”

She leaned into him, still watching the direction Davis had gone. “You think he was serious?”

Leonard arched a brow. “About the Academy?”

“Mmhm.”

He glanced at her, something curious sparking behind his eyes. “Would you ever do something like that?”

Georgie scoffed lightly. “Me? In a classroom? I’d fall asleep standing up. Unless…” She looked at him sideways. “You’re considering it.”

He shook his head with a quiet smirk. “No. I’m fine right where I am. Long as you’re by my side.”

Her smile softened. “Then we’re already exactly where we’re supposed to be.”

She reached for his hand.

“We’ve got three hours till the dinner,” she said, her voice dropping just slightly.

He glanced at her, warmth blooming in his chest. “I say we hide. You still owe me a shoulder massage.”

Her fingers found his. “Lead the way, Doctor.”

Leonard had tried everything short of faking a medical emergency to get out of attending the formal dinner on that night of the Babel Conference. But Starfleet was clear, senior officers were expected to represent the Federation with dignity and professionalism.

Unfortunately for him, that meant dress blues, polished boots, and what he liked to call “peak pomp and circumstance.”

The reception hall was a spectacle of diplomacy, soft amber lighting, banners in every Federation language, crystalline decanters catching reflections from alien chandeliers. Waitstaff glided through the crowd, their color-coded sashes matching cuisine from every represented quadrant.

Leonard stayed toward the back, fingers itching at his collar, already counting the minutes until he could leave without causing an incident.

Then she walked in.

Georgie stood just inside the grand entrance, scanning the room with quiet poise. Her short hair had been swept back with a subtle wave, her uniform pressed to perfection, and a faint shimmer along her cheekbones caught the light like a secret. She didn’t look out of place. She looked like she belonged.

And just like that, the tension in his shoulders eased. He’d never get used to the way she did that.

“You clean up alright,” she said, sliding her arm through his.

“Don’t get used to it,” he grumbled, tugging at his collar. “I had to bribe a yeoman to shine these boots.”

She smirked. “Worth it.”

They took their seats, tucked near the front but not too close to the brass. Leonard watched Jim navigate the room with ease, charming dignitaries, switching between languages like it was just another day. He was in his element.

Leonard was… enduring.

The food was decent. The speeches too long. The room too warm. But when the band struck up a slow, easy tune, a blend of Earth jazz and Vulcan string harmonics, Georgie turned to him with that unmistakable glint in her eye.

“No,” he said preemptively.

“You haven’t even heard the question.”

“You want to dance.”

“And you don’t?”

“I’m on my feet all day. My idea of a good evening is a glass of brandy and blessed silence.”

“You’ll survive,” she said, already tugging him up.

He grumbled but followed.

The dance floor shimmered with soft light and slow movement. Leonard placed one hand at her waist, the other clasping hers, and let her lead the rhythm.

As they swayed together, She leaned her head lightly against his shoulder. “You were amazing today,” she said. “At the presentation. You always are, but today I saw you differently.”

Leonard tilted his head, brow raised.

She smiled faintly. “I don’t know. I think I just realized… there’s nothing I wouldn’t want to build with you.”

That stopped him cold, but not in fear, in something quieter. 

She pulled back just enough to meet his eyes.

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to say.”

His pulse ticked upward. “Yeah?”

Her fingers squeezed his. “I love you,” she said, voice low, almost a whisper. “I’ve been wanting to say it for a while. I just... I needed to feel it in a moment that wasn’t recovery or aftermath. And I do. I love you, Leonard. You make me feel like I’m not too much and you’re the only person I want to build a life with.”

He stared at her for a breath, caught off guard and then the smile curved at the edge of his mouth. The kind he only ever wore for her.

“I love you too, sweetheart,” he said, voice a little hoarse. “And if anyone in this relationship is too much, it’s definitely me.”

She laughed, watery and warm, her eyes shining.

He kissed her slow, right there on the floor. It wasn’t flashy or dramatic. It was theirs.

They danced a little longer, arms wrapped tight. Then Leonard felt the creeping tug of fatigue, his knees starting to ache, back reminding him he wasn’t twenty.

“I need to sit down or you’ll be carrying me to Sickbay,” he muttered.

Georgie grinned. “You lasted longer than I thought.”

“Romantic.”

Just as he stepped off the floor, the band shifted into a bright swing number, horns, strings, percussion, the whole works. Leonard groaned. “Oh no.”

Then came Sulu.

“Mind if I steal her for a song?” he asked, already reaching for Georgie’s hand.

Leonard didn’t hesitate. “Please do. Take her.”

Georgie raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

“I love you,” he said. “But I’m not built for swing.”

Within seconds, she and Sulu were dancing in perfect coordination; twirls, spins, dips. The crowd clapped along, even a few ambassadors stepping back to admire.

Leonard sank into his chair with a long exhale.

Jim appeared beside him, nursing a glass of something that looked far too expensive to be replicated.

“Look at them go,” Jim said, watching Sulu dip Georgie like they were old partners in crime. “Damn, Bones, Georgie is a Swiss army knife. What can’t she do?”

Leonard took a slow sip of his drink, eyes on the dance floor. “Sleep in. Sit still. Leave well enough alone.”

Jim snorted. 

Leonard nodded, sipping his drink. “She told me she loves me.”

Jim didn’t whoop or grin,he just nodded slowly, the kind of quiet approval that only came from someone who’d seen you at your worst.

“Yeah?” he asked. “How’s it feel?”

Leonard looked across the floor.

Georgie was laughing now, spinning in Sulu’s arms with that unguarded joy she hadn’t shown in weeks. Her smile lit up the room. No shadow of the Orions. No hint of the girl who came back bruised and quiet. Just her, free and shining.

“Like I finally got something right,” he murmured. “Like maybe…I could really build something that lasts.”

Jim clinked his glass against Leonard’s. “Then don’t let it slip by.”

They sat there for a while longer, letting the music fill the spaces between them. Leonard watched her dance, the woman who loved him back. The woman who fought like hell and laughed like sunlight and reached for him every time.

Chapter Text

A/N: All I got to say is the time has come.🌶️🌶️🌶️

The Enterprise had been cruising in calm space for nearly a month. No drama, no skirmishes, no red alerts. Just routine patrol routes and the occasional supply drop to Federation outposts. The kind of quiet that was rare, and always temporary. And tonight, the calm held.

The officers’ lounge was cozy, most of the crew already off-shift or asleep. A soft jazz track filtered through the room, and outside the viewport, stars drifted by in slow motion.

Leonard sat near the window, gazing out the viewport. The air smelled faintly of old leather and something herbal someone had steeped earlier. His dress shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, and his boots were kicked halfway under the table.

Spock and Jim entered together, each carrying drinks, Spock with a hot Vulcan tea, Jim with something amber in a glass tumbler.

Jim raised his eyebrows as they reached Leonard. “Look at that. He’s brooding again. Must be Tuesday.”

Leonard didn’t look up. “You’re hilarious.”

Spock took the seat beside him without comment. Jim dropped into the spot across from him, kicking one foot up onto the bench’s edge.

“Where’s your better half tonight?” he asked, glancing around like he half-expected her to appear with a report in hand.

Leonard finally looked up. “She turned in early. Said she had a headache. Long week.”

Jim tilted his head. “She alright?”

“Yeah,” Leonard said, but the word came a little too fast. He scrubbed a hand over his jaw. “Just worn out.”

Jim studied him for a beat. “You’ve been quiet all week. Something bothering you?”

Leonard shrugged, staring at the stars outside. “Not bothering, exactly. Just been thinkin’.”

Jim exchanged a look with Spock. “Ok…about?.”

Leonard finally glanced over at them, something quieter in his face. “It’s about Georgie.”

Spock’s brow lifted. “Has she sustained an injury?”

“No,” Leonard said. “She’s fine. More than fine, actually. She’s been good. Even with what happened on that Orion mission, she’s been climbing out of that dark place with a kind of grace I didn’t think I’d get to see again. And she still makes time for me.” His voice softened. “We’ve got a good thing.”

Jim leaned forward. “So what’s got you brooding?”

Leonard looked down at his hands. “I’m planning to ask her to marry me.”

Silence followed, not out of shock, but weight.

Spock was the first to speak. “Then I shall offer my congratulations. I calculate a 91.6% probability that she will say yes.”

Leonard squinted. “And the other 8.4?”

Spock blinked. “I prefer not to say.”

Jim stifled a laugh behind his glass.

Leonard gave a tired smile and continued. “It’s not like I’m afraid she’ll say no. But this… this isn’t just about timing. It’s about feelin’ like I’m ready to ask the question for the right reasons. I rushed it last time, with my ex-wife. Got caught up in the idea of what a life should look like. What it should give me. But this time... I know better. I’m not lookin’ for a solution to a hole in my chest. I’m lookin’ at the person who fills the room without tryin’.”

Jim nodded slowly. “That’s a hell of a thing to say, Bones.”

Leonard glanced at him. “It’s a hell of a thing to feel.”

There was a long pause, and then Jim said, more gently, “When did you know?”

Leonard leaned back slightly, thinking. “I think I always knew in pieces. But after the Orion mission, watchin’ her break and still choose to stand again, watchin’ how she helped me breathe through it too, that’s when I stopped just admirin’ her strength and started seein’ the kind of life I wanted to build around it.”

Spock sipped his tea and set the cup down carefully. “In Vulcan tradition, the decision to join in bond is not taken lightly. Emotional clarity is as vital as logical compatibility. It would appear you possess both.”

Jim grinned. “Translation; he approves.”

Leonard snorted. “That’s as close to a blessing as I’ll ever get from him.”

Spock raised one brow. “Indeed.”

Jim tipped his glass forward. “Do you have a plan? A ring? Something romantic and ridiculous?”

Leonard sighed. “That’s the part I haven’t figured out yet. I want it to feel like us. Not overdone. Just… honest. Maybe quiet.”

Jim nodded, then smiled wider. “Whatever you do, it’ll mean something. And she’ll know it. Just make sure I get a front row seat to her reaction.”

Leonard smirked, dry as ever. “Wouldn’t dream of keepin’ you out of it.”

Spock glanced toward the viewport. “May I suggest that you avoid proposing during a red alert.”

Leonard rolled his eyes. “You think I’m that dramatic?”

Jim and Spock answered in unison. “Yes.”

Leonard sighed. “Fair.”

And Leonard, sitting there with his friends, knew it was time.

The next day came quieter than expected.

Georgie was buried in department debriefs, the kind that stretched long and required all her attention. Leonard had kissed her forehead that morning, muttered something about catching up on reports, and let her go.

Now, the lights were low, the hum of the ship quiet around him. He sat at his console, fingers hovering over the comm key, jaw tight, heart oddly nervous for a man who’d once performed surgery on a collapsing battlefield.

He’d seen life come and go in his hands. He’d held last breaths and given second chances. But this was the moment that caused a permanent lump in his throat..

Georgie wouldn’t be done for at least another hour. Maybe two. It was the perfect time.

The time to make it happen.

He’d been turning it over in his mind all week, the weight of the decision as present as his own pulse. Not the proposal itself, he’d made peace with that long ago. He wanted to spend his life with her. No question. But this… this part mattered too. Not because he needed Robert Knox’s permission. But because asking felt like honoring the bond they were building, the one between families, not just partners.

After their first meeting on Station 99, he and Robert had kept in touch. Mostly about medicine, exchanging notes on treatment trials and Federation journals. Once, Leonard had asked for input on an obscure neuromuscular disorder, and Robert had responded within the hour. It hadn’t escaped Leonard that it felt less like polite correspondence and more like mentorship. The man hadn’t just welcomed him in, he’d seen something in him worth investing in.

She had teased him once about it.

“He talks to you more than me some weeks,” she’d joked, nudging Leonard on the couch. “I think he’s adopted you.”

He hadn’t denied it. Maybe he liked that idea more than he admitted.

He took a breath and hit the comm.

The screen blinked once. Twice.

“Robert Knox – Connected.”

The familiar face filled the screen, sharp-eyed, composed, white coat already half-unbuttoned like he’d just left the med bay.

“Leonard,” Robert said, smiling. “You’re not calling about another case study, are you?”

Leonard chuckled. “Not this time, sir.”

Robert leaned back slightly. “Good. I was beginning to think I was just your walking textbook, not that I mind.”

“You’re more like an annotated archive,” Leonard deadpanned.

Robert huffed a laugh. “What’s going on son?”

Leonard shifted slightly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Actually, I was hoping for a few minutes of your time. For something personal.”

That made Robert straighten. Not cautious, just curious. “Of course.”

Leonard took a breath, slow and measured. “It’s about Georgie.”

Robert’s eyes softened immediately. “Is she alright?”

“She’s good. Stronger than ever, actually.” Leonard’s voice lowered. “Still healing in some ways. But you’d be proud of how she’s come through it all. She’s back on her feet. Command presence sharp as hell.”

Robert nodded slowly, relief visible in the quiet exhale. “I never doubted her. But thank you for saying so.”

Leonard looked down for a second, then back up, his voice even. “I’m going to ask her to marry me.”

Robert blinked but there was no shock. Just a silence weighted with meaning.

Leonard continued. “I know I don’t need permission. She’d make it real clear if I thought I did.” That drew a small smirk from Robert. “But it matters to me. Because she matters. And because… I’ve come to respect you. A lot. You’ve trusted me with her more times than I probably deserved. I just wanted to tell you that before I asked her. And to say thank you.”

There was a long pause.

Then Robert leaned forward slightly, eyes locked on Leonard’s through the screen.

“Leonard,” he said, voice calm, “you’re the only man she’s ever brought to meet me in person. The only one she’s let into that part of her life. That alone tells me everything I need to know about how she feels and about you.”

He paused, just enough for it to settle.

“But more than that… she’s still her around you. And I’ve seen what you’ve done for her. You’ve given her space to grow. And when things got dark after the Orions, you didn’t flinch. You stayed. As a father, it kills me that I couldn’t be there to comfort my baby girl. But knowing she has you? I sleep better at night.”

Leonard’s throat was tighter than he expected.

Robert smiled, soft but sure.

“So yes. Of course you have my blessing. I can’t imagine anyone better suited to stand beside her.”

Leonard nodded, clearing his throat. “Appreciate that. More than I can say.”

“Just one thing,” Robert added. “If you hurt her—”

Leonard raised a hand. “I know. Just send my Head Nurse to break my kneecaps.”

Robert barked a laugh. “That was a joke. Mostly.”

“Thank you,” Leonard said again, his voice quieter now.

Robert’s expression softened. “Take care of her.”

“I will,” Leonard promised. “Always.”

The screen went dark.

He sat still, the quiet settling around him. His chest felt tight,not from nerves this time, but from something deeper. Robert hadn’t just given permission; he had placed real trust in him. And that meant more than Leonard had expected.

He let out a slow breath. It was time to move.

There was one other person he wanted to loop in, Sulu.

This was Georgie’s best friend. The one person who knew her inside and out. If anyone could help make this moment count, it was him.

Leonard rose from his chair, grabbed his uniform jacket, and headed out.

The doors to the botany lab opened with a quiet hiss, releasing the scent of soil and something faintly sweet. Chlorophyll and earth mixed with floral oils, stirred by the gentle turn of the circulation fans. Rows of planters lined the space, overflowing with color and life, deep violets, soft golds, and trailing blooms reaching for the overhead lights.

Near the back, Sulu stood with his sleeves rolled, carefully tending to a bloom with quick hands. He glanced up, surprised but curious.

“Doctor McCoy,” he said, a smile forming. “Looking for Georgie?”

Leonard shook his head. “Actually... I’m lookin’ for you.”

That got Sulu’s attention. He straightened slightly, brushing the soil off his hands. “Everything alright?”

Leonard exhaled, shifting the PADD in his grip like it might anchor him. “Yeah. It’s... good. Actually. I’m gonna propose.”

Sulu blinked once. Then his entire face lit up. “Wait—seriously?”

“Dead serious.”

Sulu let out a quiet, pleased laugh, crossing around the planter to clap a hand on Leonard’s shoulder and then pulling him in for a hug. “That’s amazing, man. She’s gonna be over the moon.”

Leonard smiled, rough around the edges. “I talked to Robert today. Wanted his blessing. Didn’t need it, but… it mattered. He gave it.”

Sulu’s brows lifted slightly, impressed. “He must really trust you.”

“Still tryin’ to wrap my head around that one,” Leonard said with a dry chuckle. Then his tone softened. “Only problem is… I don’t have a ring. Haven’t had time, and I don’t wanna wait. I thought maybe I’d just ask, tell her one’s coming when I can find somethin’.”

Sulu paused. Then turned slowly toward the back wall of the lab, where a collection of smaller blooms stretched under a glow lamp.

Without a word, he reached for a cluster of lavender-pink blossoms, small, delicate, five-pointed petals with soft edges and a scent like vanilla and spring rain. He clipped a few and wrapped them in a bit of cream-colored cloth, tying them off with a thin green ribbon from his workstation.

“She loves these,” Sulu said as he handed over the small bundle. “They’re not flashy, but she picks them all the time when she thinks I’m not watching.”

Leonard looked down at the flowers, his chest tightening in a way he hadn’t expected.

Sulu’s voice dropped a little. “After Gamma-7, when you gave her those flowers? She wouldn’t stop talking about you. Said no one had ever done anything like that before. These kind of remind me of those. I think that’s why she keeps taking them. I think they remind her of you.”

He paused, then added gently, “Use these instead of a ring.”

Leonard swallowed, his throat tight. “You sure she won’t mind? No ring, I mean?”

“She won’t care,” Sulu said without hesitation. “But she’ll remember this. The thought behind it. The moment. What it means. That’s what’ll matter to her.”

Leonard nodded, eyes still on the flowers.

“If you want the perfect backdrop?” Sulu added gently, “Take her to the observation deck around 1900 tonight. We’re passing a Class III nebula, full spectrum, plasma ribbons. The sky’s gonna look like it’s breathing. She’ll love it. Assuming you’re ready now.”

Leonard looked up, the ghost of a smile curling at the edge of his mouth. “That sounds just right. And yeah... I’m ready.”

Sulu clapped him on the shoulder, firmer this time. “You’ve got this.”

Leonard looked down at the flowers in his hands. They didn’t shine like gold or sparkle like a ring, but they meant something. Maybe everything.

“Thanks, Hikaru,” he said quietly. “For everything.”

Sulu just smiled. “Make it count.”

Leonard walked out with measured steps, the soft ambient hum of the ship filling the quiet around him. The closer he got to the observation deck, the heavier his heartbeat became. He’d faced injuries, starship crises, and impossible choices without blinking, but this? This felt impossible.

By the time he reached the turbolift, the nervous energy was impossible to ignore. He’d hidden the flowers just under the viewport ledge earlier, hands slightly trembling even then. Now, he stood with his arms crossed tightly over his chest like it might stop the thudding inside him from echoing down the corridor.

He glanced at the time.

She’d be off shift any second.

He ran through the words again. Just keep it simple. Keep it honest. Just you and her. That was enough.

The turbolift doors slid open with a soft hiss, and there she was tired, but still radiant. Her sleeves were rolled, hair pulled back loose, cheeks slightly flushed from the day. Just the sight of her made something in his chest settle... and something else start racing all over again.

She blinked at the sight of him. “Hey. You waitin’ for me or are you lurking in the halls?”

Leonard pushed off the wall, forcing a casual smile. “Thought I’d catch you before you ran off.”

She quirked an eyebrow, amused. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah,” he said quickly, too quickly. “Yeah, everything’s fine. I just… wanted to show you something.”

“Something cool?” she teased, stepping beside him. “Or ‘cool’ like a surgical instrument that can autoclave itself?”

He smirked. “Cool like even you might be impressed.”

She narrowed her eyes playfully. “Alright, color me curious. Want to grab a snack on the way to your cool thing?”

“Actually…” He tried to sound casual, but it came out a little strangled. “Let’s do this first.”

She tilted her head. “You okay, Len? You’re acting weird.”

“Am not,” he said, too fast again.

She gave him that look. The one that said she could read him like a damn chart.

He cleared his throat. “Come on. You’ll like it. Promise.”

They walked the corridor together in silence; her stride was slow, while Leonard’s pulse thudded with every step.

“Long day?” he asked, trying to keep his voice calm. “You look like you wrestled an angry gorn.”

Georgie groaned lightly. “Close. Spent half the day working with Scotty on photon torpedo calibration, then someone triggered a false alert on Deck Seven and we had to sweep the entire section.”

Leonard glanced at her, grateful for the distraction. “Let me guess, crewman Jennings?”

“Jennings,” she confirmed, shooting him a wry look. “If that man tries to ‘test security systems’ one more time, I’m gonna reassign him to waste extraction.”

He chuckled, trying to focus on her story instead of the pounding in his chest. “Remind me never to get on your bad side.”

“Too late,” she teased, bumping her shoulder lightly against his. “You dragged me out after a double shift. This better be good.”

“You’ll see,” he said, though his throat was dry.

They rounded the corner and approached the observation deck. The lights inside were dimmed low, casting a soft glow across the corridor. Leonard stepped ahead and keyed the door open.

The room unfolded in silence.

The wide, curved window stretched across the far wall, revealing a sweep of stars scattered like cold fire. At first, it was only the vast black of space, quiet and still.

Georgie stepped in beside him, eyes narrowing slightly. “Okay, Len. What’s the surprise?”

He glanced at her, barely breathing. “Just wait.”

At first, it was just space.

She folded her arms and squinted out the window. “It’s dark.”

“Just wait, give it a moment.” Leonard murmured.

Almost on cue, the nebula began to bloom.

Soft violet tendrils unfurled across the stars, shifting into ribbons of amber and deep blue. A wave of golden light rolled along the edge of the glass, washing the room in a surreal, shimmering glow. It looked like the universe itself had paused to breathe.

She stepped closer, her eyes wide. “Whoa…”

The light danced across her skin, caught in the loose edges of her hair, painting her in hues that made her look unreal. Leonard watched her, his heart pressing tight against his ribs.

She laughed softly, wonder in her voice. “Hikaru must be having the time of his life flying through this. It’s like he’s tilting the ship just enough to give us a show.”

Leonard swallowed, the words sitting heavy on his tongue. “Maybe he is.”

She turned to him, brows lifted. “What?”

He didn’t answer at first. Instead, he stepped toward the wide pane of glass, reaching behind the ledge where he had hidden the cloth bundle. With careful hands, he pulled it free.

The lavender-pink flowers caught the nebula’s light; their soft petals shimmered like they had been made for this moment.

Her breath caught.

“I know I’m not the easiest man,” he said quietly. “I’ve got my fair share of scars. I’m stubborn. Loud when I shouldn’t be. Quiet when it matters most.”

She let out a breath of a laugh, soft, warm, knowing.

“But you…” His voice wavered, and he steadied it with a breath. “You make me want to be better at all of it. Not just a good doctor. A good man. For you.”

Her expression softened; her hands hung motionless at her sides.

“I don’t have a ring,” Leonard said, stepping closer, “but I didn’t want to wait anymore. These’ll have to do for now.”

Then he sank to one knee.

Her breath caught like someone had pulled gravity out from under her. She gasped, both hands flying to her mouth.

“Georgina Knox,” he said, steady despite the thundering in his chest, “will you give me the honor of bein’ my wife?”

She stared, stunned into stillness. The world felt suspended, just stars, light, and the man in front of her.

Then she moved fast.

“Yes!” she burst out, voice breaking into a bright, breathless laugh. “Yes, Len, of course I will!”

She launched forward, dropping to her knees and throwing her arms around his neck so hard they toppled backward in a tangled heap. The flowers slipped from his hands and scattered softly across the floor.

He caught her, arms locking tight around her as they landed. She kissed him, fast, too fast, then again, slower, deeper, until the laughter gave way to something quieter and more certain.

“I’m sorry I didn’t have a ring—” he started, breathless.

“Shut up,” she whispered, kissing the side of his face, her hand curled at the back of his neck. “This is perfect. You’re perfect.”

He smiled against her cheek, then kissed her again, unhurried this time, wrapped in nebula light and everything they hadn’t said but always meant.

When they finally stood, fingers still laced, the flowers lay scattered at their feet, but neither of them noticed.

They walked the corridor hand in hand, shoulders bumping now and then like teenagers sneaking in past curfew. Laughter bubbled between them, quiet, private, the kind that needed no audience.

Georgie held the bundled flowers close to her chest like they were priceless; to her, they were. No ring in the galaxy could have meant more than those soft, stolen petals.

He couldn’t stop smiling. His chest felt light, unburdened in a way that surprised him. As they passed a crew member, Georgie turned to him, grinning like they shared the biggest secret on the ship.

“You seriously had this planned?” she teased, tugging at his hand. “The nebula, the flowers, the whole romantic setup?”

He shrugged, feigning modesty. “I had a little help.”

She stopped in her tracks, mock betrayal flickering across her face. “Who knew?”

Leonard tried, unsuccessfully, not to smirk. “Sulu.”

Her eyes widened. “Hikaru knew? That little sneak! No wonder he’s been so smug earlier.”

“He was very enthusiastic,” Leonard said. “Gave me the timing on the nebula and the flowers, said you’ve been stealing them.”

“I do not—” she started, then caught herself. “Okay, maybe a little.”

He raised a brow knowingly.

They reached her quarters, stepping inside together. The doors hissed shut behind them. Dim lights cast long shadows across the walls, but through the viewport, the nebula still glowed, a soft, shifting reflection of the moment they had just lived.

Georgie turned to him, her eyes glassy. She looked at him like he was the one constant in a galaxy that never stopped moving.

“You know what I love about you?” she asked, voice low.

Leonard tilted his head, that familiar crooked smile tugging at his lips. “What’s that?”

“It’s not just the big things,” she said. “You listen. You remember. You make me feel like I don’t have to keep all the hard parts hidden.”

She stepped closer, her fingers brushing the front of his shirt, then settling just above his heart.

“You make me feel safe. Not because you promise everything’s going to be fine, but because you show up anyway. Even when it’s messy. Even when I don’t have the words yet.”

Her voice cracked just a little, but she didn’t look away.

“I love that you care so damn much, even when it hurts you. I love that you let me take the last snack bar, even when I know you wanted it. I love that you never once made me feel like I was too much.”

She smiled, soft, eyes shining.

“You didn’t need a ring, or a perfect speech. You just had to be you. And that was enough to make me believe in this. In us.”

Leonard swallowed hard, his voice thick. “You deserve all of it.”

He reached for her hand, pressed it gently against his chest.

“But I can’t take all the credit,” he added. “You make it easy to love you. You make me want to get it right. Every day.”

His thumb traced a soft line along the back of her hand.

“I don’t always have the words. But I’ve never wanted to love someone the way I want to love you.”

He reached up, cupping her face, thumb sweeping gently along her cheekbone.

She leaned into his touch, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment as she soaked in the quiet between them. The silence wasn’t empty; it pulsed with everything unspoken, relief, gratitude, love that didn’t need to be proven, only felt.

Leonard’s thumb traced the curve of her cheek, then dropped to her jaw as he tilted her face up. He kissed her gently, unrushed. It wasn’t a kiss meant to take or stir, but to hold.

She pressed her forehead to his when it ended, their breaths mingling.

“Stay?” she whispered, even though she already knew he would.

He didn’t answer with words. He just stepped past her into the small living space, shrugged off his jacket, and placed it over the back of her chair. She followed, arms circling his waist from behind as he moved to dim the lights, the nebula still glowing softly through the viewport.

When he turned to face her, their eyes met in the hush.

He leaned in and kissed her slowly at first, like a question waiting to be answered. All the nerves from earlier faded, replaced by something deeper. Her hands tightened in the front of his uniform, pulling him closer, breath catching when he pressed into her. Their lips parted in unison, the kiss growing more certain, more charged.

When they finally pulled apart, her pupils were wide, storm-dark. Her chest rose and fell as she looked up at him through her lashes. There was no hesitation in her gaze now, just trust.

She gave him that look.

The one that burned.

The one that said, I want you .

And he understood without a word.

He sat on the edge of the bed, watching her quietly as she slipped off her shirt. Her fingers hesitated, fumbling slightly. She was nervous. He saw it in the tremble of her hands, in the way she avoided his eyes.

“Sweetheart,” he said gently, reaching out to still her hands in his. “We don’t have to do anything tonight.”

She gave a small, wobbly smile, gaze still low. “I know. I just…” Her breath hitched. “I want this with you. I just want to give you all of me, even if I’m nervous..”

His heart ached, but from the weight of her trust.

He stood slowly, closing the distance between them. His hands cupped her face, brushing along her jaw, tilting her chin up.

“Look at me,” he said, his voice low. “I need you to hear this.”

Her eyes met his, wide and unguarded.

“I love you,” he said. “It doesn’t matter if we wait, or if this is the moment. I’m right here. We’re not on anyone else’s time.”

She let out a shaky laugh, blinking fast like she might cry. “I know. I trust you.”

He kissed her again slower now, not coaxing, not asking, just being there.

And she leaned in.

Her hands found his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as she kissed him back. There was still hesitation in her touch, but it was fading, melting into something more certain with every heartbeat.

He let her guide the pace, his own hands barely moving except to cradle her face.

After a moment, he lifted her hands, guiding them gently to the hem of his shirt. She hesitated, then helped him pull it over his head, leaving him bare before her.

She looked at him like he was something rare. Her fingers moved to his chest, brushing over old scars, pausing above the faint line near his heart.

He caught her hand and pressed it flat to his chest.

“This is yours,” he whispered. “All of it.”

Her breath hitched softly as she looked up at him again.

“Will you…” she started, voice small but sure. “Will you show me?”

Leonard nodded, leaning in to kiss her again, hands sliding down her arms, slowly, as he helped her out of the rest of her clothes. Every movement was careful, unhurried, his lips brushing along her shoulder, then down to the swell of her breast as she stood bare before him.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered against her skin.

Her cheeks flushed, eyes darting away again, but he caught her chin, bringing her gaze back to his.

“I mean it. You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

He led her gently to the bed, laying her down like she was something sacred, something only he was allowed to worship. His hands never trembled, but they were reverent, tracing the shape of her with a kind of quiet awe.

He kissed her slowly, savoring the softness of her skin beneath his lips. Her neck. Her shoulder. The dip just beneath her collarbone. Each kiss a whisper of devotion. He let his hands explore with equal care, gliding over her waist, her ribs, memorizing the contours of her like he might be tested on them later.

She sighed beneath him, her fingers sliding into his hair, her back arching with every press of his mouth. She gasped softly when his teeth grazed just enough to make her pulse stutter. He made his way back up, taking his time, mapping her body like it was a question he’d waited years to answer.

By the time he settled above her, bracing himself on one elbow with his hand cradling her cheek, her lips were already parted in anticipation, her eyes dark with heat and trust.

And still, he paused.

“Still okay?” he asked, voice rough with restraint.

She lifted her hand to touch his jaw, guiding him down with a whisper. “Yes. Don’t stop.”

“Sweetheart,” he asked softly, “are you ready?”

She nodded, breathless, her eyes wide but trusting. He kissed her as he guided himself into her, slowly, giving her every chance to stop him but she held on tighter, fingers clinging to his shoulders, her breath catching as their bodies joined for the first time.

He held still, letting her adjust, one hand brushing her hair back from her face, lips pressing gentle kisses to her cheeks, her brow, the corner of her mouth.

“You’re doing perfect, darlin’,” he whispered. “Breathe with me.”

She nodded again, shaky, but her fingers gripped his shoulders tighter, anchoring herself there.

“I’m okay,” she whispered. 

He waited, let her body adjust, let her tell him when it was time. And when her hips gave the smallest tilt toward him, that unspoken permission, he started to move again, slow, watching her every reaction.

The tension softened beneath his hands. Her eyes fluttered closed, lips parting on a soft, breathless sigh.

“That’s it, sweetheart.” he whispered, kissing her jaw, her throat, murmuring encouragement with every slow roll of his hips.

He moved with care, matching her soft sounds, holding back every urge to go faster, this wasn’t about hunger. It was about her . About making sure she knew she was safe.

When she gasped his name softly, her hands sliding down to his hips, pulling him in closer, he nearly lost himself right then. The way she clung to him, gave herself over fully that kind of trust was a gift he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to repay.

“Leonard…” she whispered again, her hips rising to meet his now, finding the rhythm, her body learning how to move with him.

It built slowly between them, the sweetness of it mixing with the need, the tension winding tight. Her hands tightened at his back, her body rising into him with more surety now, breaths coming quicker.

“I—oh—” she gasped, hips rocking harder, chasing the edge that had snuck up on her. “Len…”

“That’s it,” he rasped, voice breaking as his own control started to shake. “Come for me, sweetheart.”

He slid one hand between them, finding her clit, circling soft as he thrust into her, deeper now, matching the desperate rhythm of her hips. Her body clenched hard around him, her cries soft but raw as she came, trembling beneath him. Her arms wrapped tight around his neck, pulling him close as her body gave in fully, breathless and undone.

He kissed her shoulder, breathing heavy, grounding them both in the moment. He pulled back gently, and she let out a soft, reluctant whimper at the loss of him.

With slow, careful movements, he guided her onto her stomach, his touch never leaving her. She followed his lead without hesitation, still caught in the aftershocks of release. When he eased her up onto all fours, his hands steadied her hips. 

He’d been careful when he entered her again.  Watching every breath she took, every sound she made, every shift in her body as he moved within her. Her back arched so beautifully beneath his hands, her hair messy and her breath catching in soft little gasps that made his heart ache and race all at once.

She’d reached back for him at one point, just her fingers brushing his thigh and it damn near undid him. It wasn’t just the pleasure; it was the intimacy of it. The way she trusted him, let herself be held.

He could feel it in the way her body tensed beneath his hands, how close she was. Her breath came in shallow bursts, her fingers clawing at the sheets, her hips pushing back against him with an urgency that made his throat go tight.

“Almost there,” he whispered, voice thick and low against the back of her neck. “Just let go. I’ve got you.”

Her answering moan was wrecked and desperate, and he knew when she fell over that edge. Her whole body bowed beneath him, back arched, thighs trembling. She cried out his name in a broken, breathless voice in the pillow, and he nearly lost himself right then, the sound of it burning into his memory like a brand.

He followed a heartbeat later, burying himself deep as he came, groaning her name like a prayer, forehead dropping to her shoulder. The room fell quiet, the air between them thick with heat and breath and the slow thud of their hearts coming down.

He was about to say something teasing or soft when he felt her shoulders shake beneath his hands.

He pulled back just enough to see her, still face-down against the bed, her hand clutching the sheet, her breathing uneven.

Then he heard it.

A quiet sniff. A shaky exhale. Tears.

His heart stuttered.

“Georgie?” he said gently, already easing himself down beside her, hand brushing her shoulder. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong? Did I hurt you? Was that too much?”

Her eyes were glassy when she looked up at him, face flushed, lips parted like she was trying to speak but couldn’t quite get it out.

His chest clenched. God, what if she wasn’t ready? What if she regretted it and didn’t know how to say it?

She shook her head quickly, but the tears kept falling, silent and unstoppable.

“No,” she whispered, trying to sit up, voice cracking. “No, I’m okay—I’m fine, I just—God, I don’t know what’s happening—”

Leonard cupped her face, turning her toward him, thumbs wiping at the tears that kept spilling over.

“You’re okay,” he murmured, pressing his forehead to hers. “I’ve got you.”

She took a shaky breath, eyes meeting his, still glassy with emotion.

“I don’t know why I’m crying,” she whispered. “I didn’t expect that. You didn’t do anything wrong, I promise.”

He smiled softly, brushing her hair back from her face. “Sometimes it just happens. When it’s too much in the best possible way. It's completely normal.”

She gave a shaky laugh.

“I’ve never felt anything like that before,” she murmured. “It was like… I didn’t know my body could feel that much. I didn’t know I could let go like that. It was like my love for you just spilled over.”

He drew her into his chest, arms wrapping around her protectively. “It’s alright,” he whispered against her ear. “It was all new. That’s all.”

She tucked her face into his neck, and he held her tighter, one hand tracing slow, steady circles along her spine. He didn’t try to fill the silence with words; he just let her cry, let her feel, offering her the safety to fall apart and still be held together.

Shifting to his side, he gathered her fully into his arms and pulled the blanket over them both. She curled closer, one hand resting flat over his chest, fingertips idly tracing the faint line of an old scar.

Neither of them spoke. They didn’t need to.

Outside, the nebula still shimmered, violet and gold and blue, casting soft light across the room like the stars themselves had paused to watch. And there, wrapped in the quiet hum of the ship and the warmth of each other, they finally drifted to sleep.

Chapter Text

The morning was quiet. Leonard woke to soft light spilling in from the viewport, the nebula long gone, replaced by a simulated sunrise over Chicago. Golden hues stretched across an imagined lake and buildings, casting a gentle glow across the room.

He hadn’t seen this setting in her quarters before, but he liked it. Chicago. Her home. The place she still dreamed of, even in deep space. It was another piece of her; another quiet truth she carried with her. And as the cityscape flickered softly on the glass, he found himself thinking, maybe one day, they would see it together.

She was curled around him, warm and sunk into the crook of his body like she’d always belonged there. Her leg draped across his, her cheek pressed to his chest, fingers still resting just over his heart like she meant to hold it in place. Her hair tickled his collarbone. He didn’t dare move. Didn’t want to break whatever magic still lingered.

Then her voice, raspy and still half-asleep, mumbled into his skin.
“Morning, fiancé.”

He smiled, slow and helpless, like that word had settled somewhere deep and refused to leave.

“Hey, darlin’,” he murmured, brushing his thumb in gentle circles along her shoulder.

She tilted her face up, hair a mess, eyes soft, and started tracing lazy shapes on his chest with her finger. “Last night really happened, huh? The proposal, the mind blowing sex, the everything.”

He leaned down, kissed her forehead. “It did. You said yes, in more ways than one.” He smirked faintly. “Loud enough to scare half the stars off course.”

She laughed, low and sweet, before nuzzling under his jaw. Then she pulled back just enough to meet his eyes, bright, teasing, and just a little dangerous.

“I guess the rumors were true…” she said, voice dipping to something sly.

He narrowed his eyes, suspicious. “What rumors?”

She bit her lip. “About you having the steadiest hands on the ship.”

He blinked. “I’m sorry, what?”

She gave an innocent shrug. “Hikaru told me when I first mentioned I liked you. Apparently, there’s been chatter.”

He stared at her. “Chatter?”

She nodded. “Some women on board apparently have… opinions, admiration, fantasies. About your hands.”

His expression twisted into mock horror. “Well, that’s downright unsettling. What the hell kind of reputation do I have?”

She was grinning now, full tilt. “A good one, apparently.”

“Oh no. No, no, no.” He pointed a dramatic finger at her. “That makes it sound like I’ve been out here sleeping around.”

“Honestly?” She smirked. “I thought it was just horny crew gossip. Then you held my hand that first time and, well. I understood the hype.”

He groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Darlin’, I swear to you, I haven’t laid a hand on anyone aboard this ship but you.”

She laughed, slipping her hand into his. “I know. I just like watching you squirm.”

Leonard let out a gruff noise of protest, but the corner of his mouth tugged upward anyway. “I can’t believe I’m bein’ objectified for my hands.”

Georgie slid her fingers over his palm. “You’ll live.”

He gave her a long, dry look. “You’re enjoying this too much.” He then moved his hands to tickle her sides. She smiled, then shifted closer, her voice softening as her hand moved from his to trail a slow, teasing line down his stomach.

“Last night?” she whispered. “You made me feel like I didn’t even know what my own body could do. Like you were reading it better than I ever have.”

His throat tightened. He reached up and cupped her cheek, brushing a thumb across the soft skin beneath her eye.

“I just wanted you to feel safe,” he said, quieter now. “Wanted you to know I love you.”

Her smile trembled at the edges. “You did. You made it feel easy to let go. And for me… that’s never been simple.”

They stayed like that for a while, wrapped up in each other, the air thick with warmth and something unspoken. He didn’t need her to say it again. He felt it in the way she clung to him. In how she softened against his body like it was the safest place in the galaxy.

Then she whispered, a little dazed, “I’m gonna be your wife. Mrs. Georgina McCoy.”

Leonard’s grin broke through like morning sunlight. “You are and I love the sound of it.”

“I keep saying it to myself,” she said, eyes flicking around the room like she was trying to memorize every second. “I didn’t think I’d ever get something like this. Not with everything I’ve been through. Not with how stubborn I am.”

“You’re a pain in the ass sometimes,” Leonard said, deadpan.

She snorted. “So are you.”

He leaned in, kissed her again.

Eventually, he groaned and reached for the bedside clock. “Two hours until duty.”

She groaned louder and flopped dramatically back against the pillow. “You’re Chief Medical Officer. You seriously can’t write us a note for one day off?”

Leonard raised a brow, smirking. “You skipping duty over good sex now? That’s your medical excuse?”

She shot him a look. “I’m just saying, it’s a valid case of temporary incapacitation.”

He chuckled. “What would I even put in the report? Patient sidelined due to enthusiastic engagement-related activities?”

“Len!” she gasped, smacking his chest.

He grinned, smug as ever. “What? If anyone needed proof I’ve got the steadiest hands in the quadrant there it is.”

She grabbed a pillow and threw it at him. “You’re ridiculous.”

He caught it easily, leaned over her, and murmured against her lips, “And yet… here you are.”

They stayed curled up for a few minutes more, stealing kisses like they were on borrowed time. Eventually, they dragged themselves out of bed, slowly dressing, laughing as they tried to stay serious. She was barefoot, hair still wild, but she was radiant.

He watched her from across the room and thought, this is it . Hair still a little wild, lips still swollen from too many kisses, pulling on her uniform like she hadn’t just turned his world inside out the night before. She was radiant in the quiet kind of way that snuck up on him; not flashy, just real. Undeniably his.

Every time they got close to the door, one of them would pause. Another kiss. A brush of fingers. A smirk. A “just one more” that turned into three.

Georgie finally pulled her collar into place and turned to him with that teasing smile. “You know we’re going to be late.”

Leonard gave a half-hearted shrug, tugging her in for one more kiss, slow and lingering. “Worth it.”

They parted at the corridor junction, heading to the bridge, him toward Medbay. But first, he ducked into the mess hall. He needed coffee. And maybe, a second to collect himself. His pulse still hadn’t quite settled, and truth be told, he wasn’t sure he wanted it to.

Jim and Spock were already at their usual table, their trays emptied, mugs steaming between them. Uhura sat beside Spock, calmly scrolling through a report on her PADD, a quiet smile tugging at the edge of her lips. Spock noticed Leonard first.

“Doctor.”

“Morning,” Leonard said, grabbing a filled mug of coffee and sliding into the seat across from them.

Jim raised an eyebrow at the way Leonard looked, well-rested for once, hair slightly mussed, the faintest ghost of a smile still clinging to his mouth. His whole energy felt lighter.

“Well, well,” Jim said, narrowing his eyes. “You look like a man who either won a lottery, or got extremely lucky with something.”

Uhura glanced up from her PADD. “He’s glowing.”

Leonard took a long sip of his coffee. “Can’t a man just have a good night with his fiancée?”

Jim blinked. Froze mid-sip.

“Fiancée?” he choked out.

Spock tilted his head. “That would indicate that a formal proposal occurred.”

“It did,” Leonard said, like it was nothing, even though the warmth in his voice gave everything away. “She said yes.”

Jim nearly dropped his cup. “She said yes?! You actually-? You proposed?”

Leonard nodded. “Got down on one knee. Gave her flowers. Whole nine yards.”

Uhura’s mouth dropped open, and then she grinned wide. “No way! Congratulations!”

Spock gave a small nod of approval. “That is a statistically rare but favorable outcome. Congratulations, Doctor.”

Jim leaned forward, eyes wide. “And she said yes? Like, real yes? Like ‘let’s spend our lives together and drive each other crazy in the best way’ yes?”

Leonard smirked. “She tackled me. Pretty sure we woke up half the deck.”

Jim let out a bark of laughter and clapped the table. “Hot damn. You actually did it. And Georgie, Georgie agreed to marry you. Bones, this might be the biggest miracle I’ve seen in space.”

Leonard gave him a deadpan look. “Appreciate the vote of confidence.”

“No, no,” Jim said, waving him off. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m thrilled. You two are disgustingly perfect. I cried a little when she called you her boyfriend that one time. This is next level.”

Spock arched a brow. “I did not perceive visible emotional distress on that occasion.”

“It was internal,” Jim said. “Deeply internal.”

Uhura chuckled. “I’m just glad someone finally locked it down. We’ve been watching this slow-burn unfold for months. Kirk still owes me ten credits.”

Leonard groaned. “You people bet on us?”

“Of course we did,” Uhura said. “This is a starship, Doctor. We make our own fun.”

Jim leaned in again, grinning like the world’s proudest best man. “So. You’re really doing this. You’re marrying one of the best women on this ship. Which means…”

Leonard held up a hand. “Jim.”

“…I get to marry you.”

Leonard blinked. “What?”

“I insist on officiating. Think about it. The moment, the drama, the delivery. I already have an opening line.”

“Oh no.”

Jim cleared his throat, holding an imaginary mic. “‘It all started when Georgina Knox agreed, against all logic and medical warnings, to flirt with the grumpiest man in Starfleet...’”

Leonard groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Kill me.”

Uhura sipped her coffee, “I’ve seen that man scowl at a paper cut. She’s clearly braver than the rest of us.”

“Or reckless,” Spock added.

“Or both,” Jim said brightly. “Which, incidentally, is how all great love stories begin.”

Leonard rolled his eyes, but the corner of his mouth betrayed him with a smirk. “You all finished?”

“Never,” Uhura said sweetly. Then she leaned in with a conspiratorial grin. “I can’t wait to find Georgie, I need details . ”

Leonard blinked. “That’s classified.”

“Oh please,” she said, standing with her tray. “You’re glowing. That’s not classified, it’s broadcast.”

The group chuckled as she headed off, Spock following in her wake with a nod of farewell.

Jim lingered behind, watching Leonard for a beat. “Seriously, Bones. I’m proud of you.”

Leonard looked down into his mug, the warmth in his chest outweighing the heat of the coffee. “Yeah. Me too.”
And as Jim clapped him on the shoulder and headed out, Leonard sat back, exhaled, and let a rare, contented smile linger at the corner of his mouth.

By the time Leonard stepped into Sickbay, there was a noticeable lightness in his stride. A little more ease in his shoulders. A little less scowl carved between his brows. He nodded at passing nurses with something dangerously close to cheer, even hummed under his breath while reviewing Ensign Brill’s test results, dry shampoo allergy, not an alien virus. Thank God.

Then the Sickbay doors slammed open hard enough to rattle a tray of instruments.

“Doctor McCoy!”

Chapel’s voice cracked through the room like a phaser blast.

Leonard dropped his stylus. “Christine- what the hell?”

“You got engaged and didn’t tell me?!”

The words hit like a dropped hypospray. Heads turned. A nurse gasped. One of the med techs nearly tripped over a rolling cart.

Then, cheering. Tentative at first. Then louder. A few claps. A whistle. Someone even tossed a glove in the air like confetti.

Leonard stood in the center of it all, deadpan as applause rose around him.

“Oh, for the love of, alright, alright,” he said, raising both hands like he was stopping a stampede. “This is still a medical facility, not a damn wedding reception.”

Chapel stormed over, PADD in hand, righteous fury written all over her face. “I ran into Georgie in the turbolift and she told you proposed to her last night.”

Leonard gestured helplessly. “I was gonna tell you today. At lunch.”

“And yet,” she said, arms folding tightly across her chest, “your head nurse, your closest colleague, the woman who’s kept your stubborn hide alive through twelve-hour shifts and three pandemics, me, gets secondhand news.”

He sighed. “I didn’t mean to leave you out. I just didn’t want to make it a big deal.”

“You’re getting married , Leonard,” she said, finally softening. “It is a big deal.”

He looked down, quiet. “So you’re mad because… you were happy?”

She gave him one more glare for good measure, then finally let a smile break through. “You’ve never looked this happy. Not once.”

That shut him up.

She bumped his arm. “I’m glad it’s her. Really damn glad. You deserve this.”

Leonard cleared his throat. “Well… thank you. And I’ll make it up to you.I’ll give you the whole story.”

“Oh, you owe me,” she said, grinning now. “You better bring details.”

Leonard groaned, turning back toward the biobed. “Ok fine, we done?”

She winked. “For now.”

The rest of the shift passed in a quiet blur, routine rounds, reports signed without his usual commentary, even a small laugh during med storage inventory when Chapel joked that Georgie must have a superhuman tolerance for sarcasm if she was marrying him. He hadn’t seen Georgie all day. Just a quick message between shifts, short and soft, Love you. Talk soon. He must’ve read it a dozen times.

The doors to Leonard’s quarters slid open with a quiet hiss. He stepped inside, finally off shift, still riding a buzz from the day, a strange mix of adrenaline and warmth that hadn’t quite worn off since the night before. He’d spent the entire day balancing medical duties with fielding congratulations from half the crew, all while trying not to float down the corridor like a man in a musical.

And yet, the best part of his day was right here.

The soft hum of the replicator was the first sound he noticed, followed by the glow of a PADD propped on the kitchenette counter. Georgie, perched casually on the counter of his kitchenette like she belonged there. Both legs dangling, hair pulled tucked back behind her ears, dressed in her off duty clothes. She had a half-eaten fruit bar in one hand and her attention on a drama on her screen.

“Hey there handsome,” she said, lips curving around the words.

Leonard didn’t say anything right away. He kicked off his boots, crossed the room with that slow stride of his and slipped in between her knees, hands bracing on the counter behind her.

“I like comin’ home to you,” he murmured, voice low, eyes warm. “Makes the day a whole lot better.”

She smiled, resting a hand lightly on his chest. “You say that like it’s my first time crashing here after a shift.”

He leaned in, voice low. “First time as my fiancée, though.”

Then he kissed her softly and unhurried his lips brushing hers with a tenderness that made her fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt.

She pulled back just enough to raise the bar to her mouth, took a bite, and chewed with exaggerated thoughtfulness.

He raised a brow. “You gonna share, or eat all my bars?”

With a mock-sweet smile, she held it up toward him. “Only if you ask nicely.”

Leonard grinned, leaned in, and took a bite, his mouth brushing her fingers, his eyes never leaving hers. 

“So how was your day?” She asked, voice playful but edged with a rasp.

He leaned in, pressed a quick kiss to her cheek. “Long, loud, full of people slappin’ my back and asking for wedding details like I’d already booked a chapel.”

She snorted. “Word really got around, huh?”

“Oh, like wildfire.” Leonard braced his hands on either side of her. “Chapel nearly roasted me alive.”

She raised an eyebrow. “What? Why?”

“She found out from you, not me. Thought she’d been betrayed.” He gave her a look. “Said something about being my ‘closest colleague’ and how dare I leave her out.”

“Well, I’m sorry for taking your opportunity away.” Georgie reached up and brushed her fingers lightly through his hair. “We crossed paths in the turbolift. Apparently I was glowing. She put two and two together. Not my fault.”

Leonard huffed, but there was no real bite behind it. “I was gonna tell her. Just wanted to do it at the right time when I wasn’t busy. But I did fill her in over lunch.”

“I got cornered by Nyota about it. At least our friends are excited for us.”

They stayed like that for a moment, close, the weight of the day falling away inch by inch.

Then Leonard pulled back slightly, his voice softer. “We should call them.”

Georgie blinked. “Who?”

“Our parents. Tell them the news”

She straightened just a little, her fingers tightening where they rested. “Oh gosh, yes!”

Leonard stepped back just enough to grab the nearby console, thumb hovering above the dial. They crossed the room and took a seat next to each other on the sofa.

“Your folks first?”

Georgie nodded slowly. “Dad’s gonna cry. Or pretend he didn’t. And Mom’s going to interrupt every sentence we try to say.”

He smirked. “Sounds like a party.”

She reached for his hand and squeezed. “Let’s do it.”

The screen lit up.

Robert and Diane Knox appeared on the other side of the connection, Robert in his study with glasses low on his nose, Diane beaming even before they said a word.

“Georgie! Leonard!” Diane leaned into view. “Look at you two, what’s the occasion?”

Leonard glanced at Georgie, who was already smiling so wide it hurt.

“We have news,” she said.

Diane smiled. “News?”

Leonard gave her hand a squeeze. “We’re engaged.”

Diane gasped, loud and delighted. “Engaged?! As in married engaged?! As in I finally get to plan a wedding?!”

Georgie laughed. “Yes, Mom. That kind.”

Robert leaned back, grinning. “Well, I already knew this was coming.”

Diane whipped toward him. “You did?”

“He asked me,” Robert said, nodding toward Leonard. “Properly. Like a true gentleman.”

“Oh, Leonard.” Diane pressed a hand to her chest. “That’s just… that’s lovely.”

Leonard gave a small, sheepish smile. “Didn’t seem right not to.”

“Welcome to the family, son,” Robert said.

That one landed deep.

They stayed on the line a few more minutes, Diane asked many questions all while Robert was happy to listen. Georgie beamed through it all, a little overwhelmed, but glowing.

When the call ended, she turned to Leonard with wide eyes. “Okay. Ready for round two?”

He gave her a look. “Are you ready for my mother?”

“She’s gonna lose it.” she whispered, already giggling.

Leonard tapped the console again.

The screen flickered to reveal his mother in her crowded, chaotic kitchen, apron floured, steam rising behind her from multiple pots. Cousins, aunties, and nieces moved in the background like a controlled storm.

She spotted the call and shouted, “Everyone shut up, my boy is calling!”

The room froze.

Elenora stepped into view, beaming. “Well hey there, stranger. Don’t tell me you finally found time to check on your poor mother.”

Leonard chuckled. “Hey, Ma. Got Georgie with me.”

Elenora’s face lit up immediately. “I see that. Lookin’ gorgeous as ever, sugar.”

Georgie grinned. “Hi, Elenora. How are you?”

“Oh, we’re good, baby. Celebratin’ Uncle Russ’s birthday and you know I’m cookin’, so the house is chaos, but the food’s righteous.”

Leonard cleared his throat, trying to contain the grin tugging at his mouth. “Think we’ve got somethin’ else worth celebratin’.”

Elenora’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Don’t you tease me, Leonard.”

He glanced at Georgie, then back at the screen. “We’re engaged.”

“YES, LORD!” Elenora threw both hands in the air like she’d just hit the altar. “Did y’all hear that?! My boy is gettin’ married!”

The room behind her erupted in cheers, laughter, dishes clattering, someone whooping like a game was won.

Elenora leaned in close to the screen again, beaming. “Georgie, baby, you are officially mine now. I can’t wait to hug your sweet face.”

Georgie laughed, “Thank you, Mama.”

Elenora sniffled, swiping at her eyes. “I ain’t cryin’. I promise.”

Before Leonard could get a word in, the screen jostled as someone else leaned in.

A new face appeared, his cousin Porsha, grinning like a cat who knew all the dirt. “Did I just hear that Lenny Lamb is gettin’ married?”

Leonard groaned. “Porsha, for the love of, can we not?”

“Oh, we absolutely can,” she said, turning to Georgie. “You must be Georgie. I’m Porsha. We’ve heard all about you. Girl, you are stunning.”

Georgie smiled, playful. “So nice to meet you. Lenny Lamb, huh? I’m definitely using that.”

Leonard let his head fall back with a dramatic sigh. “Please don’t encourage her.”

Porsha just cackled, and Elenora swooped back in to reclaim the screen.

“Alright now, I want details. All of them. Later. But for now, y’all enjoy the night. And next time we talk, I expect a date on the books.”

“We will,” Leonard promised.

The call ended a moment later, the screen fading to black. Leonard let out a long breath and leaned back against the couch.

Georgie tucked herself into his side, head resting on his shoulder, her voice soft.

“Well,” she murmured, content. “Now it’s official.”

He kissed the top of her head, his hand smoothing down her arm. “Yeah. It really is.”

The Enterprise had spent the better part of the season tracing the edges of the Coridan sector, calm work, quiet work. No red alerts, no crises. Just unhurried surveys of uncharted moons, routine atmospheric scans, and the occasional diplomatic ping from a station that barely needed them. It was the kind of calm most starships rarely got to savor. For once, the stars had slowed down.

And in that stillness, Leonard and Georgie had found their own routine. Engagement hadn’t changed everything, but it had changed something. There was a new layer beneath the teasing and the familiarity. A knowing that neither of them had to say aloud, this is it.

They moved through their days like they had always belonged to one another. They shared shifts with ease, drifted into routines that didn’t feel rehearsed. Dinner in the mess. Long walks through empty corridors. The way she tucked her boots beside his when she stayed in his quarters. The way he always set her mug out next to his before bed, even if she didn’t always use it.

They didn’t talk much about wedding plans. Not because they were avoiding it but because it felt like planning for a different kind of life. A life grounded somewhere planetside. A life with open sky, family close by, ceremony and flowers and dresses and toasts.

That wasn’t what they had. They were aboard a starship, halfway across the quadrant, and the truth was there would be no aisle, no gathered families, no chance to see her father tear up or Leonard’s mother fuss about the centerpieces. That part stung more than either of them said out loud. Georgie had admitted it once, curled up beside him in the quiet. That she wanted her mom to fix her hair. That she wanted to hear her dad say he was proud in person . Leonard hadn’t needed to say anything. He just pulled her closer and let her feel it, I get it. Me too.

So instead of planning a wedding, they built a life in the meantime. Leonard’s birthday passed in the middle of that time. He hadn’t wanted much, just another day in Sickbay, maybe an hour of peace if the crew was kind.

But Georgie had other ideas. So did Jim. And Chapel, who insisted he wasn’t allowed to go one more year pretending it wasn’t worth celebrating. They commandeered the officer’s lounge for a quiet gathering, strong drinks, and Georgie’s peach cobbler that everyone got to enjoy. Scotty made a rambling toast that somehow compared warp cores to the human heart, “both need the right pressure, the right fuel, and the right person to run ’em”, and Jim smuggled in something dangerously strong.

Someone, to Leonard’s dismay, suggested karaoke. Apparently, with enough alcohol, Leonard McCoy could be convinced to sing. With Jim. In harmony, bad harmony. Georgie laughed so hard she nearly fell off her seat and Leonard, though mortified, couldn’t stop smiling the rest of the night.

At the end of it, when the music had faded and most of the officers had drifted back to their quarters, Georgie pressed a small box into his hand. He opened it to find a silver cuff, simple, elegant, the kind you wore beneath your uniform sleeve, not to show off but to carry. On the inside, engraved, were the words,

For the days we outrun the stars.

He didn’t say much in response, just looked at her like she’d cracked something open in his chest.

He hadn’t taken it off since.

He hadn’t expected it to be like this. Not the way they touched. Not the way she looked at him, bold, unashamed, hungry. Georgie had always been fire and precision, a tactician down to her bones. But in the dark?  She was something. She became confident, curious, honest.

She didn’t hold back anymore. Not with her hands. Not with her mouth. Not with her need.And God help him, she ruined him every time.

There were nights she took her time, fingers trailing slow patterns down his stomach, mouth mapping him like she meant to memorize every scar, every shiver. She’d straddle him, bare and sure, eyes locked to his like she was daring him to look away. He never could.

Other nights, she kissed him like oxygen, like she’d been holding her breath all day and he was the only way to breathe. They’d barely make it past the door, her back hitting the wall, his hands already under her skirt, hers tugging at his uniform like it was the only thing between them and gravity.

And she was so damn good at pulling him apart. She knew how to make him ache. How to drag her fingers through his hair and whisper his name in that voice, the low one, the breathy one that cracked right at the edges. He hadn’t meant to fall so hard.

But every night, every time she pressed her forehead to his and reached for his hand after, something in him softened. Something in him said, you’re safe, she’s yours, you get to love her like this.

They knew each other now, what touches comforted, what touches burned. He’d learned where to press, where to kiss, when to slow down and when to keep going until she shattered beneath him. And she’d learned him too. His tells. His restraint. The way his voice dropped when he lost control.

He didn’t think he could ever get enough of her. Her laugh when he kissed her hip. Her thighs clenching around him when he whispered what he wanted. The way she said his name, low and pleading, right before she came. And after? She curled into him like they’d always belonged that way. It wasn’t just sex. It was something sacred.The kind of closeness he’d stopped believing in years ago.

They couldn’t keep their hands off each other. And frankly? He didn’t want to. Because every kiss, every night tangled up in her limbs, reminded him of what he’d almost missed and what he’d never take for granted again.

The senior staff briefing began with an uneasy hush. Leonard and Georgie entered together, Leonard’s hand resting lightly at the small of her back as they took their seats. Around them, the rest of the bridge crew settled in Spock, impassive as ever; Sulu and Chekov murmuring low; Scotty scribbling furiously into his padd; Uhura perched near the back, her brow drawn tight.

Jim stood at the head of the table, arms folded, jaw locked in a tension that had only sharpened over the past few hours. “Command’s patching in now,” he said, then stepped back as the comm screen flickered to life.

Admiral T’Ren’s face appeared, cool, composed, every word already measured.

“Good day, Enterprise crew,” she began, voice even but carrying, “this briefing is to address recent strategic directives from Starfleet Command. Let me begin by saying this is not a reflection of any failure or disciplinary measure. On the contrary, your performance in the Coridan sector has been exemplary.”

That didn’t settle the room. If anything, the stillness grew heavier.

T’Ren continued. “However, due to an increase in political instability across nearby neutral zones, we are entering a precautionary repositioning phase. Effective immediately, all Federation vessels in the region are to withdraw. The Enterprise is ordered to return to Earth for debrief and temporary reassignment. Further details will be issued en route.”

Jim leaned forward, voice calm but sharp. “Admiral, with respect, we were slated to remain out here through the next couple of years. Why the sudden recall? Why Earth? Couldn’t we be repositioned elsewhere?”

T’Ren’s response was smooth. “This is a matter of strategic centralization. Earth remains the most secure location for analysis and redistribution of fleet resources.”

Leonard glanced to his left. Georgie hadn’t moved. But he felt the shift in her posture.

Jim pressed on. “Is this connected to the Orion incident? Because that’s what this feels like, like we’re being pulled back before something starts.”

T’Ren paused. “That mission has been taken into account within broader intelligence assessments. However, at this time I do not have any further information on the matter.”

At that, Georgie tensed fully. Her jaw set. Her arms folded. Leonard’s eyes flicked down, her hands were clenched tight against her sleeves.

“The situation is fluid,” T’Ren added. “There will be time for clarity. For now, the priority is a stable, safe withdrawal.”

The screen went dark.

A long beat passed.

Then Jim let out a quiet breath through his nose, his voice low and clipped. “That didn’t tell us a damn thing.”

Sulu leaned forward. “They’re consolidating assets. We’re not being benched, we’re being gathered.”

Scotty muttered, “That doesn’t feel like caution. That feels like prep.”

Chekov frowned. “But for what?”

Jim didn’t answer. He started pacing instead, jaw tight, then spun abruptly toward Georgie. “You haven’t heard anything off the record? Nothing from Tactical? Anything Command flagged privately?”

She straightened. “No, sir. Just the standard channels and my reports. Nothing else.”

Spock, still by the window, added, “It is logical to assume the recall reflects an operational realignment, but the absence of direct explanation suggests containment of sensitive intel.”

Jim stopped pacing. “Exactly. That’s what I hate. I’ve got three hundred people who signed up for deep-space deployment, who’ve made homes on this ship. People with partners. Families in motion. They planned for years out here. And now I have to tell them they’re being yanked back without a single clear reason?”

His voice dropped further. “What does this mean for promotions? Transfers? For the lives people were just starting to build?”

He cast a glance toward Leonard. “What does it mean for those of us who finally found something good out here?”

Leonard held his gaze. “It means we make sure they don’t carry the weight alone.”

Spock added evenly, “Uncertainty is best countered with stability. Captain, the crew will follow your lead, as they always have.”

Jim nodded, frustration still burning behind his eyes. “Alright. Department briefings within the next two hours. Keep it steady. Answer what you can. Don’t speculate.”

He looked between them all. “If you hear anything, I want to know the second it crosses your desk. Diagnostics across all systems. Anything nonessential stays. Mr. Sulu, Mr. Chekov, plot quickest and fastest route out this sector plotting toward earth. I want us underway by 1800.”

Everyone nodded.

“Dismissed.”

The meeting broke apart slowly, murmurs filling the corridor as officers returned to their stations.

Leonard lingered at Georgie’s side. She hadn’t said much since the Orion mention. Her jaw was still set too tight. Her silence was louder than anything.

“You alright?” he asked gently.

She gave a tight shrug. “I’m fine.”

“It’s ok if you’re not.”

Her eyes didn’t meet his. “I just didn’t expect to hear that name again. Not like that. Not in a room full of people.”

Leonard stepped closer, his voice quiet. “Do you want Jim to cover your briefing, while you go take a moment?”

“No,” she said, finally looking at him. “I can handle it. I just… need a little time.”

“I’ll meet up with you after shift,” he said. “We’ll talk then.”

She gave a small nod. “Yeah. Okay.”

He watched her go, his chest tightening slightly.

There was a hush in the air, one that had settled across the whole ship the moment the recall orders came in. It wasn’t fear, exactly. Just quiet. The kind that came when people didn’t know what came next.

Leonard sat on the couch by the window, still in uniform. Georgie sat beside him, tucked into the curve of his body, her legs interlocking with his. Neither said much at first.

They just watched the stars move.

“This feels weird,” Georgie murmured eventually, her voice soft.

Leonard looked at her.

“Not bad,” she clarified. “Just… we were supposed to be out here longer. It feels like someone hit pause on something we were still building.”

Leonard nodded slowly. “Yeah. I’d just started feelin’ like we had a routine.”

She leaned her head against his shoulder. “Me too.”

They fell quiet again, listening to the vibrating hum of warp, the muffled chatter of officers passing down the corridor outside. Then Georgie spoke again, barely above a whisper.

“You think they’re going to reassign us?”

Leonard didn’t answer right away. He signed deeply. “I don’t know. Maybe. Command’s playin’ things close to the chest right now. But whatever happens,”

“We’re not being separated,” she said firmly, cutting him off before the words even had weight.

He looked at her then and smiled, just a little. “No,” he agreed. “We’re not.”

She reached for his hand. He laced his fingers through hers without hesitation.

They sat like that a while, quiet and braced against the unknown together.

“You know,” Leonard said after a beat, shifting slightly so he could see her better, “since we don’t know how long we’ll be back on Earth, I was thinkin’…”

Georgie raised a brow. 

He gave her a dry look. “What if I take you to Georgia? Meet my mama properly. See where I grew up.”

Her teasing expression softened. “Wait, seriously?”

He nodded. “She’ll cook enough food for the whole damn county. And I want you to see it all.” He paused. “It’s not much, but it’s home. And I want you to know it.”

The weight in the room shifted. Lightened. Georgie’s shoulders relaxed.

“I’d love that,” she said. “Really.”

He exhaled, a quiet breath he hadn’t known he was holding. “Good. I’ll call her tomorrow. Give her time to scream into a pillow or something.”

She laughed, “She already loves me. You know that, right?”

“Oh, I know. You had her the minute you called her ‘Mama. I’m just chopped liver now’”

She squeezed his hand. “I’ll call my parents too. They’ll be back on Earth soon, Command pulled their science vessel in with the rest of us.”

“Then we see them too,” he said. “Bring them down as well and make it a huge reunion.”

Her smile turned thoughtful. “For the first time in a long time, that actually sounds like exactly what I need.”

He pulled her closer, resting his forehead lightly against hers. “Then that’s what we’ll do.”

Chapter Text

In the days that followed the recall order, the ship transformed. The bridge, once filled with the  buzz of long-term exploration, buzzed with the charged energy of an unexpected ending. What had once been plans for planetary surveys and deep-space research now turned to manifests, logistics, and exit protocols. Transitioning a starship like the Enterprise from active exploration to Earth-bound reassignment wasn’t as simple as setting a course.

Leonard barely had time to breathe. Sickbay became a revolving door of last-minute physicals, medical record transfers, and stacks of paperwork that multiplied every time he thought he was close to finishing. He signed off on long-term care summaries, reassignment recommendations, even retirement documentation for two crew members who'd decided they weren’t up for starting over somewhere new. And on top of that, he still had patients. Still had a staff with emotions running hot and high. Chapel was the only one keeping the place glued together, and even she was snapping more than usual.

Georgie was no better off. Between briefings, inventory audits, and securing sensitive tactical equipment for handoff, her days were packed from alpha shift through beta. More than once, Leonard passed her in the corridor with a PADD in one hand and a stylus clenched between her teeth. They barely saw each other beyond brief comm messages and half-asleep check-ins at the end of the day. Most nights, Leonard would return to his quarters to find her already asleep in bed. She’d stir when he came in, blinking at him through the haze of sleep, trying to say something, but it usually came out as soft, incoherent mumbles. He’d whisper for her to go back to sleep, then climb in beside her, wrapping his arms around her as they both drifted off.

Kirk and Spock were elbows-deep in coordination, fielding transfer requests and personal appeals from officers still reeling at the sudden shift. People were upset, understandably so. Dreams of years in deep space, careers built on the promise of the frontier, all shelved in a matter of days.

But not everyone was heartbroken.

Some crew members looked forward to the return, excited to see their families, to sleep in beds that didn’t hum with engine vibration, to breathe open air again. A few were already making plans like weddings, babies, sabbaticals. There was laughter in the mess again, nervous, a little hesitant. The ship hadn’t gone silent. It had simply changed tempo.

Leonard crossed paths with Jim in the corridor once, both of them looking more exhausted than usual.

“I knew this would hit people hard,” Jim had muttered, scrubbing a hand over his face. “But hell, Bones… some of them feel like the floor’s been yanked out from under them. And others? They’re already halfway home in their heads. I don’t know how to lead both at the same time.”

Leonard didn’t have a good answer. Just patted his friend on the shoulder and kept walking.

When he finally caught a quiet hour with Georgie, they agreed it was time to pack up. Their quarters had always been close, but now it made sense to consolidate. If they were going back to Earth as a team, they might as well live like one. They boxed up the life they’d built in their individual rooms.

“We’ll set it up together when we come back,” She had said, placing his dress uniform shoes in a container. “Whenever that is.”

He kissed the top of her head. “We will.”

Now, the Enterprise floated just beyond Earth’s orbit, her silhouette sharp against the soft blue curve of the planet. The stars behind her felt quieter somehow, like they knew this journey had reached its pause.

Leonard stood beside Georgie in the observation deck, hands in his pockets, watching the planet rise beneath them like a memory finally made real.

But it didn’t feel like coming back.

Not exactly.

He glanced at her. She was quiet, her eyes locked on the viewport, her expression unreadable. But he knew that look. He knew her. She was thinking the same thing he was.

They had built something in space. In the mess and the duty and the late-night laughter. They’d made a home in motion. And now, they were heading into something new,not dangerous, but still unknown. Just life.

The Enterprise was docked now, nestled into Starfleet Command like a legend come home. There was no grand welcome, no applause, just a quiet message from Command encouraging the crew to “rest and recharge.” Whatever came next, no one seemed ready to say.

The once-bustling corridors of the ship had shifted. What was once filled with motion and laughter now echoed with the clatter of maintenance boots and the low buzz of welding torches. Crew quarters were being stripped. Systems taken offline. Construction crews moved like ghosts, already disassembling what had once been their sanctuary. 

Leonard and Georgie moved through it with bags in hand, the finality of it all pressing heavier with each step.

They stopped to say goodbye where they could. Chapel threw her arms around Georgie first, mock-scolding her for leaving before a proper girl's night. Uhura pulled her in next, whispering something only Georgie could hear that made her smile behind misty eyes. Then came Sulu and Georgie held him longer than the others. Leonard didn’t mind. He understood.

He turned to Jim last.

“Try not to run yourself into the ground,” Leonard said, offering a wry smile. “Catch up on sleep. Enjoy Iowa. Let someone else captain for a bit.”

Jim huffed, pulling him in for a back-slapping hug. “Only if your mom promises not to smother you with casserole.”

“She might try.”

“Keep in touch,” Jim said. “Seriously.”

Leonard nodded. “You too.”

They passed through the docking ring hand-in-hand, cleared a short round of debriefing and procedural checks, travel clearance at Command, and were escorted to a waiting shuttle.They boarded without fanfare, just a few lingering goodbyes echoing behind them. He settled into his seat beside her, watching her out of the corner of his eye as the shuttle undocked. The hum of the engines vibrated through his boots, and behind them, the Enterprise slipped away.

She sat still, her arms crossed, jaw tight.

She wasn’t a woman who wore nerves often. But he knew them when he saw them.

“You nervous?” he asked, keeping his tone light.

“No,” she said automatically, then sighed. “Okay. Yeah. A little.”

He smiled, resting his arm behind her shoulder. “You’ve met unruly alien species and survived me. My mama’s loud, but she’s not gonna bite.”

“It’s not that,” she muttered. “It’s just, I’ve never done this. Met someone’s whole family. Been brought home . Not like this.”

He turned toward her more fully, the warmth of her so close it settled deep in his chest.

“She already loves you,” he said. “You had her the second you called her ‘Mama’ on that call. You could do everything wrong and she’d still be callin’ you baby girl by dessert.”

Georgie finally smiled, eyes flicking up to meet his. “I just want to make a good impression.”

“You already did. With me. That’s what matters.”

The shuttle hit atmosphere, clouds curling around them in soft spirals of gold and gray. Leonard looked down as the planet expanded below, green fields and winding rivers stretching like veins through a body he used to know. Georgia was waiting.

They landed at a Starfleet transport station. The air on the ground was warm, humid, and smelled like dirt and sea breeze. It hit him in the chest like childhood. From there, a smaller domestic shuttle waited to take them south.

When they boarded, their bags were stowed, their uniforms traded for civilian wear. He caught himself looking at her again, jeans, loose t-shirt, hair swept back. She looked more like home than Georgia. As the shuttle lifted, bound for red clay roads and porch lights, Leonard let himself believe in the quiet again. 

By the time the transport docked at a rural station just outside Atlanta, the sun was beginning its slow descent, spilling honey-colored light across the cracked pavement and pine-lined horizon. The air was thick with humidity and cicadas, wrapping around them like a blanket of Earth’s welcome.

Leonard exhaled the moment his boots hit the ground, something in his posture softening, loosening. He wasn’t Chief Medical Officer Dr. McCoy here. He was Leonard. Just Leonard.

He’d arranged for a rental, retro-style ground vehicle that looked like it hadn’t been updated since warp was a theory. The kind with a manual steering column and actual pedals.

Georgie eyed it skeptically as he tossed their bags in the back.

“This is what you picked?” she asked, half-laughing, half-alarmed.

He smirked and adjusted his aviators that he purchased in a gift shop. “Damn right. This baby’s got personality.”

Georgie slid into the passenger seat, still wide-eyed. “You just went full country boy the second we landed.”

“Darlin’, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet. You can take the boy out the country, but can’t take the country out the boy.” he drawled, rolling the window down with a button.

She didn’t know whether to be amused or concerned.

They pulled out of the station and onto a quiet stretch of road, the Atlanta skyline shined in the distance like a promise. The area gave way to tree-lined neighborhoods, creeks winding under footbridges, and wooden churches with weathered white paint and signs.

Leonard kept one hand on the wheel, the other gesturing out the window as they passed familiar landmarks.

“That’s the barbershop where I got my first real cut, hated it,” he said, nodding toward a squat brick building. “Daddy told me I looked like I joined the Marines.”

She smiled, watching the world pass by. “I can almost picture it.”

He pointed to a silver diner just off the next corner, its neon sign still flickering from years of sun exposure. “Over there? Best biscuits on the planet. I used to sneak outta school and meet my buddy Smitty there, talk trash about our teachers, dream up ways to get outta science class.”

They turned down a wider avenue that opened into the heart of the neighborhood, a bustling square with wide sidewalks, string lights zigzagging overhead, and shop windows decorated with signs and fresh flower displays. The plaza was alive with movement; people eating outdoors under striped umbrellas, someone playing an upright bass near the fountain, and kids darting between benches, laughing as they chased each other around the bubbling water.

Georgie took it all in, eyebrows raised. “The square reminds me of a place back in Chicago, but with southern charm.”

Leonard chuckled. “Yeah, it’s grown into itself. It wasn’t this lively when I was a kid.”

He slowed as they passed a corner bookstore with ivy climbing up the brick. Through the window, stacks of books sat under soft lighting.

“My Aunt Thelma runs that place or at least I hope she still does,” he said. “Used to read me ghost stories from behind the counter when Ma thought I was at piano lessons next door.”

“You had piano lessons?” Georgie teased.

“Don’t ask me to prove it.”

They left the town center behind, and the streets narrowed again, paved roads dipped gently under canopies of old trees, their branches curling overhead like sheltering arms. Fences became less frequent. Yards stretched wider. The quiet felt comfortable, like a well-worn sweater pulled over the shoulders of the neighborhood.

Eventually, they rounded the bend and pulled into the familiar drive.

She sat forward in her seat, suddenly quiet. “This is your house? It’s amazing!”

He nodded. “Since before I was born.”

His childhood home stood just beyond a low white brick wall, framed by magnolias and late-blooming hydrangeas. The house was broad and inviting, painted a soft gray-blue with crisp white trim. Its wraparound porch held rocking chairs worn smooth with time, and hanging baskets swayed gently in the breeze. Two dormer windows peeked from the sloped roof like watchful eyes, and a round window above the door gave the whole place a kind of timeless charm, equal parts farmhouse and Southern retreat.

But what stood out most were the vehicles.

A whole line of them, parked along the drive and spilling onto the grass. Some were familiar, his cousin Bryan’s truck, Porsha’s blue motorcycle, others less so. But the message was clear.

He let out a sigh that was part resignation, part affection. “Of course she told everyone.”

She glanced at him, then back at the scene, a smirk pulling at her lips. “You’re telling me this wasn’t just a quiet visit home?”

“I should’ve known. The poor woman can’t help herself. All she wants to do is feed people like there is no tomorrow.”

He put the vehicle in park and turned toward the house, his expression softening as he looked at it.

Voices and laughter drifted from inside. As they got out, she adjusted her shirt, brushed invisible lint from her pants, nerves finally creeping up her spine.

“You okay?” He asked, stepping close.

“I just…” She gave a small laugh. “I hope they like me.”

He leaned in, voice low. “They will. And if they don’t, well, I already picked you. So to hell with ‘em.”

That got a smile out of her, just in time.

Because the front door swung open and there she was. Elenora McCoy stood in the doorway, apron dusted with flour, cheeks flushed, and eyes brimming with unshed tears.

“There’s my babies!” she shouted, stepping out onto the porch with open arms.

He grinned and tugged Georgie’s hand. “Brace yourself.”

Elenora tackled him first, wrapping him in a hug so tight he swore he lost a vertebra. Then she turned to Georgie and didn’t hesitate.

“Oh, look at you!” she said, already pulling her into a full embrace. “You are even more beautiful in person. My son did good.”

Georgie laughed nervously, her heart full. “It’s so nice to finally meet you, Elenora.”

From inside came the sounds of laughter, distant music, and the clatter of dishes. Leonard squeezed Georgie’s hand one last time before stepping toward the door.

“C’mon,” She said, voice warm. “Everyone’s waiting.”

The screen door squeaked open, and the moment Leonard and Georgie crossed the threshold, the house practically erupted around them. Voices overlapped. Laughter swelled. A dozen faces turned at once, some leaning from the kitchen, others crowding the living room. The smell of cornbread, roasted meat, and pie filled the air, thick and familiar.

“LEONARD!” someone shouted.

And then, he was mobbed.

Three women swept toward him, all floral perfume, pearls, and joy.

“My baby boy all grown up!”
“Still got that sharp jaw like your daddy.”
“Lord, look at this man, Elenora and David raised a gentleman!”

Each one kissed him square on the cheek, leaving faint lipstick prints behind as he stood there, only half-protesting.

“Auntie Jean, Auntie Carol, Auntie May,” Leonard greeted them with long-suffering fondness. “Y’all still travel in a pack, I see.”

They turned to Georgie, eyes lighting up.

He tugged Georgie gently forward. “Everyone, this is Georgina Knox, Georgie. My fiancée.”

The aunties gasped in unison like it had been rehearsed.

“Well, hello, Miss Georgina,” Auntie May said, already reaching for her hand. “Aren’t you just the most gorgeous thing?”

“You do have good taste, Lenny ,” Auntie Carol added, patting his arm like he was twelve again.

Georgie smiled and greeted each one, gracious and glowing, even if a little wide-eyed from the reception. Leonard kept her close, letting his thumb rub slow circles into the back of her hand.

Then the floor practically shook, causing his aunts to scatter.

“LENNY!”

Jacob, Tim, and Bryan McCoy came barreling in from the hallway like linebackers out of formation. Jacob, built like a tank, reached him first and lifted him clean off the floor in a bear hug. Tim and Bryan were quick to pile on, all grins and noise.

“Still think you can dodge us, huh?” Tim laughed.

“Look at this guy,” Bryan said. “Thought you were still a string bean, but Starfleet finally got some muscle on you!”

Jacob grinned and shook Leonard by the shoulders. “Still not gonna help when we toss you in the pool later.”

Leonard wheezed a laugh and shoved at them. “Alright, alright, put me down, dammit, I’m not twenty!”

Georgie was already laughing, and Leonard turned just enough to draw her in again.

“These goons are my cousins,” he said. “Jacob, Tim, Bryan, this is Georgie, my fiancée.”

Bryan’s eyebrows went up as he offered her a hug. “Well damn, no wonder he’s been keepin’ to himself lately.”

“She’s got arms on her too,” Tim joked, eyeing Georgie’s biceps. “Lenny, I never knew you were the get thrown around kind of type.”

Leonard deadpanned, “Ok ok shut up will ya.”

“I’m just sayin’,” Jacob said, nodding with mock solemnity. “Somebody’s gotta keep you in check.”

That’s when the sass hit like a lightning bolt.

“Y’all leave the poor girl alone,” came a sharp voice behind them.

Porsha.

Leonard barely had time to brace before she was right in front of him, arms folded, dark brown hair swept up into a messy bun, sharp eyeliner and sharper wit ready to go.

“Well look at you, all engaged and shit.”

Leonard opened his mouth, but she pulled him into a long hug before he could get a word out.

“Porsha,” he mumbled into her shoulder, trying not to smile too much. “Damn, girl. Still sharp as ever with that mouth.”

“Of course!”

She let go and turned immediately to Georgie.

“Georgie,” she said, voice dropping into a smile. “There is my cousin in law.”

“That’s me,” Georgie said with a laugh.

Porsha replied, stepping in and hugging her like they were already sisters. “ So happy to finally meet the brave soul who is deciding to marry this guy. Now listen, if you ever need dirt on Lenny Lamb—”

“Porsha,” Leonard groaned. “No.”

“You shush. This woman has a right to know about the time you cried like a baby when your daddy said you had to stop holding your mama’s hand in the store at twelve. ”

Georgie grinned. “Honestly? That might make me love him more.”

Leonard buried his face in his hands. “This family will be the death of me.”

Elenora’s voice rang out from the kitchen, sharp but fond,
“Alright, y’all hush up and let them breathe. Leonard, you two take your things to your room and come down for food.”

He didn’t argue. He reached for Georgie’s hand, interlacing his fingers with hers as he led her upstairs.

The hallway was lined with framed photos, black-and-white wedding portraits, birthday snapshots, muddy football games, and high school graduations. Georgie let her fingers trail gently along the edges of the frames as they walked.

“I can’t believe you grew up here,” she murmured, her voice touched with quiet wonder.

Leonard nodded, his gaze drifting to a photo of him on the porch steps, barefoot and grinning.
“Yeah. Born right here too. Ma was set on a home birth, said hospitals were too cold. She delivered me in the living room.” He gave a small smile. “Guess I’ve been tied to this place ever since.”

A moment passed before his voice dipped lower, more thoughtful.

“I came back was I separated from my ex,” he added. “When things got bad. Ma didn’t ask questions. Just made up my bed and started cooking.”

She gave his hand a gentle squeeze but didn’t push further. Georgie slowed, her hand coming to rest on the frame of a faded photo, Leonard as a teenager, tall and gangly, caught mid-laugh with a football tucked under one arm. There was so much of him in that smile, his stubbornness, his loyalty, his softness, even then.

She turned to look at him.

“You’ve got more history in these walls than most people get in a lifetime.” She said, wrapping her arms around his waist. “Thank you for letting me be part of it.”

He looked at her then, like he was still a little surprised she was here at all. Still unsure what he’d done to deserve her staying.

They turned into the last room at the end of the hall.

It looked like time had been waiting.

The walls were still the same dusky blue. A slightly faded Ole Miss pennant hung above the bed. On the shelf, a row of trophies lined up in neat formation, and a few medals hung from pushpins next to them, gently spinning in the ceiling fan’s breeze.

“Huh,” He muttered. “She really didn’t change a thing.”

He dropped their bags inside the door while Georgie crossed to the shelf.

“Are these yours?” she asked, lifting one of the medals.

“Yeah,” he said, a little sheepishly. “Football, track... gymnastics, too.”

She turned to him, eyebrows raised.
“Gymnastics?”

“Yep. Vault, floor, a little rings,” he said with a shrug. “It kept me out of trouble. Mostly.”

She picked up a framed photo, teenage Leonard mid-cartwheel on a mat, laughing.

“You were adorable,” she said.

“I was also double-jointed and had a mean front handspring.”

She grinned, but before she could reply, her communicator chirped. She tapped the side of it, and the screen blinked into view, revealing her mother’s face.

“Hey, Mom,” Georgie said, smiling. “We made it.”

He stepped up beside her so he was in the frame.

“Hi, Diane,” he said, offering a small wave.

“Oh, there he is!” her mother beamed. “Well, look at you two. You guys settled in alright?”

“Yeah,” Georgie replied. “We’re at Leonard’s mom’s house. It’s beautiful. You’d love her, she reminds me of Aunt B.”

Her mom laughed. “That woman always knew how to hold a room.”

“You and Dad still coming in tomorrow?”

“We are. Our vessel just finished clearance and your dad is finalizing some details.”

“Can’t wait to have y’all here.” Leonard said.

Her mom grinned. “I need to run, your Dad is flagging me over. Love you both. Get some rest. You two look tired.”

“We will. Love you too, Mom,” Georgie said before the feed clicked off.

She lowered her wrist and turned to Leonard, eyes soft.

“They’re excited.”

“They should be,” he said, brushing a stray strand from her forehead. “We’ve got good company on both sides.”

She smiled, then looked around the room once more.

“It’s strange, being here,” she murmured. “Seeing this part of you.”

He studied her for a moment. Then, with a glance at the clock, he motioned toward the door.

“Come on,” he said. “We should get downstairs before my cousins come and drag us out.”

They both laughed, and with that, they stepped back into the smell of cornbread and the sound of voices rising from the kitchen below.

Everyone turned toward the dining room like a tide shifting. More greetings followed as chairs were pulled out and dishes passed around. The volume of love in the room was a living thing. He stayed close to Georgie’s side, his hand in hers the whole time. Every introduction, every arm slung around his neck, every voice calling his name,it was all louder, brighter, better with her next to him.

And as they moved to take their seats at the table, he glanced down at her, heart full. She fit here. She belonged here. And he didn’t need to say it aloud because her smile said she knew.

After dinner, the party spilled into the backyard, where a bonfire snapped and danced beneath a wide Georgia sky. Someone had brought out a speaker that crackled through a mix of blues, rock, and country ballads. Fireflies blinked along the fence line, and someone passed out slices of pecan pie.

Leonard stood off to the side, sipping sweet tea and watching Georgie hold court with a few of his cousins. She was laughing, relaxed in a way he didn’t always get to see, barefoot in the grass, telling some story about partying on Mars that had the whole circle howling.

That’s when Tim stepped in.

Leonard’s cousin, broad-shouldered, tall, and still built like he was defending a high school championship title, squinted at Georgie over the rim of his cup.

“So wait, you met Lenny in space?” Tim asked, skeptical but curious. “Like… on the ship?”

“A space station, but close enough,” Georgie replied, taking a sip of her drink.

“And what do you do? Are you a nurse…?” He waved a vague hand in her direction. “I mean, not to assume, but he’s a doctor.”

“Oh, shut up, Tim,” Porsha cut in from her spot by the fire. “Don’t assume she’s a nurse just because she’s standing next to a man in medicine. Starfleet’s got women doing everything.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Tim said quickly, holding up his hand in surrender. “I’m just sayin’, she works with Lenny, so I figured maybe she assists him. She doesn’t look like one of the ones they send into danger zones.”

Leonard raised a brow. “You sure you wanna finish that sentence, Tim?”

Georgie smiled, unbothered. She stepped forward slightly.

“It’s alright,” she said. “I get that a lot. I’m the head of Tactical Security. Basically, I’m in charge of keeping everyone alive.”

Tim blinked. “Wait, like weapons and combat stuff?”

“That’s right.”

He let out a low whistle. “Well, damn. That’s kind of badass.”

Georgie smirked. “Thanks.”

“But like…” Tim’s grin widened, not quite learning. “What does that actually mean? You give orders? Or do you actually know how to fight?”

Georgie smiled.

“I do both,” she said. “For example, I give orders to people who can clear a corridor in under sixty seconds, monitor heat signatures through three levels of shielding, and take down six Romulans before they finish reloading.”
She shrugged, casual. “I don’t have to fight you, Tim. I just have to say, ‘Go.’”

The circle went quiet. Porsha raised her glass with a grin.

“Damn. She said ‘I’m the one who sends the wolves.’”

Leonard chuckled from where he leaned against the porch rail.
“Oh, she knows how to fight too. Trust me.”

Jacob leaned in. “Okay, but how good are we talking? Like stun-gun good, or hand-to-hand good?”

“Come on, Lenny,” Tim scoffed. “She’s tiny. What, five foot?”

“Five-two,” Georgie corrected, draining the last of her drink and setting the cup aside. “But thanks for your concern.”

She stepped forward again, still smiling. “Here. Give me your wrist.”

“What?”

“Just humor me.”

Tim held out his hand, clearly expecting a joke. She took it gently, her fingers pressing just behind the bone on his forearm.

A moment later, his fingers spasmed and his cup dropped with a thud. He yelped and jerked back.

“Ow, what the hell?”

Georgie’s tone was calm.
“Pressure point. Radial nerve compliance. Low force, non-lethal.”
She dusted her hands. “I use that on guys twice your size when they forget size isn’t everything.”

Tim stared at his wrist, blinking.

Porsha started clapping. “She didn’t even break a sweat.”.

“Told you. There’s a reason she runs Security.” Leonard smirked.

Tim groaned.

“Okay. Okay. I get it. You win.”

Georgie patted his shoulder. “I’m sorry Tim, but I’ve got years of training, and a lot more hours fighting with Klingons.”

Tim blinked. “Klingon? What the hell is a Klingon?”

Leonard clapped him on the back. “Buddy, you don’t even wanna know.”

Porsha raised her glass with a grin.
“To our Georgie, future McCoy, fighting queen, and Slayer of Tim’s Ego.”

As the night wore on, the youngest cousins were ushered inside with yawns and bedtime snacks, leaving the backyard to the adults. The music got slower, the jokes got louder, and the good bourbon came out of hiding.

Leonard sat on a bench just off to the side of the firelight, shoulders easy, drink in hand but his posture a little too careful. Like he was measuring every sip. Like he wanted to relax but couldn’t quite let his guard down.

Bryan was the first to notice the half-full glass in Leonard’s hand.

“Come on, Lenny!” he called out, stepping over a patch of grass with a bottle in hand. “One shot! Just one, for the happy couple!”

Leonard smiled, slow and practiced. “Bryan, I’ve already had two.”

“Three,” Jacob corrected with a grin. “We’re countin’. And that’s not even celebratory yet.”

Georgie watched from across the fire. Porsha sat beside her, sipping on a glass of wine. They both turned as Leonard laughed, sharp and quick, but didn’t move to take the offered glass.

“No pressure,” Leonard said, hand raised lightly. “Let’s not make me the entertainment.”

But Bryan grinned and poured anyway. “Lenny, it’s tradition.”

Leonard hesitated. 

Long enough for Porsha to glance over and narrow her eyes, subtle, but sharp. They made eye contact. She didn’t say anything. Just leaned back in her chair and tapped a finger against her glass, eyes still on her cousin like she was watching a pot on the stove she didn’t trust not to boil over.

Leonard took the shot. Smooth. Swallowed like it didn’t touch anything on the way down. He let out a soft breath and passed the glass back with a polite nod. But something in his jaw was tighter after that. His eyes didn’t quite crinkle at the corners. And well, after the fourth shot, Leonard lost track of what he was actually agreeing to. The bourbon burned less with each one. Shortly after, Leonard was standing now, arm slung around Bryan’s shoulders, swaying just enough to make it clear he’d taken every single shot handed to him. His cheeks were flushed, his hair a little mussed, and his voice, normally all grit and drawl, was starting to slur around the edges. Bryan and Jacob were posted on either side of him like bad influences incarnate.

“I’m just sayin’,” he said, pointing an unsteady finger at Jacob, “if I hadn’t busted my ankle that summer, I would’ve taken state. No question.”

Jacob snorted. “Lenny, your ankle wasn’t the problem, your attitude was.”

“I had spirit,” Leonard shot back, wobbling a step as he tried to make his point. “And a mean throw.”

Georgie had been watching from across the yard, half in conversation with Porsha, half with one eye glued to her fiancé. The second he stumbled back against the picnic table, laughing too loudly, glass in hand again she sat her drink down.

Georgie cut across the yard with purpose. “Len.”

He looked over, smile bright and loose. “Hey, darlin’. You havin’ fun? Bryan was just—”

“You have had far too many,” she said, stepping in and catching his arm just as he leaned slightly to one side. “You’re wobbling like a baby deer.”

Leonard frowned, blinking at her. “I’m not that drunk.”

Behind him, Jacob whispered, “He just tried to cheers the fire pit.”

Georgie sighed and turned to face the cousins. “Alright, gentlemen. He’s cut off.”

“Aww, c’mon, he’s fine!” Bryan protested, though not convincingly.

“Yeah?” Georgie said, planting a hand on her hip. “One more drink and he’s gonna be on the ground.”

Leonard was steadying himself with one hand on her shoulder. “That your subtle way of sayin’ you’re worried I’m drunk?”

She looked at him, honest and kind in a low whispering voice. “No. It’s me saying I want to take you inside before someone pushes you too far.”

Leonard leaned against her, grinning. “You’re pretty when you’re bossy.”

“You say that now,” she muttered.

He patted her arm, affectionate and just a little clumsy. “Georgie in Georgia’s got a real nice ring to it, don’t it?”

She arched an eyebrow. “If you don’t get your drunk behind inside right now, I will combat-carry you to bed. In front of your cousins. In front of your mom.”

The whole yard erupted.

“Do it!” someone shouted.

“I will help,” Porsha added, already halfway out of her chair.

Leonard squinted. “You’re bluffing.”

She stepped closer, looped her arm firmly under his, and leaned up to whisper, “Try me.”

That did it.

Porsha and Georgie made it up the porch steps with effort, Leonard grumbling the whole way, arm slung across Georgie’s shoulders while Porsha handled the door and muttered something about “dead weight with a medical degree.”

“Y’all act like I’ve never walked before,” Leonard slurred, though he missed the doorframe by a solid six inches.

“Right,” Porsha said flatly. “You’re just grace incarnate, Lenny.”

They got him into his bedroom, the air inside cooler, quieter. The bed was already turned down, Elenora, no doubt. Georgie guided him to the mattress while Porsha tugged his boots off like she had done this before.

Leonard dropped back with a sigh, eyes heavy, arms flopping to the side like a ragdoll. “M’fine. Just…restin’.”

“Uh-huh,” Porsha said, placing the boots by the wall with more force than necessary.

Georgie glanced at her. “Thank you, Porsha.”

Porsha just stood there for a moment, staring down at him. Her expression didn’t soften. It didn’t need to.

Leonard cracked one eye open and groaned. “Don’t give me that look.”

“You know which look this is,” she said, arms crossed.

“I said I’m fine.”

“You said that the night I picked you up from the county lock-up too.”

Georgie stilled and looked between them.

“Porsha,” Leonard warned.

But she didn’t raise her voice. She didn’t even look at Georgie, just kept her eyes on him, dark and sad beneath the sarcasm. “Old habits don’t break themselves, Lenny. You gotta want better.”

“I have better,” he snapped, then immediately regretted how sharp it came out.

The silence that followed wasn’t explosive, but it was telling.

Porsha exhaled and looked over at Georgie. “Night, babes. Holler if he gets real pathetic.”

She squeezed Georgie’s hand gently, then stepped out of the room, the door slid quietly behind her.

Georgie sat on the edge of the bed for a long moment before turning to him.

He had one arm flung over his eyes. “You mad?”

“No,” she said honestly, brushing his hair back. “I just… you looked like you drank too much, and your cousins didn’t exactly help.”

“They never do.”

“I’ve seen you have a good time,” she repeated, gentler now. “But it felt like you were trying to prove something. Or outrun something.”

Leonard didn’t answer right away. Just exhaled through his nose.

“You want to talk about what that was with Porsha? County lock up? What did she mean?” she asked quietly.

He shook his head. “Not tonight, please…I don’t wanna talk about it.”

She nodded. “Okay.”

She stood to grab a glass of water from the bathroom, then returned and set it on the nightstand.

“You’re not in trouble,” she said, climbing in beside him and laying a hand on his chest. “But we’re not gonna ignore stuff, either. Not if we’re doing this for life.”

He reached up and curled his fingers around hers. “I know.”

Georgie leaned down and pressed a kiss to his temple. “Get some sleep, Lenny Lamb.”

He groaned. “Don’t you start.”

But his grip on her hand didn’t loosen.

The sound of footsteps broke through the dull ache pounding behind Leonard’s eyes. He squinted, groaning softly as he turned toward the door. The light filtering through the curtains was warm, too bright for how his head felt, and the taste of last night’s bourbon still lingered on his tongue. His throat was dry. Bone dry.

Georgie stepped into the room with a tray balanced in her hands. Her hair was pulled into a loose ponytail, and she was wearing one of his sweatshirts, oversized and hanging off one shoulder. She didn’t say anything at first; just gave him that quiet smile of hers, the one that always came with some mix of affection and amusement.

“I come bearing gifts,” she said, setting the tray on the nightstand. “Eggs, toast, water, and aspirin. You're welcome.”

He let out a ragged breath and blinked up at her. “You’re my angel.”

“I know.”

Leonard slowly sat up, groaning as the room spun for half a second. “Remind me to never drink again.”

She smirked. “You were southern boy with his cousin’s kind of drunk.”

He gave a low grunt, clearly unimpressed with himself, and reached for the water first, downing the aspirin before sipping the rest like it was the only thing keeping him alive.

She sat on the edge of the bed, watching him with quiet care.

“What’re you up to?” he asked, his voice rough.

“Looking at old photos,” she replied, standing again and tugging down the edge of the sweatshirt. “Your mom’s got stacks of them. She pulled them out right after breakfast. I couldn’t resist.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“Come downstairs when you’re human again.”Georgie added, already heading toward the door.

“Right,” he murmured, falling back against the pillows for a moment before pushing himself up again. The toast was cold but good; the eggs were still soft, just the way he liked them. It helped. Not just the food, her. The small, thoughtful ways she always showed up.

After he ate, he got dressed slowly and made his way downstairs, the worn wooden steps creaking under his weight.

He paused at the entryway to the living room.

Georgie was curled up on the floor with her legs tucked under her, flipping through a photo album with wide eyes and a soft smile. Elenora sat close by on the couch, a quilt across her lap and a mug of tea in her hands.

“There he is,” Elenora said when she spotted him. 

Leonard grunted. “Mornin’.”

“You mean afternoon,” Georgie teased.

He moved to sit beside his mother, sinking into the cushion with a sigh.

Elenora picked up a photo from the armrest. “This one’s always been my favorite,” she said, handing it to Georgie. “First day of school. He insisted on wearing that red bowtie. Said it made him look 'professional.' He was five.”

Leonard groaned quietly. “I was a visionary.”

Georgie chuckled and held up another photo, one of his Starfleet graduation. Leonard stood stiff in his red cadet uniform, beaming next to his mother, arms tight around each other. His smile in the photo was wide, genuine to anyone else. But he remembered the way his stomach had been in knots. Remembered the orders he was already following. Remembered Nero.

“You look proud here,” she said.

Leonard glanced at the photo and gave a small nod. “I was... proud to be done.”

Elenora glanced at him but said nothing. She’d always known how to read between the lines, but sometimes she chose to let him offer things in his own time.

Georgie turned the page. Her fingers stopped on a worn photo. “This one’s sweet.”

It was Leonard and his father, probably sixteen, maybe younger, both covered in grease and grime, crouched next to an old ground car. David McCoy’s hand was firm on Leonard’s shoulder, the two of them mid-laugh.

Leonard stared at the photo longer than he meant to.

“That was the summer we rebuilt the engine together,” Elenora said softly. “It barely ran, but he was so proud of you. Always was.”

There was a long pause. Then she asked it, but it still landed like a weight in the room.

“Are you going to visit his grave while you're here?”

Leonard inhaled sharply through his nose. He didn’t answer right away; his jaw clenched, and his fingers curled into his flannel.

“I hadn’t planned on it,” he said quietly.

Elenora’s gaze was warm, but sad. “You haven’t been back since the funeral.”

“I know,” he replied. “And I’m not ready. Maybe I never will be.”

Another silence followed, but this one didn’t feel cold; it was full of memory, and something a little raw.

Georgie shifted beside him, resting a hand lightly on his knee. “Whatever you decide,” she said, her voice soft, “I’m with you. No pressure. Just... whatever you need.”

He looked at her then. There was no judgment in her eyes. Not fixing anything just offering presence.

“I don’t even know what I’d say,” he murmured, voice hoarse.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Georgie replied. “You just have to be there, if you want to be.”

He swallowed hard and gave the faintest nod, eyes still trained on the photograph in Georgie’s hands. They didn’t push. They didn’t pry. They just sat with him.

Leonard stood near the window, arms crossed tight over his chest, jaw clenched, heart pounding. He’d been standing there for almost twenty minutes. His mother and Georgie were somewhere in the house, giving him space. And he needed it, he thought he needed it. But now, with the bouquet of flowers sitting on the console table behind him and the quiet pressing in all around, the weight of everything he hadn’t said felt unbearable.

He scrubbed a hand over his face. “It’s just a visit,” he muttered under his breath. “Just stone and earth. Nothing more.”

But it wasn’t. And he knew it. His fingers trembled slightly as he reached for the bouquet. He didn’t move. It had been years since the funeral. And he hadn’t come back. Not once. Not because he forgot. Because he couldn’t.

Every time he thought about that final image, his father’s face pale and sunken, hands stiff and unfamiliar, all the life drained from the man who used to use his hands for everything and sling jokes with the other, Leonard felt like a kid again.

He swallowed hard. His throat burned.

“I should’ve found something,” he whispered. “Should’ve figured it out sooner.”

His mind spiraled, grief, guilt, shame all fighting for dominance in his chest. His father had trusted him, helped research all he could, and Leonard had failed. No miracle cure. No breakthrough in time. Just long nights of trying and watching the strongest man he knew fade until he was barely a whisper of himself.

A knot formed behind his ribs, spreading until it was hard to breathe. He paced a step, then another, like motion might trick his body into courage. “He wouldn't want this,” Leonard muttered to himself. “He wouldn’t want me stuck here, hiding from a damn patch of grass and a name etched in stone.”

But no matter how he tried to will himself into movement, his feet refused. He was stuck, like all those words still lodged in his chest, too heavy to speak, too painful to leave alone.

And then warmth.

A familiar set of arms wrapped around his middle from behind. Georgie pressed her cheek against his back; no words, no questions, just her presence. He hadn’t even heard her come in.

His arms dropped. He let her hold him.

And something in him cracked, not broken, not shattered, just… opened. After a moment, she pulled away gently and picked up the flowers from the table, waiting for him with a small nod.

They drove in silence. The cemetery sat on a quiet hill just outside town, surrounded by oaks and lined with gravel paths. The car crunched to a stop near the back, close to the newer plots. He didn’t move at first. He stared out the windshield, heart thudding in his ears. Georgie waited beside him; she didn’t rush. Eventually, he opened the door. The walk felt longer than it was. Every step dragged. The bouquet felt heavier in his hands than it should’ve.

And then, there it was.

David McCoy
Beloved husband and father
Gone too soon. Not forgotten.

Weeds had started to curl up around the base of the headstone. A few dandelions, a stretch of wild grass. Georgie crouched beside it without a word and began to clear the overgrowth with quiet, careful movements. She smoothed the soil at the edge, wiped off a few clinging leaves, and brushed away the dust from the etched letters.

Leonard watched her for a long moment, throat tight. That small act, something so simple, hit him harder than he expected. She wasn’t doing it for credit. She wasn’t doing it for comfort. She was doing it because it mattered to him. When she stood and took a step back, he moved forward. He knelt. And for a while, he said nothing.

Then softly, “Hey, Dad.”

The words felt strange, but right. Like saying them cracked open a dam.

“I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to come back.” He exhaled, slow and uneven. “I just… didn’t think it’d hit this hard.”

She remained behind him, close but quiet.

“I’ve changed since then,” Leonard said quietly, eyes still on the headstone. “I think you’d be proud of who I’ve become. Life’s good. Hard, but good. I’ve got a job that doesn’t let me sleep and a crew that never listens.”
He smiled faintly. “And Georgie… she’s incredible. You’d have liked her. She doesn’t put up with any of my crap.”

He crouched down and rested a hand on the bouquet as he set it at the base of the stone.

“I wish you’d met her. I wish you’d seen me graduate. I wish a lot of things.” He paused, his voice softening. “I’m sorry, Dad. I’m sorry I couldn’t save you.”

His shoulders dropped slightly.

“I tried. God, I tried.” He swallowed. “I was in school, drowning in rotations and research, digging through every article, every case study, thinking if I just read one more thing, found one more thread, maybe I could turn it around. I thought I could figure it out before it was too late.”

His voice wavered, thick with frustration.

“But I didn’t. I was too late. And everything else… the marriage, the rest of my life…”
He shook his head.
“It all fell apart anyway. Jocelyn didn’t sign up to be married to a ghost, and that’s what I became obsessed and absent. Half a husband at best. But I couldn’t let it go. I didn’t want anyone else to go through what we did.”

Silence settled, heavy and honest.

Then, almost a whisper, “I just hope you can forgive me.”

He stood slowly, wiping at his face with the back of his hand. He turned just enough to see Georgie standing nearby, her eyes on him. She stepped forward and gently took his hand, her thumb tracing soft circles into his skin.

He let out a long breath, words still catching in his throat.

“That’s why I pushed so hard,” he murmured. “In med school, that’s why I kept reaching, kept sacrificing.”
He hesitated.
“Why my first marriage went to hell. I thought if I worked hard enough, I could make the world less cruel. That no one I cared about would have to go through that kind of helplessness again.”

Georgie stayed quiet, her presence enough.

Then, after a long pause, he finally turned to her, voice small and unguarded.

“What if I fail you like I failed them?”

Her heart clenched.

She reached up, cupping his cheek and turning his face toward her.

“Len,” she murmured, her voice steady and kind, “you didn’t fail your dad. And you didn’t fail Jocelyn. You were hurting. You were trying to survive the only way you knew how.”

He looked down, jaw tight.

She stepped closer.

“We’re not perfect,” she said. “We’re gonna get it wrong. We’re gonna disappoint each other sometimes. But I’m not asking for perfect.”
She squeezed his hand.
“I’m asking for us. For you and me, together. That’s all I need.”

He exhaled, the tension in his chest finally loosening under her words. She kissed his knuckles and leaned her forehead gently against his.

“I love you,” she whispered. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

He didn’t answer right away, just looked at her, eyes searching, full of all the things he still couldn’t quite say. But he believed her.

Or maybe he was ready to try.

He squeezed her hand and turned back to the headstone, his heart still heavy, but not alone.

By the time they got back from the cemetery, the air between them was quiet. Not heavy with grief, just weighted with something more comforting. Leonard hadn’t said much during the ride, but his hand had found Georgie’s and never let go. That had been enough.

Back at Elenora’s house, the afternoon passed in soft warmth. Iced tea on the porch. Fresh air and no obligations. Just the two of them sitting close, the quiet settling between them like a blanket.

Then the sound of stirred gravel approached.

Georgie stood first, squinting into the sunlight. Her face lit up before the doors even opened.

“Mom! Dad!”

Robert and Diane Knox stepped out of the transport looking every bit the polished Starfleet legends they were. Robert’s posture was straight-backed, eyes sharp beneath a clean civilian jacket. Diane was already waving, her smile easy and bright.

Georgie ran to them, meeting them in a familiar, three-way hug that made Leonard’s chest tighten for reasons he couldn’t quite name. He stayed on the porch until Robert caught his eye and grinned.

“Leonard,” Robert said, extending a hand. “Look at you. Still in one piece.”

“Doing my best,” Leonard replied, clasping it firmly. “Welcome to Georgia.”

“We’re overdue,” Diane added, already walking toward the porch. “I’ve been dying to meet the woman behind the kitchen magic.”

“That’d be me,” Elenora called from the front door. “Come on in. I’ve got supper nearly done.”

He passed Georgie on his way back to the porch and leaned in. “Don’t lift a finger. Spend time with your folks. That’s an order.”

“Bossy,” she said under her breath.

“Yes ma’am,” he replied.

The house filled quickly with voices, warmth, and laughter. Elenora and Diane hit it off immediately, talking like old neighbors instead of first-time acquaintances. Georgie and her mother slipped easily into conversation, picking up old threads. Robert kept a hand on Georgie’s shoulder whenever she passed by, like he couldn’t believe she was really here.

In the kitchen, Leonard helped with final prep while Elenora gave orders like a ship’s captain. At one point, she reached for another mixing bowl, and Leonard caught her wrist.

“No more food, Ma. We are not hosting another party.”

“It’s not a party,” she huffed.

“You brought out the good crystal.”

She gave him a pointed look. “Sorry that I like a good presentation, honey.”

Dinner was everything it needed to be, casual, full of flavor, and filled with stories. At some point between seconds of mashed potatoes and a playful argument, Robert cleared his throat to get everyone’s attention.

The room quieted.

“So,” he began, glancing first at Diane, then around the table, “your mother and I have made a decision.”

Georgie straightened slightly beside Leonard, fork halfway to her mouth.

“We’re retiring,” Robert said, plainly but proudly. “Effective next month, we’re stepping away from Starfleet.”

The room was silent for a moment.

“You’re what?” Georgie asked, blinking.

“It’s time,” Diane added gently. “We’ve served long enough. The pace, the travel, the uncertainty… it’s been a hell of a run, but we’re ready for something different.”

Robert nodded. “There’s a practice we’ve been thinking about starting for years. Back in Chicago. There has been a need for more Xeno medical facilities there.”

Leonard sat back in his chair, surprised.

“Back in the city?”

“We still have the house,” Robert said. “Your cousin Jordan and his wife are still living there, but his lease is ending soon and they didn’t want to renew. So the timing is great. They have taken care of it and Opie too.”

“Opie?” Leonard asked.

“Our family mastiff. He’s been around since Georgina was in high school.” Robert continued.

Georgie’s expression shifted, caught somewhere between pride and quiet sadness. Leonard could feel her fingers tightening around her napkin.

“We’d hoped to finish this tour with our science vessel,” Diane said. “But then we got pulled like you guys. Just ‘wrap things up and head to Earth.’”

“Strategic shuffling, maybe,” Robert added. 

Leonard didn’t respond, but a flicker of agreement settled in his chest. He’d felt it too. Starfleet was moving pieces. 

Then, Robert’s eyes found his again.

“That brings me to this,” he said. “I’ll be building the clinic myself, but I don’t want to run it alone.”
He paused, lifting his glass slightly in Leonard’s direction.
“I know it’s short notice,” he said. “If you and Georgina decide to stay Earth-side, I’ll need a partner, Leonard. There’s a spot waiting for you. Consider this an open invitation.”

Leonard didn’t know what to say at first.

The offer felt solid. The kind of thing that wasn’t just a plan, it was a future.

Georgie looked at him, searching his face. He wasn’t sure what she saw there.

For the first time in a long time, Leonard realized… he had options.

He cleared his throat and offered a small, respectful nod.

“That’s generous,” he said. “Thank you.”

Robert gave him a knowing look but didn’t press further.

Beneath the table, Georgie’s hand found his. He laced their fingers together and squeezed, just once. The conversation around them resumed, laughter and stories rising again like nothing had changed.

But something had. They both knew it.

Chapter Text

The porch swing creaked beneath Leonard’s weight, a slow, uneven rhythm that matched the churn of his thoughts. He sat hunched forward, elbows on his knees, a glass of sweet tea resting in his hands, untouched. The light was shifting now, burning gold giving way to that soft, blue hush that comes before the stars.

They were still grounded.

No orders. No clarity. Just vague transmissions from back channels and an official message that felt more like a stall than a strategy.

Rest. Recalibrate. Be ready.

He’d seen it on Kirk’s face before they parted, the tension under the grin. He’d heard it in Spock’s voice. Whatever Starfleet wasn’t saying yet… it wasn’t small. And still, in all the silence and waiting, Leonard didn’t feel anxious.

Not really.

For the first time in years, he didn’t mind the stillness.

His eyes wandered over the yard. The old swing set, rusted but holding. The garden Elenora and Porsha had resurrected last spring, overgrown now with stubborn pride. The peach tree Jacob had sworn he’d trim down every summer, full and bending under its own sweetness.

And somewhere inside the house, Georgie was probably laughing. Probably helping with dishes, stealing bits of pie crust when Elenora wasn’t looking. Holding court with Porsha or bouncing Jacob’s baby girl on her hip.

She fit here. She fit so damn well it almost hurt.

And it wasn’t just her. The Knoxes were becoming part of the picture, too. Diane and Elenora had made a friendship, like they’d known each other for years and Robert had slotted into the back porch conversations with Jacob and Tim like some long-lost cousin. It was strange, watching two families blend so easily. Stranger still how much he liked it.

It felt, inevitable. Like home had quietly expanded to make room.

He thought of earlier, how she’d held Jacob’s little girl like it was second nature. No hesitation or stiffness. 

And it knocked something loose in him.

Could we really do this? Could I?

The question had been lingering, quiet but constant, since the moment they got back. It wasn’t the first time they’d danced around it, late-night conversations punctuated with sleepy “someday”s, but this felt like it had more weight.

Because weight meant change. And babies didn’t belong on starships. Then there was Robert’s offer. Spoken plainly but still heavy with meaning.

If you want to practice Earth-side... there’s a place for you.

Leonard ran a thumb along the side of his glass, eyes unfocused.

It was tempting, more than he expected. The idea of a clinic. A slower pace. A life that didn’t revolve around red alerts and emergency field kits. And Robert,  they’d make a hell of a team. Equal parts brilliance and blunt force.

It was more than just a gesture. It was a future. A door swinging open in a life that had, until now, only ever moved in one direction.

But Georgie…

She still had fire in her eyes when she talked about duty. About crew. About her place in the fleet. He’d seen her watching the sky more than once these past few days. Felt the quiet pull in her silence.

And that was the thing that twisted him up inside, because as much as he wanted to stay, wanted to shield her from the dangers of space, wanted this life with her on solid ground… he wasn’t sure she could want that without sacrificing some part of herself.

He didn’t want to be the reason she dimmed. But damn, he wanted her safe. He wanted them safe.

He rubbed the center of his chest with the heel of his hand, as if the ache was something he could press away. He hadn’t always wanted roots. Hell, he’d run from them for years. But she’d changed that. She made him want more .

The swing stilled as he heard the boards creak behind him.

And just like that, his thoughts scattered, held still by the sound of her.

“There you are,” Georgie called, stepping onto the porch with a metal bucket in her arms. “I was starting to wonder where you were.”

He looked over and, damn. The sight of her stopped his breath.

Sunlight kissed the soft slope of her shoulders, glowing warm against her brown skin. A few wildflowers had found their way into her curls, and her sundress, light yellow and cinched at the waist, swayed gently around her knees. She was barefoot, dust on her ankles, and the bucket was full of peaches.

“I earned these,” she said, grinning as she crossed toward him. “Told your mom I was gonna prove I took peach picking seriously. If I’m taking the McCoy name one day, might as well learn the family traditions, right?”

She smiled with a hint of nerves behind it, like she wasn’t sure how he’d take that. Leonard’s heart clenched in awe.

“Any tradition that involves you in a sundress I can get behind.”

She set the bucket down with a soft thud beside the swing, then eased herself onto his lap, one arm draping around his shoulder like it belonged there. She smelled like grass and sugar and sun. He wrapped his arms around her waist instinctively, holding her there, grounding himself in her warmth. For a while, they just sat like that. Listening to the wind stir the trees.

“I’ve been thinking,” he said finally, then stopped.

His voice felt too loud, too dry.

Georgie shifted slightly but said nothing.

“I don’t know how to say this right,” he added. “So maybe I’ll just… talk.”

Another silent moment passed.

“I kinda enjoyed the idea of going back up,” he started, voice low. “Starfleet always felt like control. Like motion. Like something I could throw myself into when everything else felt... broken.”

He took a breath, but it caught in his throat.

“But after what happened with the Orions, after seeing you hurt, I’ve started to wonder if it’s still the right place for me. For us.”

She tilted her head slightly to look at him, saying nothing, just listening.

“I keep picturing what it’d be like to stay,” he said, his words heavier now. “Not necessarily here in Georgia, but... somewhere. A house. Mornings that don’t start with red alerts. Nights without worrying what quadrant we’ll be in next week.”

His hand found hers, thumb brushing the back of it.

“Your dad’s offer, it’s a good one. A damn good one. And not just because I admire the man. I think we’d make a hell of a team. It’s a real opportunity, Georgie. One I didn’t even know I wanted until he said it out loud.”

He glanced at her, hesitant.

“I don’t know if I want to be the man who stays up there so long he forgets how to live down here,” he admitted, voice dropping. “I’ve already failed people, my dad, Jocelyn... myself. And now I’ve got you, and I’m terrified I’ll screw that up, too.”

She stayed still, her hand resting lightly against his chest.

“I don’t want to lose you to space,” he whispered. “And if we ever have kids...”
He trailed off, then pushed forward.
“A starship isn’t a home for them. We signed up for this life. They wouldn’t.”

Georgie looked down at her lap, fingers curling into the hem of her dress. The air between them was quiet but charged, like everything unsaid had just been dropped onto the porch floor between their feet.

When she looked back up, her eyes met his, clear, searching, and a little too still.

She stood slowly, brushing a loose flower petal from her skirt. But before she reached for the bucket, she leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead. Her hand lingered at his jaw, thumb brushing just beneath his ear.

“I should get these peaches inside,” she said quietly. “Your mom’s gonna want to bake before it gets too late.”

She wasn’t walking away. But she wasn’t settled either.

“Sweetheart, wait—”

“I heard you,” she said, not harshly, but with a finality that made his chest tighten.

Then she picked up the bucket and turned, her shoulders just a little too square, her steps just a little too fast.

Leonard watched her go, his heart hammering, not from panic, but from the weight of not knowing where they now stood. She hadn’t dismissed him. She hadn’t run. But she was thinking.

And when Georgie was thinking, something was shifting.

The screen door clicked softly behind her, and he sat back, head resting against the swing, breath catching somewhere in his throat.

He didn’t regret telling her, but he didn’t mean to piss her off.

Dammit.

The morning felt... off. Leonard noticed it first in the kitchen. Georgie usually hummed when she cooked, low, off-key, sometimes old soul songs or snatches of whatever tune Elenora had been singing. But today, she was quiet, methodical. Focused in that way that didn’t feel like presence, but escape.

He offered to slice the strawberries for the pancakes, reaching for the knife beside her. Their fingers brushed. She didn’t flinch, but she didn’t linger, either. Just moved to the other side of the counter with a small, absent nod.

He tried not to read into it. Tried.

Later, while folding laundry in the guest room, he walked by the open door and caught her sitting on the edge of the bed, her shoulders hunched forward, communicator in hand but unmoving. When he leaned against the doorframe and asked softly, “You alright?”, she nodded without looking up.

But it wasn’t the kind of nod that said yes .

It was the kind that said I don’t want to talk about it.

That evening, when he reached for her hand as they walked back from the mailbox, she let him take it, then slowly pulled away with a sigh like she didn’t even mean to. No words. Just that deep, drawn breath that filled the space where closeness used to be.

It cut sharper than anything she could have said out loud.

By the time they were sitting around the table for dinner, even Elenora picked up on it. Her eyes flicked between them as she passed the cornbread basket, a gentle wrinkle forming between her brows. She didn’t say anything, but she rested a hand on Leonard’s shoulder a little longer than necessary as she cleared the dishes.

Leonard stood on the back porch after dark, communicator  in hand. He stared at the screen for a long time before finally pressing Call.

It rang twice.

“Bones, what’s shakin’, country boy?” came Jim’s voice, warm and alert, like he’d half-expected the call.

Leonard didn’t respond right away.

“Everything alright, buddy?”

He exhaled through his nose. “I don’t know.”

Jim’s tone softened. “You want to talk?”

Leonard leaned against the porch railing, eyes on the thick, clouded sky. The stars tonight were barely visible through the haze.

“Yeah,” Leonard murmured. “I think I do.”

“Alright,” Jim said. “I’m all ears.”

Leonard sank onto the porch steps, elbows resting on his knees. “It’s been good being home,” he said after a moment. “Better than I expected.” He rubbed his thumb against his palm. “Ma’s been in her element, spoiling everyone, feeding us like we’re about to hibernate. And Georgie…”

He let out a soft exhale, almost a laugh. “She fits right in. Everyone loves her.”

Jim said nothing, just let the quiet hold.

“It’s the first time in a long while I felt like I could breathe,” he admitted. “Like maybe there’s a life beyond a ship.”

He paused again, longer this time.

“But even with all that…” He looked down, voice dipping. “Ever since we got back, I haven’t been able to shake it. The images from what happened with the Orions. I keep seeing her like that.”

He paused.

“I told her I’ve been thinking maybe we should stay on Earth. Especially if we ever have kids. A life that’s not built around red alerts and daily risks.”

He rubbed the back of his neck.

“And the second I said it out loud… I started wondering if I’d just put a wedge between us. Like wanting her safe made me selfish.”

He let out a breath, then added under it, “I didn’t give her an ultimatum. I didn’t ask her to give up anything. I just… said it out loud.”

A beat.

“And now I think I broke something.”

Jim was quiet.

Leonard went on. “She won’t say she’s upset. But I see it. The way she doesn’t reach for me. The way she flinches, just a little, when I try to pull her close. Like she’s trying to figure out how to protect herself from me now.”

Jim’s voice was softer when it came. “Bones… I get it.”

Leonard let out a humorless scoff. “You do?”

“Yeah,” Jim said. “More than you know.”

He paused, voice dipping into something more reflective. “There was a stretch, before Yorktown, before Krall, when I was this close to walking away. I’d wake up every day with the weight of it pressing down. The stars didn’t feel like wonder anymore. Just reminders. Of everyone we’d lost. Of the next name I might have to read off a casualty list.”

Leonard sat with that, jaw tight.

“And I wasn’t the only one,” Jim added. “You remember when Spock almost left? After Vulcan fell… it shattered something in him. He ended things with Uhura. Said he had to preserve the legacy of his people. But I think part of him was just… tired. Tired of loving people he couldn’t save.”

That hit harder than Leonard expected.

He drew a shaky breath. “That’s it,” he said quietly. “That’s what it is.”

Jim waited.

“I was helpless, Jim. And I’m not used to that. I’m the one who keeps people breathing. Who does something. But I couldn’t protect her. Not really. And the worst part is… I realized I don’t ever want to be in that position again.”

Jim breathed slowly. “You feel like it’s your job to keep her safe.”

Leonard’s voice dropped. “It is my job. Or it should be.”

“No,” Jim said gently. “It’s your heart. That’s the difference. You love her. And yeah, loving someone in this job makes you feel like you’ve got to hold the line for both of you. But Bones, there’s only so much you can carry before it breaks you.”

Leonard stared out at the open yard. The tree line swayed faintly.

“Her dad made me an offer,” Leonard added, almost as an afterthought, like the weight of it had just hit him again. “Back in Chicago. He and his wife are starting a practice after retiring from Starfleet next month. Said there’s a spot for me if I want it.”

Jim whistled low. “Wow! That’s not nothing.”

“It’s not,” Leonard said. “And it’s the first time in a long while I’ve had something like that, a choice that isn’t tied to trauma. A future that doesn’t require burning out to prove I’m still useful.”

He paused again.

“I’m not saying I want to disappear into suburbia and grow tomatoes. But I’m tired, Jim. And this... felt like a door I didn’t know I wanted opened.”

Jim went on, his voice steady. “I used to think being a good captain meant protecting everyone. No matter what. And when I couldn’t, when I failed, I thought it meant I wasn’t enough. But it’s not about shielding them from every hit. It’s about standing beside them through it. Letting them choose to fight. And not punishing yourself when they get hurt.”

Leonard was quiet for a moment. “How do I even do it, Jim?”

“Do what?”

“Keep loving someone in space.”

Jim didn’t answer right away. Leonard could almost hear him shift on the other end, leaning back, thoughtful.

“You want the truth?” Jim finally said. “Most of the time, you don’t. Not the way you’re used to. You can’t love someone in space like you would down here. With date nights and lazy mornings in bed.”

He paused.

“Up there, love gets strange. You learn to carry the ache of missing them while still pretending you’re focused. And when they’re in danger, you don’t panic, you store it in your gut and hope you’ve got time to unpack it later.”

Leonard was quiet.

“But what I’ve figured out is this,” Jim continued. “If someone chooses you even with all the unknowns… you don’t protect them by holding back. You protect them by being brave enough to let them in anyway.”

Leonard stared out at the yard, his hands still now.

“I don’t have what you and Georgie have,” Jim added, his voice softer. “But I’ve seen it in others. And it’s real. Messy, yeah. And sometimes you won’t want the same things at the same time. But that doesn’t mean you leave. You don’t love from a safe distance. You stay close, even when the stars feel cold.”

Leonard’s throat tightened.

“So yeah,” Jim said. “That’s how you love someone in space. You accept that it’ll hurt. And you do it anyway. Because it’s her.”

Leonard let the silence stretch.

“And what if we don’t want the same thing?”

Jim’s voice stayed gentle. “Then that’s the hard part. But don’t assume the worst before you’ve even heard her out. Don’t retreat before the conversation’s even finished.”

There was a long pause on Leonard’s end.

“You know... there was a time I wouldn’t have taken relationship advice from you if you paid me.”

Jim chuckled. “Yeah, well. I wouldn’t have either.”

Leonard shook his head with a quiet smile. “You’ve changed. You sound... I don’t know. Wiser.”

Jim’s voice came back warm. “I’ve had some good teachers. Watching Spock and Uhura’s relationship... hell, even you.” He added, after a pause, “Turns out if you hang around emotionally intelligent people long enough, some of it rubs off.”

Leonard let out a low laugh. “Well, damn. Miracles do happen.”

“Hey,” Jim said, “you’re the one calling me. Must mean something.”

Leonard leaned his head back against the post, letting out a breath somewhere between relief and amusement.

“Yeah,” he said. “Maybe it means I’m finally listening.”

Jim let that linger for a moment before answering. “You don’t have to have all the answers tonight. Just don’t stop talking to her. Don’t close the door.”

Leonard looked up at the house. The light in his bedroom room still glowed faintly behind the curtains.

“I won’t.”

“Thanks, Jim.”

“Anytime, Bones.”

Leonard had been up since sunrise. The weight in his chest didn’t let him sleep long these days. So instead of lying in bed, staring at the ceiling while Georgie was still asleep, he got up. She hadn’t said much in the last couple of days. Not about his confession. Not about the future. And the only way he could keep himself from unraveling was by staying busy.

His mama had been grateful for the help. “That patch of weeds out back’s been mocking me for weeks,” she’d said with a smile, handing him a pair of gloves, a shovel and his baseball cap. He welcomed the distraction. Sweat and dirt felt better than silence.

He knelt in the backyard, yanking at stubborn weeds that wrapped around the fence posts and the base of the old peach tree. The air was thick with humidity, sun already high, the brim of his hat barely shading his eyes.

When he finished with the worst of it, he stood, stretching his back, and that’s when he saw it.

The treehouse.

Tucked into the old oak at the edge of the yard, half-hidden by overgrowth, the wooden platform was weather-worn and crooked, but still standing. The rickety ladder, nailed together by his dad and Uncle Milton, creaked in the breeze like it was daring him to try.

He hesitated.

Then, with a quiet breath, he set his gloves aside and started to climb.

The wood groaned beneath his weight, and he braced himself, one foot at a time, until he reached the platform. The trap door still worked. He pushed it open and crawled inside.

It was smaller than he remembered.

As a kid, it had felt like a mansion, endless space to dream and build and be anything. Now he could barely kneel without bumping his head. But that didn’t stop the wave of memory that crashed into him.

He found the old box tucked into the corner where he used to stash his "treasures", worn baseball cards, a flashlight that didn’t work, pocket knife, a slingshot made from a broken branch and rubber bands. There was even a faded drawing of him and his dad flying a spaceship made of scrap metal.

He sat back on his heels, fingers tracing the edge of the paper.

So much had changed. And yet, somehow, it all still lived here.

“Leonard?” Georgie’s voice called from the backyard.

He froze, startled by the sound of her.

“Leonard? Where are you?”

He peeked through the slatted window. “Up here.”

Her brows lifted as she scanned the trees. “Where’s up here?”

“In the treehouse.”

She looked up, squinting through the branches. “Seriously?”

“Yep,” he replied, lips tugging into the first real smile he’d felt all day. “You should come up.”

She made her way to the base of the tree and paused when she saw the old, hand-painted sign nailed to the trunk.

“‘No girls allowed?’” she read aloud, smirking. “Wow.”

“I was eight,” Leonard called. “Cut me some slack.”

She put a hand on her hip. “So, what, you gonna make me fill out a visitor's pass?”

“I’ll make an exception,” he said, voice warmer now. “But only for you.”

He laughed as she climbed, slowly, careful with the wobbly rungs. He reached down to help her with the last stretch, pulling her through the trap door with both hands. She landed on her knees beside him, eyes wide as she took it all in.

“Wow,” she whispered. “This is... amazing.”

“Bit smaller than I remember,” he muttered.

“I always wanted one of these,” she said, brushing her hands across the dusty floorboards. “Used to draw plans for one in the back of my spelling book. Never had a tree big enough.”

He looked at her, bathed in dappled sunlight, curls a little frizzy from the heat, eyes bright even in her quiet. “You would’ve built a fortress,” he said. “Laser traps. Secret escape door.”

“Obviously,” she smiled.

She glanced at the box in his lap. “What’re you doing up here?”

He looked down. “Reliving my childhood, I guess.”

She leaned against the wall beside him, drawing her knees up. “It’s sweet.”

The wood beneath them creaked quietly as they sat shoulder to shoulder in the old treehouse. Dust shimmered in the late light drifting through the slats. Outside, the breeze stirred the leaves.

He turned something over in his hands, one of his old toy starships, worn from years of forgotten battles. He finally set it down and spoke.

“ You know... if we patched this place up, it could be good as new. Jacob’s kids could use it.”
He hesitated, then added more softly, “Maybe ours someday, if we ever got there.”

The words hovered.

“I’m sorry,” he said after a moment.

Georgie looked over at him. “For what?”

“For dropping all that on you the way I did,” he said. “I didn’t mean to throw you into something you weren’t ready for.”

She drew in a breath. “I’m not angry, Len. I was just… overwhelmed. And I’m sorry for being silent on you. I didn’t mean to give you the cold shoulder.”

Her voice was low, sincere.

“I’ve looked at this from every angle, all of it. And I just… didn’t know where to put the weight.”
She pressed her hand against the floorboard beside her. “Serving on a starship has been my dream since I was a kid. I worked too damn hard to get there. It’s not just a job, it’s part of who I am. Walking away from that…” She trailed off. “It feels like I’d be cutting off a part of myself.”

He nodded slowly. “That’s what I was afraid of. That I’d become the reason you gave up something that made you feel whole.”

She looked at him, firm but not cold. “That’s not what you asked me to do.”

“No,” he said, quieter now. “But I was still scared I was asking too much. That what I wanted would pull us in two directions.”

She was quiet for a moment then reached for his hand and laced her fingers through his.

His breath hitched, just a little. He didn’t smile, but something eased in his chest.

But then, he added, more tentative now, more raw;

“That mess with the Orions… I couldn’t stop seeing you hurt. Struggling to decide if I should live or die. And I couldn’t do anything.” He looked down at their joined hands. “I’m a doctor. I’m supposed to fix things. But I couldn’t protect you. And it wrecked me.”

Her hand tightened around his.

“That’s the truth behind all of it,” he said. “Why I wanted to stay. It wasn’t just about slowing down. It was about keeping you safe.”

Georgie’s voice broke gently through the stillness.

“You think you failed me.” She paused. “But Leonard, the only reason I survived was because I knew you’d come. I just needed to know I wasn’t alone and I wasn’t. You were there.”

He finally turned toward her, eyes searching.

Then she asked, voice small and clear, “So what does that mean for us?”

He inhaled. “It means... we go back. Together.” He looked at her. “Until the stars stop feeling like ours, or until we decide differently. But as long as you’re with me, I can do it. Wherever you go, I go.”

She exhaled, a slow, weighted breath that let go of the tension.

“If we ever do have a kid though...” His voice caught. “I don’t want to raise them out there. We signed up for this life. But a baby wouldn’t. And I won’t— put them at risk. It doesn’t have to be Georgia, or Earth, but it can’t be a starship.”

Georgie’s eyes shone, but she didn’t look away.

“I agree,” she said quietly. “If we have a child someday, a starship is not safe.”

A pause.

“Somewhere that feels like home.”

He blinked hard, then managed a nod. “Yeah. Exactly that.”

A silence stretched.

“I’m honored by your dad's offer,” Leonard said gently. “And maybe someday, it will be the right fit, for both of us, just not now.”

“It was a tempting offer,” Georgie replied, her voice quiet. “I don’t know what our timeline looks like,” she murmured. “But whatever we build, I want it to be with you.”

They fell silent for a moment.

“Georgie,” Leonard said, his voice quieter now. “There’s something else. I want you to know before we move forward.”

She looked at him, her brow creasing. “What is it?”

“That night I got drunk… the bonfire. Porsha was pissed for a reason. And I haven’t told you the full story.”

She sat up a little straighter, listening.

He stared down at his hands and took a long breath and let it out slowly.

“I didn’t leave here just because of the divorce,” he said. “I left because of who I became after it.”

The words hung in the air.

“When Jocelyn took everything,” he continued, voice low and rough, “I didn’t just lose a marriage. I lost my damn self. I wasn’t just heartbroken, I was angry. Embarrassed. And I didn’t have the tools to deal with any of it. So I drank. A lot. More than I ever told anybody.”

He laughed once, dry. “My cousins didn’t stop me. They joined in. And most of my family... they got tired. I don’t blame them. I wasn’t easy to be around. Even Mama, God love her, she tried. But I pushed her away too.”

Georgie’s hand slid over his.

“The day the papers were signed,” he said, barely above a whisper, “I got behind the wheel drunk out of my mind. Didn’t even make it two miles before I rolled the car into a ditch.”

Her hand tightened.

“I could’ve killed someone, Georgie. Or myself.”

He finally looked up at her, eyes glassy, haunted.

“I walked away with nothing but bruises, a wrecked shoulder, and a busted headlight. But it changed everything.”

He swallowed, jaw working.

“Porsha was the one who came for me. She didn’t yell. Didn’t even hug me. Unfortunately the cops came and arrested me.”

He looked out toward the trees, as if the memory still lived there.

“She bailed me out. I don’t even know if she ever fully forgave me for being such a damn mess. Just handed me an envelope with a couple hundred credits and said, ‘I can’t fix you, Lenny. But I can get you out.’ Starfleet was my only option, the only thing that gave me a chance.”

She was quiet, eyes wet, her thumb brushing slowly over the back of his hand.

“I’m not proud of that time,” He said. “I wasn’t hiding it from you, I just didn’t know how to say it. I thought I had something to prove that night at the bonfire. That I could still keep up, still be fun. But I hated being in that place again. That version of me... it doesn’t belong here anymore. And I want you to know, I’m not making a habit of slipping.”

He turned to her fully now. “You deserve all of me. Even the parts I don’t like.”

Her face broke then, not with fear, but with love. She shifted closer, cupping his face in both hands.

“You’re not that man anymore, Len,” she said. “And even if some of him still lives in you, you didn’t let him win. You got up. You left. You became someone even your worst day couldn’t recognize.”

He tried to blink the sting from his eyes, but it didn’t work.

She kissed his forehead, then his jaw, her hands cradling him like something sacred.

“I love you for surviving that,” she whispered. “For owning it. For telling me.”

He hesitated, voice barely a breath.

“Do you still want to marry me?”

Her smile cracked through the emotion brimming in her eyes. “Of course I do.”

He let out a breath that trembled with relief.

She leaned in and rested her head on his shoulder, her hand still wrapped in his.
He kissed the top of her head, arms curling around her.

It felt like their own little world, suspended in time.

Then she looked up, eyes meeting his. There was something quiet in her gaze; resolve wrapped in desire, something unspoken she no longer wanted to withhold.

She pushed him gently to the floor, straddling him one knee at a time, sliding into his lap with grace and intention. Her hands settled on his chest, fingers splayed wide like she was claiming him.

He didn’t move. Didn’t even breathe at first. Just watched her in awe.

“I want to show you how much I love you,” she said, voice low and rich with warmth.

Leonard’s throat worked as he swallowed.
“Oh, yeah?” he whispered, voice rough at the edges. “Show me, Sweetheart.”

She leaned in, her lips brushing his like a question. He answered her with a hum, letting her take control of the moment.

Their mouths found each other again, slower this time, deeper, tongues moving in lazy, intimate rhythm. She kissed him like she was memorizing him. Like she was marking the moment into her bones.

His hands found her thighs, gripping gently, thumbs drawing soft circles against her skin. She pulled back just enough to slip her sundress over her head, letting it pool beside them. He sucked in a breath, eyes roaming her with reverence, like she was the most sacred thing he’d ever seen.

“You’re beautiful,” he said, barely more than a breath.

She smiled and reached for his shirt, unbuttoning it slowly, one button at a time, her fingers brushing his skin with every reveal as she eased the fabric off his shoulders, then leaned forward to kiss the hollow of his throat. He lifted his hips to pull his pants off, leaving him bare.

When she lowered herself onto him, they both gasped.

His head tipped back, a low groan breaking from his lips as she sank down, inch by inch. Her breath caught in her throat, fingers clutching his chest as she adjusted, the connection deep and full and overwhelming.

They stayed like that for a moment, just breathing. Just feeling.

Then she began to move.

Slow, rolling confident hips. The pace was hers, and he let her guide it, hands resting at her waist, occasionally sliding down to her hips to pull her in more.

She moaned softly, a low, melodic sound that tightened in his chest. Her name left his lips like a prayer, drawn out, reverent.

“Georgie…”

She leaned down, lips grazing his ear. “Right here,” she whispered. “I’m right here.”

Their pace deepened, still slow, still deliberate, but filled with something molten. Each roll of her hips drew a ragged breath from him, each subtle grind a quiet gasp from her. The wood creaked beneath them, but they didn’t care. They were beyond that now.

His eyes fluttered shut, his mouth parting as a broken moan escaped. “You feel amazing.”

“Yes,” she breathed, voice trembling. “Yes!”

She began to move a little faster, chasing that edge with soft whimpers and breathless sighs. He met her rhythm with small thrusts, his hands gripping tighter now, holding her as she undulated above him like something wild and sacred.

“Don’t stop,” he groaned, voice hoarse. She gasped, eyes locked to his.

The heat built slowly, a coil of tension winding tighter and tighter between them. Sweat glistened at her temples, her curls sticking to her neck, but she didn’t slow. She rode him like she had something to prove, like this was how she’d say all the things her heart had struggled to voice.

When he saw she was about to spill over, he sat up, his lips catching hers and stifling her cry into his mouth. He cupped her cheek, guiding her in for another kiss, wet, open-mouthed, messy in the best way. Their mouths never parted for long, breaking only to whisper, to breathe, to cry out softly.

When it came, it came like a wave, her hips stuttering, her mouth still on his as she collapsed into him. He followed with a strangled moan, holding her tight as he spilled into her, forehead pressed to hers, breath shuddering out like a man unraveling.

They clung to each other, face to face, sweaty and trembling, hearts pounding in together.

For a while, neither of them spoke. They just breathed each other in, skin against skin, the floor beneath them still warm from the sun.

“I don’t deserve you,” he whispered.

“You’re not gettin’ rid of me, so you better start actin’ like you do,” she mumbled, already half-asleep against him.

He smiled at the ceiling and wrapped his arms around her tighter.

Then…

“Leonard?” Elenora’s voice floated up from the yard below. “You two still in the treehouse?”

Georgie bit her lip, eyes wide in alarm. Leonard shot up, then immediately flinched, realizing they were both completely naked.

“We’re just—uh—just showing the treehouse!” he called out, voice cracking slightly. “We’ll be down in a minute!”

Georgie’s hand over her mouth muffled her laughter. “You are the worst liar.”

Elenora called again. “It’s almost time to start the grill.”

Leonard scrambled to put his pants on, stubbing his toe on the box in the process.

“Just, uh, just wrapping up!” he shouted, cheeks already burning.

Georgie lost it, laughing as she pulled the sundress over her head. One look at them, clothes wrinkled, hair a mess, dirt clinging to their skin, and yeah, they weren’t foolin’ anyone. 

Fortunately, no one asked questions.

The following day of afternoon light slanted across the backyard, warm and golden. Cicadas buzzed in the distance, and somewhere inside, the scent of something sweet and buttery drifted out from the kitchen window, Elenora, baking again.

Georgie was already barefoot, tugging her hair into a tight ponytail and bouncing on the balls of her feet. The grass crunched beneath her with every shift.

Leonard stood a few paces away, arms folded, sipping water, watching her with open fondness.

“I swear,” she muttered, stretching her arms across her chest. “I’ve gained twenty pounds since we got here. I can feel it every time I move.”

He tilted his head, letting his eyes linger on her legs, strong and sculpted; the slight curve at her hips; the way the sunlight skimmed along the sheen of sweat at her collarbone. She was radiant. Even when complaining.

“That’s why they call ’em love handles,” he said smoothly. “Gives me something to hold on to.”

She turned to glare at him, one hand on her hip. “You wanna try that line again, McCoy?”

He grinned, unrepentant. “Nope.”

She rolled her eyes but the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her. “God, you’re lucky you’re cute.”

“You remind me everytime.”

She huffed a laugh, then raised her fists. “Come on. I need to feel like I still know how to move. You’ve been slipping past me too easy lately.”

They circled, the grass giving under their feet. Just open sky, warm air, and two people working out their tension the way they always had, through motion and challenge.

He wasn’t half-bad anymore. He’d picked things up over time, mostly by watching her. She never held back when she needed the release, and he never minded being her outlet. Her strikes were crisp, clean, but her laughter between rounds was the best part. That was the sound of her easing into herself again.  And God, she was beautiful like this.

To Elenora, love was feeding the people you cared for. To her, it was grappling with them in a patch of dirt behind the house and smiling when she landed a hit. He knew it for what it was. Her love language. And it wrecked him, every single time.

After about twenty minutes, both of them slick with sweat and breathless, She collapsed backward into the grass, limbs sprawled. He dropped beside her with a grunt, hand flopping over to find hers.

She took it, their fingers tangling together without a word.

The sky above was wide and open, washed in pale orange and fading blue. The sound of distant laughter filtered out from inside the house. 

And there she was beside him, brown skin kissed by the sun, tank top clinging, curls frizzing slightly in the humidity, and that look in her eye that always made him feel like he was standing on the edge of something wonderful.

He breathed it all in and knew.

This was the moment. A big idea popped into mind.

He rolled onto his side, elbow propped. “What if we got married next week?”

She blinked up at him, then turned her head slowly, like she wasn’t sure she’d heard him right. “Next week?”

“Yeah,” he said. “We’re grounded still. No telling how long. But we’ve got your parents here. My family. Everything we need is already here. Why wait?”

She didn’t answer at first. Just stared at him with those wide, thoughtful eyes.

“I mean it,” he added, softer now. “Doesn’t have to be fancy. Just a few chairs in the yard. Ma’s food. We can get Jim to officiate. You know he’d never let us do it without him.”

She laughed at that, the sound bubbling up. “He’d cry too. And then pretend it was allergies.”

He smiled, brushing a blade of grass off her shoulder. “So? What do you think?”

She stared up at the sky for a long moment. He watched her chest rise and fall, saw the flicker of calculation behind her eyes, the way her fingers twitched against his. 

“You know what?” she said, turning back toward him, her voice bright with something that felt like relief. “Yeah. Let’s do it. It makes sense. Everyone’s here. The moment’s here. Why wait?”

Leonard felt tightness in his chest unwind. A deep, anchoring joy.

“Are we crazy?” she asked, a little breathless, a little amused.

“Oh, absolutely,” he said. “But we’ve always been.”

She rolled toward him and pressed a kiss to his lips, her hand sliding to the back of his neck. “You sure you want to marry a woman who throws you around in the backyard?”

“I’m counting on it,” he said, grinning. “Every damn day.”

They lay there a little longer, the sun sinking lower behind the trees.

A decision made between sparring breaths and the scent of home cooking.

And it felt like everything.

Dinner was loud in the way only family dinners could be. Plates clinked, glasses passed back and forth, laughter rolling through the kitchen like music. The kitchen table was filled with roasted chicken, mashed potatoes, string beans cooked down with bacon, peach cobbler already cooling on the counter.

Georgie’s short hair was swept back from her face, cheeks still a little flushed from the sparring match earlier. Leonard had showered but was still barefoot, a linen shirt thrown over him like he’d forgotten to button the top half. They sat close, shoulders brushing, knees bumping beneath the table, sharing from the same plate without thinking. Their closeness hadn’t gone unnoticed by their parents. 

“Well, what has gotten into you two lovebirds?” Elenora said, dabbing her mouth with a napkin.

Leonard cleared his throat. Georgie glanced at him, then gave a small nod. They had agreed just the truth, plain and simple.

Leonard leaned forward slightly, resting his arms on the table. “So,” he began, his voice calm. “We’ve got something we want to share.”

Everyone turned to look. Robert paused with a fork halfway to his mouth. Diane set down her wine glass. Elenora narrowed her eyes knowingly.

Georgie took over, her voice light but clear. “We’ve decided to get married on Earth.”

The table went completely still.

“Next weekend,” Leonard added.

Silence, then an explosion of sound.

Diane gasped and wrapped her arms around Georgie. Elenora slapped a hand over her heart. Robert actually dropped his fork.

“Next weekend?” Diane echoed, eyes wide.

“As in, seven days from now?” Elenora blinked.

Leonard nodded. “While we’re grounded. We figured, everyone’s already here, and there’s no telling when Starfleet’s gonna send us back out again. So why not?”

“It doesn’t need to be big,” Georgie said quickly. “Just something simple. In the backyard. Close family.”

“Simple?” Elenora scoffed, pushing her chair back already like she had plans to make. “Darlin’, you’ve clearly never seen what I can do with a tablecloth and a little notice. I am a miracle worker.”

Robert let out a laugh, clapping Leonard on the back. “Well I’ll be damned. I was wondering when one of you was gonna bring it up. This is perfect. Right here, with all of us. Couldn’t be better timing.”

Diane reached to squeeze Georgie’s hand. “Are you sure you don’t want anything more formal? We could push it out a few weeks—”

“We don’t want formal,” Leonard said gently. “We want... this. Just like this. People we love. Home cooking. Just the two of us starting our life.”

Georgie nodded. “I already feel like part of this family. This just makes it official.”

Elenora sniffed, eyes shining. “Well then we’ve got work to do. Diane, you and I should start planning. Georgie, we should go dress shopping tomorrow.”

Georgie laughed. “What if I just wear something simple?”

“Simple don’t mean you can’t be stunning,” Diane shot back.

Robert poured himself another glass of sweet tea and leaned back, looking at Leonard. “Looks like this train’s already moving, son.”

Leonard looked around the table, his mother’s excitement, Diane’s gentle pride, Robert’s warmth and then to Georgie, who was beaming like she hadn’t a doubt in the world.

He smiled. “It really is.”

The house filled with the sound of planning, of who to call, of what flowers to cut from the garden, of whether Jim Kirk could get himself to Georgia on short notice.

It was exactly what they’d hoped for.

Chapter Text

By the time dinner had ended everything became a whirlwind of now wedding mode. Leonard stepped out onto the porch, the screen door creaking shut behind him. The night air was warm, crickets humming somewhere near the garden. Inside, Georgie was still laughing with Elenora and Diane over wedding details. He needed to talk to Jim now if he was going to get him to be the officiant. He pulled out his communicator, thumbed through a couple contacts, and tapped Jim’s name.

It only rang once.

“Bones,” Jim answered, voice already curious. “What’s up?”

Leonard huffed a quiet laugh. “Hey! You got a minute?”

“Always.”

Leonard scratched at his jaw. “So, uh... Georgie and I, we’ve been talking. With everyone here, and with Starfleet dragging their feet, well, we figured... why not get married now. While we’re grounded.”

There was a beat of silence on the line. 

“Are you serious?” Jim’s voice lit up. “Man, that’s incredible.”

Leonard let himself smile, glancing up at the stars just beginning to peek through the trees. “Yeah. We’re thinking next weekend. Nothing big. Backyard, close family and friends. I know it’s last minute, but thought I’d ask.”

Jim exhaled with a grin Leonard could hear. “Damn right I’ll be there.”

Leonard shifted. “Actually… I was hoping you’d do more than just be there.”

A pause.

“You mean officiate?” Jim asked.

Leonard nodded. “You’re the only one I’d trust to stand up with us. You’ve been there from the start. Figured it’d be fitting.”

There was another pause.

“Bones,” Jim said, his voice lower now, touched with emotion. “It’d be an honor.”

Leonard smiled, quiet and full. “Thanks, Jim.”

“I’ll start packing asap. Not that I needed much of an excuse to get the hell out of Iowa.”

Leonard chuckled. “Good. And bring some stretchy pants because Ma is gonna wanna feed you.”

“Dont threaten me with a good time my friend.”

Leonard leaned back against the porch rail, listening to the laughter drift out through the windows, and felt like everything was exactly where it should be.

“See you soon,” he said.

“You bet.”

They called their friends in between the hustle. Georgie reached out to Sulu first, Leonard could hear her from the living room, grinning as she paced the hallway barefoot with the communicator in her hand.

“I leave you alone for how many days and you’re already getting married?” Sulu’s voice rang out, followed by Ben’s laugh in the background.

“What can I say? I missed you guys and wanted to give you an excuse to visit,” Georgie teased. “So, can you make it?”

“It’ll be tight, but we’ll get there. I promise.”

After she hung up, she placed a few calls back home to Chicago. Her aunts and cousins were surprised by the short notice, but once the shock wore off, they were all in, offering blessings, jokes, and promises to make the trip if they could. Some wouldn’t be able to swing it, but a few managed to clear their schedules.

Georgie laughed and slipped into her hometown flair, her midwest accent softening, her voice warming with every “hey, cuz” and “no, yeah we are getting married next weekend.” It was a side of her he didn’t get to see often, and it made him love her more. He was excited to meet more of her family, these people who shaped her, who loved her before he ever had the chance to.

He made sure to call Chapel himself, because he was fairly certain she’d kill him if she found out any other way. She shrieked when he told her, then demanded every single detail.

Spock and Uhura were coming together. Scotty sent a voice message with a toast already recorded, slightly slurred and suspiciously heartfelt. Chekov simply texted, “Finally.”

By the next morning, the house had exploded into full-blown wedding prep mode, a pace that moved far too fast for Leonard’s liking and somehow not fast enough for the two stubborn women orchestrating it.

He’d made one request, keep it simple.

Elenora nodded politely, smiled sweetly, and then proceeded to ignore him entirely.

Folding chairs were being pulled from neighbors’ garages. Tables, no two the same size, were stacked in the driveway. Extension cords twisted across the yard like jungle vines. Someone mentioned music. Someone else mentioned twinkle lights. A portable bar was on its way thanks to a favor Porsha had called in from a friend Leonard wasn’t sure he wanted to ask about.

He muttered something about not wanting the backyard to turn into a honky-tonk.

No one listened.

Still, he couldn’t bring himself to stop it. Not when every time he stepped outside, he saw people carrying things and setting up cables. Their people had come together in this wild, sun-soaked storm of joy. It was chaos. Pure, unfiltered, meaningful chaos.

Between hauling tablecloths from the attic and catching a tarp mid-flight during a sudden breeze, Georgie got whisked away by Diane and Elenora to go find a dress. He didn’t argue, he knew how much it meant for the women to have that moment. Knew Georgie would find something that wasn’t frilly or overdone.

They came back hours later, all smiles and laughter, a garment bag in tow. Diane warned him not to peek or he’d lose a hand. Georgie shot him a sly look over her shoulder, eyes dancing. He didn’t need to see the dress. He already knew it would knock the breath clean out of him.

But beneath the buzz of activity, he couldn’t ignore the growing pit in his stomach every time he caught sight of his mother. Elenora McCoy had officially entered what he liked to call mission mode, a blur of casseroles, clipboard scribbles, and emotional stamina powered entirely by coffee and spite. She hadn’t sat down in two days.

He found her in the kitchen, whipping together her third pan of deviled eggs while simultaneously marking off checklists taped to the fridge.

“Ma,” he said, arms crossed, “please tell me you slept.”

“I had a nap while food was in the oven,” she replied without looking up, swiping something off the counter and heading toward the door. “Now I need to remeasure the backyard and figure out if we can fit the folding tables around the magnolia without blocking the arch.”

“Auntie,” Porsha said, stepping in behind him with her arms crossed. “No offense, but you’re doing too much.”

“I’m fine,” Elenora said again, her voice brisk.

He exchanged a look with Porsha, mutual, tired, quietly worried.

“You’re not a one-woman wedding squad,” Porsha said gently. “We love you. But come on. You deserve to enjoy this too.”

He looked at his mother for a long second and realized the truth in that. It wasn’t that Elenora couldn’t handle it. It was that she shouldn’t have to. She’d done enough. More than enough. And dammit, she deserved to be present at her son’s wedding, not just running it like a drill sergeant with a rolling pin.

So they made a call.

Help arrived that same afternoon in the form of Amara, Tim’s wife Cassie’s best friend, a wedding coordinator just getting her business off the ground. She showed up with a tablet, a calm smile, and an energy that cut straight through the chaos without flattening anyone’s spirit.

Leonard and Georgie sat down with her in the living room, surrounded by chaos.

“We, uh…” Leonard started, rubbing the back of his neck. “We know this is last minute.”

“Really last minute,” Georgie added with a nervous smile. “We’re getting married this weekend.”

Amara blinked once, then nodded, unfazed. “Okay. That’s helpful to know.”

“It’s not anything dramatic,” Georgie said quickly. “No emergencies, we just realized we didn’t want to wait. We’re both in Starfleet, and we happened to get back to Earth unexpectedly. We don’t know when we’ll be deployed again, so... we figured, why not now?”

Leonard gave a sheepish shrug. “We’d been talking about it for a while. This just... felt right.”

“And honestly,” Georgie said, “we’ve been trying to keep things moving ourselves, but it’s a lot. We don’t want to dump it all on our families.”

Leonard nodded. “We’d really appreciate help pulling it together. And we’re willing to pay whatever’s fair to make this happen smoothly. We just want it to feel like us, nothing over-the-top.”

Amara looked between them for a long moment, then smiled and opened her bag.

“Well,” she said, her tone easy but assured, “you’ve got people who clearly love you, a house full of willing hands, and the most motivated couple I’ve ever met. That’s more than most.”

Leonard let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. Georgie reached over and squeezed his hand.

Amara jotted a few notes, then looked up. “Let’s make this happen.”

Leonard leaned in slightly. “One thing… my mother is very excited. You are officially allowed to tell her no.”

Amara grinned. “Mr. McCoy, I’ve handled five-hundred guest weddings and two mother-in-laws at once. I think I can manage Elenora.”

Leonard blinked. “Godspeed.”

And by nightfall, something started to shift. Amara took over chair counts, coordinated deliveries, mapped out the ceremony timeline. Elenora was still everywhere, but for the first time all week, Leonard caught her actually sitting down. A glass of sweet tea in her hand. A smile on her face.

Amara had taken the reins like a seasoned commander, calming the chaos and turning the backyard into something that actually resembled a wedding venue. The folding chairs were stacked and sorted. The arch was half-built, draped in soft linens and surrounded by Elenora’s prized planters. RSVPs had stopped rolling in, and Georgie hadn’t threatened to punch anyone in over twenty-four hours. Even Leonard had to admit, he was breathing easier.

They sat on the front porch that afternoon, sharing a glass of iced tea while the sun dipped lower in the sky. They had taken a long deserved break from wedding planning. Her bare feet were propped on the railing, his hand resting loosely on her thigh. For the first time since they decided to get married next weekend, they weren’t buried under lists or timelines or well-meaning interference.

Just quiet. Just them.

“Amara’s a miracle worker,” She murmured.

He grunted in agreement. “Remind me to send her somethin’ after all this. A bottle of something expensive. Or a week of silence.”

She laughed, eyes closed, content. “That too.”

He looked at her then, the soft golden light playing in her hair, and felt it hit him all over again. This was real. This was happening. And just as he thought the universe might finally be letting them coast, he heard a vehicle pull in the driveway.

He leaned forward, squinting toward the front yard, just in time to see a familiar figure hop out of the driver seat like he owned the place.

Jim Kirk.

Of course.

He sighed, standing and stretching as he muttered, “And there goes the peace and quiet.”

She opened one eye. “Kirk’s here already?”

He nodded. “Iowa was killing him so he wanted to come early.”

Leonard walked down the porch steps, already smiling in spite of himself, said plenty.

“Bones,” Jim grinned, slapping him on the shoulder. “Smells like peaches and stress in the air. Must be the right house.”

Leonard grunted. “Glad you made it. Even if it's short notice.”

“You’re getting married,” Jim said, slinging a duffel over one shoulder. “I wasn’t about to miss that. Besides, my high school started asking me to attend alumni brunches, so I had to escape.”

“You can take the guest room at the end of the hall,” Leonard muttered, leading him to the house.

Georgie met them in the steps, arms open. “Kirk, thank you for doing this!”

Jim dropped his bag and swept her into a hug like it had been years. “Come on, Knox. For you two? Anything.” 

The three of them stepped into the house just as Elenora emerged from the kitchen, towel slung over one shoulder and her hands still dusted with flour.

“Jim Kirk, I presume?” she asked.

Jim straightened with easy charm. “Yes, ma’am.”

Before he could say more, she pulled him into a warm, no-nonsense hug.

“You hungry?” she asked as she pulled back.

“Always.”

“Good. Sit down. I’ll fix you a plate.”

Leonard watched it all unfold with that familiar blend of dread and amusement, Jim had been in the house five minutes and already had a full meal on the way. Typical.

A few minutes later, while Jim was working on a second helping of lemonade and pound cake, Porsha strolled in from the backyard, cheeks a little flushed from the sun, wiping her hands on a dish towel.

“Hey Lenny, where’d you want the cake table again?”

That’s when Jim noticed her.

Leonard could hear it, that faint click in Kirk’s brain when curiosity turned into flirtation.

“Well, hello,” Jim said, standing a little taller, posture shifting into full charm mode.

Porsha glanced over with a curious smile. “And who are you?”

“Jim Kirk,” he said, extending a hand with an easy grin. “Captain of the Enterprise, wedding officiant, and longtime friend of the bride and groom.”

“Porsha McCoy,” she replied, shaking his hand. “Lenny’s cousin.”

Jim’s smile widened. “So the good looks run in the family.”

Leonard, who’d been quietly sipping coffee from the kitchen doorway, lowered the mug.

“Nope,” he said flatly.

Jim blinked. “What?”

Leonard stepped forward, arms crossed. “She’s off limits.”

Porsha raised a brow. “Are you serious right now?”

“Completely.”

Jim looked between them, clearly entertained. “You trying to block your own cousin?”

“I’m trying to prevent collateral damage,” Leonard muttered. “One crisis at a time.”

Porsha snorted. “You’re ridiculous.”

Georgie passed through with a slice of pound cake, “Don’t mind Leonard. He’s just allergic to fun.”

“I heard that,” Leonard called back.

“Good,” she said sweetly, disappearing around the corner.

“And you, ” Leonard pointed his mug at Jim, “have a speech to write and a wedding to officiate. Focus.”

Jim threw his hands up in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. I’ll behave.”

Leonard turned and walked back to the porch with a grunt.

Lord help him. The wedding wasn’t for three more days.

The night before the wedding, the McCoy house was filled with motion, footsteps thumping on the stairs, doors creaking open and shut, and voices overlapping from every corner like some big, happy, semi-controlled storm. Leonard had just finished hauling the last box onto the back porch when he heard a shriek of excitement that made him stop cold.

He stepped into the hallway just in time to see Christine and Nyota standing by the front door, both arms full of gift bags, glittered sashes, and God help him, a pink inflatable champagne bottle.

“Leonard!” Christine called, grinning wide. “You look more stressed than when we got stranded on Delta Seris Four.”

“I—what the hell is this?” Leonard asked.

“Bachelorette party!” Nyota sang, giving Georgie a quick hug.

“Here?” he said, bewildered. “Now?”

Georgie looked at him over her shoulder, already caught in the crossfire of boas and faux diamond tiaras. “I didn’t plan it!” she laughed. “This is all Porsha.”

Right on cue, Porsha entered from the kitchen, holding a tray of tequila shots and wearing a sash that read Party General .

“Relax, Lenny,” she said. “We’re just getting her loosened up before the big day. Pregame starts now, and then we’re hitting a bar downtown.”

Leonard blinked, glancing helplessly at Georgie, who was laughing so hard she was crying, and then at the door, where pink streamers were already being unrolled.

“I just—” he started.

“I’ll bring her back in one piece,” Porsha said firmly, clapping him on the shoulder like they were going to war.

He let out a slow breath and looked at Georgie one more time. She smiled at him, eyes sparkling, full of mischief and joy.

That was all it took.

“Fine,” he muttered. “Please don’t test the county’s ‘public indecency’ laws tonight.”

Georgie blew him a kiss. “Noted.”

He watched them pile into a party bus, all noise and flash and confidence. The house was suddenly quiet.

Then he heard Jim’s voice behind him.

“Well, that looked terrifying,” Jim said, leaning against the kitchen doorway. “You gonna be alright?”

Leonard rubbed his temples. “God, I hope so.”

“Don’t worry, I got something for you too.” Jim held up cigars and a bottle of bourbon with a grin. “Come on, let’s celebrate.”

The backyard was quiet, string lights casting a warm glow across the half-set tables and the arch Leonard had helped Porsha finish that afternoon. The breeze carried the faint smell of honeysuckle and cut grass, and somewhere nearby, frogs were croaking in the trees.

Jim handed him a cigar and a glass of bourbon and dropped onto one of the folding chairs with a sigh. Leonard joined him.

For a while, they just sat, smoke curling lazily in the air, bourbon warming their throats. The kind of silence that didn’t need filling.

“She’s gonna be alright,” Jim said finally, nodding toward the road where the girls had disappeared. “She’s got her crew.”

Leonard grunted. “Yeah. I know.”

“She’ll come back full of glitter and secrets, but in one piece.”

Leonard huffed a quiet laugh. “Probably louder than she left.”

Jim took a sip and looked around the yard. “This is nice. Peaceful. You did good, Bones.”

Leonard was quiet for a second. “I didn’t expect it to feel like this.”

“Like what?”

He glanced at Jim. “Calm. Like I can finally exhale.”

Jim nodded. “You’re marrying the right person. That’s what that is.”

They sipped for a beat, and Leonard looked at the arch. In twenty-four hours, he’d stand under it and make a promise he never thought he’d make again.

“She changed everything,” he said.

Jim looked over. “So did you.”

Leonard didn’t reply right away. He just stared out at the yard, tables half-set, chairs waiting, string lights dancing in the trees. It wasn’t fancy, but it was theirs.

He raised his glass toward Jim.

“To showing up,” he said.

Jim clinked his glass against Leonard’s. “To doing it scared anyway.”

Jim sipped his drink and leaned back, gaze soft.

“So,” he said. “You ready?”

Leonard looked down at the glass in his hand, then over at the quiet house. “Yeah. I really am.”

“You nervous?”

He shook his head slowly. “I think I was. Before. But now… it’s like I’ve already made peace with all of it. Like I’ve already chosen her a hundred times over.”

Jim smiled. “You know, I always figured you’d end up with someone sharp-tongued and smarter than you.”

“She is.”

“And I figured you’d be the last to admit it.”

Leonard chuckled, taking another sip. “You officiatin’ this thing or roastin’ me alive?”

“Little bit of both,” Jim grinned.

As the night wore on, he and Jim just talked, probably the longest uninterrupted conversation they’d ever had without a red alert blaring or someone needing the Captain’s approval. The hours drifted by, the kind of quiet only lifelong friendship could hold.

Then came the sound of feet against the wooden back porch. They fell silent.

Georgie stepped out, still in her bridal sash, glowing and barefoot, her hair slightly tousled. She looked like she’d danced herself half to death, and loved every second of it.

“I figured I’d find you out here,” she said.

Jim stood, stretching with a groan. “And that’s my cue. I’ll leave you two. Goodnight, folks.”

Leonard watched as Jim disappeared into the house, then turned just as Georgie stepped closer.

She eased into his lap, settling sideways, her legs draped across his with practiced ease, one hand resting lightly on his chest.

“You looked like you had fun,” he murmured, a smile tugging at his mouth. “Maybe too much fun.”

She smirked. “I ended up dancing on top of a bar with Nyota. We got kicked out.”

He raised an eyebrow and  let out a low chuckle. “The four of you are the definition of trouble.”

“And proud of it.”

He brushed a few strands from her hair. “What did I miss while you were out getting banned from local establishments?”

“Just some cheap drinks, a lot of yelling, and enough glitter to fuel a galaxy.”

“What did you do tonight?” she asked.

“Jim and I caught up. A couple cigars, some bourbon.”

She wrinkled her nose playfully. “Yeah… I can smell the cigar on you.”

They sat quietly for a moment.

“Tomorrow,” she said, smiling gently. “I’m marrying you tomorrow.”

He leaned in, his nose brushing hers. “You sure about that?”

She kissed him, soft, slow, like they had all the time in the world.

“I’ve never been more sure.”

She kissed him again before standing, her hand lingering in his just a second longer than necessary.

“Goodnight, Len.”

“Goodnight, Sweetheart.”

She stepped back toward the door, her eyes never leaving his.

“The next time you see me,” she said with a soft grin, “I’ll be walking toward you… as your wife.”

The door closed behind her with a gentle click, and Leonard sat back, heart full. The night stretched quiet around him, just the hush of the Georgia air, the crickets, and a sky full of stars overhead. For a long moment, he let it settle in.

Tomorrow.

He didn’t sleep much. She was just down the hall, tucked away in her parents’ room for the night, tradition, superstition, or maybe just the build-up of it all. Still, even one night without her beside him left a strange hollow in the dark. Funny how fast you get used to someone being your constant.

The morning came fast, sun pouring through the window with no intention of being gentle. Leonard had managed a small breakfast, but the rest of the day blurred past in a quiet sort of haze. He stayed mostly in his room, tucked away in the calm before everything began. Jim popped in at one point with a crooked smile and a joke that didn’t quite land. Robert stopped by too, gave his shoulder a firm squeeze and called him “son.” Even that nearly made him emotional.

Amara eventually knocked, tablet in hand, and told him it was time to get dressed.

Now, he stood in front of the old mirror in his childhood bedroom, adjusting the collar of his crisp white shirt for the third time. It still didn’t feel real. The suit fit perfectly; the day was here. And yet, as evening crept closer and the soft hum of music floated in from the backyard, all he could feel was the quiet thrum in his chest, the build of nerves that came with knowing everything was about to change.

The man staring back at him looked composed, more than that, he looked sharp. The dark navy suit was tailored to the inch, clean lines that hugged his frame just right. It had a subtle sheen that caught the morning light, giving it a quiet confidence. A chocolate brown tie sat knotted tight at his throat, offset by a white pocket square with the faintest polka dots, just enough flair without going loud. On his wrist, the silver cuff she’d given him for his birthday caught the light like it knew it belonged there.

He looked good. Better than he wanted to admit. But all he could think about was her. And the moment he’d see her again, walking toward him, in that dress, ready to become his wife.

And yet, his fingers fumbled with the lapel as if they didn’t belong to him.

He could recite a hundred medical procedures without breaking a sweat. Could stand in front of a board of admirals and argue medical diagnostics in his sleep. But this, this moment, this suit, this day, it made his palms sweat. Made his heart thump a little too hard against the starch of his shirt.

He shifted from foot to foot, taking himself in. The suit had been his mother’s idea. “Something timeless,” she’d said. “Something that makes her knees go weak.” He’d grumbled at the time, naturally, but now, standing there, he couldn’t help but imagine the look Georgie would give him.

That look she got whenever he wore a crisp uniform, stood a little taller, got deep into his work, part awe, part affection, part fire. She hadn’t seen him like this yet, but he knew that look was coming. And he couldn’t wait.

He ran a hand through his hair, smoothed the front of his jacket, and exhaled slow. The door open behind him, and Jim’s voice followed.

“You keep messing with it, you’re gonna stretch the poor thing out.”

Leonard huffed through his nose. “It’s sittin’ funny. I feel like I’m about to perform an autopsy on myself.”

“You look fine,” Jim said, stepping in and fixing the lapel for him like it was second nature. “Actually, you look better than fine. You look like a man about to marry someone way out of his league.”

Leonard smirked. “That’s the first thing you’ve gotten right today.”

Jim gave him a once-over, then nodded. “Alright, cowboy. You clean up well. Now, what’s next?”

Leonard opened his mouth to say “Go check on Georgie”, but before he could, his mother’s voice rang out from the hallway.

“Don’t you even think about it, Leonard Horatio McCoy!”

He froze.

Elenora pushed the door open with one hand, a wide smile on her face and a dish towel slung over her shoulder. “The bride has made it very clear that the groom is not to see her before the ceremony.”

Leonard didn’t even look up. “Yeah, yeah, I know. No peeking.”

“She was adamant , ” Elenora said, amused. “Said, and I quote, ‘just because I’m not traditional doesn’t mean I’m skippin’ the drama of a reveal.’”

Leonard chuckled, “Sounds exactly like her.”

Elenora stepped forward, straightening his cuff like she’d done when he was ten and about to leave for church. “You ready, baby?”

He nodded, slower this time. “Yeah. I am.”

His mom studied him for a second, her hand resting lightly on his shoulder. “Your daddy would be so proud of you. Of both of you.”

Leonard swallowed hard, then gave a small nod. “I’ve been thinkin’ about him all morning.”

Elenora smiled gently. “He’ll be with you today. No doubt about it.” 

A gentle knock tapped at the bedroom door before it creaked open. Jim turned just as Diane stepped inside, glowing in a soft purple floral dress.

“Just checking in on the groom,” she said, then stopped, hand to her chest. “Oh honey, look at you.”

She crossed the room and kissed Leonard on the cheek.

“You look amazing.”

He offered a shy smile. “Thank you, Diane. You look stunning yourself.”

Diane turned to Elenora, who had just came behind her, and slipped her arm through hers. “I’ve got to admit,” she said, eyes still on Leonard, “your boy cleans up real nice.”

Elenora beamed. “He’s always had that in him. Just needed the right girl to bring it out.”

Diane winked. “Well, he found her.”

Leonard flushed, ears turning pink.

Jim grinned and clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Careful, Doc. If you get any redder, we’ll have to check your vitals.”

Leonard shot him a look. “Keep it up and you’re gonna officiate this wedding with a black eye.”

Jim only laughed. “Now that sounds like the Bones I know.”

No one had told him how fast the morning would go, or how strange it would feel to not be with her, especially today. They’d spent almost every moment together for months, glued at the hip, stealing quiet kisses, slow dancing barefoot in the kitchen late at night.

Now she was just a few rooms away… and completely off-limits until it was time.

He didn’t like it. But he respected it.

It was her one traditional ask. The one moment she wanted to hold onto before walking down the aisle with her hair done and her eyes locked on his.

“Alright,” Leonard said finally, “Let’s get me married before I start sneakin’ around the house like a fool.”

As they stepped out into the hallway, Elenora gently swatted Leonard’s arm. “And don’t you even try peeking.”

The chairs were full. Leonard could hardly believe it. Rows of people had gathered in the backyard, family on both sides, friends from across light-years, the old and the young, all seated under the glow of string lights and a perfect blue sky just beginning to tip toward gold. The arch, now draped in soft ivory fabric and fresh blooms, framed the front lawn like something out of a dream. Somehow, Amara had made it all come together. Everything was on time, in place, and moving with calm, well-managed rhythm.

Leonard stood at the arch with Jim, trying not to tug at the collar of his suit. The heat of the evening crept beneath the formal fabric; he could feel a bead of sweat start to crawl down his side. His heart was thudding a little too hard.

Jim leaned in and put a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey,” he whispered, low enough for no one else to hear. “Remember to breathe.”

Leonard let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “Easy for you to say.”

A quiet ripple of applause spread from the chairs as the music changed. Someone began playing the violin, not anyone Leonard recognized, but the notes floated out over the yard like a prayer. Slow, clear, graceful. It focused him somehow, pulling him out of the spiral in his head and into the moment. Into this.

And then she appeared.

Georgie stepped out from the house, her hand looped through her father’s arm.

Time didn’t stop, but it slowed to a reverent crawl.

Her dress, soft ivory silk crepe, moved like water around her frame. The square neckline and flutter sleeves framed her shoulders, delicate and sure. The fabric skimmed her figure without clinging, the hem trailing in a short, sweeping train that brushed the ground like wind over grass. A gold hairpin shimmered in her low bun, catching the sun like it had been waiting just for her.

Leonard’s breath caught. His chest tightened. And then the tears came, unashamed and unstoppable; not loud, not messy, just full, brimming.

Because this was her. His girl. His heart. Georgie Knox. Soon to be McCoy.

Robert’s expression was a study in pride and emotion. He held her, eyes forward, jaw tight. When they reached the arch, Robert looked Leonard straight in the eye, then pulled him into a brief, firm hug before placing Georgie’s hand in his.

“She’s yours now,” he murmured. “Take care of her.”

Leonard nodded, too overcome to speak.

As Robert took his seat beside Diane, Leonard caught a glimpse of his mother already dabbing at her nose with a tissue, her eyes shining with pride. She looked like she might burst if she didn’t get to hug someone soon. Diane reached over to squeeze Elenora’s hand. Georgie reached up and gently wiped a tear from Leonard’s cheek. Her fingers lingered a second longer than they needed to.

“I love you,” she mouthed.

He nodded. His hand tightened around hers.

Jim stepped forward, clearing his throat, but even he seemed softer than usual.

“Family, friends, fellow travelers,” Jim began, his voice carrying over the hush of the evening air, “we’re gathered here today under the open sky, surrounded by the people who love these two, to witness something sacred, and a little bit miraculous; two people choosing each other.”

A few chuckles and soft sniffles rippled through the crowd.

“I’ve had the privilege of knowing Leonard longer than I probably deserve,” Jim continued, a twinkle in his eye. “I’ve watched him patch up a dozen species, argue with admirals, and turn sarcasm into an art form. But I’ve never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at Georgie.”

He turned slightly, eyes landing on the couple.

“I haven’t known Georgie quite as long, but it didn’t take years to recognize something rare. She’s bold, straight to the point, and committed. She commands a room without needing to raise her voice. And the way she cares, it runs deep. Watching her care for Leonard… I knew then that my friend had found someone who truly saw him.”

A pause, then a playful grin tugged at Jim’s mouth.

“And the way they came together? Oh, if you all could’ve seen it…” He laughed softly. “They orbited each other for months, two of the most stubborn people I’ve ever met, trying to pretend they were just friends . It was the best slow burn I’ve ever seen.”

Leonard rolled his eyes, which only made Jim’s grin widen.

“But something kept pulling them closer. And eventually, they leaned in, not to something perfect, but to a shared life. Something worth fighting for. And that kind of love? That’s worth every misstep along the way.”

His voice softened.

“It’s a rare thing, to find a love that feels like home in a universe this wide. But these two did. And today, they’re making it official.”

Jim paused, then looked at them both.

“They’ve chosen to write their own vows.”

Georgie’s voice was shaky when she began her vows, her hand never leaving his.

“You are my home,” she said. “The place I go when the world spins too fast. You make me feel safe, like no matter what else is falling apart, I can lean on you. And you’ve never asked me to be anything but exactly who I am. I choose you, Leonard. Every day. In deep space, in quiet mornings, in joy and in chaos. I promise to walk beside you, even when you’re being stubborn. Especially then.”

Laughter rippled through the guests.

“So here’s my promise to you; I will be your partner, your calm in the chaos, and your biggest fan, even when you’re muttering under your breath and swearing at inanimate objects. I will protect what we build. I will love you with my whole heart. And I will keep choosing you, even when life throws curveballs. You’re my home, Len. And I can’t wait to spend the rest of our days building something beautiful with you.”

Then Leonard spoke. His voice was hoarse, but clear.

“I never thought I’d do this again,” he admitted, voice low. “Wasn’t sure I had it in me. But then I met you, and everything changed. You see every part of me. The good. The mess. The parts I don’t even like looking at. And somehow, you still stay. You make me want to be the kind of man you already believe I am. You’ve become my calm, my compass, my favorite argument, and my home. When things fall apart, you’re the one I want beside me. And when things go right, well, that’s still new to me. But I’m damn glad it’s with you. I promise to love you the way you deserve. To keep you grounded when you’re flying high. To fight for you, protect you, and always listen, even when I think I know better.”

He paused, his smile tugging a little wry at the corners.

“And if I ever forget how lucky I am, you’re fully authorized to remind me, with a look, a sharp elbow, or phaser stun. Dealer’s choice.”

Georgie gave a little smirk at that, which made a few people chuckle.

Leonard’s voice softened. “Wherever you go, I go. You’re it for me.”

Jim stepped forward, blinking once as he composed himself.

“By the power vested in me by Starfleet Command and about a hundred light-years of shared history,” he said, “I now pronounce you husband and wife. Bones, you may kiss your bride.”

Leonard didn’t wait.

He leaned in, kissed her like the rest of the world had faded. Like they’d already stepped into the life they’d chosen, together. The yard erupted into cheers. Applause, whistles, someone’s baby laughing somewhere in the back.

Georgie smiled into the kiss. Leonard’s hand cupped her cheek as he pulled back, his eyes still wet but bright.

“Hi, wife,” he whispered.

She grinned. “Hi, husband.”

They turned to face the crowd, one hand still holding the other, and stepped into the first day of forever.

The backyard had transformed again, bathed in golden light, alive with laughter and clinking glasses. Strings of lights twinkled overhead, catching in the branches of the magnolia tree, while soft music floated through the evening air. It felt less like an event and more like a celebration wrapped in love.

The sun had dipped low by the time Amara and her small crew finished stringing up the last of the lanterns. Candles flickered along the length of one long table that stretched across the center of the yard, set beneath soft hanging lights that glowed like fireflies. The place smelled like a perfect warm Georgia day.

A warm breeze carried the scent of baked peaches and fresh-cut grass. Linen napkins fluttered at the edges, and the soft hum of cicadas underscored the gentle clatter of forks and quiet laughter. Dishes were already being passed, big bowls of collard greens, honey cornbread, fried chicken crisped to perfection, creamy mac and cheese, and deviled eggs dusted with paprika. Elenora had outdone herself again, with some help this time from Diane and Porsha.

Leonard sat at the end of the table with Georgie beside him, her hand still looped through his under the linen cloth. Her thumb traced idle circles along the back of his hand, and every now and then, she’d lean in to laugh at something one of the kids said, or tilt her head back to look up at the lights like she was trying to memorize the moment.

He looked down the table and let himself absorb it all, the easy joy, the full hearts, the closeness. A soft exhale of everything they’d survived to get here. And when he glanced at Georgie again, her eyes already shining, he knew she felt it too.

There was Spock seated beside Nyota while she leaned across the table to say something to Christine. Whatever it was had both women laughing so hard they had to grip each other’s arms for support. A few seats down, Hikaru and Ben sat close, eating and swaying gently to the music. Across from them, Scotty was on his third helping of food, passionately defending the balance of his plate like it was a matter of engineering principle. Chekov had managed to stack nearly every side dish on his plate, a chaotic masterpiece of Southern cuisine, and was proudly working his way through it.

Further down the table, Jacob, Tim, and Bryan sat with their wives, swapping stories that had the whole group in stitches.

On the far end, kids darted between chairs, sticky-fingered and loud, dragging laughter in their wake. His Auntie Jean, Auntie Carol, and Auntie May sat together like a trio of royal advisors, keeping a watchful eye on everything while passing rolls and opinions. 

And interspersed among them all were members of Georgie’s family, faces he hadn’t met until this week but had been eager to. A few of her cousins from Chicago, an uncle with her same stubborn brow, an aunt who had cried the moment Georgie walked down the aisle. He made a mental note to make his way over to greet them all properly before the night was done.

It was a blur of accents and laughter, of blended stories and shared food, of Knoxes and McCoys and Enterprise crew folding into each other like they’d always belonged.

Leonard turned toward Georgie, her profile glowing golden in the soft light. Her hand was still looped through his, thumb tracing small circles on his skin. He leaned in and kissed her temple.

“We actually pulled this off.”

She smiled without looking away from the table, her voice low and content. “We really did.”

After the last of the plates had been cleared, Leonard stood, knocking gently on his glass. The chatter dimmed.

“I’m not a speech guy,” he began, clearing his throat. “But I’d be an idiot not to say something tonight.”

A small laugh passed through the crowd.

“I just want to thank every single one of you, for coming here, for being part of this day. For loving us the way you do. Some of you crossed galaxies to be here. Some of you just crossed the backyard.”

A round of chuckles.

He glanced toward his mother. “Thank you, Ma. You made all this happen. And Diane, Robert… you’ve welcomed me into your family in a way I never expected but always hoped for.”

Georgie squeezed his hand beneath the table.

He took a breath. “This backyard, this table, it’s more than a meal. It’s a reminder that no matter how far we go, we’ve got somewhere to land. Thank you for giving us that.”

There were a few teary eyes and solid claps. 

Then, as Amara cut through the group carrying a white cake stand, Leonard smiled. “Alright. Enough of me talking. Let’s cut this cake before someone else does it for us.”

The lemon blueberry cake was simple but beautiful, dotted with fresh berries and soft sugared flowers. Georgie grinned as she guided his hand with hers, slicing the first piece together with minimal mess, though she did swipe a dab of frosting onto his nose with a wicked smile. 

The music shifted slow, soulful, rich with promise. A low hum of bass rolled beneath honeyed chords, and the air seemed to settle around it. It wasn’t just background noise; it called to them. Something old-fashioned and full of heart, like falling in love on purpose.

Leonard stepped forward, hand out “May I have this dance, Mrs. McCoy?”

Georgie didn’t hesitate. “You may.”

They stepped into the open space beneath the lights as the crowd eased back, giving them room. The world seemed to hush. The song low and glowing wrapped around them like velvet, and suddenly it wasn’t just a dance. It was a moment. One they had earned.

Leonard pulled her close, his hand pressing gently at her back, the other catching her hand. Georgie met his eyes with a knowing smile, one that said she could hear every note the way he did. They didn’t speak, but it was like they were singing it to each other with their bodies. A private vow carried in rhythm.

They swayed, heads brushing, foreheads nearly touching. His hand slid up her back, hers played at the base of his neck. He led with a gentleness that made her glow. Every step, every turn felt like it belonged to them alone. A high so pure, it made the stars jealous.

She leaned in, eyes locked with his. “You’re doing pretty well for someone who swears he’s got two left feet.”

Leonard smirked. “Don’t tempt me to show off. I told you, I dance better when I’m in love.”

And then he did. A gentle spin, her dress flaring around her as she laughed, giddy and bright. A dip, not too low, but just enough to hear Porsha yell “Okay, Lenny!” from the sidelines.

The music carried on, but everything else faded. Just the two of them, pressing forehead to forehead as they swayed out the last few bars, grinning like they were lit from the inside.

Their first dance didn’t end with a pose. It ended with a kiss. Like the exhale of a promise kept. Then the floor opened.

Tim and Bryan hauled their wives out next. Sulu swept Ben into a graceful twirl. Scotty, already tipsy, attempted a kind of two-step with Christine, who laughed so hard she cried.

Leonard stood back and waved Georgie off with a teasing nudge. “Go on. Go dance. I’ll be here.”

“You sure?”

He nodded. “Go have fun. Just don’t let Sulu dip you too hard.”

She winked and spun off, catching both Sulu and Ben by the hands like a force of joy. Leonard watched her laugh between them, glow with the rhythm. Her hair had loosened a bit, the soft gold pin slipping toward one side, but he couldn’t imagine her more beautiful.

Then someone smacked him on the shoulder.

“Shots?” Jacob grinned, raising a tray.

Leonard gave him a look. “No, thanks.”

“Oh, come on!”

“I don’t need to prove anything tonight,” Leonard said simply. “I’m good.”

Jacob made a face. “You getting soft?”

Leonard looked toward Georgie, dancing barefoot in the grass now.

“Yeah,” he said. “And I like it.”

Then he caught sight of Porsha over by the coolers, sipping a glass of tea and surveying the yard like a proud general. She was still in the heels she'd threatened to ditch two hours ago and hadn’t broken stride once. God bless her.

He made his way over.

“Hey,” he said, just loud enough for her to hear over the music. “You got a second?”

Porsha arched a brow, curious. “What’s up?”

He extended his hand. “Dance with me?”

She blinked. “You serious, Lenny?”

“I don’t ask twice.”

Porsha chuckled and took his hand. “Fine. Just don’t step on my toes.”

They stepped into the soft lamplight near the edge of the dance floor as a gentle R&B ballad played. He led them into a slow sway, nothing fancy, just comfortable.

“I just wanted to say thank you,” he said after a moment, his voice low.

Porsha tilted her head. “For what?”

“For all of it.” He looked down at their hands, then back up at her. “For helping me back then. For dragging me out of that mess. For seeing something worth saving. If you hadn’t… I wouldn’t have gotten into Starfleet. I wouldn’t have met her.”

Porsha’s eyes shimmered slightly, though her smile didn’t falter.

“You helped set the course, and I never said that out loud. So… thank you. You’re the closest thing I’ve ever had to a sister.”

Porsha swallowed and nodded once, trying to hold it together. “You’ve grown up,” she said. “A lot. You’re not the same.”

He laughed under his breath, eyes shining. “No, I’m not.”

“And Georgie…” she shook her head softly, “I love that girl for you. I mean that.”

Leonard leaned in and pressed a kiss to her cheek, pulling back with a grateful look.

“Thank you.”

She smiled, blinking quickly to keep from crying. “Anytime, Lenny Lamb.”

The couple found their way back to each other and made their rounds through the backyard, chatting with guests and catching up with family. Georgie had introduced Leonard to her Auntie B and Uncle James, whose warmth and insistence on a Chicago visit earned a genuine smile from him.

Then something caught his eye.

Jim. And Porsha. Dancing.

Too close.

Leonard squinted, head tilting. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

He took a slow, deliberate step forward, already crafting the opening line of a sarcastic warning, until Georgie stepped beside him like clockwork, wrapping an arm around his waist and pressing a kiss to his jaw.

“Don’t even think about it,” she said sweetly.

“I’m just saying, there are boundaries,” he muttered.

She grinned. “Jim’s harmless.”

Leonard raised a brow. “Tell that to my cousin’s shameless grinding.”

“Relax, Len. It’s a party. Plus let’s just focus on us.”

He sighed but relented, changing topics “I have something for you,” he said.

She blinked, curious. “Yeah?”

“For our honeymoon,” he continued, “I booked us a night at a historic hotel in Atlanta. Then a few days in that cabin, just the two of us. I figured the great outdoors would be a nice change.”

Her eyes widened, lighting up. “You did?”

He nodded. “Thought it’d be good for us. We’ve pretty much been surrounded by people since the day we met. This’ll be the first time it’s just... us.”

She threw her arms around his neck. “I love this. It sounds amazing.”

“Plus,” he added, smirking, “figured with all the sex we’ll be having, we won’t scar our parents.”

“Of course that’s what you think about,” she whispered, laughing against his shoulder.

He held her close. “Am I wrong?”

Chapter Text

The evening had unraveled in laughter, music, and hugs that lingered. As the last song faded and sparklers burned down to soft embers, friends and family lined the walkway with tired eyes and full hearts. Georgie’s dress fluttered in the breeze, Leonard’s jacket slung over one shoulder, tie long undone. They slipped through a tunnel of cheers and clinking glasses, ducking into the getaway car like it was a secret they got to keep.

The sun was long gone by the time they arrived at the old hotel in downtown Atlanta. The building stood proud with its weathered brick façade, wrought-iron balconies, and windows that seemed to have held secrets for generations. Inside, the scent of aged wood and lemon polish lingered in the air, and the soft creak of the floorboards added to its charm.

He carried their overnight bag while Georgie practically floated beside him, her cheeks pink from champagne and joy, her hair pinned loosely, adorned with flower petals from the sendoff.

“This place is so cute , ” she whispered as they climbed the stairs to their room, fingers brushing the polished bannister. “It’s like something out of a Southern novel. There’s probably a ghost in the closet.”

Leonard grinned. “If there is, I hope it at least offers turndown service.”

When he opened the door to their room, Georgie gasped, an honest, unfiltered sound of delight. It was modest, not showy in the slightest, but full of historical charm. A hand-carved wooden bed, deep green velvet drapes, a fireplace that likely hadn’t worked in decades, and best of all, an antique clawfoot tub tucked into a nook near a wide window, with a stand of bubble bath and salts sitting ready.

She gasped, “We are absolutely getting in that tub.”

He chuckled, dropping the bag by the bed. “Well, we did sweat through about six layers of clothes today.”

“And I married the hottest man in the galaxy,” she added, flopping back dramatically onto the bed, arms spread wide. “How did I get so lucky?”

He stepped toward her, undoing the buttons on his shirt slowly. “You sure you’re not still tipsy?”

“I’m married to you, Len,” she said dreamily. “If I’m dreaming, don’t wake me up.”

They shared a slow and sweet kiss, but She quickly wiggled from his embrace. “Okay, come on. Bath time. We deserve bubbles.”

She padded barefoot across the wooden floor and began running the water, pouring in a generous glug of rosemary-scented bubble bath. The tub steamed up quickly, the scent warm and soothing. He climbed in first, settling into the deep porcelain basin, and Georgie followed, settling between his legs with a content sigh.

“Okay,” she said, leaning her head back against his chest, “this might be the best part of the day.”

He kissed her temple. “Better than marryin’ me?”

“Almost.”

They sank into the warm water together, the tub barely big enough for two, but perfect all the same. The candlelight flickered off the walls, casting soft shadows across the room. He settled behind her, arms wrapping around her waist as she leaned back against his chest with a sigh that melted the last of the day’s tension from her body. They didn’t talk. They didn’t need to. The silence was its own kind of balm.

His hands moved slowly over her back, thumbs pressing gently at the base of her neck, working slow circles between her shoulder blades. She let out a low hum, more breath than voice.

“That’s good,” she murmured.

“I know,” he said quietly, smiling against her damp hair.

He kept going, working his way down the length of her spine with practiced, loving pressure. His fingers traced the curve of her back, her sides, never in a rush. Just being there. Just touching her because he could. Her breathing slowed, head tipping forward slightly, muscles going slack under his palms. A few minutes passed before he realized she’d gone still, not just relaxed, but fully asleep in his arms.

He tilted his head to look at her, cheek resting on his chest, mouth parted slightly, still wrapped in the warmth of the bath and whatever peaceful dream she’d wandered into. He didn't blame her. It had been a long day, beautiful, but full, and she’d poured herself into every second of it.

He didn’t move. Just let her rest, one hand drifting lazily up and down her arm. The room was quiet, save for the soft slosh of water and the occasional creak of the pipes. Time slowed. He stayed like that until his fingers pruned and the water cooled, and even then, he didn’t rush her. She’d given him everything today. The least he could do was let her sleep.

The room was quiet, wrapped in the soft haze of morning light filtering through the antique lace curtains. The sheets smelled faintly of lavender and worn cotton. He stirred beneath the covers, arm flung over the edge of the bed, head still foggy from sleep and… everything else.

Beep-beep. Beep-beep.

He groaned, eyes cracking open. The sound was distant, muffled. Somewhere in the room.

The communicator.

“Where the hell…?” he muttered, rolling out of bed in nothing but boxers and a sleepy scowl.

He checked the nightstand. Nothing.

Floor? Nope.

Eventually he found it lodged between the pillows on the armchair across the room, blinking insistently. He plopped down into the chair with a huff and tapped the screen.

A written message.

Starfleet Command

Finalized assignment. USS Enterprise scheduled for redeployment in three weeks. New exploration initiative. Details to follow.

He blinked, his stomach tightening, not in dread, but in something closer to excitement. Three weeks. Somewhat enough time to breathe. Then another message pinged, this time with a formal insignia flashing across the screen. He sat up straighter.

Admiral Wolf Davis, the stern but sharp Federation official they’d met during the Babel Conference and who enjoyed their presentation. He opened the message.

Dr. McCoy,

Word travels fast, congratulations to you and Lieutenant Knox. I heard from Captain Kirk that the ceremony was "a proper Southern affair" .

On a more formal note, I and several colleagues at Starfleet Command were impressed by your joint presentation at the Babel Conference. We'd like to invite you and Lieutenant Commander Knox to present to the Academy Curriculum Directors next week. Your blend of tactical and medical preparedness is exactly the kind of forward-thinking collaboration we want our cadets to see. Additionally, we would like to extend an invitation for the both of you to guest lecture in your respective departments and share your experiences firsthand.

Let me know if you're available.

—W. Davis

He let out a low whistle. “Well, I’ll be damned.”

He stood and crossed the room, communicator still in hand, and climbed back into bed. Georgie was still tangled in the blankets, hair wrapped in a purple bonnet, one hand curled beneath her cheek.

He leaned down and started pressing gentle kisses along her shoulder.

“Mornin’, Mrs. McCoy.”

She stirred, smiling sleepily without opening her eyes. “Mmm. Don’t stop.”

“I won’t,” he whispered, brushing a kiss just below her jaw. “But I’ve got some news.”

She blinked up at him. “Is it bad news or are you just using that as an excuse to wake me up like this?”

“Good news,” he said, lips still brushing her skin. “We got our next assignment. Three weeks. New region to explore.”

Her eyes fluttered open fully now, grin blooming. “Three weeks, huh?”

“Yup. Just enough time to finish our honeymoon, some sun, and maybe a nap or two.”

“I like it already.”

He kissed the tip of her nose. “And there’s more. Admiral Davis, you remember him from Babel?”

“The stern one who talked to us after the presentation?”

“That’s the one. He sent a message. Said he and some of the brass were impressed with our joint presentation. They want us to present again. This time in front of the Academy curriculum directors. And to guest lecture for our departments.”

Georgie blinked. “Are you serious?”

“Dead serious. Next week, if we’re available.”

“ Are we?”

He tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. “I want to do it if you do.”

She stared at him a moment, her smile softening into something more thoughtful.

“Len… look at us,” she whispered. “Married. With joint Starfleet presentations and lectures. This turned out better than I ever imagined.”

He kissed her again, slow and sweet. “It worked out. Us gettin’ married when we did. No regrets.”

“Not a single one.”

They laid there for another minute, quiet and wrapped in each other, before she asked through a yawn, “So, what’s the plan today, husband?”

He grinned. “Was thinkin’ I’d show you around town. The good coffee spots, maybe where I broke my arm at age ten, the old bookshop with the cat that probably outlived three owners.”

“Sold,” she said, stretching with a happy sigh. “But only if breakfast comes first.”

The air was warm and sweet as they stepped out of the hotel, bellies full from breakfast and moods light. They had lingered over buttery biscuits and café au lait too long, basking in the slow rhythm of honeymoon mornings, but now the world outside was calling.

Hand in hand, they wandered through the vibrant stalls of the local farmers market just a few blocks away. There were jars of jam with handwritten labels, spicy boiled peanuts in paper sacks, peaches so ripe they gave off a syrupy perfume, and hand-carved trinkets from local artisans. Georgie tried every sample. Leonard pretended to hate it, but never stopped smiling.

Peachtree Street buzzed with life as they strolled past old record stores, bookstores, and shops packed with vintage t-shirts and mismatched mugs. She pulled him into every other window that caught her eye. Leonard followed willingly, happy to carry her bag, happy just to be.

The sky hung low and gray as Leonard and Georgie packed the last of their things, leaving behind the hotel’s vintage charm and the buzz of city streets for something quieter, something greener.

The ride out of Atlanta wound them through rolling hills and thick trees, the roads twisting between patches of farmland where life moved slower, more still. Civilization thinned out until it was just them, the hum of the engine, and the steady sprawl of countryside.

The drive was easy. They talked the way only newlyweds could, bantering back and forth, still riding the high from the wedding. Jokes, half-finished stories, the kind of conversations that didn’t need a point, just an excuse to keep hearing each other’s voices.

They made a quick stop at a grocery store to pick up supplies for their stay. He learned something important there; Georgie hated grocery shopping. She scowled at the aisles like they were her sworn enemy, impatient as he debated between brands of coffee.

Leonard grinned to himself, steering their cart past rows of produce and canned goods, mentally filing it away. If they ever managed to settle down somewhere, planet-side, domestic life and all, he’d be the one doing the shopping. No question.

The cabin was tucked into a secluded patch near a quiet stream, nestled between tall pines and a worn gravel trail that promised hiking, fresh air, and more silence than they’d heard in months.

When they pulled up, he took in the sight; weathered wood, a wide stone chimney, wind chimes clinking softly in the breeze. Georgie stepped out first, stretching her arms overhead, breathing it all in.

“Len,” she said, hands on her hips, voice low with appreciation. “This is perfect.”

He smiled, watching her. “My parents used to rent places like this every summer. No tech, no schedule. Just a creek, a campfire, and the occasional splinter.”

She turned with a smirk. “And now I get to witness the legend of Camp McCoy?”

He leaned in, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “With better company this time.”

They unpacked slowly, windows cracked to let in the pine-scented air, boots kicked off by the door, jackets hung on old iron hooks. That afternoon, they wandered the trails near the cabin, following the sound of the stream until it opened into a wide bend with a rocky edge. He stopped, grinning at the sight.

“You ever fish before?”

Georgie gave him a look. “Not since I was a kid. But I can learn.”

So he taught her, how to cast, how to feel the tug on the line, how to wait. She was quick, impatient at first, but she settled into it, her usual restlessness giving way to focus. An hour in, she pulled in a decent-sized trout, laughing like she couldn’t quite believe it.

“I got it!” she shouted, holding the line up like a trophy.

He jogged over, grinning. “Great job, sweetheart!”

“Looks like you’ve got dinner,” she said, eyes bright.

“That’s a nice size trout,” he said, clapping her on the back. “I’m impressed.”

“Thanks. But you’re cleaning it.”

He blinked. “What?”

“You heard me, Georgia boy. I baited the hook. You get the guts.”

Leonard laughed, shaking his head. “Fine.”

The sun dipped behind the trees, and Leonard got the fire going quickly. Just instinct and memory, smoke curling up into the cooling air. He wrapped the trout in foil with potatoes and corn, setting them over the grate. The rich scent of roasting fish and buttered vegetables filled the clearing.

They sat together on a log bench, Georgie tucking her legs underneath her, chin resting on her knee as she watched the firelight dance.

“You really love this, don’t you? The outdoors.” she asked.

He nodded. “Yeah. Not just the food or the quiet. It’s simpler out here. Breathing comes easier.”

She smiled, soft and genuine. “I like watching you do something you love.”

He bumped her shoulder gently. “Wait ’til you taste the fish.”

They ate by firelight, foil balanced on their laps. The fish flaked perfectly, the potatoes tender, the corn sweet and charred.

She hummed in delight. “Okay, mountain man. You win.”

He raised a brow. “High praise.”

“Don’t let it go to your head.”

Later, with bellies full and the stars coming out, Leonard rummaged in the cooler, pulling out a bag of marshmallows and chocolate.

“S’mores,” he declared.

Georgie blinked at him. “Never had one.”

“You’ve never had a s’more? What, they don’t have bonfires up there in Chicago?”

“We do. Just never understood the combo.”

He gave her a look, half scandalized. “Woman, we’ve flown through dangers in the darkness of space, and this is what finally breaks me.”

He showed her how to roast the perfect marshmallow. Hers caught fire almost immediately.

“Len!” she gasped, holding up the flaming stick. “It’s a torch!”

“Don’t wave it! Blow it!”

Eventually, she got the hang of it. They made two each, giggling between bites, their fingers sticky with melted chocolate and ash.

As the fire burned down to embers, he reached for her hand. The night pressed in soft and cool, crickets singing, the stream murmuring nearby. She leaned into him, head on his shoulder, content and still. 

The streak of perfect weather had finally broken. Sometime in the night, a storm had rolled in, and by morning, the rain tapped against the wide windows of the cabin. Thunder grumbled low in the distance, not loud enough to startle, just enough to remind him they were tucked away from the rest of the world. He stirred at the sound, his eyes opening to the soft gray light filling the room. The clock on the dresser blinked 6:03 a.m.

He let out a slow breath. She was curled against him, her back warm against his chest, her breathing slow and even. One arm was tucked beneath her pillow, the other resting near his ribs. She looked so at peace, lips slightly parted, lashes still against her cheeks. And God, he loved her like this, unguarded, soft, his.

His hand moved instinctively, brushing the bare skin of her thigh under the covers. It was soft and warm, like velvet against his fingers. He traced slow, featherlight circles up toward her hip, then along the dip of her lower back. His touch wasn’t urgent; it was reverent. Like he needed to remind himself she was real.

A flicker of want sparked low in his stomach. His breathing deepened, chest rising a little faster with each pass of his hand. The arousal came quietly at first, then stronger, building with every second he spent exploring the familiar curves of her body. 

He hadn’t meant to wake her. But she stirred at his touch, a soft sigh slipping past her lips as her back arched just slightly into him. Her hips shifted, and her thighs pressed together in a way that made something deep in him ache.

Then her eyes fluttered open, sleepy and heavy-lidded as she turned her head slightly to look up at him. He smiled, brushing his knuckles gently across her cheek.

“Didn’t mean to wake you,” he murmured.

Her lips curled faintly. “Mmm. I don’t mind.”

She pulled into him, the spark lit instantly.

His mouth found hers with a hunger that had simmered all night, his kiss deep and breath-stealing. She responded just as fast, pulling him over her, legs parting without hesitation as she welcomed the familiar weight of his body pressing into hers.

His hands were everywhere, gripping her waist, sliding up her thighs, tracing the swell of her breasts like he couldn’t get enough. He knelt between her legs, hands steady on her thighs, spreading her wide, guiding her exactly where he wanted her. He gave her a mischievous grin while biting his lip.

“What’s that look?”

“I need to taste you,” he murmured, voice rough as his lips brushed the sensitive skin at the inside of her knee, “it’s been too long.”

She shivered, her hands clutching at the pillow beneath her, body already arching toward him, eager, thighs trembling slightly as she held herself open for him.

“Len—” her voice cracked, hips lifting toward his mouth as he finally leaned in, pressing the softest, slowest kiss right where she needed him most.

The sound she made,half gasp, half moan, was pure music to him.

“Easy, sweetheart,” he murmured, lips brushing against her as he spoke. “I’m just getting started.”

He dipped back down, licking a long, slow stroke between her folds, circling her clit with the perfect amount of pressure, savoring the way she writhed beneath him, the little desperate sounds she couldn’t hold back. He groaned against her, pressing a kiss there before sucking gently, dragging his tongue slow, then fast, teasing her right to the edge. Her hands shot down, fingers threading into his hair, gripping tight.

“Leonard—please—”

But he wasn’t done making her beg. His fingers slid  inside her, deep and firm, curling up just right as his tongue kept working over her clit, matching the rhythm of his strokes, coaxing her higher, holding her hips down firm when she started to lose control.

She was close, he could feel it in the way her thighs tensed, the way her back arched, hips pressing hard into his mouth, chasing the friction.

“Len!”

Her whole body shuddered as she came hard against his mouth, hips bucking despite his grip holding her, her cries echoing off the walls of the cabin. He didn’t let up, licking her through it, fingers stroking her deep and slow as her orgasm rolled through her, wave after wave, until she finally sagged back against the bed, completely undone.

When she could finally open her eyes again, chest heaving, he was still kneeling there between her legs, watching her like she was the only thing that existed. He kissed her hard. His hands framed her face, thumbs stroking along her jaw as he pressed his forehead to hers.

“I love you,” he rasped between kisses. “I want you to feel good all the time.”

Her fingers threaded through his hair, pulling him back just enough to meet his eyes.

“Show me,” she whispered.

And he did.

He shifted, flipping her gently onto her side, curling behind her, one hand lifting her leg to open her to him again. He slid back into her with a groan, the angle deep, intense, making her gasp as her hand flew back to grip his thigh. She gasped into his mouth as he thrust into her hard and deep, groaning softly against her lips as their bodies rocked together with a rhythm that wasn’t careful, wasn’t slow. It was need, raw and full, driving them closer, faster.

“You feel so good.” he murmured into her ear, lips grazing the sensitive skin there as he rocked into her.

She moaned his name again, soft and desperate, pushing back against him, her body giving him everything. And he gave it right back, his mouth on her shoulder, kissing the line of her neck as his hand moved down to where their bodies met, circling her with skilled fingers until she was shaking beneath him.

“Len, I want to come for you.”

“I know, sweetheart,” he whispered, kissing her hard behind the ear. “Let go for me.”

She cried out as she came, body clenching around him, and the feel of her like that, open, giving and undone.

His hand tangled into her hair, holding her there, grounding her through it as she broke beneath him. He didn’t slow, chasing his own release now, but still kissing her skin between the ragged push of his hips. Each thrust grinding deep as the soft creak of the bed and the wet slide of their bodies filled the space between the walls.

A few more hard, aching thrusts, and he was gone, groaning her name into her shoulder as his body tensed, hips stuttering, filling her as he finally gave in. Their bodies stayed tangled, breathless, chests rising and falling together as the morning as the rain continued.

They faced each other. His hand sliding reverently down the curve of her stomach, thumb tracing soft lines along her skin like he was still committing her to memory.

She let out a dazed laugh, eyes half-lidded. 

“Okay… damn.”

He smiled, breath still catching, and brushed his thumb over her bottom lip, watching the way her eyes softened under his touch.

“Yeah… that was…”

She gave a breathless little chuckle, dropping her head back against the pillow. “Kind of ruined me for the rest of the day. I don’t think I can get out of bed.”

His smile turned lazy, fingers drawing circles over her hip. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

She rolled her head toward him again, eyes shining as she caught her breath. “How the hell are you so good at that?”

He leaned in, kissed her slowly, then pulled back just enough to answer, eyes warm and full of mischief.

“Studied anatomy of course. I know where the nerves bundle and what sets ‘em off.” He reached for her hand, pressing a kiss to the soft inside of her wrist, holding it there between them. “But mostly? I pay attention. You kind of give yourself away.”

“No I don’t,” she murmured, half-laughing.

“Oh, you absolutely do,” he teased, brushing his fingers along the curve of her cheek. “Right here, when I touch you the way you like, you close your eyes just a little longer. And when I get real close…” His hand slid down, resting warm at her hip again. “You catch your breath right before you say my name.”

She shook her head, smiling despite herself, and leaned in to kiss his jaw. “You’re such a menace.”

“I prefer the term dedicated professional , ” he replied, eyes crinkling at the corners.

She rolled her eyes but didn’t pull away, if anything, she leaned in closer, draping her leg easily over his, fingers now trailing softly down the length of his chest. Her voice dropped, a little quieter, pulling the air between them into something softer again.

“Be honest with me.”

He blinked, his thumb pausing mid-circle on her hip. “Always.”

“What about you?”

His brow lifted. “What about me?”

“I want to be better for you,” she said, no teasing in her voice now, just soft vulnerability. “You’re so giving, Len. You always think about me. I just… I want to know what you need. What makes it good for you.”

His gaze dropped to where her fingers rested above his heart. His hand came up, gently covering hers.

“If there’s something I could do differently… or more of…” she pressed, eyes never leaving his.

He gave a small, almost shy smile, rare for him, and looked down again at her hand on his chest before meeting her gaze.

“Well…” His voice dropped a bit, rough but tender. “Sometimes, I like when you take the lead.”

Her brow arched, eyes curious now. “Yeah?”

He nodded, brushing his thumb along the back of her hand where it rested over his heart.

“Take control. Set the pace. Touch me like you know what you want. Don’t ask, just show me. That… gets me every damn time.”

Georgie’s eyes sparkled, that teasing grin creeping back across her face. “You want me to throw you around a little?”

He grinned, the playful glint returning to his eyes. “I wouldn’t mind watchin’ you try.”

She smirked, leaned in, kissed him hard, and whispered against his lips, “Careful, I just might.”

The rain hadn’t let up all morning. Thunder had softened to a low grumble, but the downpour still drummed against the cabin windows, wrapping the place in a gray lull that begged for distraction.

After a lazy breakfast of bacon, eggs, and toast, he found himself standing at the top of the narrow basement stairs, glancing back at her. She hovered behind, arms crossed tight, brow furrowed as she eyed the old wooden door like it might lunge at her.

“Owner said the board games were down here somewhere,” He called over his shoulder, already tugging the door open.

She shifted, her voice low and suspicious. “This is exactly how a horror movie starts. Happy couple goes down to the basement during a thunderstorm to find games and then boom. Axed to the head.”

He couldn’t help the slow grin that tugged at his mouth. She was serious. Skeptical, almost jumpy. It was a side of her he hardly ever saw. The warrior who faced aliens without blinking was now giving a basement the side-eye.

“Sweetheart, I didn’t take you for the skittish type,” he teased, stepping onto the creaky stairs.

“I’m not.” She narrowed her eyes but didn’t move. “I’ve just seen enough bad holofilms to know the setup.”

He chuckled under his breath. The basement air was cooler, damp with the smell of old stone and wood. He flipped the overhead light switch at the bottom, the bulb flickering to life and casting a weak yellow glow over the room, stone walls, sagging shelves, stacks of boxes gone soft at the corners with age.

“There they are,” he said, gesturing with a flourish toward a wall lined with board games, the colors faded but recognizable. “See, no boogeyman. Just Colonel Mustard in the library.”

“Great. Grab them and let’s go.”

He smirked, plucking a few boxes off the shelf. “Sweetheart, we’re space explorers. I think we can handle a creepy basement.”

“Pretty sure that’s what the guy says right before he dies.”

Her voice was dry, but the small, reluctant smile tugging at the corners of her mouth gave her away. He liked that about her, brave but not invincible, tough but still wary in the way real people were. He found it oddly endearing.

“Y’know,” he said, setting the games aside, “now I kinda wanna look around. See what else is down here.”

“You’re kidding.”

He wasn’t. His gaze swept over the cluttered shelves; old radios, oil lamps, dusty canning jars from the 20th century. A worn comfort settled in his body. It reminded him of summers at his grandparent’s place, days spent rummaging through barns and old storage rooms, the air thick with dust and the past.

“Feels like my grandparent’s home,” he murmured, crouching to brush dust off a battered trunk.

She shifted closer, arms still crossed. “You’re way too comfortable down here. I don’t like basements,” she admitted, voice quieter now. “Creepy old houses, dark stairwells, weird noises, not my thing.”

He straightened, flashing her a grin. “Didn’t peg you for superstitious.”

“I’m allowed one irrational fear,” she said, shrugging.

He laughed softly, moving toward a wooden closet tucked in the corner. She followed, but kept her distance, still watching the shadows.

“Nothing scary down here, darlin’. Promise.” He said it lightly, but meant it. If there was anything lurking, he’d take care of it, same as always.

She edged a little closer as he nudged open the closet door.

And froze.

Inside, perched on a shelf, sat a dusty, wide-eyed taxidermy raccoon, snarling mid-pounce, tiny sharp teeth bared beneath a veil of cobwebs.

She yelped and stumbled back, nearly tripping over a crate. “Oh, HELL no—NOPE. I’m OUT. What the fuck is that?”

She spun on her heel and bolted up the stairs, muttering under her breath. He blinked at the raccoon, then burst out laughing, the sound echoing in the basement. His shoulders shook with it, the kind of laughter that pulled from deep in his chest, unexpected and raw.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he called after her, grinning as he gathered the games. “You mean to tell me the woman who can outmaneuver enemies in combat and fire torpedos is gonna let one dead raccoon take her out?”

From upstairs, her voice came sharp but muffled. “Not dead raccoon, taxidermy demon spawn. There’s a difference.”

He was still chuckling when he pushed the basement door open with his shoulder, stepping into the cozy warmth of the living room. She sat firmly on the floor in front of the coffee table, a blanket wrapped tight around her, arms crossed, glaring at the basement like it had personally offended her.

“Don’t say it,” she warned the second he stepped into the room.

He raised an innocent eyebrow as he dropped the games onto the coffee table. “Say what?”

“You know exactly what.”

He set the last box down, leaned over, and kissed the top of her head with exaggerated sweetness. 

“I wasn’t gonna say a thing about how the toughest woman I know ran away from a dusty little raccoon.”

She groaned and grabbed a pillow, swatting him in the arm.

“That was not a little raccoon, that thing was possessed. Why, just why is that even down there?”

He sat down across from her and started looking through the pile of games.

“Who knows,” he said, wiping the dust from a box. “Maybe it knew you were coming and wanted to say hi.”

“Unfortunately,” she muttered, but the tension in her shoulders finally eased.

“Well now that we have some games, we can ride out the storm. Sound good?”

Sitting cross-legged across from her on the floor and pulling out the letter tile game, spreading the board between them. She was still wrapped in her blanket fortress, still giving the basement the occasional suspicious look, and smiled to himself.

“Alright,” he said, grinning as he dumped the tiles into the middle. “Winner gets naming rights for the raccoon.”

“Absolutely not.”

He winked. “What? You don’t like Sir Bites-a-Lot?”

She shot him a look but couldn’t help the smile that crept onto her face. “Play your letters, McCoy.”

Leonard chuckled, grabbing his rack and arranging his letters while she did the same. The soft rattle of tiles mixed with the sound of the rain still falling outside.

Their first few moves came easy, basic words, a little back-and-forth, their eyes occasionally meeting with soft smiles or narrowed mock-glares.

He laid down “artery,” leaning back smug.

“Is this going to be one of those games where you flex all your medical terms on me?” She asked, one eyebrow arched.

“Gotta play to my strengths, baby.”

She answered by sliding down “vigil,” snagging a double-word score.

His brow lifted. “Well, look at you.”

“Underestimate me all you want, Doc. I’m very motivated.”

He smirked, placing a few tiles thoughtfully before spelling out “ fibrosis .”

She stared at the board, then at him.

“Nope. Not a word.”

He raised both eyebrows, feigning offense. “It’s scar tissue, sweetheart. Medical term. Want me to spell it out for you, oh wait, I just did.”

She groaned. “You and your fancy science brain.”

“Hey, you married this brain,” he teased, flashing her a grin.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t realize it came with a built-in dictionary.”

They kept playing, the game heating up as they each pushed for high-scoring spots, the teasing growing sharper but still sweet. Leonard tried slipping in “ stasis ,” but Georgie caught him at it and blocked the triple-word square with “ thwart .”

“Would’ve been poetic,” he muttered.

“Would’ve been me winning faster,” she shot back.

The game stayed neck and neck, scores climbing higher as the board filled, tension building as they neared the last few tiles. He leaned in, biting his lip as he counted the letters left on her rack, eyes narrowing.

“Gotta admit,” he said, laying down his last word, “you’re keepin’ me on my toes.”

She stared at the board, eyes calculating, then dropped her final tiles into place with a small, satisfied smile.

They tallied the last of the scores, Leonard shaking his head slowly as he did the math.

“Five points,” she said, beaming. “I beat you by five.”

He leaned back on his hands, letting out a soft whistle. “Well, hell. Guess I married a genius.”

She leaned forward, chin resting in her palm, that smug grin still in place. “You did.”

He smiled, eyes softening as he reached out to tug gently at the edge of her blanket.

“Still gonna call the raccoon Sir Bites-a-Lot, though.”

She groaned, grabbing the pillow again and launching it at him, but this time she was laughing.

“Come on, let's start another game so I can beat you in that too.” She smirked.

The storm had finally broken the next day, leaving the world rinsed clean and bright.The air smelled like wet earth and pine, sharp and alive. Sunlight streamed through the canopy in warm, golden streaks, dappling the trail ahead of them. Leaves glistened with leftover rain, and every step they took sent the smell of damp grass and wildflowers into the air.

He hiked a few paces behind her, partly to keep an eye on her footing, and partly because he couldn’t stop looking at her. She moved with the easy confidence of someone who belonged outdoors. Her hair was pulled back under a cap, and she wore an old Academy t-shirt and hiking boots that scuffed against the rocky trail. Every so often, she’d glance back over her shoulder to grin at him, cheeks flushed from the climb, eyes bright under the sun.

He couldn’t help but smile back every time.

The trail wound upward, steep in places but manageable. He liked the way the muscles in his thighs burned. He liked the steady rhythm of his breath and the warm weight of his pack. He liked that, for once, the only thing he had to worry about was keeping up with her.

Eventually, they reached the peak. Heslowed as the trees opened up, and they stepped onto a rocky outcrop. The view hit him square in the chest.

Rolling hills stretched out in every direction, deep green and endless, undulating under a cloudless sky. Patches of wildflowers colored the hillsides, and a river cut a slow, silver path far below. The breeze was cool and clean, lifting the sweat from his skin and tugging lightly at Georgie’s cap.

He let out a low breath.

“Damn,” he said. “Now that’s what I’m talking about.”

Georgie turned to him, smiling wide, her cheeks flushed. “Ok, you were right about the view being worth it.”

They stayed like that for a few minutes, soaking it in, before she dropped her pack and pulled out a bottle of water, tossing him one. He caught it with one hand, unscrewed the cap, and leaned back, intending to sit and enjoy the view.

Unfortunately, the rock wasn’t just rock. The second he lowered himself, he felt it, a sharp, jabbing pain right through his pants. He jerked back up with a hiss.“DAMMIT!” he yelped, staggering, hand flying to his backside. “MY ASS!”

Wedged between the rocks, almost invisible, was a small, nasty-looking patch of prickly pear cactus, its flat green pads covered in spines.

“There is a cactus in my ass!”

Georgie turned fast, eyes wide, then immediately burst into laughter. Not a giggle. Full, from-the-gut laughter that left her bent over, clutching her knees.

He grimaced, one hand gingerly pressing to his backside.

He stood frozen, hands hovering awkwardly behind him. “Stop laughing and help me, woman!”

“There are cactus in Georgia?” she wheezed, hands on her knees.

“Well, apparently!” he barked, wincing. “And one of ‘em’s damn well found my rear end!”

“Oh my God,” she gasped, wiping at her eyes. “Hold still, Let me look.”

Still grumbling, Leonard stood stiffly while Georgie circled behind him, inspecting the damage. Sure enough, a flat pad of prickly pear was tucked low in the rocks where he’d sat, and a pad with a handful of needles were now lodged right where no man wanted them.

She pressed her lips together like she was trying very hard not to laugh again. “You’ve got—um—a situation.”

He growled under his breath. “Fantastic.”

“I can get ‘em out, but there are a lot.” she trailed off, the corner of her mouth twitching.

“Damn! I need ice. And maybe tweezers.” He sighed heavily, feeling both the sting and his pride in equal measure. “Guess we’re headin’ back, then.”

She offered him a hand, still smiling. “Come on, Len. I’ll save your ass, literally.”

She took her hand, grumbling the whole time as he hauled his pack back onto his shoulder, trying not to wince every time the needles shifted.

As they started the slow, careful descent back to the cabin.

“You realize,” he drawled, “this is gonna be one hell of a story to tell when someone asks how our honeymoon went.”

“‘Oh, it was great,’” Georgie mimicked, voice mock-sweet. “‘We hiked, we saw the hills… I pulled cactus spines out of his butt.’”

He laughed harder, shoulders shaking.

“Your poor pride,” she teased.

They made it back to the cabin. He grumbled under his breath as he awkwardly shuffled toward the couch, the prick of cactus spines with every step keeping his back stiff and his mood sour.

She trailed behind him, trying and failing to keep a straight face.

He shot her a glare over his shoulder. “Laugh it up. You’re not the one with nature embedded in your ass.”

“That you are,” she said sweetly, grabbing a first aid kit and a pair of tweezers. “Guess it’s a good thing you married someone good with their hands.”

He huffed but didn’t argue as he carefully lowered himself onto the edge of the couch, standing just long enough to undo his pants and push them down gingerly.

“Alright,” he muttered, settling on his side, one cheek very, very exposed. “Field medic time.”

She crouched down beside him, biting her lip to hide the grin threatening to take over her face.

“Walk me through it, Doctor,” she teased, twirling the tweezers between her fingers. 

“Start with the big ones. Use your fingers first, pull ‘em out slow. They’ve got little barbs. If you yank too fast, you’ll leave a part behind.”

Georgie leaned in, inspecting the mess of spines poking out of his skin. She whistled low. “You sat down hard, huh?”

“Just get on with it,” he grumbled, face hot.

“Hold still,” she said, her voice still laced with laughter.

She pinched the first spine carefully, and Leonard felt the slight tug before she eased it free. He hissed through his teeth but held still, fists clenched tight beneath his head.

“That one’s good,” she said brightly, dropping the tiny spine into a tray with a faint clink.

“Congratulations,” he muttered, voice muffled against his forearm. “Only twenty more to go.”

He squeezed his eyes shut. The sting of the tweezers wasn’t the worst of it; no, it was his pride that smarted. It was one thing to land butt-first in a cactus, it was another to have his wife giving a running commentary while she patched him up.

“You know,” Georgie drawled, her tone too innocent to be trusted, “I’ve seen you naked hundreds of times, but I don’t think I’ve ever stared this long at your butt. Never noticed how toned your glutes are. Nice ass, babe.”

Leonard groaned and buried his face deeper in his arms. His skin burned hotter than the pinpricks of pain in his backside. “Georgie, please…”

Her soft laugh curled through the room, warm and merciless. It made everything worse and somehow, better. He felt the gentle brush of her fingers as she worked, careful but not without a few playful, unnecessary grazes that made him twitch.

“Well, it could be worse,” she murmured, plucking out another spine with infuriating ease. “Could’ve been a porcupine.”

Leonard let out a strained breath, a short, pained laugh. “Hell, I’d rather have wrestled a porcupine. Would’ve been less humiliating.”

She smirked, tugging another spine free with a little flourish. “You really think there’s a dignified way to get cactus needles pulled outta your butt?”

He groaned again, low and pitiful. “At this point, I’ll settle for gettin’ out of this with my pride halfway intact.”

“Mhmm.” She flicked a glance at his backside and gave his hip a light, teasing pat. “Bet the cactus didn’t even stand a chance against all this.”

He huffed into his arms, half in defeat, half in amusement. “You’re enjoyin’ this way too much.”

“I’m a woman of simple pleasures.” She dropped the tweezers into the tray with a final clink. “All done.”

Leonard let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, his whole body sagging into the couch. Relief, embarrassment, and no small amount of affection stirred in his chest.

But she wasn’t finished.

“Hang tight,” she said, reaching for something. He felt the cool swipe of a sterile wipe against his skin, gentle as she cleaned the angry red welts the spines had left behind.

Then came the cold, an ice pack wrapped in cloth pressed against his bare cheek, shocking enough to make him flinch. He hissed but stayed still, breathing through it. The cold settled the sting, dulling the worst of it.

“Done,” she said, giving his hip another pat, firmer this time. “You survived.”

“Barely,” he muttered, though there was no real heat in it. Just a heavy, settling sort of exhaustion.

By the last day of their cabin trip, they had finally slowed down. His backside still ached, a dull, persistent reminder not to move too quick, but they let themselves drift through the day anyway.

They watched two movies in a row without bothering to change out of sweatshirts and socks, napped in a tangled heap, thumbed through the used paperbacks they’d found at the bookstore in Atlanta. When the rain finally broke, they sat outside by the water, wrapped in a blanket, watching the gray ripples stretch into the distance.

It should’ve been perfect.But he could tell she was getting restless. Little things, how she tapped her fingers against her thigh, the bounce of her knee under the blanket. He caught her once, slipping into a fighting stance without thinking, her body moving like it was waiting for an opponent. Another time, she mimed drawing a phaser from an invisible holster, quick and precise, before catching herself and sitting back down with a huff.

He didn’t call her on it, because he understood. Even he could admit the itch was starting to set in. It had been nearly three weeks since they docked, and the world was waiting for them. In a few weeks, they’d be back at Starfleet, standing in front of the Academy’s curriculum directors, giving the presentation they hadn’t even started rehearsing. There were plans to make, papers to write, ship assignments to confirm once their leave was over.

The real world was looming; they could both feel it. But not yet. Not tonight.

They had eaten leftovers for dinner, drank the last of the wine, and fallen asleep early, still full and warm from the day’s quiet laziness.

He woke sometime after one, the pull of a full bladder dragging him out of sleep. He stretched with a low groan, the muscles in his back and legs stiff from too much lounging, and swung his legs off the bed carefully, mindful of his still-sore backside. The cabin was dark, save for the faint silver spill of moonlight bleeding in through the curtains. He shuffled toward the bathroom, rubbing a hand over his face.

It wasn’t until he glanced back at the bed that he realized she wasn’t there. He paused, heart giving a small, instinctive jolt. He scanned the room, empty. Sheets rumpled, the blanket sliding off her side of the bed. He frowned, mouth dry, and called softly into the dark.

“Darlin’?”

No answer. He stood still for a beat longer, listening. The house was silent. No creak of floorboards, no rustle of pages. Just the chirps of crickets and the occasional splash of water from the stream. He exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulders. Maybe she couldn’t sleep. Maybe the restlessness had finally gotten the better of her.

He turned from the bathroom door and padded quietly through the cabin, calling her name a little louder this time.

Leonard slowed in the doorway, blinking against the dim light. She sat curled on the couch, one leg tucked under her, a PADD balanced on her knee. She was whispering into a video call, her voice low but animated. His chest tightened, not with irritation, but something closer to reluctant amusement. He knew that look, focused, alive in a way that had been simmering just beneath the surface all week.

He shifted his weight, arms crossing as he leaned against the doorframe, watching her for a beat longer. Then he caught sight of the PADD screen and the unmistakable sharp angles of the pointed ears staring back at her.

Spock.

Leonard’s mouth tugged into a slow smirk. He straightened, voice dry as dust.

“Well, well, well,” he drawled. “Caught ya red-handed.”

She whipped around like a kid caught sneaking cookies before dinner, eyes wide, guilty. She fumbled to lower the screen, clearing her throat. “Uh—hi?”

Spock, predictably, didn’t even blink.

He shook his head, taking a step closer, his smirk deepening. “Please tell me my brand-new wife isn’t workin’ on our honeymoon.”

She sighed dramatically, pressing her fingers to her temples. “I tried to ignore it, but—” she groaned, slumping back into the couch, “—I miss work, okay?”

She turned his attention to Spock. “And you,” he said, jabbing a finger at the screen. “You’re just enabling this.”

Spock raised a brow in mild reproach. “Lieutenant Commander Knox reached out to me.”

Leonard laughed under his breath. “Of course she did.”

He crossed to the couch, his sore muscles protesting a little as he lowered himself beside her. Up close, he could see the tension in her shoulders, the familiar restless energy she’d tried so hard to shake.

She gave him a sheepish smile, crossing her arms. “I love being away with you, Len. I love everything about this trip. But I also love what I do. And I just needed a little taste of Starfleet. Just… a tiny, tiny bit.”

He let out a long breath, scrubbing a hand over his face. “God help me, I married a workaholic.”

Spock’s expression didn’t change, but Leonard could feel the judgment.

“Doctor,” Spock said calmly, “it would be unwise for you to criticize, considering your own tendencies.”

He shot Spock a glare. “Dammit, Spock.”

She grinned, leaning back against the couch with smug satisfaction. “See? Even Spock agrees.”

“You’re impossible,” he muttered, but there was no real heat in it.

He placed his arm on the back of the couch.  “So, what the hell are you two conspiring about?”

She nudged him playfully. “Just some tactical exercises. Spock was running simulations, and I had some ideas.”

He snorted. “Of course you did.”

Spock glanced at the time, efficient as ever. “Doctor, Lieutenant, I will leave you to your honeymoon. Maybe we can resume back aboard the ship.”

Leonard smirked. “Damn right you will.”

The screen went dark, leaving a quiet hum in the air. He turned to Georgie, who was still grinning, caught somewhere between guilty and proud.

“You cracked,” he teased.

Georgie groaned. “I almost made it the whole trip.”

He laughed, dropping a kiss to her forehead. 

“Guess that means we gotta get you back to work soon before you go into withdrawal,” he murmured.

She sighed, resting her head against his shoulder. “Probably.”

He threaded his fingers through her hair, slow and easy, the way she liked. The trip was ending; they both knew it. Soon they’d be back at his mom’s house, sketching out plans, prepping their decks, getting ready for the Academy. The real world was waiting, but for now, for tonight, they could pretend a little longer.

Leonard smirked, tipping his head to look at her. “Well, if you need a distraction, I might have a few ideas.”

Georgie arched a brow. “Oh?”

“Come back to bed,” he said, voice low and warm. “I’ll remind ya why you married me.”

She chuckled, setting the PADD aside and pulling him to his feet. 

He let her lead him back toward the bedroom, savoring every second, the weight of her hand in his, the soft pad of their footsteps, the quiet between them that said everything words couldn’t.

And just like that, the honeymoon ended.

Chapter Text

The ride back from the cabin was quiet like the air was still holding onto the last threads of their time away. Leonard drove one-handed, his other arm stretched along the back of the seat, Georgie tucked against him, her head resting on his shoulder.

Outside the window, the trees blurred in a rush of green and gold, but he wasn’t looking at them. His attention was in the way her fingers absently toyed with the cuff of his sleeve, grounding him more than she probably realized.

“You know,” Georgie said after a while, her voice low and warm, “I didn’t know what to expect from a honeymoon. But this? This was perfect. ” She smiled, her breath stirring the fabric of his shirt. “And you introduced me to the world of s’mores. That alone feels life-changing.”

Leonard let out a soft huff of a laugh. “S’mores are a cultural institution.”

“They are,” she murmured, smiling wider. “But it wasn’t just the s’mores. You let me into your world, the real Georgia-boy Leonard. I loved it.”

He turned his head, pressing a kiss into her hair, breathing her in, pine, campfire smoke, and that sweetness that was all her. His voice came rough with feeling. “I loved sharin’ it with you.”

She shifted, leaning closer, a gentle pressure against his side. “I didn’t realize how much of you started here. The way you fish. The way you cook. The way you listen to everything like it matters. I get it now. All of it.”

He didn’t answer right away, just squeezed her hand where it rested in his lap. She saw him. Not just the polished doctor, not just the Starfleet officer, but him . There were no good words for the way that felt.

The landscape changed from winding wooded roads to the wide, familiar sprawl of his neighborhood. As they rounded a bend, Elenora’s house came into view, tucked behind neat flower beds and a porch lined with wind chimes that caught the breeze. The porch light glowed faintly against the settling afternoon. Somewhere, faint but distinct, the scent of fresh cornbread drifted on the air.

Elenora was already on the porch, watering her plants with the hose, her movements slow, careful. She caught sight of the car, and even from the distance, Leonard could see the shimmer in her eyes, the way her face lit up.

Before he even fully parked the rental, she was calling out, her voice thick with feeling. “The honeymooners are back!”

Leonard’s chest tightened, a rush of emotion so sharp it stole his breath. He stepped out, boots crunching against the gravel, and crossed the porch in a few strides. She pulled him into a hug so strong he had to brace his stance, her arms strong around his back, her head tucked against his shoulder just like she used to when he was a boy scraped up from one foolish adventure or another.

He closed his eyes and breathed her in, plants, soil, a hint of soap. It hit him all at once how much he had missed her , and he wasn’t sure how he was supposed to let it go again.

The porch door creaked as he held it open for Georgie. She stepped inside, and the familiar, comforting smell of home, cornbread, brewed tea, the faint hint of lemon from a freshly mopped floor, wrapped around them.

Diane sat at the kitchen table, a glass of sweet tea in hand, her face lighting up the second she saw them. Robert was beside her reading the news. They rose to greet them.

“There’s our newlyweds!” Diane said, beaming, her voice a touch too bright, joy laced with something bittersweet. She crossed the room to kiss Georgie’s cheek and then Leonard’s, holding onto his arms a second longer than necessary.

Robert clapped him on the back, firm and familiar, a silent welcome that said more than words. Leonard absorbed it all, the faces, the warmth, the comfort he had spent so many years away from, and felt the edges of something sharp press against his ribs.

“We thought we’d keep Elenora company while you two were off enjoyin’ yourselves,” Robert said, smiling easily. “Didn’t seem right for her to be sittin’ here alone.”

Leonard felt the words land heavier than Robert probably intended. He managed a grateful nod.

“How was it?” Robert asked, settling back into his chair, Diane sliding into hers beside him.

Leonard glanced at Georgie, and the smile that curved her lips was soft and full of the memories they hadn’t even had time to unpack yet.

“Peaceful,” she said. “We stayed in an old hotel downtown, then hid away in a cabin in the woods. It was so relaxing.”

Leonard chuckled low in his throat. “And introduced her to the finer art of s’mores. Now, Robert, Diane, please tell me you’ve had s'mores by the campfire before? Your daughter never had one.”

Robert barked a laugh. “How has our Georgina never had a s’more?” He shook his head in mock dismay.

They swapped stories from the trip, even bringing up the poorly stuffed raccoon in the basement, the one that nearly scared Georgie out of her skin. Laughter filled the kitchen, warm as the late afternoon sun spilling through the windows. Georgie, wisely, left out the part about the cactus incident. He was quietly grateful.

Shoes were kicked off at the door. Glasses refilled. It was almost easy to fall into the comfort of it. Almost. But the weight pressing against Leonard’s chest didn’t ease. Not with what they still had to say.

He caught Georgie’s eye across the table. She gave him a small, encouraging nod, her fingers brushing his under the table, a quiet I’m here.

Leonard cleared his throat, the sound loud in the sudden quiet.

“There’s somethin’ we need to tell y’all.”

The room stilled. Diane’s hands folded around her glass. Robert sat back, face open, waiting. Elenora only watched him, like she already knew.

Leonard shifted, thumb grazing the worn edge of the table.

“We’ve been asked to present some of our research to the Starfleet Academy curriculum board,” he said slowly. “They’re lookin’ to add it to cadet trainin’ we believe.”

Georgie picked up the thread, her voice soft but certain. “It’s a big opportunity. One we couldn’t pass up.” She hesitated just a beat before adding, “And after that, we’re being deployed again.”

The words fell into the silence like stones in water, the ripples wide and reaching.

Elenora’s expression didn’t change right away. She only held his gaze, quiet and knowing. Then she nodded, slow, resigned.

“I figured,” she said softly. “Starfleet’s not exactly the stay-put kind of life.”

Leonard’s throat worked around the knot that formed. This was the part he hated most, the leaving. The way it carved lines of worry into his mother’s face, the way it stretched the time between these rare, too-short visits.

“I hate leavin’ again, Ma. But it’s good work. Work we believe in.”

Elenora stepped closer. She cupped his cheek, her hand rough and warm, a touch that had always been more grateful than words. She didn’t say much, never had. She didn’t need to.

“I know, baby. I raised you to do the hard things. You go where you’re called.”

He pressed his hand over hers, fingers curling in, grounding himself in the only anchor that had never wavered. His chest ached with the fullness of it, love and sorrow, pride and loss, all tangled up.

Diane cleared her throat gently, her voice cutting into the heavy quiet. “We’ll stay with her a bit longer. Keep her company. No trouble at all.”

Robert nodded, reaching across the table to cover Diane’s hand with his own. “She won’t be alone.”

Leonard looked at them both, the tightness in his chest easing just enough to breathe. They meant it.

Under the table, Georgie’s hand found his again, her fingers threading through his. He squeezed back, grateful beyond words for the tether.

He managed a small smile. “Guess we better get another good meal before we leave.”

Elenora let out a wet, shaky laugh, brushing at the corner of her eye. “You better!”

Leonard leaned in, pressed a kiss to her forehead, an old, boyhood habit he hadn’t outgrown. “Wouldn’t dream of missin’ it.”

The days that followed blurred into a whirlwind, the kind of busy that left no room for second thoughts. Packing. Filing paperwork. Reworking schedules. Starfleet needed everything updated before departure; marriage certificates, emergency contacts, housing reassignments, medical clearances.

They moved through it like muscle memory, even though it was all still new. They worked side by side at the kitchen table, computers open, surrounded by half-drunk mugs of coffee and data pads filled with to-dos. Starfleet bureaucracy was relentless.

“Looks like they’re fast-tracking the shared quarters,” He muttered, squinting at the screen.

“Bout time,” She said, sipping her coffee. “Separate bunks would’ve been a deal-breaker.”

He huffed out a tired laugh. “You say that now.”

Then the next form popped up. They both stilled.

Name Change Request.

She leaned in slightly, brow furrowed. “Huh. I didn’t really think about this part.”

He stayed quiet, giving her room, watching the way her thumb tapped absently against her mug.

“I mean... I’ll be McCoy, legally. That matters to me,” she said. “But... two McCoys on the Enterprise? That’s just asking for confusion.”

Leonard chuckled. “You’re not wrong.”

She smiled, more sure now. “I’ll stay Knox for duty. It’s cleaner. Less explaining.”

He reached over, fingers curling gently around hers. “Either way, you're mine.”

Georgie’s thumb traced across his knuckles. “And you're mine.”

There wasn’t much time to linger. The next task pulled them back in, reviewing their old Babel Conference presentation.They trimmed the intro, restructured transitions between tactical and medical applications, and added new case data. The presentation was smooth, trading edits, teasing over phrasing, laughing more than not.

More details on their reassignment had come in quick. A three-year exploratory mission, shorter than the standard five, tasked with mapping the remote Veridian system starting Stardate 2264.54.

Starfleet’s recall order still lingered at the edges of their conversation, a shadow without clarity. Vague explanations. Muted commendations. No clear answers about why the entire crew had been grounded and reassembled just days later. Eventually, the last form was submitted. Their quarters confirmed. Departure time logged. There was nothing left to do but go.

They double-checked their orders one more time, the screen dim in the late light of night. Everything was in place. On paper, at least, they were ready. Orders filed. Quarters assigned. Departure locked in.

But as Leonard powered down the computer, a question lingered at the edge of his thoughts, were they putting too much trust in something they didn’t fully understand?

Starfleet had always asked for faith. But this time, the silence felt different. Less like strategy, more like omission.

They were going back to the stars. And this time, he’d be keeping one eye open.

The bags were packed. Uniforms pressed and folded. There was nothing left to do but leave, and that was always the hardest part.

Leonard stood at the porch steps, fingers tracing absent patterns along the strap of his duffel. Beside him, Georgie shifted her weight beneath their gear, but neither made the first move.

“I hate this part,” Elenora said, her voice thick with emotion. “You come home, fill up the house with life, and then it’s quiet again. Feels empty the second you’re gone.”

Leonard stepped forward and wrapped her in his arms. “I’ll call, Ma,” he said, voice low and sure. “Promise.”

She pulled back just enough to cradle his face in her hands, warm, rough, familiar. “You’d better,” she whispered, brushing her thumb across his cheekbone like she was trying to memorize him.

Georgie stepped up then, arms full of their travel gear, but her smile was soft and sincere. “Miss Elenora… thank you. For everything. For welcoming me and my parents, like we were already family.”

Elenora’s expression melted. Tears shimmered in her eyes as she reached out and cupped Georgie’s cheek. “Oh, baby. That’s because you are family now. And don’t think I haven’t noticed how you got my boy to smile more than I ever thought possible. That’s a miracle in itself.”

Leonard sighed, rolling his eyes, but the flush rising to his ears gave him away. He stepped aside, watching the way Georgie leaned into Elenora’s touch without hesitation. The way Elenora’s thumb lingered along her jaw, like she was tucking Georgie into her heart.

From the drive, Diane and Robert approached and pulled Leonard into a group hug.

“We’ll keep your mama company. We’ve got plans,” Diane said with a warm smile.

Robert clapped Leonard’s shoulder. “Take care of yourself out there, son. And make sure she doesn’t do anything too crazy.”

Leonard smirked. “I’ll watch her like a hawk.”

“Hey!” Georgie said, approaching her parents. They pulled her into a hug, sandwiching her in the middle and peppering her cheeks with kisses, quick and chaotic, the way parents do when they’ve never stopped loving their child like the day she was born.

Leonard laughed softly, his heart tightening at the sight. Their love for her was so abundant it spilled into every gesture. She was their girl and always would be.

“I love you too,” Georgie chuckled, eyes gleaming. “Safe trip back. Give Opie kisses for me and send pictures of him.”

They gathered the last of their things in a silence heavy with everything unspoken, gratitude, ache, and the quiet promise of return.

Leonard slung his bag over his shoulder, but paused. He turned back, pulled his mother into a tighter hug, clinging just a little longer.

“I mean it, Mama,” he murmured. “Thank you. For all of it.”

She held him close, then leaned in, her whisper close to his ear.

“I didn’t love the idea of Starfleet. Not at first, you know that. I wanted you safe. Wanted you close. But I’ve seen what it made of you. It didn’t take you from me. It gave you room to grow.”

He bowed his head, pressing his forehead gently to hers. Just breathing her in.

“You’re the man your daddy always hoped you’d be,” she added, pulling back to look him in the eye. “And he’d be proud of you. Just like I am.”

Leonard didn’t trust his voice. He just nodded, eyes shining, the lump in his throat too thick to speak around.

Elenora kissed his cheek, then turned to Georgie and pulled her in just as tightly, pressing a kiss to her temple.

“You come home when you can,” she said softly. “You’ve got a place here. Always. Both of you.”

Georgie nodded, smiling even as her eyes brimmed. “We will.”

Elenora looked between them, her voice taking on a stern but tender edge. “You take care of each other. Out there in that big, dangerous universe.”

Georgie gave a quiet, heartfelt promise. “We will.”

Diane and Robert stood with their arms around each other, quiet witnesses to the goodbye. They’d be heading back to Chicago soon, but their presence grounded the moment.

He’d left this place a hundred times before, but never quite like this.

The rental car engine rumbled softly beneath them. Georgie’s hand found him once more, warm and familiar. In the rearview mirror, their parents stood waving, growing smaller with each passing second until they finally disappeared from sight.

It wasn’t until they reached the small transit station where their journey had first begun that he finally exhaled. Turned toward her. Despite the tightness in his chest, a small, smile found its way to his face.

“I’m ready,” he said quietly, the words thick with meaning.

Georgie smiled back, full of love. “So am I.”

The shuttle veered northwest, and the world below gave way to sky. Ahead, San Francisco. New orders. New stars. And whatever Starfleet wasn’t saying.

The shuttle touched down just past midday, the gleaming towers of Starfleet Academy rising in the distance, all glass and steel against the San Francisco sky. Leonard stepped out first, duffel slung over his shoulder, Georgie trailing just behind, both momentarily still as they took it in.

It felt different somehow, returning not as cadets but as officers, as guests. The wind off the bay was sharp, the sun catching the water beyond the wide green lawns.

They walked shoulder to shoulder toward the main campus, bags in hand. Leonard kept sneaking glances at Georgie, the easy way she moved, how naturally she slipped into this place. And somewhere between the shuttle station and the quad, the conversation shifted.

“Did we ever figure it out?” Leonard asked, squinting against the light. “If we were here at the same time?”

She smiled. “Yeah. I would’ve been in my last year while you were a first-year cadet.”

Leonard chuckled. “Makes sense. You’d already have been bossing everyone around.”

She bumped her shoulder against his. “Hardly. I was too busy trying to survive exams and tactical sessions.”

They kept walking, steps slow, letting it all sink in, the memory of what it was to be young here, green and reckless, believing the universe was just waiting for them.

“You know,” Georgie said thoughtfully, “we probably went to the same Academy mixers. Even some of the same bars.”

He snorted. “If it involved Kirk dragging me out of the dorms, yeah, I was probably there. Miserable and stuck in a corner.”

“I was probably dancing the night away,” Georgie grinned. “Some things don’t change, huh?.”

They laughed quietly, the sound soft between them.

“Funny, though,” she added after a beat. “We never crossed paths.”

Leonard nodded. “Maybe we weren’t supposed to. Not then.”

“Yeah,” Georgie said, voice a little lower, thoughtful. “We wouldn’t have been ready for each other.”

He glanced over at her, “No. We wouldn’t.”

They made it to the guest dorms, temporary housing Starfleet kept for visiting officers. The building was older but well-kept, the halls smelling faintly of polished tile and recycled air. They found their assigned room, dropped their bags, and started getting ready.

Leonard pulled his dark grey dress uniform from the garment bag, shaking it out with a practiced hand. Across the room, Georgie was wrestling into hers with less enthusiasm.

She frowned at her reflection, tugging at the waistband. “I swear this thing shrunk.”

Leonard smirked as he buttoned up his jacket. “Or you’ve had too much cornbread.”

She shot him a look. “I blame your mother’s cooking.”

He stepped behind her, smoothing the fabric over her hips, his hands lingering. “Uniform fits just fine,” he said, voice low. “All the right places.” Then gave her a swift soft pat on her butt.

She rolled her eyes but smiled, the tension easing from her shoulders. “Flatterer.”

He kissed the top of her head. “Only when it’s true.”

They grabbed their PADDs and headed out again, the sun warming the Academy grounds, the walkways bustling with cadets in crisp red uniforms. They blended back into it with surprising ease, as if no time had passed at all.

The admin building loomed ahead, a sleek, angular structure of steel and glass. They had an appointment with Admiral Wolf Davis, the coordinator who had invited them.

First the presentation today. Then tomorrow, the guest lecture.

As they climbed the wide stone steps, she bumped her hand lightly against his.

“Ready?”

He smiled. “Always.”

The admin building was quieter inside, a buzz of energy moving just beneath the polished floors and bright walls. They made their way down a long corridor, their boots clicking softly on the tile, until they reached a set of double doors marked Wolf Davis .

Leonard raised his hand to knock, but the door opened before he could.

“Lieutenant Commander Knox. Lieutenant Commander McCoy.” A familiar voice greeted them, deep and even.

Wolf Davis stood there in his uniform, sleeves crisp, badge gleaming. He hadn’t changed much, same towering frame, same shrewd, assessing eyes that seemed to measure and catalog everything at once. But there was a new ease about him now, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he stepped aside and motioned them in.

“Admiral Davis,” Georgie said, polite but warm.

Leonard nodded. “Sir.”

Inside, the office was all clean lines, no clutter, no wasted space. A few chairs ringed a polished conference table, and a large window overlooked the quad, sunlight slanting through and warming the room. A carafe of water and a few glasses sat neatly in the center of the table, untouched.

Davis closed the door behind them and turned, his smile widening just a fraction. “First, let me say congratulations to you both. No wonder why you two make a good team.”

Leonard’s hand brushed against Georgie’s. “Thank you, sir.”

Davis nodded, sincere. “Marriage and active duty, it’s not an easy thing to balance. But if anyone’s equipped to handle it, it’s the two of you.”

Leonard felt Georgie’s shoulder brush his lightly.

“We appreciate that, sir,” Georgie said.

Davis gestured for them to sit. He remained standing, arms folding loosely behind his back as he regarded them. Davis moved to the carafe on his desk, poured two glasses of water, and slid them across the table to Leonard and Georgie before pouring one for himself.

“I also want to thank you,” he said, tone shifting slightly, more business now, “for coming on short notice. I know you were just back from deployment, and you had more than enough on your plates. But timing matters, and this presentation couldn’t come at a better moment for the Academy.”

Leonard leaned forward slightly. “We’re glad to be here, sir. Glad to contribute.”

Davis gave a short nod. “I’ve reviewed your updated materials, very impressive. Streamlined, focused, relevant.” His gaze sharpened. “And timely. We’re adjusting our cadet curriculum, making it more field-ready. Your work, especially the integrated tactical-medical response model, could set a new standard.”

Leonard exchanged a glance with Georgie, feeling the weight and the opportunity in Davis’s words.

“The board’s looking forward to hearing from you this afternoon,” Davis continued. “You’ll have about thirty minutes for the presentation and another fifteen for Q&A. They’re a sharp group, expect pointed questions.”

Leonard cracked a small grin. “Wouldn’t expect anything less.”

Davis smirked. “Good. One more thing—” He leaned slightly on the table. “Be yourselves up there. You two have a dynamic the Academy’s cadets need to see. How collaboration across divisions works. How trust on the ground saves lives.”

Georgie straightened, her mouth curving in a quiet smile. “Yes, sir.”

“Any questions before we get you set up in the auditorium?”

Leonard shook his head. “No, sir. We’re ready.”

Davis lifted his glass slightly. “Then let’s get to it.”

As they gathered their PADDs and rose from their chairs, Leonard felt a familiar thrumming under his ribs, the same one he used to get before stepping into the unknown. But this time, he wasn’t alone. Georgie gave his hand a light squeeze as they followed Davis toward the doors.

Whatever waited for them beyond that office, they were walking into it side-by-side.

The lecture hall was bigger than Leonard expected, tiered seating, high ceilings, and that sterile, faintly metallic smell he always associated with Starfleet buildings. A low hush of conversation filled the room as the board members took their seats. The directors, each wearing uniforms marked with stripes of experience and authority, flipped through notes on their PADDs, only occasionally glancing toward the front.

Leonard could feel Georgie’s shoulder brush his as they stood at the podium, both of them double-checking that the visual deck was ready.

"You good?" he murmured.

Georgie smiled. "Let’s show them how it’s done."

Wolf Davis sat near the end of the first row, arms folded, his face unreadable but not unfriendly. When he gave a small nod, Leonard took that as the cue.

He stepped forward. "Good afternoon. I am Chief Medical Officer, Leonard McCoy." A small pause, a breath. "And Chief of Tactical and Security, Georgina Knox, servin' on the USS Enterprise."

Georgie joined smoothly. "We’re honored to be here. Today, we’re presenting a proposal to integrate joint tactical-medical response protocols into standard cadet field training. Our goal is to create a framework where officers from different divisions can coordinate in crisis, bridging skill gaps when traditional resources aren’t available."

Leonard keyed up the first slide, and they moved into their presentation, trading points back and forth. Georgie laid out the tactical scenarios; battlefield injuries in hostile zones, quick extraction under fire, triage when no medical officer was available. Leonard followed, explaining the physiological and logistical challenges; bleeding out times under different atmospheres, the psychological toll of untreated trauma, the stark reality that a tactical officer could be a cadet’s only lifeline until help arrived.

They didn’t miss a beat. Their pacing was sharp. 

When Georgie finished her last point on inter-departmental simulations, Leonard closed; "The goal isn’t to replace medics or security officers, but to recognize that in the field, flexibility saves lives. Training cadets to adapt,to step beyond their immediate specialty, could be the difference between losing a crewman and bringing them home."

Silence. And then Wolf Davis nodded once.

The Q&A began.

A few questions came, sharp but manageable. Georgie fielded a query about scenario planning; Leonard answered one about triage kit logistics. They kept pace.

Until—

A Vulcan woman in the second row lifted her hand, sleek and precise. Director T’Vrel. Leonard had seen her name on the roster. Head of Advanced Strategy. 

"Your proposal is intriguing," she said, tone razor-flat. "However, there is an inherent flaw."

Leonard braced.

"In the event of simultaneous critical injury and tactical threat, which directive takes precedence, engagement or stabilization?"

Leonard barely blinked. Georgie leaned slightly forward.

"I would argue," Georgie said crisply, "that threat neutralization comes first. If the scene isn’t secure, medical efforts are compromised. Securing the environment allows for safe triage."

Leonard, however, shook his head subtly. "If a life-threatening injury is present, intervention can’t wait for ideal conditions. You stabilize first, even basic hemorrhage control can buy critical minutes. You adapt."

There it was.

Conflicting answers. In front of the board.

T’Vrel’s brow lifted, infinitesimally. "Fascinating. You present opposing strategies. Tactical prioritizes engagement; medical prioritizes preservation. Which is correct?"

The room tightened. Leonard could feel it, the collective attention swinging to them, watching the married couple disagree.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Georgie glance at him, a flicker of uncertainty there. The kind they never showed in the field. He knew she wasn’t wrong. Neither was he. Different divisions. Different mandates.

Leonard drew a slow breath, then straightened.

"This," he said, voice even, "is exactly the point."

He let the words hang for a second, then continued.

"Out there," he nodded toward the distant stars visible through the high windows, "you’re not always going to agree. Divisions bring different priorities. Command has one view; tactical another; medical another still. But the mission doesn’t stop while you debate. You find compromise. You priorities,you communicate."

Georgie caught on quickly, stepping in beside him. "Our program trains cadets not just to perform under pressure, but to collaborate across specialties when it matters most."

Leonard looked directly at T’Vrel. "There’s no perfect answer. Only the right team."

The Vulcan considered this. Then a slow, almost imperceptible nod. Approval, at least, by Vulcan standards.

Leonard didn’t let himself sag in relief, but he sure as hell felt it.

Wolf Davis leaned back, a hint of satisfaction crossing his face.

"No further questions," T’Vrel said.

The session wrapped soon after. A few of the directors came down to shake their hands or ask specific follow-ups, practical, sharp questions, but not hostile. Wolf stepped in last, clasping Leonard’s shoulder.

"Great work," Davis said lowly. "Tomorrow’s guest lecture will be lighter. You earned your stripes today."

"Thank you, sir," Georgie said.

Leonard gave a nod, keeping it calm even though the adrenaline was finally starting to crash.

Once the last of the board had trickled out, Leonard and Georgie stepped into the corridor outside the lecture hall.

They both exhaled, long, bone-deep.

Leonard loosened his collar a little. "Well," he muttered, "that got tense."

Georgie huffed a soft laugh, shaking her head. "I appreciate how you handled that."

"Hey," Leonard said, giving her a sidelong glance. "You weren’t wrong. Neither was I."

She smirked. "Guess we’re living proof that cross-departmental communication isn’t always easy."

He chuckled under his breath. "Yeah, well. At least that’s over."

She bumped his shoulder lightly. "We handled it."

They started down the hall, side-by-side, PADDs tucked under their arms, shoulders brushing now and again as they walked.

And for all the tension, all the nerves, Leonard couldn’t help the slow, sure smile tugging at his mouth. They’d handled it. Together.

The medical building hadn't changed much. Leonard stood outside for a moment, letting the morning sun cast long shadows across the familiar brick facade. The glass doors gleamed, the Starfleet insignia just catching the light, but the scuff marks on the steps, the same ones he used to grumble over during morning drills, were still there. It felt strange and grounding all at once, like time had moved forward without erasing the past.

He exhaled through his nose, squared his shoulders, and pushed the door open.

Inside, the hallways smelled faintly of antiseptic and old books, a scent that brought him back to long nights buried in the medical lab and anatomy charts. His boots echoed softly as he made his way through the corridor, a wave of memories rolling with each step, late study nights, nerves before practical exams, the quiet terror of the first cadaver lab.

A familiar figure stepped out from one of the side offices.

"Dr. McCoy," Professor Miya Clarke greeted warmly, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. She looked much the same; sharp-eyed, quick-moving, the kind of presence you didn’t forget. She extended a hand, but when Leonard shook it, she pulled him into a quick hug instead.

"Professor Clarke," he said, a rare grin flickering across his face.

She stepped back, looking him over like she was evaluating a prized student. "It's good to see you again. Word travels fast around here, heard you're doing fine work out there. Enterprise crew, no less. And married, too. Congratulations."

He rubbed the back of his neck, sheepish. "Thanks. Feels like yesterday I was gettin’ chewed out in one of your seminars."

She laughed lightly. "And look at you now."

Clarke led him down a corridor that opened into a wide lecture hall. It wasn’t one of the massive auditoriums, but it could seat a hundred cadets easily. Leonard set his PADD down at the podium and glanced around. Cadets were already filing in and a few gold, blue, and red uniforms sprinkled through the rows, their conversations low but expectant.

"I’ll let you get settled," Clarke said. "But don't be a stranger before you leave."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Leonard replied.

The room filled quickly, a quiet buzz of energy settling into place. Leonard glanced at the clock. Time to start.

He stepped forward, not behind the podium but to the side of it, casual. No notes. No speech. Just him.

"Alright," he said, hands in his pockets. "I'm Dr. Leonard McCoy. Most of you probably know me as the CMO of the Enterprise." A few heads nodded, a few smiled.

"What you don’t know," he continued, "is that I sat where you’re sitting. Same halls. Same professors. Same smell of burnt coffee lingering around the labs."

A ripple of laughter.

He let the room settle before continuing. "I’m not here to give you a recruitment speech or scare you into studying harder. I just want to talk to you about what it means to be a doctor on a starship. The good. The bad. The ugly."

He spoke plainly, the way he always did, pacing slowly as he told them about his first assignment, the reality of treating injuries light-years from the nearest starbase, the messiness of triage under fire, the small victories and the crushing losses. He didn't sugarcoat it.

"You’re not just treatin' patients out there," Leonard said. "You're patchin' up friends. People you laugh with. People you fight with. People you watch die. And then you have to get up the next day and do it all again."

The room was quiet now. Listening.

He paused, let the weight of it sink in before he shifted gears.

"But there’s nothing—nothing—like savin’ someone who thought they were done for. Nothing like watchin’ a crewman walk out of sickbay under their own power because you didn’t give up on ‘em."

He stepped back a little, loosening his stance.

"Alright," he said, "enough outta me. Questions?"

At first, it was cautious, one hand, then another. But soon it snowballed.

A cadet in science blue asked about his toughest case. Another, in command gold, asked about dealing with moral dilemmas under orders. Leonard kept the answers honest but moving, threading in lessons without turning it into a lecture. He even fielded a curveball about dealing with Vulcans, earning a dry chuckle when he muttered something about "patience and earplugs."

The hour flew by.

When the session ended, cadets surged forward. Some shook his hand, others shyly asked for pictures, grinning like they’d just met a legend.

Leonard obliged, patient, even smiling a little when a cadet breathlessly told him, "I can’t believe I’m meeting someone from the Enterprise."

It hit him harder than he expected. Not the fame. Not the recognition. The weight of it, how far he’d come from the cadet who used to sit in these rooms, all nerves and stubborn pride.

He shook another hand, nodded through another rapid-fire thank you, and when the crowd finally thinned, he glanced around the now-quiet lecture hall, letting himself stand still.

Yeah. This was full-circle.

And damn if it didn’t feel good.

After the lecture wrapped, he lingered a moment, chatting with Professor Clarke near the podium. It was easy conversation, updates about mutual colleagues, a few shared memories about long nights and tough classes. She laughed when he admitted he still felt a little nervous walking those halls.

"You’ve done well, Leonard," she said, her voice warm with something close to pride. "It’s good to see you giving back."

"Wouldn’t be here without you," He said honestly.

When he glanced at the clock on the wall, he straightened. “I better run. Don’t want to miss my wife showing me up on her lecture.”

Clarke chuckled and shook his hand firmly. "Good luck, Dr. McCoy. And take care of yourself."

"You too, Professor."

Leonard left the medical building and made his way across campus, the afternoon light casting long shadows across the familiar paths. He followed the corridors to the tactical sciences wing, and when he got close to Georgie’s lecture hall, he slowed, stepping in quietly and keeping to the back row.

She hadn’t seen him. Good. She was just starting.

Georgie stood at the front, commanding the room without even trying. She wasn’t loud. She didn’t need to be. She answered a cadet’s question with calm precision, breaking down complex tactical maneuvers in a way that was both sharp and somehow simple. Her posture, her ease, the way she spoke, it was all confidence without arrogance, the kind of presence that couldn’t be faked.

Pride hit him square in the chest.

God, he loved her like this. Not because she was impressive, though she was, but because she was so entirely herself. 

When she wrapped up the Q&A, there was a beat of silence before the room erupted into applause. Georgie smiled modestly, nodding her thanks.

Beside him, a young Andorian woman in a cadet uniform turned and whispered, almost reverently, "Knox is such a badass. I hope I can be like her someday."

Leonard smiled faintly to himself, but said nothing.

The Andorian fidgeted with her PADD, glancing toward the front. "I want to ask her for a picture, but—" she shook her head, a little flustered. "She probably gets that all the time."

"You should ask," Leonard said easily.

The Andorian blinked up at him. "Yeah? I mean, would she mind?"

Leonard shrugged, casual. "I’m married to her. Trust me, she’d be honored."

The woman’s eyes widened, antennae perking up. "Wait, seriously?"

Leonard chuckled. "Seriously. Tell you what, I'll even take the picture."

The Andorian beamed, nodding quickly, nerves and excitement colliding. They made their way down the steps as Georgie gathered her things at the podium. When she looked up and caught sight of Leonard approaching, her eyebrows lifted in surprise, then softened into something private and pleased.

"Hello, Doctor." she greeted, her voice low with affection.

Leonard tipped his head toward the Andorian. "She wanted to meet you, and get a photo, if you don’t mind."

Georgie’s face lit up. "Of course not."

The Andorian fumbled her words for a second before managing, "Cadet Vira, ma’am. It’s such an honor."

"Nice to meet you, Ensign Vira," Georgie said warmly, and posed easily beside her.

Leonard took the PADD, steadying it in his hands. "Alright, smile," he said, a teasing glint in his eye.

The photo snapped, and the Andorian nearly bounced on her heels when she took her PADD back. "Thank you so much!"

"You’re welcome," Georgie said, glancing at Leonard with a fond smile. "And good luck out there."

When Vira left, still beaming, Leonard stepped close, catching Georgie’s hand and weaving their fingers together.

"You didn’t tell me you were gonna steal the whole damn show," he murmured, low enough just for her.

She squeezed his hand. "I’m glad you were able to see my lecture."

"Had to see it for myself," he said. "Proud of you, darlin’. More than you know."

Georgie leaned in and kissed his cheek. "Right back at you."

He kissed her knuckles lightly before tugging her toward the exit. "Come on. Let’s get outta here. I’m starvin’."

"Me too," she said, falling into step beside him and leaving the room behind.

The days that followed were a balance of discipline and small indulgences. Between double-checking their orders and reviewing mission briefings, Leonard and Georgie carved out time to enjoy the city while they could. San Francisco had a way of sinking into your bones if you let it, misty mornings, the tang of salty air, streets that climbed and dipped like waves caught mid-motion.

They wandered old haunts, ran into a few familiar faces, former cadets now scattered across different assignments. Some recognized Leonard first, others Georgie, but most did a double take when they realized the two of them were together. Leonard didn’t mind. He liked the surprise. Liked the way it made her smile.

One afternoon, sitting on a bench above the bay, Georgie bumped her shoulder into his.
“Before we go, I need one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“My favorite Ethiopian spot. I used to live off that place my last year at the Academy.”

Leonard raised an eyebrow. “You’re playin’ the ‘last meal before deep space’ card?”

She grinned. “Perks of the wife package.”

The place was a hole-in-the-wall tucked off a narrow street. Modest, warm, no-frills, but the second they stepped inside, Leonard was hit by the scent; spices, berbere, something slow-cooked and soulful. They sat cross-legged at a low table, Georgie guiding him through each dish with quiet pride. He made a mess of the injera, but didn’t care.

By the end, Leonard leaned back, licking berbere from his thumb. “Alright. You win. This was worth it.”

His communicator chirped. He flipped it open and read the message.

James Kirk: You and Georgie, meet me at Pier 39 in one hour, if you’re up for some fun.

Leonard stared at it a second too long, jaw twitching.
“That’s Jim’s version of a wink,” he muttered.

Georgie glanced over. “You think he’s just being friendly?”

Leonard wiped his mouth with a napkin, already reaching for his wallet. “I’ve known Jim long enough to recognize when he’s trying too hard to sound casual. That message is too clean. He’s hiding something.”

They found Jim leaning against a railing near the bay, the city lights fractured across the water like broken glass. Fog curled low along the shore. Spock stood beside him, a still silhouette, hands folded behind his back, gaze distant and unreadable.

But Jim’s face split into a grin the moment he saw them.
“There they are. The honeymooners return! I was starting to think you two traded the stars for a domestic life in the country.”

Georgie smiled. Leonard smirked as they each accepted a brief but genuine hug.

Spock inclined his head. “It is agreeable to see you both well.”

“You too,” Leonard said. “You’ve been busy, I take it?”

“Yeah,” Jim said, his grin fading, not all at once, but like someone turning down the volume. “That’s why I asked you here.”

Jim’s voice was low.

“Spock and I weren't going to loop anyone in yet,” Jim said, eyes flicking to the bay. “But when I saw this last report I knew I needed backup I could trust.”

He pulled out his PADD and unlocked it. “Starfleet’s been acting strange. No answers, vague memos. I asked Command for clarity and got nothing but smiles and stonewalling.”

He looked up. “So I went through the back door.”

Leonard raised a brow.

Jim shrugged. “Had to sweet-talk some systems and get creative with clearance logs. You know… put those legendary Kobayashi Maru hacking skills to good use.”

Georgie let out a low gasp. “Jim, are you trying to get court martialed?”

He cut her a look. ““I’ve learned to cover my tracks better.”

Spock added, “Thoroughly.”

Leonard’s stomach knotted. Jim only rewrote the rules when he didn’t like the outcome, and that wasn’t usually good news for anyone.

Jim continued, “I didn’t get much, but I extracted enough to know something’s off. Then I found this.”

He tapped his PADD. The screen came to life, displaying a symbol; a hollow circle at the center, radiating jagged, broken lines like a shattered sunburst. Three arcs curved around it, irregular and incomplete, interlocking in uneven tension.

Leonard frowned. “What the hell is that?”

Jim exhaled. “It’s been showing up in the Coridan sector. On derelict ships. Abandoned outposts. Now, it’s started appearing after Starfleet arrives. Like someone’s watching us. Or leaving a trail.”

Leonard crossed his arms. “Looks like an eye. Or a warning. Or something trying to break loose.”

“We thought the Orions were the threat,” Spock said. “But this suggests they may have only been the beginning.”

Georgie took a step closer, eyes locked on the screen. Her voice dropped. “I’ve seen this.”

They turned toward her. 

“It was on her,” she said quietly. “The Orion woman. The leader. When she had Leonard pinned—”
Her voice hitched. “She was going to kill him. And she had this… branded on her wrist. Just above the glove line.”

Her breath caught, and she blinked fast, like trying to chase the memory back into its box. But it was already open.

Leonard stepped in, taking her hand. She let him.

Jim’s expression shifted, no grin, no quip, just understanding. “I’m sorry,” he said, voice low. “I didn’t know it’d hit like this.”

Georgie gave a small shake of her head. “It’s not your fault. I just didn’t think I’d see it again.”

Spock nodded slowly. “That correlates with reports we’ve collected. Disconnected sightings. No official attribution.”

“There’s a name,” Jim said. “Just a whisper in the flagged transmissions.”

He hesitated. “The Chorus.” The name hung in the air like static. Too soft. Too strange.

Leonard raised a brow. “Doesn’t exactly scream terror. Sounds like a folk band name.”

Unfazed, Spock replied, “Their purpose may prove more disruptive than their name implies.”

“So who or what are they?” Georgie asked.

“No one knows. No confirmed origin. No demands. Just... patterns. Disruption. Then disappearance.” Jim sighed with annoyance. “Starfleet’s acting like it’s nothing, no memos, no public briefings, but their moves say otherwise. Ships reassigned, missions pulled, entire sectors going dark. That’s not background noise. That’s fear.”

Georgie crossed her arms. “So what now?”

Jim powered off the PADD. “Now we watch. This stays between us. I don’t know if this Chorus is going to be a problem, but if it is… we’ll need to be ready.”

Leonard nodded slowly. “Understood.”

They stood there a moment, the fog of the unknown settling quietly around them, not fear, but a shift.

Jim let out a slow breath, the humor in his eyes dimmed now.
“Three years out there… a lot can happen. Just stay sharp.”

Leonard gave a small nod. “We will.”

Georgie’s voice was quiet. “Whatever this is… it’s already started, hasn’t it?”

Jim didn’t answer right away. “I think we’re already behind.”

He clapped Leonard on the shoulder, firmer this time, not just friendly, but charged with meaning.

“If you see that symbol again, don’t log it. Don’t say a word. Just come to me or Spock.”

He paused, then added quietly, “Whatever The Chorus is... they’re already listening.”

A low wind cut through the bay, rustling Georgie’s jacket. No one spoke.

They walked back to campus through quiet streets, the city hushed beneath the weight of night. Streetlights flickered against the pavement, casting long shadows that stretched behind them. Georgie hadn’t said much since they left the pier. Her grip in Leonard’s hand was firm, bordering on tense.

He waited until they turned a corner, out of earshot and away from the bay.
“You alright?” he asked gently.

She shook her head, then nodded, then settled somewhere in between.
“I will be. It just… brought it all back.”

He didn’t push. He just shifted closer and wove his fingers more securely through hers.

After a beat, she let out a breath. “I guess the honeymoon phase is officially over.”

He gave a dry chuckle, low in his chest. “Only if conspiracy, mind games, and ominous emblems weren’t part of the brochure.”

That coaxed a faint smile out of her, small, but it was something.

She looked up, eyes tracking the constellations above.  “Whatever this is… it’s bigger than us.”

He followed her gaze, quiet for a moment.  “Yeah,” he said. “But we’re not walking into it blind.”

Chapter Text

The next morning came fast and foggy, the way San Francisco always did. They caught a shuttle to Starfleet Command, duffels slung over their shoulders. As the shuttle curved around the bay, the Enterprise came into view, sleek, waiting, as beautiful as the first time Leonard laid eyes on her.

He felt Georgie shift beside him, felt the quiet breath she took. They didn’t need to say anything. They both knew what this meant, back to the life they chose. The one they built, together now.

They filed into Command to receive their updated assignments, a long list of tasks and to-dos waiting for them. Leonard skimmed the list; briefings, crew assessments, department reports, medical supply checks. Business as usual.

They boarded the Enterprise with the crowd of officers and crew. The ship hummed with energy, the corridors familiar under their boots, but still, there was a newness to it, like the first page of a new chapter.

Leonard had just adjusted the strap on his bag when the comm crackled to life overhead.

“Attention crew,” came Jim’s unmistakable voice. “Welcome aboard. To those returning, good to have you back. To the new faces, make yourselves at home. We've got a hell of a journey ahead.”

Leonard kept walking, trying not to smirk.

“But before we dive in, let’s take a moment to congratulate Lieutenant Commander Georgina Knox and Dr. Leonard McCoy, our very own newlyweds. Try not to give 'em too hard of a time, but I make no promises.”

The corridor erupted, catcalls, whistles, claps, a few good-natured hoots bouncing off the walls.

Leonard sighed, long and low, as a few younger crew members gave exaggerated claps or shouted a congratulation as they passed.

“Dammit, Jim.” he grumbled, tugging his duffel higher on his shoulder.

Georgie burst out laughing, gripping his arm. “You had to know he’d pull something like this.”

They kept moving, dodging a few more cheers as they reached their deck. Leonard keyed in their new room code, the door sliding open with a soft hiss.

He stepped inside first, the door sliding shut behind them. Their shared quarters were larger than what they’d had separately, still modest by Starfleet standards, but cozy. Warm light spilled across the compact space, catching the edges of a small sitting area, a kitchenette with a replicator, a desk, and a bed just big enough for two people. The hum of the ship felt quieter here, as if the walls knew to give them a moment’s peace.

He dropped their bags by the wall without ceremony, exhaled through his nose, and turned to her like something finally loosened now that they were alone again.

Then, without a word, he swept her up into his arms.

She let out a surprised laugh, her boots dangling midair. “Len!”

He grinned, one of those rare, open ones that started in his eyes. “Seems like this place needs a proper christening.”

Her hands settled around his neck, eyes bright despite the weight of the day. “We don’t have time for that,” she said, even as she leaned into him. “We still need to unpack, check in with our departments—”

He lowered her gently onto the bed, the mattress sighing beneath her weight. “Sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice dropping to that low Georgia drawl she could never quite resist, “I am a man who knows how to work fast when I’m on a mission.”

She arched an eyebrow, amused, intrigued. “Oh?” she said, dragging the word out, playful and daring. “Is that so?”

His smile softened, the mischief in it edged with something quieter. He let his gaze linger on her. His heart beat a little harder under the surface of it all. 

He braced one hand on the bed beside her and bent just enough to kiss her temple, his breath brushing her skin.

“New bed, shared quarters…” he said, voice low and hands already under her shirt. “Seems criminal not to take her for a spin.” 

She arched a brow. “Her?” 

He winked. “The bed, Sweetheart. But I’m negotiable.”

Later, half-dressed and breathless, they started unpacking. The room still smelled faintly of new upholstery and disinfectant, but it already felt more like home with their clothes draped over chairs and wedding photos on the desk. Soft ambient light pooled along the edge of the bed, where Georgie was now kneeling, carefully smoothing out the folds of a Starfleet-issue storage bag.

He opened a crate and began sorting through it when his eye caught movement—Georgie, unwrapping something swaddled in cloth like it was some priceless artifact. She turned, triumphant, and placed it gently on the shelf.

A cactus. The cactus.

He froze mid-motion. His shoulders slumped. “Oh, hell no. You brought that thing back?”

She grinned without shame. “It’s sentimental. I named him Prickles.”

“It stabbed me in the ass, Georgie.”

“You sat on it.”

“It ambushed me.”

She laughed, patting the terracotta pot like a proud parent. “He’s part of the family now.”

He glared at the spiny menace like it was a rival he’d meet at high noon. “I’m drowning it when you’re not looking.”

She stood, kissed his cheek on her way past. “I’ll know.”

He watched her for a beat, messy hair, bare feet, glowing skin, that grin still tugging at her mouth. The woman who had stood beside him at the altar. The woman who’d carried him through chaos and brought him back to life more than once. And she was here, in this room, unpacking their life together like it was the most natural thing in the world.

He was about to cross the room to steal a kiss when the terminal by the door chirped to life.

Incoming message: Department Heads, report to briefing room 4 within the hour. Confirm receipt.

Just like that, the spell broke.

He exhaled. “And there it is…”

She sighed and glanced over her shoulder. “Guess the galaxy missed us.”

He ran a hand through his hair, letting out a soft grunt. “Didn’t even give us a moment.”

The cactus sat smugly on the shelf.He glared at it. “Still gonna drown you.”

Her soft laugh followed him as he tapped the console to confirm.

They dressed quietly, the air between them calm but buzzing with something deeper, anticipation, pride, maybe even a little awe. She smoothed down her red shirt, tugging on her boots. He adjusted the collar of his blue uniform, then caught her eye in the reflection of the wall mirror.

“Ready to report for duty, wife?” he asked, voice warm.

She gave a half-smile. “Only if Dr. McCoy can keep up.”

They left their quarters together, joining the stream of officers in the corridor. The buzz was unmistakable, crew members laughing, shaking hands, exchanging congratulations. A few called out greetings, and more than one paused to offer a wink or a clap on the back.

When they reached the meeting room, Nyota and Hikaru were already there and the moment they spotted Georgie and Leonard, both broke into bright smiles.

“You two!” Nyota practically squealed, throwing her arms around Georgie. “So happy to see you!!”

“You survived the honeymoon?” Hikaru grinned as he pulled Leonard into a brief hug.

“We did,” Leonard replied, deadpan. “Though by the end Georgie started working on simulations.”

Georgie shrugged, eyes twinkling. “I was getting antsy and you were asleep, what else was I supposed to do?”

They all laughed. It felt good for a few moments.

Then the room quieted as Jim and Spock stepped to the front.

Jim’s eyes swept the room before he began.
“You all know why we’re here. We’ve been called to explore uncharted systems, re-establish connections in quiet sectors, and represent the Federation at its best. You’re here because you’re trusted to do what you do better than anyone else.”

He let that sit a moment before continuing.
“This mission won’t always be clear. You won’t always have the full story. But you’ll have each other. Your crew. This ship. That’s what matters.”

His gaze moved across the room, pausing on familiar faces, then settling briefly on Leonard and Georgie.
“Some of you are newly married. Some just returned from leave. And some of you… have seen firsthand the cost of silence, what it takes to carry on after the ground shifts beneath your feet.”

A quiet ripple moved through the room, unspoken things acknowledged without needing names.
Jim took a breath, his tone quieter now.
“The next few years will ask more of us than we expect. There will be lightyears of wonder and days of doubt. But I believe in this crew. I believe in what we stand for.”

He straightened just slightly.
“So we do what we always do, we launch, we listen, we learn. And when the moment comes to lead, we lead with heart. I’m excited to see what you all can do and I hope for an eventful, but smooth voyage.”

A quiet stillness fell over the room, not heavy, but full.
Jim gave a small nod. “Dismissed.”

It was time. Preparations made. Orders given. Now, the buzz of readiness filled every corridor. The Enterprise was about to leave Earth for three years. Leonard stood beside Jim on the bridge, tapping a final update into the console.

“Medical’s ready,” he said. “Fully stocked. No complaints. You’re free to break everyone as usual.”

Jim smirked. “Glad to hear it.”

From across the bridge, Nyota turned from her station. “Captain, Starfleet Command just cleared us for departure.”

Jim straightened. “Mr. Chekov, set a course for our first stop. Mr. Sulu, take us out.”

The engines shifted with a low, powerful hum as the great starship began to reverse from dock. Through the viewport, Earth started to recede, bright and blue beneath the curling edge of the atmosphere.

Georgie stepped away from her tactical post, crossing quietly to stand beside Leonard. Their shoulders brushed, then rested together.

No words passed between them. But Leonard turned slightly, just enough to see her face. She was watching the stars ahead, not in awe, but in calculation.

And he felt it too, just beneath the pride, beneath the science and the mission and the uniforms.

Whatever waited out there… they’d face it. Together.

A month and a half into their journey and they were still adjusting between duty and married life. There had been several away missions since then. Some peaceful. Some... not so much. There was the time they got caught in a sandstorm on Pyralis V, where Leonard cursed out loud every five minutes about how nothing good ever came from a mission that required goggles. Another involved a run-in with a rather large, tusked alien creature that seemed to take issue with Georgie stepping into its territory. They ran. Fast. Georgie claimed she could have taken it. Leonard claimed she was out of her damn mind.

When it came to the day to day they had shared schedules. Two alarm clocks set fifteen minutes apart. Closet space that required negotiation and the occasional ceasefire. The daily tango in the bathroom, where elbows bumped and mirror time was rationed like starship supplies.

They’d already walked in on each other’s most embarrassing moments.
He once came home to find Georgie mid-rant in their quarters, pacing and arguing with an imaginary version of someone who had clearly tested her patience in a briefing. She, in turn, caught him singing to himself, soft and off-key, while tinkering with medical tools off-duty, completely unaware he had an audience.

Mornings were functional, not sweet. She preferred silence until her second cup of coffee; He mumbled through his to-do list. It wasn’t personal. It was just 0600.

She kissed his cheek on the way out. He never stopped being surprised that she did.

They operated in orbits, she buried in tactical plans, him drowning in med reports and junior officers who couldn’t tell a rash from radiation exposure. Some days they only passed each other in hallways. Other days, they traded dry looks across briefing tables when Jim went off-script.

Dinner wasn’t always together. But when it was, it mattered. They leaned on the counter and ate in silence, then looked at each other and said, “This is fine.” It became their unspoken ritual.

Tension came in flickers. Like the night she forgot to log a report and Leonard teased her, too critical, too late. She shut the bathroom door with just enough force to make her point. He sat at the table, jaw tight, before finally knocking gently. She opened it with her toothbrush in hand, eyes tired but not angry. He apologized. She nodded. No voices raised. They didn’t need to.

Or the time Leonard skipped dinner, again. She left a note; You don’t always have to be a hero, y’know . He found her already asleep, curled on the far edge of the bed. He didn’t wake her, just pulled the blanket over both of them and let the guilt settle in his chest.

And still, they laughed. Every day. Even the hard ones. Time moved. They moved with it. Even on nights like this, late, unplanned, intense. Moving together in a rhythm built on love and want. Kisses turned frantic. Her hands roamed, jaw, chest, back, like she couldn’t get close enough. He pressed his forehead to hers, breath ragged.

She was close, he felt it in every inch of her. The way she clenched around him, nails biting into his skin. The way her voice broke in that breathless little sound that wrecked him every time.

And then, the ship’s klaxon wailed.

Red alert. All officers to stations.

“No. No—” She gasped, still clinging to him, eyes wide with disbelief.

He dropped his head to her shoulder with a groan so guttural it bordered on tragic. “You’ve got to be kiddin’ me.”

They stayed tangled together for one breath. Just one. Frustrated. Stunned.

Then came the quiet, reluctant shift, two officers dragging themselves out of bed, out of this, into uniforms and duty like the galaxy hadn’t just ruined everything.

It had been a long damn shift. Leonard’s boots felt welded to his feet, every step an argument between duty and gravity. His lower back throbbed with dull resentment, a silent protest after hours of standing, bending, and barking orders. The scent of antiseptic still clung to his uniform, and his fingers were raw from scrubbing in for surgery.

Three minor injuries, one nasty plasma burn, a surprise allergic reaction to replicated seafood, and two ensigns nearly coming to blows over a 3D chess match. And that was just before dinner.

All he wanted was simple, his bed and his wife, preferably at the same time.

He smiled, just a flicker, as he rounded the corner toward their quarters. The thought of her curled up in their blanket nest, maybe wearing his oversized sweatshirt that swallowed her, her hair pushed back with one of those ridiculous fuzzy headbands, hell, that image was all that had kept him upright somewhere around Deck 5.

The doors hissed open. Warm light spilled out. And he froze midstep. There were four women in their quarters.

Christine. Nyota. And two more he vaguely recognized, one from Security, one from Comms, all cross-legged on the floor like teenagers at a slumber party. The air smelled like face masks and buttery popcorn and sweet Risan wine. Music played softly from the corner. Nail polish bottles stood like tiny totems between them all.

In the middle of it was Georgie. She looked up mid-laugh, something carefree and unguarded in her face, right before she spotted him. Joy flickered to surprise. Then to guilt. Then to silent, unmistakable horror.

“Leonard!” she blurted, scrambling to her feet with sock-muted urgency. “What are you doing here?”

He blinked slowly, taking in the chaos. “Uh… I live here?”

A chorus of laughter erupted behind her.

Christine gave a dramatic gasp. “You forgot?”

Georgie padded toward him quickly, her headband slightly crooked. “I told you I was doing a girls’ night. You said it was fine.”

He squinted. “Did I?”

“You did,” she insisted gently, reaching for his hand like it might jog his memory.

Christine rose from the floor like a gremlin with purpose, wielding a jade roller like it was a phaser. “See? Men always forget.”

“I didn’t forget,” He muttered, dragging a hand down his face. “I… reallocated the memory.”

Nyota raised her glass with a laugh. “Impressive reframe, Doctor.”

He looked at Georgie again. She was in fuzzy socks, a sweatshirt slouched off one shoulder, and her cheeks were warm from laughter and wine. Her eyes, still soft, still his, held apology and affection all at once.

“You want me to cancel?” she whispered, stepping close enough that her scent, something warm like vanilla, cut through the antiseptic clinging to his uniform.

He looked past her, at the wine, the half-finished manicures, the comfort. The messiness of friendship in full swing.

He exhaled a long breath through his nose. “Nah. Y’all are clearly in the middle of something sacred.”

“You could join,” Nyota teased. “We’ve got a sheet mask with your name on it.”

“Hard pass,” he said, turning to leave. “Not tonight. Not ever.”

Georgie stood on her toes and kissed his cheek, her lips soft and wine-sweet. “I’m sorry, Len. I owe you.”

He closed his eyes for a second, just to feel it. Her breath still warm near his ear. The weight of the day beginning to peel off his skin like old paint.

“It’s alright,” he said quietly. “You deserve a night like this.”

“Try not to blow anything up,” he added, raising his brows at the group.

“No promises,” said Christine, already reaching for another bottle of wine.

He shook his head, already retreating. “I’m going to Kirk’s.”

The doors whooshed shut behind him.

The corridor was quieter now. By the time he reached Jim’s quarters, his shoulders had begun to unknot.

The door opened to reveal Jim with a surprised look on his face.

“Bones, what are you doing here?” Jim said.

Leonard groaned, “I walked into a live grenade labeled ‘Girls’ Night.’”

Jim laughed. “You forgot, didn’t you?”

“I didn’t forget. I… reprioritized. Alright if I crash here until it’s over?” Jim stepped to the side to let him in.

The couch groaned beneath him as Leonard settled in with a weary grunt. Jim moved across the room with practiced ease, plucking a bottle from a cabinet like it was a holstered phaser. “So,” he said, pouring whiskey into two glasses, “are you officially a refugee now?”

“Feels like it,” Leonard muttered. “They were about ten minutes away from painting my nails and sticking slices of salad on my face.”

Jim grinned. “You would’ve looked great in mint green.”

Leonard gave him a look. “Keep talkin’ . ”

They slipped into conversation with the kind of ease that only came with years of friendship and battles fought side-by-side, on the bridge, in the field, and in life. They talked about the ship, the crew, the ridiculousness of the latest Starfleet regulation updates. About how Chekov had gotten too good at poker. How Scotty had jury-rigged a food replicator to serve real bacon and now half the engineering staff was addicted. Jim asked about Georgia, Leonard’s mom, married life. Leonard asked about Spock, about command, about whether Jim had finally figured out how to sleep more than four hours a night.

Jim eventually stood, stretching with a dramatic groan. “Back in a sec. Gonna grab another bottle.” He wandered into the kitchenette, humming some song under his breath.

Leonard leaned back with a sigh, letting the couch swallow him.

Then— buzz.

A PADD lit up beside him.

He squinted. A call coming in.

Porsha McCoy.

Leonard stared.

The glass slipped a little in his hand. “…Why the hell is Porsha calling you? ”

No response from the kitchenette.

Frowning, Leonard reached for the PADD. Tapped it.

And instantly regretted it.

Porsha appeared on screen.

Wearing nothing but a barely-there, silky red lingerie set, her hair tousled, her mouth already forming a flirtatious hello, until she saw him.

Her eyes widened in horror. “Oh my god! Lenny?!”

He nearly dropped the PADD. “What the—?! Porsha?! What in God’s name are you—?!”

“I thought—! I thought Jim was answering!” she cried, clutching a blanket over herself in a panic.

“Why the hell are you calling Jim like this?! In that?!”

Jim bolted in from the kitchenette like he’d heard a red alert. “No no no—!”

He snatched the PADD from Leonard’s hand, mortified. “Porsha! I’m so sorry—he just showed up, I wasn’t thinking—I’ll call you back, Baby. Promise.”

Porsha gave Jim one last stricken glance before the screen cut off.

Silence.

Thick and hot.

Leonard turned slowly, eyes wide and jaw clenched. “ Baby? ”

Jim grimaced. “...Not how I wanted to tell you.”

Leonard stood, chest tight, whiskey forgotten on the table. “What the hell man! You’re seein’ Porsha?!”

“Yes.”

Leonard’s hands flexed at his sides. “And you didn’t think to mention that you’ve been screwing around with my cousin?!”

“It’s not like that—”

“She’s family, Jim! Porsha is like a sister to me. You didn’t think maybe, just maybe, I deserved to know before she showed up half-naked on your damn PADD?!”

“I was going to tell you!” Jim said, stepping forward, voice rising. “I just— I didn’t know how.”

“You didn’t know how?! Try this, ‘Hey Bones, I’m seeing your cousin.’ Done. Not hard.”

Jim ran a hand through his hair. “Look, I get it, alright? I get why you’re mad. But this isn’t just some fling. I care about her. A lot.”

Leonard narrowed his eyes. “How much is ‘a lot,’ Jim? Enough to stop playing games? Or enough until you get bored and chase the next pretty thing in a bar?”

Jim shook his head. “You think I’d do that to her?”

“I think you’ve done it plenty of times.”

Jim flinched, just slightly. Then he squared his shoulders. “You know how her middle name is Peach?”

Leonard blinked. “Yeah, what about it?”

“She hates it when other people use it. But not with me. She told me I could use it because she said she felt safe. And I’ve told her things that I thought I’d never tell anyone.”

Jim nodded. “I like her a lot, Bones. I didn’t plan on it happening, but it did. And it’s real. I swear to you, this isn’t some fling, or a secret I meant to keep to hurt you. I just didn’t want to screw up how I told you. I didn’t want it to feel like a betrayal . ”

Leonard sat back down heavily, rubbing a hand over his mouth. His stomach twisted with heat and confusion.

He loved his cousin. She was one of the best people he knew. Smart. Kind. She didn’t deserve heartache. Not from anyone.

And Jim? Jim was family too. Damn it.

He reached for his whiskey, staring down at the amber in the glass.

Then he downed the whole thing in a single, burning gulp.

He set the glass down hard. “If you hurt her, if you so much as make her cry, I will not hesitate to rearrange your face.”

Jim gave a solemn nod. “Understood.”

Leonard looked at him, his expression still stormy but softening at the edges.

“Peach, huh?”

Jim smiled, small and quiet. “Yeah.”

Leonard shook his head. “God help me.”

The sterile tang of antiseptic clung to the air, humming quietly beneath the diagnostic monitors. Leonard stood at the central console of the patient room, reviewing the injury report from security while trying not to scowl. The man in question, a smuggler, complained of pain in the ribs and a gash near his temple. Typical reckless behavior; tried to outrun a patrol in a half-dead freighter through an asteroid field and lost. Now he was Leonard’s problem.

Georgie stood nearby, a phaser rifle slung over her shoulder like it belonged there. Calm. Composed. Already locked into full security mode.

“He’s got a reputation, apparently,” she said, flipping through a PADD. “Name’s Caz. Known for charming his way out of detainment. Provocative, manipulative, and prone to testing boundaries.”

Leonard pinched the bridge of his nose. “Great. A charming jackass with a head wound. Just what I needed today.”

She smirked. “Thought you liked a challenge.”

“I like sedated, cooperative patients. Not smugglers.”

“Then you’re going to love this one.”

He nodded toward her rifle. “Overkill much?”

“Trust me,” she said. “This guy’s been dodging warrants for years. Slips through cracks like it’s his job. Not this time. Not on my ship.”

Hiss—
The doors parted.

Caz swaggered in between two security officers like he owned the place, despite the blood drying at his temple and the cuffs on his wrists. Tall, lean, and grinning, he moved with a limp that was half pain, half performance. His torn jacket hung open, exposing a stained shirt and a level of confidence that had no right surviving a crash.

The moment he spotted Georgie, his expression brightened.

“Well,” he drawled, “if I’d known Starfleet employed officers like you, I might’ve surrendered sooner.”

“Step to the bed,” Georgie ordered flatly. She turned to the two security officers. “You two can wait outside the door, I can handle him.” The two security officers nodded and left.

His eyes slid to the phaser rifle leaned near the console. “You planning to shoot me before or after the scan?”

“Depends how fast you move.”

Leonard didn’t look up. “You heard her. Sit down before your attitude makes me misplace the painkillers.”

Caz limped toward the biobed, wincing dramatically. “Friendly staff. I like that.”

He sat with a theatrical groan and looked between them. “Name’s Caz, by the way. Thought it might help if I introduced myself, considering I’m bleeding.”

Leonard stepped beside him with his tricorder. “You’ve got two fractured ribs, a muscle tear, cut on the forehead, and a personality defect.”

“Doctor and comedian.” Caz grinned and turned his attention back to Georgie. “And you? Got a name or should I call you Starfleet Sweetheart?”

Georgie stared at him. “Try that again and I’ll slap tape over your mouth.”

Caz chuckled. “You’re fun.”

Leonard rolled his eyes. “Any allergies?”

“Just to uniforms. Except hers.”

Leonard pressed against the bruised rib with two fingers. Caz gasped and jerked.

“Alright—watch it now!”

“Give me fifthteen minutes of silence and you will be patched up.”

Caz settled back, unfazed. “So,” he said to Georgie, “after you’re done escorting me around the ship, what do you say we hit a starbase together? Slow music, low lighting…”

Georgie didn’t blink. “I’d rather dislocate my shoulder and reset it manually.”

“Oof. A girl into pain, I like that.”

Leonard muttered, “You’re exhausting.”

“Come on, let’s ditch the doctor here and get a room aboard this ship of yours.”

Then Caz overstepped.

He reached out, too quick, and slapped Georgie on the backside.

The room froze.

Leonard’s tricorder hit the floor as he closed the space in a blink. He grabbed Caz by the wrist, twisted it behind his back, and slammed him down onto the biobed.

Caz gasped. “What the hell?!”

Leonard pressed his weight down, voice low and razor-sharp. “That was a mistake.”

“Okay, okay! I didn’t mean—ow, OW —!”

“She’s not your entertainment. And she’s not just security.” Leonard leaned closer, each word deliberate. “She’s my wife.”

Caz’s face twisted. “Didn’t know! I swear—I didn’t know!”

“You’re going to apologize.”

“I’m sorry! I said I’m sorry!”

“Leonard.” Georgie’s voice cut through the tension like a wire. “Let him go.”

He held the position a moment longer. Then, jaw tight, he released Caz and stepped back. The smuggler groaned, rubbing his shoulder, grin already starting to slither back onto his face.

“No hard feelings,” he muttered. “Just a misunderstanding.”

Leonard didn’t answer. He bent down, picked up the tricorder, and set it back on the tray, rougher than he meant to.

That’s when he noticed Georgie had gone still.

She was staring at something around Caz’s neck. A pendant, half-tucked beneath his collar. Dull metal. A hollow center. Jagged rays radiating outward. Three curved arcs wrapping the edge. The same emblem of The Chorus.

Leonard’s chest pulled tight.

Georgie stepped in. “Where did you get that?”

Caz lifted the pendant and twirled it in his fingers. “This? Found it. Don’t remember where, exactly. Storm, crash site, spooky moon, take your pick.”

She tilted her head slightly, smile cool. “That’s a hell of a souvenir.”

Caz grinned. “Thought it looked interesting. Didn’t realize it was fashionably offensive.”

“Where did you really find it?”

He shifted. “Some abandoned site. Middle of nowhere. I was sheltering during a storm. Ran into some folks, quiet types. No names. Weirdly polite. They wore these pendants.”

“What did they say to you?”

“Not much. Just started asking questions. Like I’d wandered into a therapy session. I left.”

“Why?”

He hesitated. “They didn’t scare me. But... I don’t know. They were off . Like they weren’t listening to what I was saying, just waiting to hear something in between.”

Georgie reached out and snatched the pendant from his fingers. The cord snapped.

“Hey!” Caz recoiled. “That’s mine.”

“No,” she said evenly. “Not anymore it is. This is evidence for an ongoing investigation.”

Leonard folded his arms.

Caz looked between them, suddenly less smug. “So… I can go now?”

Georgie gave him a cold smile. “You’re a wanted man, Mr. Caz. You’re headed to the brig, once you’re healed.”

Caz’s grin vanished. “Seriously?”

“You’re welcome for the medical treatment,” Leonard added.

Caz slumped. “This ship’s got no sense of humor.”

As the security officers moved in to escort him, Georgie slipped the pendant into a pouch on her belt. Leonard caught the way her fingers lingered over it, brief, but thoughtful. Her face stayed unreadable, focused, but he’d known her long enough to see the tension in her jaw.

There was something about the object. Not dangerous, exactly. But dissonant. Like a note held too long in the wrong key.

He filed the sensation away. Georgie and the officers led Caz to the brig.

Leonard told himself it was just the aftermath of the encounter. The smuggler had crossed a line; the pendant had triggered something neither of them could quite name. Still, her silence lingered. She hadn’t said much since, just the basics. Status updates. A few clipped responses. Half a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

By the time he returned to their quarters that night, she was curled on the couch, boots kicked off, arms wrapped loosely around herself. She looked tired in an unsettled way that sleep didn’t fix.

“Everything alright?” he asked, casual but not quite.

She nodded too quickly. “Yeah. Just a headache.”

But later, as he watched her excuse herself for the third time that week, moving slower than usual, his medical instincts stirred.

Stress, maybe. Fatigue. Or something else.

He didn’t say it aloud. Not yet. But the question had started forming at the back of his mind, quiet and persistent.

Chapter Text

Several days had passed since Caz had been locked in the brig and the pendant placed in evidence. Georgie had filed her report and submitted the artifact to Spock for further analysis. She’d described her interaction with the smuggler to both Spock and Jim, detailing the strange behavior, the probing questions, and the symbol etched into the metal disk.

“The way he described them…” she’d said in the briefing, arms folded tight across her chest, “it lines up with what little we know of the Chorus. Still this mysterious group hiding out in the galaxy.”

Leonard had stayed mostly quiet. He wasn’t security. This wasn’t his arena. But in the back of his mind, a thought had lodged itself,

What if the pendant gave off something? Radiation. Residue. Some kind of bio-agent. She’d held it longer than she should have. And ever since… she’d been off.

Not enough to raise alarms. But enough that he noticed.

She was sleeping more, but looked more tired. Her appetite had dipped. Her usual dry humor had softened into something thinner, quieter, distracted.

Spock’s report came in that morning.

He opened the message in sickbay and scanned it quickly, 

Non-reactive alloy. No traceable radiation, signal transmission, or energy signature. Composition: standard metals. Object is inert.

He exhaled through his nose. Relief unfurled in his chest before he even realized he’d been holding tension there. The pendant wasn’t dangerous. At least… not on paper.

But that still left him where he started, watching Georgie from across their quarters that night, seeing her curled up on the couch with a blanket draped around her shoulders. Not sick. Not injured. Just dulled at the edges.

She hadn’t said much over dinner. Barely touched her plate.

He brought her a glass of water anyway, setting it beside her without comment.

She gave him a faint smile. “Thanks.”

“You’ve been off,” he said gently, settling beside her. “You gonna tell me what’s going on?”

She hesitated. Not defensive, just uncertain. She looked down at her hand, fingers curling before letting go.

“Dunno,” she said. “Maybe I’m just adjusting. Everything’s been a lot lately.”

He didn’t push. Not yet. He just nodded and stayed with her in the quiet, watching her out of the corner of his eye.

The pendant hadn’t done anything.

The following week, nothing had changed. He felt it in the smallest places first, little shifts in routine, in tone, in touch. At first, he chalked it up to stress. Everyone was overworked. 

She’d stopped humming in the mornings. That was the first thing. Normally, she half-sang to herself, bits of old Terran songs, tactical drill counts, sometimes even snippets of whatever Jim had been blasting through the bridge comms. But lately? Silence. Just the sound of boots on the floor and her toothbrush clinking in the sink.

She used to nudge him with her knee under the table during briefings when Jim went off-topic. A private joke. A shared moment. But now, she sat rigid. Arms crossed. Eyes narrowed. No glances. No jokes. No warmth.

And last night, he’d come into their quarters late, shoulders aching from surgery, expecting to find her asleep. Instead, she was at her desk, datapads stacked in chaotic piles, dark circles under her eyes.

“Come to bed,” he’d said gently.

“I’ve got three reports to finish.”

“You’ve got a bed and a body that needs rest. Come on.”

“I said I’m busy, Leonard.”

Just like that. Flat. Cold. Not angry, just… done.

Now, in the mess hall, he set a coffee down in front of her and watched her stir it mechanically, not even looking up.

“You didn’t eat again,” he murmured.

She finally glanced at him. “Wasn’t hungry.”

He sat across from her slowly. “That’s the third meal you’ve skipped in two days.”

She let out a breath. “Work’s been insane. I’m juggling drills, budget updates, personnel evals, everything’s landing on me right now.”

He leaned back, watching her. “That why you snapped at Sulu yesterday?”

Her lips tightened. “He handed in his report late.”

“You told him to shove it somewhere anatomically impossible.”

She blinked. “Did I?”

“Yeah. In front of two ensigns.”

She covered her face with one hand, rubbing her eyes. “Okay. That was… not my best moment.”

“No, it wasn’t.”

There was no venom in his voice. Just truth, softened at the edges by growing worry.

She lowered her hand and looked at him, tired, guarded. “I just need a day or two to shake it off. That’s all.”

He tilted his head. “You’ve been sayin’ that for over a week now.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine. You’re quiet. You’re closed off. You’ve been forgettin’ things. I asked if you did the laundry the other day and you looked at me like I’d spoken Romulan.”

“I said I’m fine.”

He studied her. Noticed how her uniform sat a little looser around the waist. How her hands clung to the mug like she needed the heat just to stay grounded. How the snap in her tone wasn’t just frustration, it was exhaustion soaked deep into her bones.

“Alright,” he said finally, voice low. “I’ll back off. Give you your space. A couple days.”

She blinked. “That’s it?”

He nodded. “But I’m watchin’ you.”

She gave him a ghost of a smile, soft, but wary. “You’re always watching me.”

“Yeah,” he said. “And I know when somethin’ ain’t right.”

Her gaze dropped to her cup. “I’m sorry I’ve been… hard to be around.”

He reached across the table, fingers brushing gently against hers. “You’re not hard to be around. You’re just not lettin’ me in. And that’s the part I don’t know how to sit with.”

She swallowed, throat tightening. But she didn’t pull away.

“I’ll try,” she said finally. “I promise. Just give me a little time.”

“Always do,” he said.

And he would. But that didn’t mean he’d stop paying attention.

Even after a couple more days, nothing had changed. She still moved through the halls like she was walking underwater. Still gave him half-smiles that didn’t quite reach her eyes. Still brushed off his quiet questions with quieter answers. And despite her promises, she hadn’t let him in.

The next day, he lingered in Sickbay long after the lights had dimmed and the junior staff had filtered out. He stood at the console pretending to review equipment logs, but his mind hadn’t touched the screen in minutes.

Christine stepped in with a data slate tucked under one arm and a tired look in her eyes.

“You’ve been staring at the same inventory record for twenty minutes,” she said, walking over. “That dermal regenerator’s not going to reorder itself.”

He exhaled through his nose. “Yeah. I know.”

She tilted her head, reading him like a scan. “Something’s up.”

He didn’t answer right away, just scratched the back of his neck, then leaned against the counter.

“It’s my wife.”

Christine’s expression softened, the professional mask slipping into something warmer. “She’s been off.”

“You noticed too?”

Christine nodded. “Caught her in the corridor yesterday. Said hi—she barely looked up. Looked exhausted. Kind of like you right now.”

Leonard let out a low sigh. “She’s been snappin’. Withdrawn. Not sleepin’, barely eatin’. Swears it’s just work.”

“But you don’t think it is.”

“I don’t know what to think. I don’t wanna push her, but I can’t just sit here while she spirals. She keeps sayin’ she just needs time, but…” He paused, rubbing a hand over his mouth. “Somethin’s not sittin’ right.”

Christine was quiet for a moment, then stepped closer, folding her arms.

“Do you want me to talk to her?” she asked gently. “Not as a nurse. Just… as her friend?”

Leonard hesitated, visibly torn. “Would you?”

“Of course. She might need someone who isn’t you right now.”

His brows furrowed slightly, but she held up a hand.

“I don’t mean that in a bad way. It’s just, sometimes it’s easier to talk to someone who’s not emotionally entangled. Someone who won’t be disappointed or worried or pacing holes in the floor while you try to find the words.”

Leonard let out a breath, half chuckle, half defeat. “I’ve definitely been doin’ the pacing.”

Christine offered a faint smile and rested a hand on his arm. “Let me feel it out. If she wants to talk, I’ll make space.”

He met her eyes, and for the first time in days, something like relief cracked. “Thanks, Chris.”

“Of course.” She gave his arm a small squeeze before stepping back. “You’re not wrong to be worried. But you’re not alone in it either.”

He nodded, swallowing down the knot forming in his throat. “Just… let me know if she says anything. I don’t need the details. I just want to know she’s okay.”

Christine gave a quiet nod. “You got it.”

And as she left Sickbay, Leonard stayed where he was, still leaning against the counter. The quiet settled in around him unmoving.

He didn’t know what to expect next.

Leonard left his meeting with Jim that afternoon in good spirits, the two of them having argued affectionately over resource allocations and who owed whom a bottle of bourbon.

As he turned the corner toward Sickbay, something caught his eye.

A glimpse. A figure.

He paused.

Georgie.

Just a flash of her, her uniform, her gait, the sway of her short brown hair disappearing down the opposite corridor. She hadn’t seen him. Or maybe she had and didn’t stop?

His brows drew together.

She wasn’t scheduled in Sickbay. No drills, no joint training, no mention of a visit. He picked up his pace, half-hoping she was swinging by to surprise him with a kiss, something she did when their schedules aligned. But when he turned the corridor, she was gone.

He stepped into Sickbay and spotted Christine reviewing inventory near the supply cabinet.

“Hey,” he said, keeping it casual. “Was Georgie just here?”

Christine looked up, and for a moment, barely more than a breath, something shifted in her expression. A pause too long. A blink too slow.

His stomach tightened.

She turned back to her slate, tapping with more focus than needed.

“Chris,” he said, softer now.

She stilled.

“Was she here?” he asked again.

Christine exhaled, then nodded. “Yeah. She came by for a minute.”

Leonard frowned. “What for?”

“She didn’t stay long. Asked for something small.”

“But you did talk,” he said, watching her more closely now.

Christine hesitated. Just long enough to confirm it.

“She’s not in danger,” she said carefully. “But I think you should talk to her, Leonard. Really talk.”

That landed like a stone in his gut.

He studied her, saw the empathy in her expression, the worry just beneath it.

“What aren’t you telling me?” he asked, voice low.

“I promised her I wouldn’t say anything,” Christine replied. “And I’m not breaking that. But she’s not shutting you out to hurt you. She just doesn’t know how to let you in right now.”

Leonard crossed his arms, jaw working.

“That supposed to make me feel better?”

“No,” she said gently. “But it’s the truth.”

He leaned against the counter, gaze dropping to the floor.

Christine stepped closer. “Talk to her tonight. Not as CMO. Not as her husband trying to fix something. Just… be the man she trusts.”

Leonard gave a quiet nod, throat tight. “Yeah. Okay.”

She squeezed his arm. “You’ll know what to say.”

As she walked away, he remained rooted in place, heart heavy and mind racing.

He thought of her face that morning, distant, her eyes shadowed with something she hadn’t named.

Now she was sneaking into Sickbay? This wasn’t stress. It wasn’t a phase. It was something else entirely. And he needed to know what.

He knew something was wrong the moment he stepped through the door. Not because it was quiet. Not because the lights were low, she liked it that way after a long shift. But because the air felt… tense. Like something had cracked open in the room and was still bleeding through the walls. He half-hoped to hear music, smell something cooking, maybe catch her curled up on the couch with a book.

He dropped his bag. “Darlin’?”

No answer.

Then faintly a sound. A sharp breath, wet and uneven. His gut twisted.

He moved toward the bathroom and knocked gently, already bracing himself. “Georgie?”

Still nothing. He opened the door.

She was there, sitting in the tub with her legs pulled to her chest. The water was only half full, lukewarm. Her arms were wrapped tight around herself. Her face was blotchy, eyes red, tears still streaking her cheeks.

She didn’t look up. His breath caught. “Oh… sweetheart.”

He moved quickly but gently, lowering himself to the floor beside the tub. One knee down, the other bracing him. He reached out, brushing damp strands of hair from her face.

“Hey. Talk to me. What’s goin’ on?” His voice cracked at the edges, panic held carefully beneath the surface.

For a moment, she didn’t answer. Just stared at the water like it might offer her a way out.

Then, in a voice that was barely more than breath,

“I’m pregnant.”

He blinked. Once. Twice. His mind emptied.

Her arms clutched tighter around herself. “I went to Sickbay this morning. I just thought I was just stressed, but I thought I’d check to be safe. Christine… she ran the test twice.” She finally looked up, eyes glossy and scared. “It’s real, Len.”

He reached for her hand. She let him. Her fingers were trembling, cold from the water, but she held on like he was the only solid thing left in the world.

“I didn’t know how to tell you,” she whispered. “I just… I panicked. I’m still panicking. I don’t know what this means. Do I get pulled from duty? Do I have to leave the Enterprise? I didn’t want this, not yet. We were so careful. I was on something, a new implant. It wasn’t supposed to happen.”

Every word was unraveling, faster, sharper, panicked.

He didn’t answer right away. He leaned in, wrapping his arms around her soaked shoulders, pressing his forehead gently to hers. The edge of the tub bit into his ribs, but he didn’t move.

“Breathe,” he murmured. “Just breathe for me.”

She folded into him, face buried in his chest. Her sobs were soft, but broken, shaking her entire frame, soaking his collar.

He held her tighter. 

“You’re not losing anything,” he whispered. “Not your place. Not your work. Not me.”

Her fist clutched at his uniform like she needed it to breathe.

“We’ll figure this out.. Like always.”

Her voice wavered. “I’m scared, Len.”

“I know,” he said, barely more than a breath. “Me too.”

She didn’t speak again, just breathed against him. The quiet wrapped around them, dripping water, distant hum of the ship, the fragile rhythm of fear and comfort.

“I love you,” she said finally, so soft it barely landed.

He swallowed hard. “I love you more. You hear me? I’m with you. Every step.”

She nodded into his chest, still trembling.

Eventually, he leaned back and wiped her face gently, his thumb brushing along her cheekbone.

“Let’s get you warm,” he said.

She gave a faint nod. Her eyes still shimmered, but the wildness had dulled.

The change in her was impossible to miss. It had been days since she’d found the courage to say it aloud to say pregnant and since then, something invisible had folded over her like a shroud. 

She still showed up for duty. Still ran drills, led briefings, nodded along to Jim’s jokes. But the spark that usually lit her from within, that quick wit, that restless fire, had dimmed.

She moved like someone wading through water. Present, but at a distance. Her voice clipped. Her smiles strained at the edges. Her laughter, when it surfaced, came hollow, as if echoing from another room.

He noticed. Of course he noticed.

At first, he gave her space. A day. Then two. She hadn’t wanted to talk about it, not the baby, not the fear, not the future and he didn’t want to press her. But it gnawed at him, that silence. He’d lie beside her in bed, her back to his chest, and ache with the urge to say something. Anything . But he didn’t know what wouldn’t push her further away.

When she let him, he held her. When she didn’t, he stayed close anyway.

It wasn’t just him. At the senior staff meeting, everyone noticed. She sat stiffly beside Leonard, arms crossed so tightly it looked like she was holding herself together by force. Her eyes barely left the table. Not one comment. Not one question. Not even a sarcastic quip when Jim misquoted a regulation, something she always corrected.

Jim glanced at Leonard from across the table. Concern flickered beneath his usual command polish.

“Knox,” he said, gentle but firm, “you alright?”

Her fingers curled in her lap. Leonard, already bracing for the moment, slipped his hand under the table and laced his fingers through hers. He felt the tension radiating from her skin, her pulse fluttering like a trapped bird.

She didn’t look up. “Just got a lot on my mind,” she replied, voice even and empty. “Nothing’s wrong.”

Nobody pushed. But the air in the room shifted, subtle but heavy.

Later, their quarters felt colder than usual. She sat curled on the couch, knees drawn to her chest. The lights were low. She wasn’t watching anything. Just staring. He watched her from the replicator for a long time. Then moved to the couch, lowering himself beside her with slow, careful weight, close enough to feel her warmth, but not close enough to crowd her.

He didn’t touch her yet.

“Talk to me,” he said softly.

She didn’t respond. Just kept looking forward, her lips parted like maybe she’d speak, but no sound came.

“Georgie…”

“I’m scared,” she whispered.

His chest tightened like a fist had closed around his heart.

“I keep thinking,” she continued, voice trembling, “about Georgia. The day we sat on your porch. You said we shouldn’t be raising kids on a starship.”

He closed his eyes. He remembered. He’d meant it at the time. Still did. But now…

“I didn’t think I’d be pregnant so soon,” she said, her words unraveling. “I thought it would happen after Starfleet. When I was ready. When it made sense. I don’t understand how the birth control failed.”

He reached out gently, hand brushing her back before settling between her shoulder blades. “Sweetheart… I’m not asking you to give up everything. I just think maybe things look different now. Doesn’t mean we stop being who we are. It just means we shift.”

She turned her head slightly, enough for him to see her eyes shining, but she refused to let the tears fall.

“That’s the thing, Len,” she whispered. “I don’t know who I am outside of this. Outside of the job. Outside of the danger and the mission and the damn stars. I fought to be here. Every step. And I love you. I love you so much. But I’m not ready to lose this yet.”

His throat burned. “I’m not asking you to let go,” he said, voice low. “I just want to find a way forward, together.”

She looked at him fully now. Her gaze was raw. Wounded. Desperate. Torn between the life she had and the one forming inside her.

He wanted to fix it. God, he wanted to fix it. But instead of charging in with solutions, he breathed.

“Forget the job,” Leonard said softly. “Forget Starfleet. Forget all of it, just for a second. I just need to know, are you okay? Is the baby okay?”

She shook her head faintly. “We didn’t get that far. Just the test. That’s all I know.”

He nodded, eyes scanning her face. “Did Christine do a scan? Any idea how far along you are?”

“No.” Her voice was small. “I didn’t ask. I just… I couldn’t.”

He reached for her hand, held it steady. “Then let’s be brave together,” he said gently. “Let’s go see how the baby’s doing. Just to know.”

Her eyes lifted to meet his.

“I don’t want to do it as your doctor,” he added, voice low. “I want to be there as your husband. Not the CMO. Not the guy holding the scanner, just the one holding your hand.”

She exhaled, half a breath, half a sob and gave a small nod. “Okay.”

He offered her the faintest smile. “Chapel’s on tonight. She’s got the best bedside manner.” That earned him the ghost of a smile back. Not full. But enough.

Christine didn’t hesitate, even though it was well past hours. The moment Leonard called, her voice had carried only understanding and quiet urgency. She told him to bring Georgie in without question.

Sickbay was nearly empty, the lights dimmed to their overnight settings. When they arrived, Christine was waiting just beyond the entrance. Her posture was professional, but the look in her eyes softened the moment she saw Georgie. She crossed the room without a word and pulled her into a hug—an unspoken recognition of the weight she’d been carrying, and the courage it had taken to finally share it.

“I’m guessing the secret’s out,” she said gently as they pulled apart.

Georgie nodded, eyes a little glassy. “Yeah.”

Christine’s smile was soft and knowing. “You did the hard part already.”

She led them into one of the smaller patient rooms off the main corridor. It was quieter here, more private, the kind of place used for personal consults or quiet updates in the middle of long shifts. Leonard stayed close to Georgie’s side, fingers threaded through hers, even as he fought the habit of scanning the room like it was his own domain. The equipment was familiar. The lighting, the beep of the monitors, the faint antiseptic scent, it all called to the physician in him. But he forced himself to push that part down and remain present as her partner instead.

“This will just take a moment,” Christine said as she prepped the scanning wand and activated the monitor. “You sure you’re okay with me doing this?”

Leonard gave a small nod. His voice was quieter than usual, but steady. “I’m not here as her doctor. I just want to be here with her.”

Georgie lay back slowly on the biobed, her hand still clutched in his. He watched her breathe through the nervous energy that hadn’t quite settled since they left their quarters. She looked tired—drained in a way that ran deeper than lack of sleep, but there was something in her expression now that he hadn’t seen in days. She looked open again, like the wall around her had finally started to come down.

Christine applied the cool gel across Georgie’s lower abdomen, and Leonard felt her flinch slightly from the temperature. He gave her hand a small squeeze. A few seconds later, the monitor beside them came to life.

The scan revealed a small shape tucked within the field of color, shifting slightly as the wand hovered over it. It took a moment, but then they heard it, a faint, rhythmic flutter of a heartbeat. It wasn’t loud, but it was unmistakable. The sound filled the room like something sacred.

Christine glanced between them and smiled. “Everything looks good. Baby’s measuring at around eight weeks. Strong heartbeat. No complications that I can see.”

Leonard didn’t respond. He couldn’t take his eyes off the screen.

It was surreal, watching the little form flicker in motion. It barely looked like a person, just a curled silhouette surrounded by shadows and light, but it was alive. The sound of its heartbeat echoed through the space, rapid and steady. It didn’t feel theoretical anymore. It didn’t feel distant. This was real in a way that caught him completely off guard. Their child. Growing right there in front of him.

He felt a tightness build in his chest, but it wasn’t anxiety. It was something heavier and warmer that pressed against his ribs and reached the corners of his throat. There was no hiding from it now. No logical detachment or medical vocabulary could name the feeling. It was love, rising in him all at once, unfiltered and absolute.

Christine gave them both a glance, then quietly stepped toward the door. “I’ll leave you two alone,” she said softly. “Take all the time you need.”

The door slid shut behind her with a gentle hiss.

Georgie still hadn’t spoken. She stared at the monitor, her eyes wide and wet, as if afraid to look away in case it vanished. Her breath had evened out, no longer shallow and shaky. There was still tension in her brow, but the sadness had shifted into awe.

Leonard turned toward her, his hand still clasped in hers. “That’s really ours,” he murmured. “That little heartbeat. That’s our baby.”

She nodded, voice too thick to speak, and leaned into his shoulder.

In that moment, the chaos of duty, uncertainty, and fear melted away. The past didn’t matter. The future could wait. All that existed was the quiet hum of life in the room, and the fragile beginning of something that already meant everything.

He rested his cheek against her hair, eyes fixed on the monitor. He couldn’t stop staring. The disbelief still lingered, but it didn’t feel like denial. It just felt enormous.

He had never expected to feel this way, completely unraveled and reassembled in the space of a single heartbeat. But here they were. Just a little family. Their life. And it had changed everything.

Chapter Text

The doors slid open with a soft hiss, and they stepped into their quarters hand in hand from sickbay. The overhead lights adjusted automatically to a soft, ambient glow, just enough to warm the room without drowning it in harsh brightness. Neither of them said anything at first.

They just walked in together, quietly toeing off their boots. She headed straight for the couch and sank into the cushions with a long, exhausted sigh. He followed, easing down beside her with the same kind of weariness in his bones. His thigh brushed hers as he settled. She leaned her head against his shoulder, and he let it happen.

She took a slow breath.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

He looked down at her, brows drawing together. “For what?”

“For how I’ve been. Distant. Snappy. Avoiding you.” She shifted slightly, sitting up just enough to meet his eyes. “I shut you out and… I didn’t mean to. I was scared, Len. And I felt selfish for being scared. Then guilty for feeling selfish. It all just spiraled. I acted like a brat.”

He shook his head, reaching for her hand and threading his fingers through hers. “You’re not a brat.”

Her mouth tugged upward, but her eyes were sad. “I was definitely brat-adjacent.”

He let out a soft chuckle, though it didn’t fully reach his eyes. “You’ve been going through something huge. It’s okay to be overwhelmed. None of this came with instructions.”

She looked at him for a long moment, her expression open and raw. “I kept thinking I had to have it all together. Like if I let it hit me, if I let myself feel too much, I’d fall apart.”

“You don’t have to hold it all in,” he said gently. “Not with me.”

She blinked at him.

He squeezed her hand tighter. “Sweetheart… when you shut me out, when you hold everything in like that, it creates space between us. And not the good kind. It’s like trying to hug someone through glass. I don’t always know how to help you, and that kills me. I need you to let me be there.”

She stared, tears pricking at her eyes.

“I know you’re strong. But strength doesn’t mean silence. It doesn’t mean carrying it alone.” His voice dropped, low and pleading. “I’m begging you, when it gets hard, please don’t shut me out. Don’t let that wedge get any bigger than it already feels.”

Her breath caught.

She nodded slowly, eyes shining. “Okay. I promise.”

He reached up and touched her cheek. “Thank you.”

They sat there for a moment in the stillness, the space between them no longer cold or distant, but warm and open.

“I’ve got a favor to ask,” he said, his voice shifting.

“Name it.”

“I want you to take a few days off.”

She tilted her head. “From duty?”

“Yeah,” he said. “You’ve been running yourself ragged, physically, mentally. You’re tired, stressed, and now you’re pregnant on top of all that. It’s not good for you. Or the baby.”

She didn’t argue right away. Just looked at him, chewing on the inside of her cheek.

He continued, quieter now. “Just a few days. Rest. Let yourself slow down.”

She sighed, and then leaned back against his shoulder again. “Okay. I’ll do it.”

“You will?”

“I will.” Her voice was soft. “For the baby. For you. For me.”

He smiled, pressing a kiss into her hair and ran his thumb along the back of her hand, gently.

She closed her eyes. “We’re going to be someone’s parents. That’s wild.”

He huffed a breath, amused. “Yeah. Still trying to wrap my head around it.”

She laughed softly. “A tiny human. That’s going to look at us like we know everything.”

He smiled, resting his cheek against the top of her head. “Guess I better brush up on all the answers.”

She pulled back just enough to look into his face. “You’re going to be an amazing dad.”

His features softened, something catching in his throat as he gazed back at her.

“And you’re going to be someone they look up to every day,” he said. “Because you’re brave, and brilliant, and you love with everything you've got.”

She blinked, tears welling but not falling.

He leaned in and kissed her, slow and warm and full of everything he hadn’t known how to say until now.

When they pulled apart, she smiled through the emotion in her voice. “I can’t believe this is real.”

He chuckled. “Me neither. But I’m glad it is.”

They stayed like that, curled up on the couch, the invisible wall between them gone.

By week 10 of pregnancy, Morning sickness was a beast. No one told her it would feel like being sucker-punched by a space anomaly. No one warned her that brushing her teeth could spark a full system failure, mint foam curdling on her tongue, stomach lurching like it hit turbulence. And no one had the decency to mention that scrambled eggs, her go-to comfort food, would now send her sprinting to the bathroom faster than an alert klaxon.

She had always been composed. Focused. A force of will. But now, Her body betrayed her daily, one heave, one dry gag, one ridiculous food aversion at a time. She’d cried over dry toast. Toast. It was humiliating. Leonard had been a saint.

He kept a medkit within reach at all times, customized a hydration tracker into her PADD, and it reminded her every two hours to sip water. He even replicated every ginger-based remedy known to man, only to watch her gag at half of them. He never flinched. Never sighed. Just kept trying.

She didn’t snap at him. She couldn’t. Not when he looked at her like that. With those warm brown eyes. Not when he held her hair back like it was something sacred. Sometimes she caught herself watching him fumble with a new tea blend and felt the tears prick her eyes, not from nausea this time, but from gratitude, awe and love.

The only person they’d told so far, besides each other, was Christine. She’d been discreet and a godsend, checking Georgie’s vitals when Leonard wasn’t hovering in full husband-turned-shadow-doctor mode.

But beyond that, they kept the news close. Not because they were ashamed. Not because they weren’t sure. They just needed space. To process. To breathe. They were still wrapping their heads around it. But for now, they were holding on. One ginger chew at a time.

It was mid-shift when Jim walked into Leonard’s office, hands tucked into his pockets, brow furrowed with something heavier than his usual mischief.

Leonard glanced up from his terminal. “You look like you’re about to ask me for something expensive or illegal.”

Jim didn’t laugh. He hovered in the doorway for a moment before stepping in and lowering himself into the chair across from the desk.

“It’s about Georgie,” he said quietly.

Leonard’s posture straightened, the sarcasm slipping from his face.

Jim ran a hand through his hair. “She’s been off lately. Missed a couple of non-critical bridge moments, flubbed a detail in yesterday’s status report. Nothing major, but… it’s not like her. I didn’t want to jump to conclusions, but I figured I should say something.”

Leonard exhaled through his nose and leaned back in his chair, hands clasped loosely in front of him.

“She’s pregnant,” he said after a pause, his voice quieter than usual.

Jim blinked. “What?”

Leonard gave a faint nod. “We found out not long ago. Still early. She’s been having a rough go, morning sickness, exhaustion, the works.”

For a moment, Jim said nothing. Then a slow grin crept across his face.

“You’re going to be a dad?”

Leonard shrugged, trying for casual, but the edges of his mouth betrayed him. “Looks that way.”

Jim stood, came around the desk, and pulled Leonard into a hug before he could stop it. “I’m going to be an uncle. This kid’s going to have the best corrupting influence in the galaxy.”

Leonard huffed a dry laugh, clapping him on the back. “Yeah, yeah, yeah.”

Jim stepped back but kept a hand on his shoulder, his grin fading into something softer.

“Seriously, congrats. And don’t worry. I won’t say anything. I get it.”

Leonard nodded, the weight of the moment settling between them.

“Thanks,” he said quietly. “Means more than you know.”

Jim didn’t move right away. He just watched Leonard with that rare expression, curious, thoughtful, a little too perceptive for comfort.

“You scared?” he asked finally.

Leonard’s eyebrows lifted slightly. “That a medical question or a personal one?”

Jim gave a one-shoulder shrug. “Both.”

Leonard leaned back in his chair with a sigh, staring past Jim for a moment. “Yeah,” he admitted. “I’m scared.”

He rubbed at the back of his neck, voice quieter now.

“I mean, hell, I’ve delivered babies. Treated kids. I know what to expect biologically. But knowing and doing are two different things. I look at her, and all I want is to keep her safe. But I can’t stop the nausea or the fatigue or the way she tries to carry everything alone.”

His fingers tightened slightly.

“And then there’s the kid. Our kid. One day I’m helping repair someone’s cracked rib after a shuttle mishap, and the next I’m picturing what it’ll be like to hold this tiny, brand-new person and somehow not screw it all up.”

Jim let the silence linger for a moment, then leaned forward with that mischievous sparkle in his eye.

“So… have you landed on a name yet? Because I’ve got a suggestion.”

Leonard looked at him warily. “Oh no.”

Jim grinned, smug as ever. “James, if it’s a boy. Jamie, if it’s a girl. Classic.”

Leonard blinked slowly. “You want us to name our kid after you?”

“Why not?” Jim spread his hands like it was the most obvious idea in the universe. “I’m a Starfleet legend. I’m charming. Good-looking. They’ll be inspired.”

Leonard gave him a stare. “Inspired to do what, exactly? Bar fights and reckless piloting?”

Jim leaned back, undeterred. “Could be worse. I’ve got backup options. Middle name Kirk. Or how about 'Jimbo Jr.'?”

Leonard groaned and scrubbed a hand down his face. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Uncle Jim has a nice ring to it.”

“You’re barely getting that title.”

“Hey,” Jim said, holding a hand to his chest in mock offense. “You’re acting like I wouldn’t be the fun one. I’d teach them how to bend the rules, sneak past curfew, babysit—”

“You are definitely not babysitting.”

“Oh, I’m babysitting. First words? ‘Warp speed, baby.’”

Leonard shook his head, but the corners of his mouth gave him away. “God help us.”

Jim’s grin softened, just a little. “In all seriousness… that kid’s lucky. With you and Georgie? They’re gonna be loved, safe, and maybe a little sarcastic, but that’s the best kind of kid.”

Leonard looked down for a second, his throat tight, then nodded. “We’re trying.”

Jim bumped his shoulder gently. “You’re doing more than that. And hey, Jamie Kirk McCoy does sound kind of badass.”

Leonard pointed to the door. “Out. Before I put you on the no-visitor list.”

Jim backed out, hands up in surrender. “It’s funny you think you can get rid of me.”

At fourteen weeks of pregnancy, Sickbay felt warmer, quieter, like even the ship itself knew something sacred was about to unfold. The lights were dimmed to a soft, amber glow, casting everything in a hush of gold. The usual antiseptic chill was dulled by the low hum of machines and the steady whir of the biobed beneath Georgie’s back. She lay still, hands folded over the gentle swell of her belly, fingers twitching ever so slightly with nerves she hadn’t voiced aloud. Leonard stood beside her, his hand resting near hers, close, but not close enough to quiet the storm in his chest. Every second crawled. Every beat of silence stretched. Because in just a moment, they would know something they could never un-know. Something that would make this real in a way it hadn’t been until now.

His fingers laced with hers, tighter than he meant to. His thumb moved in slow, repetitive strokes over her knuckles, like it was the only rhythm keeping him in the moment.

“Alright,” Christine said softly, adjusting the monitor above them, her voice warm. “You two ready?”

Georgie nodded, though her other hand clenched slightly at her side. “As I’ll ever be.”

Leonard let out a breath that sounded more like a short laugh. “I’ve performed thousands of scans,” he said. “Weird being on the other end of it.”

“You look a little green, Doctor,” Christine said with a knowing smile.

“I’m fine,” he lied, voice a little too quick.

Georgie tilted her head toward him, her brow raised. “You’re holding your breath.”

He exhaled sharply through his nose and gave a sheepish smile. “Caught.”

But truthfully, he wasn’t fine. His stomach was tight. Not from fear exactly, at least, not the kind he was used to. It wasn’t just nerves about something going wrong. It was the weight of knowing everything was about to change.

He had tried not to get ahead of himself. Tried not to imagine too much. But the closer they got to this moment, the harder it became to keep it all at bay. And now they were seconds away from knowing.

The scanner hummed to life as Christine passed the wand slowly across Georgie’s abdomen. The sound was soft, but it vibrated through Leonard’s chest like thunder. A flicker of static smoothed into clarity on the screen, and then, there it was. Tiny limbs. A strong, flicker of a heartbeat. A profile forming. Their baby. Leonard’s heart stopped for a beat. Then started again, harder.

“There,” Christine said gently, pointing to a spot on the monitor. “And… if you’ll look here, congratulations. You’re having a baby girl.”

The silence that followed cracked with emotion.

Georgie gasped. Her hand flew to her mouth. Tears sprang to her eyes instantly. Leonard blinked hard. A girl. A daughter.

He swallowed hard, his throat tight with something too big to name. For a second, he could see her, laughing, toddling barefoot across the backyard of a house they didn’t even have yet. Climbing into his lap with a scraped knee. Staring at him like he had the answers to everything. Trusting him to be good. To be soft. To protect her. To love her.

His knees felt weak.

Georgie turned toward him, eyes shimmering. “Len…”

He bent without thinking and pressed a kiss to her forehead, lingering there as if breathing her in could tether him back. “She’s beautiful already,” he whispered. “Just like her mom.”

But as he stood again, his hand resting over hers, something clenched behind his ribs. He thought of all the times he’d failed the people he loved. Thought of the way his own father had died, too soon, too painfully. What if he couldn’t be what she needed? What if she inherited all the things he still hadn’t figured out?

He looked back to the screen. No. He would show up. Every day. He would love her so much she’d never have to doubt it. He would be the kind of father she could count on. The kind who showed her what safe looked like. What tenderness looked like.

He bent again, this time placing his hand gently on Georgie’s belly. “Hi, baby girl,” he said softly, voice thick. 

Georgie sniffled, her hand moving to cover his.

“She’s gonna be so loved,” she whispered.

Leonard nodded, still staring at the image on the screen. “Damn right she will.”

Georgie’s morning sickness began to fade, replaced by the next phase of symptoms, sore muscles, odd cravings, and a new relationship with her uniform, which now felt like a corset after only two hours on duty.

Their quarters were quiet, the lights dimmed to a soft amber hue. The hum of the ship was distant here, barely a whisper beneath the low buzz of ambient comfort. The kind of silence that made Leonard feel like the rest of the galaxy had pressed pause.

They were curled in bed, tangled together beneath the blankets. Georgie lay on her side, her body molded to his, her head tucked beneath his chin. One of his hands rested on the curve of her belly, warm and protective, like he couldn’t bear to let go.

He hadn’t been able to stop touching her lately. Not out of want, but out of awe. Out of some primal need to stay close to the miracle slowly unfolding inside her. He was smitten with both his girls.

She caught him staring again.

“You’re obsessed,” she murmured, her voice husky with sleep.

He smiled against her hair. “Damn right I am.”

She chuckled, shifting a little so he could brush his fingers lightly across the stretch of skin just beneath her shirt. “We still haven’t landed on a name.”

“Nope.” He kissed her shoulder. “We’ve cycled through about seventy, and they all sound like 22nd-century weather satellites or cartoon characters.”

“Darla,” she said with a dramatic shudder. “That one physically hurt.”

“Yeah, and don’t even get me started on Starla. We’re not naming her like a lounge singer from Jupiter Station.”

She laughed again. “Are we rhyming now? Is that how we’re picking names?”

Leonard grinned and leaned back, clearly enjoying himself. “Lisa, Lauren, Laurel, Lenna… Leona… Leonarda. You know, after me.”

“I’m open,” Georgie said, still laughing, “but I don’t think I can handle saying ‘Leonard and Leonarda’ in the same sentence without losing it.”

He chuckled and leaned closer, brushing his fingers over the soft curve of her belly. “Alright, alright. No Leonarda.”

They both fell quiet for a moment.

Then she spoke again, softer this time. “What about Ellie?”

He tilted his head. “Ellie?”

“For Elenora,” she said, glancing up at him. 

His heart caught in his chest.

“And Diane,” she added. “As her middle name.”

“Ellie Diane McCoy,” he repeated aloud, the name settling into the room like it had always belonged there.

He stared at her, full of wonder.

“Darlin’,” he said slowly, “that’s... perfect.”

She smiled sleepily. “I thought so too.”

A few minutes later, her breathing evened out, slow and soft against his chest. She was asleep, her arm draped over his ribs, her body warm and relaxed in the crook of his.

He stayed still, watching her. Then, gently, he shifted his weight and slid down the bed just enough to be eye-level with her belly. He placed a hand there, his fingers splayed wide, feeling the gentle rise and fall.

“Hey, Ellie,” he whispered.

His thumb brushed slowly over her skin.

“I don’t know if you can hear me yet, but I hope you can. Because I need you to know something.”

He swallowed.

“I already love you more than I know what to do with. And I’m gonna protect you with everything I’ve got. I don’t care if it means learning how to braid hair or play pretend or talk about feelings at four in the morning, whatever it takes. I’m in.”

He paused, his throat tightening.

“I can’t wait to hold you. To meet you. You’ve already changed everything, and you’re not even here yet.”

He leaned in and pressed a kiss to her belly. 

“You’ve got grandparents who are going to spoil you rotten. And a mom who’s the bravest person I’ve ever met. And you’ve got me. I’m gonna try my damn hardest to be the kind of man you can look up to.”

His voice cracked just slightly.

“You’re our whole universe now, Ellie. And we’re gonna give you all the love we’ve got. Every ounce of it.”

He rested his forehead gently against her stomach, closing his eyes.

And for a little while, he stayed there in the hush of the dark, wrapped in the weight of his love, his fears, and a name that already felt like home.

Georgie had finally started to seem more like herself again. The heavy fog of her first trimester going into the second had lifted; the nausea had eased, the fatigue not as constant. Ellie was growing right on schedule, every scan and check-in more reassuring than the last. And Georgie… well, she wasn’t exactly glowing, but she was lighter. She smirked more. She complained less. Some days, Leonard even caught her humming under her breath in the corridors, like the weight pressing down on her chest had lifted just slightly. But with that came something else, activity.

She’d always been hands-on, always preferred to do rather than delegate, but now that she was feeling better, she was everywhere. Overseeing training drills, sparring with officers, running point on simulations, duties on the bridge. And while everything had technically been cleared by medical, Leonard still found his jaw tightening every time she laced up her boots. It wasn’t about trust, he trusted her more than anyone, but trust didn’t keep his stomach from twisting every time she threw herself back into command with her usual intensity.

He told himself she knew her limits. But it didn’t mean he liked watching her push them. From the observation deck overlooking the training room, he stood with arms folded tight across his chest. His eyes tracked her below as she led a simulation, just a routine close-quarters response drill with four junior officers. Nothing dangerous, nothing live-fire. But that didn’t stop the knot in his gut from twisting tighter with each passing minute.

She moved like she always did, fluid, sharp, intentional. No hesitation. Her hair was slicked back, her posture squared, her voice steady as she gave instructions and demonstrated a maneuver that required her to roll, pivot, and push to a crouch. She stood afterward without so much as a wince.

But he saw it. That extra breath she took. The way her hand went to her lower back for a second too long before she remembered she wasn’t alone.

He knew that look; he’d seen it on hundreds of patients trying to grit their way through pain. She was no different. She had always been good at hiding the cracks. That was what terrified him.

Christine appeared at his side, coffee in hand, watching the same scene unfold. “She’s not exactly easing into light duty.”

“She said she felt fine,” He muttered, jaw tight.

Christine gave a soft sigh. “How many patients have told you that right before they collapsed in your sickbay?”

He didn’t answer.

“She’s not reckless,” Christine added, more gently now. “But she’s stubborn. You already know that.”

“I do.” His voice was quiet. “I also know she’s tired. She’s pushing herself when she should be pulling back. I just don’t want anything bad to happen.”

Christine’s voice softened even more. “It won’t.”

He turned to her now, the rawness in his expression barely veiled. “You don’t know that.”

Christine didn’t flinch. “No. But I know this, hovering won’t help.”

He didn’t respond.

Down below, she was laughing. One of the officers had slipped on a loose pad, and she bent over, hands on her knees, shaking her head like she was trying to keep a straight face. 

He felt bad for watching her, but inside he needed to. His daughter still growing, a heartbeat under her skin. And he was standing up here watching, worrying, wondering how much longer he could pretend that everything was fine.

He stayed until the drill ended, watching Georgie give her final notes, watching her wave the team off.

She looked up at the observation deck briefly. But she didn’t see him.

The corridor was still buzzing with post-drill traffic when Leonard spotted her. Georgie was heading toward the locker rooms, a towel slung over one shoulder and a sheen of sweat still clinging to her collarbone. She moved with that same confident stride she always had, like someone who didn’t have a growing human being kicking her kidneys.

He didn’t say a word. He just fell into step beside her and activated his tricorder. The telltale chirp of the device made her glance sideways.

“Really?” she said, barely breaking stride. “You’re scanning me in the hallway now?”

“I was concerned you weren’t going to come by sickbay.”

“I was on my way to the locker room. Then I was going to come by.”

His eyes stayed on the readout, jaw tight. “May I remind you you’re in your second trimester. That simulation had physical contact and three floor takedowns. I saw it.”

She exhaled through her nose. “That was light duty.”

Leonard’s voice stayed low, careful, aware of passing crew, but the sharp edge was there. “Georgie.”

She stopped walking. He did too, a step behind. She turned to face him, one brow raised, arms crossed loosely beneath her chest.

“I’m following protocols,” she said evenly. “No live fire. Nothing high-risk. The officers needed the drill, and I wasn’t doing anything I couldn’t handle.”

He didn’t doubt that. That wasn’t the point.

“You need to take care of yourself,” he said. “That means slowing down before something pushes too far. You know how often things can go sideways.”

“I know,” she replied. “I live here too, remember?”

Silence stretched between them like a pulled wire.

She shifted first. Her voice softened, but just a little. “You’re hovering again.”

“Yeah,” he admitted. “Because I’ve got two people to worry about now. And I’m trying to figure out how to not lose my damn mind every time you take point.”

“I need to be able to do my job,” she said. “I need you to trust that I know what I’m doing. That I’m not going to risk myself or our daughter.”

“And I need you to let me be your husband,” he said, “not just the doctor you keep brushing off.”

She hesitated. That one landed.

He continued, more quietly now.  Don’t pretend everything’s fine if you’re hurting. And don’t guilt me for wanting you to slow down.”

“I don’t guilt you.”

He gave her a look.

Georgie rolled her eyes. “Okay. Not intentionally.”

They both exhaled at the same time.

“I’m not asking you to stand down,” he said. “Just… slow down.”

She met his eyes. “Then don’t override me without cause. If I say I’ve got it, trust that I’ve got it. Deal?”

He nodded once.

“Deal.”

“Locker room,” she said, tossing the towel over her shoulder again. “Then maybe I’ll swing by and let you scan me properly. In an actual exam room. Like a civilized person.”

He smirked despite himself. “I’d appreciate that.”

“Good.”

She turned to go.

He stood there a moment longer, tricorder still in hand, watching until she disappeared around the corner.

They’d drawn the lines. Now came the harder part, living within them.

Leonard had never been good at announcements. He could deliver a prognosis with perfect clarity. Dictate a treatment plan mid-emergency. Shout orders over the chaos of triage without missing a beat. But sitting in their quarters with Georgie’s hand in his, waiting for the call to connect to three of the most important people in their lives, that made his heart race .

The screen split into three segments as the connection stabilized. Elenora appeared first, in her cozy Georgia kitchen, a steaming mug of tea in her hand. Diane and Robert followed, seated close together on their couch, the familiar shelves of family photos behind them. Diane was already smiling, eyes narrowed like she knew something was coming. Robert adjusted his glasses and leaned forward.

“Hey, darlin’,” Elenora said, the lines around her eyes deepening with warmth. “You look like you’ve got something to tell us.”

Georgie let out a breathy laugh. Leonard felt her fingers tighten around his.

“We do,” he said. His voice came out steadier than he expected. “We wanted to tell you all together.”

Georgie smiled. “We’re currently sixteen weeks pregnant.”

The reaction was immediate.

Diane gasped and covered her mouth. Robert blinked twice, stunned into rare silence. Elenora stared for a moment before her expression broke into a grin that could’ve lit the whole room.

“Oh my Lord,” she whispered. “A baby?”

They all started talking at once, questions, cheers, overlapping words, and teary congratulations. Diane’s eyes shimmered. Robert laughed out loud and gave his daughter an approving nod. Elenora wiped under her glasses and muttered something about needing to sit down.

“We’re having a girl,” Leonard added once the noise settled just enough. “And we’ve picked out her name.”

Georgie looked at him, and he gave her a quiet nod before continuing. “Ellie Diane McCoy. Named after you two.”

A breath caught on the other end of the call.

Diane's hands flew to her face as tears immediately spilled over. Elenora stared for a moment, her mouth slightly open, then she gave a choked laugh. “You named her after both of us?”

Georgie smiled, her own voice shaking. “You’ve both shaped our lives more than you’ll ever know. We wanted her to grow up knowing where she came from. Who she came from.”

Elenora’s face crumpled, soft and awed. “I—I don’t even have the words.”

Diane nodded, wiping her cheeks. “That’s the most beautiful name I’ve ever heard.”

The screen blurred for a second as they all collected themselves.

Then came the inevitable, the practical questions. Where would the baby be born? Would they stay on the ship or come back to Earth? Would Elenora come to stay? Could Diane and Robert? Who would help?

Leonard felt Georgie shift next to him, just a subtle tightening of her posture, the way her fingers unclenched, then closed again on his hand. He glanced down and saw the faintest crease between her brows.

They hadn’t figured it all out yet.

He knew she still hadn’t made peace with the idea of stepping back. Of slowing down. Of what it meant to leave the ship, the routine, the role she’d earned. She was still grieving the version of herself she might have to let go of.

Leonard rubbed his thumb across her knuckles, then looked back at the screen.

“We’re working out the details,” he said gently. “But when the time comes, we will let you know.”

Diane nodded. “Whatever you need, we’re here.”

“Always,” Elenora added. “Whatever you decide. We’re just so happy for you.”

Georgie’s voice was barely above a whisper. “Thank you.”

They talked a little longer, soft laughter, shared memories, a few jokes about who the baby might take after. But when the call ended and the screen went dark, Leonard didn’t move right away.

He turned toward her and let the quiet settle for a moment.

“You okay?” he asked gently.

She nodded once. “Yeah. Just… it’s a lot.”

“I know.”

Telling their friends felt different. Louder. Messier. Perfect in its own way. They broke the news during an off-shift gathering in one of the observation lounges. The stars stretched wide beyond the windows, and someone had pulled together drinks and snacks. Just enough comfort to feel like home.

Leonard had barely finished saying the words, we’re having a girl, when Sulu started crying.

Not dramatic sobs. Just glassy-eyed, quiet tears and a huge smile. “I knew it,” he said, pointing at Georgie. “The mood swings. I’ve been side eyeing your meal choices in the mess.”

Georgie didn’t even argue. She just laughed and let him pull her into a hug.

Uhura nearly squealed and immediately demanded belly updates. Spock, standing beside her, offered what Leonard had come to recognize as Vulcan enthusiasm; a subtle raise of the brow and a respectful, “This is a statistically significant development in the continuation of your lineage. Congratulations.”

Jim clapped Leonard on the back so hard it nearly knocked the breath out of him. “Guess I’d better start working on my uncle speech.”

Sulu narrowed his eyes. “You wish . I’ve call dibs as Best Uncle.”

“Oh, we’re doing this now?” Jim challenged, stepping closer. “I hope you like losing.”

Leonard watched them banter while Georgie laughed into Uhura’s shoulder.

And in that moment, surrounded by their friends, this patchwork family they’d built aboard a ship that never stopped moving, he realized something; this baby, this tiny life still months away from being born, was already deeply, wildly loved. Loved by an entire crew who would spend their lives making sure she had everything she needed, joy, protection, belonging.

They sat across from each other with PADD’s in hand trying to map out the next 6 months of their lives. Duty transfer forms. Medical leave approvals. A logistics web of their life pulling in too many directions.

He sat hunched over, brow knit, fingers tapping absently against his stylus. “M’Benga will take over medical rotation.”

Across from him, Georgie sat stiffly, shoulders drawn high and tight. Her eyes were fixed on the screen in front of her, but she wasn’t reading.

He glanced up. “Any thoughts on who should cover security?”

“Lieutenant Voss,” she said after a long pause. “He’s green, but he’s not stupid.”

Her thumb pressed into her temple, eyes closed. He noticed but didn’t say anything yet.

They moved on to housing, transport, duty. He tried to steer the ship of their conversation, but every turn felt like pushing against wind with her.

“We’ll be on Earth by then,” he said softly. “My mom can have the room prepped. But if you’d rather stay near your parents—”

“No,” she cut in, voice sharper than intended. Then she softened. “Georgia’s fine. I’m just... tired.”

He nodded. “Alright.”

She didn’t say more. Just stared at the blank section of her screen, jaw tense.