Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

One

Please, Joanna McCoy thought as Lieutenant Sulu half-led, half-dragged her down the corridor to Sickbay. Please don't let my dad be on duty. Let it be Doctor Desai or Nurse Ryan. Anyone but my dad.

"I'm fine," she insisted for about the fifth time since he'd marched her out of the galley.

"Uh-huh," Sulu said, which was exactly what he'd said all the previous times. He didn't even look at her. Which was probably just as well, Joanna thought with a heavy sigh, as blood dribbled onto her lips. She wasn't exactly looking her best at the moment.

Of course her dad was on duty, and of course he was standing right there when they entered Sickbay, arms crossed over his chest, like he'd been waiting for them. Yeoman Rand – with whom Joanna had been having lunch before her … accident – must have told him over the comm. Damn it.

Her dad's eyes kind of bugged out when he saw her, and his jaw dropped a little. Like he'd never seen a little blood before. Honestly.

"Rand said she walked into a wall?" he said as he hurried to take her from Sulu. She tried to wriggle away, but with her dad's hands clasping her shoulders firmly and Sulu standing right behind her, it was a wasted effort.

"I didn't see what happened," Sulu said as they both sort of propelled her toward one of the empty biobeds. "I just heard this smack and when I turned around, she was on the floor. Um, she got right to her feet again, so I figured she couldn't be hurt too badly."

"She's not," Joanna grumbled, glaring from one man to the other. "And, hello, she is right here."

"Sorry, sweetheart." At least her dad looked kind of contrite. "Move your hand, Jo. I need to see what you did to yourself."

"I'm fine," she said for the sixth time. Even though her fingers were slippery with blood and her shirt was probably ruined.

"Jo."

With a sigh, she dropped her hand. Her dad peered at her nose, then touched it gingerly with his forefinger. "Well, it's not broken. Pinch it – here." He guided her fingers to just below the bony bridge. "Lean forward. I'll get you a cold pack and some tissues."

"So," said Sulu, when her dad had left them, "what were you so wrapped up in that you forgot to pay attention to where you were going?"

Joanna stared at her knees. "Nothing," she muttered.

"Come on," he said, poking her arm playfully. "For a graceful kid, that was pretty clumsy."

Joanna looked up at him. "You think I'm—" she said, but stopped herself because she wasn't sure how to finish the sentence. You think I'm a kid? You think I'm graceful? The one burned; the other almost made her forget she was sitting in her dad's sickbay, holding her nose, covered in her own blood. Reluctantly, she supposed fifteen and a half did seem kind of young to a man of twenty-nine. Still, it wasn't like she was some dumb redneck. She might not be a Starfleet officer or even a crewman, but she was still an interstellar explorer. But hey, didn't her dad sometimes call Captain Kirk 'kid'? Her dad was definitely older than the captain – by six years, not fourteen, but still – and that didn't stop him from doing … stuff Joanna really didn't want to think about, thank you very much.

Sulu was smiling at her, she realized. He really had the most adorable smile. And the loveliest brown eyes she had ever seen; it was so sweet the way they crinkled at the corners.

Her dad's bark interrupted her reverie: "Head down, Jo." He came back with a cold pack, which he put into her free hand. "Hold that – yeah, right above where you're pinching. That's right. All right, just sit like that for five minutes, then we'll see if the bleeding's stopped."

"It's cold," she complained.

"That's why it's called a cold pack, sweetheart," he said dryly. He'd brought some tissues, which he now used to dab the blood from her lips and chin. "Now, are you gonna tell me what the hell happened?"

Joanna bit her bottom lip.

"Lieutenant?" her dad said after a moment. There was just the faintest growl in his voice, like he wanted Sulu to know he wasn't going to take any bullshit.

"I told you I didn't see what happened," Sulu replied. "I swear, I wasn't even paying attention to her. I'm trying to remember who else was in the galley at the time, if there were any good-looking ensigns she might've been ogling."

She could just about feel her dad's intense gaze on her bowed head. Suddenly she was glad of the cold pack, her hair falling in her face, even the blood: they hid her flaming cheeks.

Two

"Jo!"

Janice Rand was calling to her. Joanna stopped walking, turned, and waited for the yeoman – and the boy trailing after her – to catch up.

"Hi, Jo," said Janice. She indicated the boy. "This is Charlie Evans. Charlie, this is Joanna McCoy. She's Doctor McCoy's daughter. She's just about a year younger than you are. Maybe the two of you can…" She gestured vaguely and it occurred to Joanna that Janice looked a bit flustered, like she was at the end of her patience, but determined to seem bubbly and helpful. "I mean," she went on, "we're taking Charlie to Colony 5, and I thought it would be nice if he could spend part of the trip with someone his own age."

Great, thought Joanna.

"He's never met anyone his own age before."

Joanna had the feeling Janice wasn't telling her something. She looked Charlie up and down. She didn't like his looks, she decided. It wasn't just that he wasn't her type. There was something weird about his eyes. They were huge in his thin face, and gray, and she couldn't quite put her finger on it, but there was just something really weird about them. Also, he was gazing raptly at Janice, like she was some kind of basket-haired goddess.

Great, just great.

Still. She supposed it couldn't hurt to be nice.

"So," Joanna said after Janice had extricated herself and beat a hasty retreat in the direction of the turbolift. "So, um, what's on Colony 5? And where're you from? How come you never met anyone your own age before?"

"You ask a lot of questions," Charlie said, not quite looking at her.

"I asked three questions," Joanna pointed out. "That's not a lot."

"I don't like you," he said casually.

She didn't like him either, but his remark actually stung. A little. People usually took at least a few minutes to decide they didn't like her.

"You're not her," he went on, looking over his shoulder, though Janice was long gone.

"Um, no, I'm not. I'm me. So—"

He turned back to her then, and her breath froze. His eyes were crossed, his brows drawn together sharply over the bridge of his nose. Joanna's skin began to tingle, but she asked, "Um, are you okay?"

Through his teeth, Charlie said, "Go – a – way."

"Oh, for f—" And then everything disappeared.

Everything came back a moment later. At least, that was how it felt. Joanna felt disoriented for about a minute. Then she hurried up to the bridge. She arrived just in time to see Charlie vanish and some aliens – whom she'd learn later were called Thasians – apologize to Captain Kirk for the inconvenience.

"Okay," Joanna began, after the Thasians had departed as well. "What the hell is—?"

Then she noticed Sulu and Janice. She was standing there in this long, flimsy, pink nightgown, and her blonde hair was all unbound about her shoulders. So, Joanna had been gone at least long enough for Janice to change. And no one had noticed! Certainly not Sulu, who had his arm around Janice's waist kind of protectively, and kind of like he just enjoyed having his arm there.

"Everything all right, Jo?" Kirk asked.

She nodded because she couldn't seem to form words around the bitter mass that had lodged itself in her throat. As she backed toward the turbolift, she decided she didn't really blame Charlie and actually kind of envied him a little; there were definitely some people she wished she could make disappear.

Three

Kirk and her dad were fighting. Had had a fight, rather – a big one – and hadn't made up. Joanna didn't know what it was about, who had started it, and who was being a stubborn idiot, but it had her stomach all twisted up in knots. She'd been very young – barely six – when her parents divorced, but she remembered the fighting. Not so much the reasons for it, but the raised voices, followed by incredibly tense silences. And then, of course, her dad just walking out and slamming the door behind him.

He'd come back for his stuff and to spend time with her. But Joanna always remembered that night as the night her dad walked out.

She knew her dad wasn't going anywhere this time. For one thing, where the hell would he go? He couldn't just beam down to some planet or hop into the Galileo and fly away. Even if he could, he wouldn't just leave her this time. At least she wasn't going to lose him again.

But she didn't want to lose Kirk either. For the past year, he'd been such a big part of her life and she really, really liked him. Yes, he was reckless sometimes, and smug, and sometimes she kind of cheered – in secret – when her dad or Lieutenant Uhura told him he was full of it. But other times he was … awesome. He was so smart; she was convinced he could outwit anyone, except maybe Commander Spock. He knew the weirdest, coolest, most random things about history and other planets and Starfleet's top brass. She loved just talking with him. And he was brave, too. He didn't just send his officers into danger, like some captains probably did; he went with them, and if something bad happened, he didn't just try to save his own life. Sometimes not everyone who'd beamed down a planet came back to the ship, and you could tell just by looking at his face that Kirk was upset when that happened; he'd get this hard look in his eyes and his jaw and fists would clench, and you knew he wasn't just going to forget about that poor security guy, or whoever he was.

Most important of all, though, Kirk loved her dad. It was so obvious, he didn't even have to say it – and for all she knew, he didn't. The love just shined out of him; it was a wonder he'd managed to hide it for so long.

Joanna kept thinking about her dad and Kirk, and her dad and her mom. She couldn't concentrate on anything. Not the book she'd borrowed from Uhura, not the stuff she was supposed to be studying for her high school equivalency and her aptitude tests. She couldn't eat. She didn't want to talk to anyone. If anyone even tried to talk to her, she thought, she'd scream her head off. She was nearly sixteen, too old for tantrums, but – damn it.

She had to do something, she decided finally. She didn't really know how to talk sense into Kirk – that was basically Spock's job aboard the Enterprise - but maybe if she could get her dad to tell her what the hell had happened…

She went down to Sickbay. At first, her dad didn't appear to be there; she didn't see him anywhere in the main room and his office door was closed. He usually kept it open because he hated the way it chirped at him when someone wanted to come in. Well, maybe there'd been an accident, though Joanna hadn't heard anything announced over the comm.

She was just turning to leave when the door to her dad's office slid open. Suddenly and irrationally uncertain, Joanna ducked behind a biobed.

As she watched, her dad appeared in the doorway. He glanced over his shoulder and said something she couldn't quite make out. It might have been "Is this recent?" or "Are you decent?" or something else entirely.

A moment later, Kirk emerged, smoothing down his gold shirt. He flashed her dad a grin. "What do you think?" he drawled. Then he leaned toward her dad. Joanna clapped a hand quickly to her face, but peeked through her fingers as her dad's lips met Kirk's.

It was a very slow, gentle kiss, like they hadn't the energy for anything more, or like they were deliberately taking the time to taste each other. Right away, Joanna wished her brain hadn't had that thought. It wasn't because they were men; her mom and stepdad had grossed her out plenty of times too. It was fine for Kirk and her dad to be in love. Really, it was great. Her dad had been alone for a long time after divorcing her mom. Well, he'd been on dates, but none of the women he'd gone out with in Savannah had been good enough. The only woman good enough for her dad had been her mom. Somehow, the fact that they'd fallen out of love with each other long ago hadn't changed Joanna's mind about that. As far as men went, Kirk, in her opinion, was very nearly good enough. She just didn't want to think about certain aspects of their relationship. Like what they did when they were alone. Or thought they were alone.

She knew. She wasn't stupid. Some mornings she'd come by her dad's quarters for breakfast and Kirk would be there. They'd both be dressed (thank God) but come on. The one time Kirk had tried to pretend he'd just gotten there a few minutes before she did, she'd rolled her eyes and said, "Oh, please."

And of course there were the glowy looks they gave each other, and the way her dad liked to stand behind Kirk's chair on the bridge and rest a hand on his shoulder. Actually, that stuff was all right. It was kind of sweet. The stuff they were doing now, though...

They were still kissing. Only now, Kirk's hands were moving through her dad's hair, messing it up, then stroking it back into place. Her dad had his arms around Kirk's waist, kind of possessively. One fist rested against the small of Kirk's back, and the other… Joanna swallowed as she realized (oh God) she couldn't see where her dad's other hand was.

One of them made this low, growly sound against the other's mouth. Joanna did not know who'd made it. She turned away. Where, she wondered desperately, was a hull breach or a freshly thawed-out twentieth century megalomaniac when you needed one?

Four

The ion storm was causing some trouble with the transporter, but Spock didn't seem too worried. Then again, Joanna mused, Spock probably thought worrying was dumb and illogical and just didn't even bother with it. As she watched the away team flicker in and out on the transporter pad, she wished she could do the same.

For a second, her dad's eyes met hers. Then he, Kirk, Uhura, and Scotty were gone again, and Joanna's stomach lurched. She clasped her hands tightly and stared at the spot where her dad had been, as if she could will his atoms back onto the Enterprise. It was all she could do to stop herself from flying at Spock, wringing his arm and demanding that he do something. He was doing something, she knew. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see his fingers flying over the transporter interface.

In another moment, the away team was back, and Joanna expelled a painful breath. Boy, was her dad going to be pissed. He didn't like beaming under normal conditions; Kirk was probably going to catch hell for having Spock beam them up during an ion storm.

She started toward him, then stopped. Kirk was looking at her, and something in his expression gave her the queerest feeling, all gross and crawly, like a june bug had just scurried up her neck. His eyebrows rose and his lips kind of hitched to one side. It was like his customary smirk, but not quite, and Joanna just stared at him.

"Joanna," he said, raking her with his gaze as he stepped off the transporter pad, "why are you dressed like that? I can't see enough of your lovely body. And didn't I tell you to wait for me in my quarters? Spock," he went on, like he'd just noticed his first officer was standing there, "I think I liked you better with the beard."

Joanna looked to her dad, a What the fuck? on the tip of her tongue. But Spock grabbed her arm, nearly yanking her off her feet and knocking the breath right out of her. He pushed her behind him, then flung his arms wide, barring her from the away team.

"Is this a mutiny?" demanded the man who looked so much like Kirk. "Well, Spock? And Joanna." His cold eyes flicked back to her. "I never trusted you; I made you, after all. But I thought you'd have had a little more sense. I thought you liked being a captain's woman." His glance and his tone held so much derision that Joanna wanted to close her eyes and ears.

"Is it true, Spock?" Uhura's voice was a cool purr. "You've replaced me so quickly? And with this … child?"

"Daddy," Joanna said in confused desperation, looking around Spock's tall, immobile frame at her father. The whole room, the whole ship seemed to be tilting crazily; her legs felt like icicles and her stomach roiled. What the hell was wrong with everybody? "This isn't funny. Say something," she pleaded.

Her dad's look was almost like a physical blow: it was so cold, so hard. He'd never looked at her like that, never, not even when she'd really given him good reasons to be angry. "Joanna," he said in a stern voice, like she was the one who was insane or possessed or playing fucked-up games, "if you've betrayed your captain, I can't protect you."

A dry sob wrenched itself from her lips.

"Joanna." Spock's voice was quite firm. "That is not your father. Nor is that Captain Kirk. These are not our friends."

"Oh, I'm still captain, Spock," Kirk said in this low hiss. "As long as I'm alive, the ISS Enterprise is mine. And so is that girl. You want either of them, you'll have to kill me first."

"Fascinating," said Spock. Then: "Spock to Security. Intruder alert in the transporter room. Assistance is required."

"Belay that order," Kirk said. He started toward them again.

Spock was fast. And strong. In an instant, he had Kirk by the throat. The other three ran at him, but he just swept them all aside like they were flimsy stalks of wheat. He didn't even seem to care that one of them looked a whole lot like Uhura. Joanna stood there goggling stupidly for a moment or two. Then Spock, still grappling with Kirk, said over his shoulder, "Alert security. Hurry."

Joanna ran. She didn't think she'd ever run so quickly. But it was like she wanted to escape more than just that scene in the transporter room. She wanted to fly out of her own skin, which just crawled when she thought about Kirk's awful leer and her dad's chilling detachment.

She was breathless by the time she reached Security Chief Dawson's office, but she managed to gasp out Spock's message. Dawson didn't hesitate. He signaled to his officers – there were three others with him – and told them to set their phasers to stun.

Joanna followed them back to the transporter room, though by then she had a serious stitch in her side. She knew she probably should've stayed behind or gone to her room or something, but she had to know what was going on. If her dad was possessed by aliens … he was still her dad.

Spock was still on his feet, but definitely in need of some help, Joanna thought, standing on her toes to peer over Dawson's broad shoulder. Uhura and Scotty lay on the floor – still breathing, she noted quickly – but Kirk and her dad had him backed against a wall. His blue shirt was torn and there were deep scratches on his cheek. The green blood was bright against his pale skin.

Nevertheless, he said with amazing calmness, "Ah, Security Chief Dawson. Your arrival is most timely. Assist me in securing these impostors."

Without turning, Kirk said, "Dawson, Commander Spock is out of his mind. Shoot him!"

Joanna saw the uncertainty flash across Dawson's face. He looked at his men. He looked at Uhura and Scotty's unconscious figures. Then he looked at Kirk and Spock again and raised his phaser. "Who am I, Captain?"

"Lieutenant Dawson!" Kirk yelled impatiently. "I'll make it Lieutenant Commander Dawson if you'll—"

The phaser beam hit him right between the shoulders and he crashed to the floor.
Her dad had time to turn before the second phaser beam hit him. His eyes met Joanna's, and there was so much disgust in them that she nearly broke down right there. An instant later, her dad fell gracelessly across Kirk's supine form.

Dawson slid his phaser back into its holster. "For once," he said, regarding his captain's double, "you should've said 'Cupcake.' What the hell's going on, Commander?"

That was exactly what Joanna wanted to know. She stared at the man she'd first mistaken for her father. With his eyes closed, he looked so exactly like him that her impulse was still to run to him and hug him. She suppressed it.

"It would seem," said Spock, stepping over Kirk and her dad and going to kneel beside Uhura, "the ion storm caused the transporter to malfunction." He touched two fingertips to her temple – rather tenderly, Joanna thought, considering her nails had probably made those scratches on his cheek. "Most intriguing. I detect no alien intelligence. This is not a possession. My initial assessment seems to be correct: these are not our friends. I shall study the matter further, but for now I must conclude that the storm opened a door to a parallel universe, one that is quite barbaric." His eyebrows rose minutely. "And one where I have a beard, apparently."

"So, wait," Joanna said. "Does that mean my dad and Kirk and the rest are in their universe?"

"It is possible," Spock replied. "Indeed, it is my hope, because the alternative…" He glanced up at her. "It would be best, I think, if you returned to your quarters and remained there."

"But—" Then she remembered the way Kirk had looked at her when he'd first stepped off the transporter pad, and she swallowed. As curious and worried as she was, she wanted to be far away from him, with a locked door or ten between them. In a small voice, she said, "I'll just, um—"

She turned and fled.

Huddled on her bed, legs hugged to her chest, Joanna tried hard not to think about the scene in the transporter room, but she couldn't help it. In a parallel universe, she was Kirk's woman. What did that mean? That he owned her? That they were having sex? She and Captain Kirk? Was that why her dad seemed to hate her so much? She shuddered convulsively. She had to keep reminding herself that that man was not her dad.

It was too bizarre. Years ago, she'd had a crush on Kirk. Just about all her friends had. They'd gathered in the schoolyard and passed around the latest holographic images, giggling over descriptions of Captain James T. Kirk's "autumn-gold hair" (whatever the hell that meant) and his "Neptune-blue eyes." They were all going to join Starfleet when they were old enough and become the love of his life.

Then, of course, Joanna had found out that her own dad was already the love of Captain Kirk's life. Her grumpy, aviophobic old dad. Talk about an abrupt end to a crush. She wondered sometimes if she'd have felt worse if the revelation hadn't come in the middle of a crisis. Seriously, who cared about a stupid crush when her dad was trapped and maybe dying on Adhara III, and Kirk was heartsick with worry, but trying – for her sake – to stay calm? She'd barely even noticed when her crush turned into something else.

But into what? She wasn't sure. She didn't know what Kirk was to her. He was definitely an authority figure, but he wasn't exactly a father figure even though, technically, he was someone's father. She couldn't think of him as a stepdad. Roger had been her stepdad, and thinking of anyone else in that role felt like a betrayal. Roger had actually married her mom, and he'd been there for most of her growing up. Kirk wasn't married to her dad, and she'd only met him a year ago. She couldn't think of him as an uncle or a big brother because that would make the fact that he was having sex with her dad even weirder and ickier. A friend? Maybe. Yeah, he gave her orders and expected her to obey them, but he also listened when she talked, and he really seemed to care about what she was saying. A teacher? That didn't seem right either.

You'd think I'd know after a year.

You'd think.

In a parallel universe, she was Captain Kirk's woman. They were probably having sex. Her dad sure didn't seem to like it, but he'd still sided with Kirk against her and Spock. For how long had she been Kirk's woman? What had he meant when he'd said he'd made her? And why her? She knew she was pretty enough, but come on. Nyota Uhura, Gaila, Janice Rand – they were beautiful. And so much older and more experienced. Did he care about her at all, or did he just use her for leverage with her dad? What had their first time been like? Scary and awful? Or not so bad? In this universe, the one she firmly thought of as the real one, she hadn't done it with anyone yet. (And wasn't likely to, for as long as she lived on the Enterprise.) Was Kirk nice to her at least, or was he as big an asshole as he'd seemed in the transporter room? If he was mean to her, why the hell hadn't her dad rescued her? In this universe, he'd said he'd kill anyone who hurt her. Was she an asshole in that parallel universe? Maybe she was some kind of power-hungry bitch who had the evil version of Captain Kirk wrapped around her little finger. Maybe she was sexier in that universe. Maybe she actually knew how to talk to guys and make them like her. Maybe she'd seduced him, maybe…

She shuddered again, sick to her stomach. She clutched her limbs tightly until the nausea passed. She wanted her real dad back, and her real … Kirk. She wanted to know that the real Uhura and Scotty were all right. She wanted to do something, but she could hardly move. She felt completely useless.

She hoped Spock came up with something fast.

Despite the two hours she spent in quiet agony, Joanna assumed everything would be all right once Spock got things figured out and everyone was back where they belonged. Once Spock told her that it was safe and had answered her sharp questions correctly – she had to be sure it wasn't a trap – she hurried down to the transporter room.

An awkward scene awaited her there. Uhura and Scotty seemed genuinely glad to be back, but Kirk avoided Joanna's eyes, and her dad avoided Kirk's. In fact, her dad didn't even give her time to say anything to Kirk, not that she knew what to say; he just put in arm around her shoulders and started walking her toward the transporter room doors.

"So, not tonight, huh?" Kirk said. She'd never heard him sound so uncertain.

Her dad paused in the doorway and shook his head. "Not tonight, Jim, no."

Glancing back over her shoulder, Joanna saw Kirk flinch, but he recovered quickly. "That's fine. I'll … see you."

"What's not tonight?" Joanna asked as she and her dad took the turbolift up. Scotty had gone to Engineering, Uhura to the bridge, and Kirk had remained behind to debrief Spock.

"Dinner," said her dad.

"You're not having dinner tonight?"

He looked down at her and a faint smile tugged at his lips. "No, I'm not having dinner with Jim. Tonight, it's just you and me. I'm in need of some comfort food. I'm thinking mac and cheese, some collards… How about you?"

At the mention of food, her stomach growled. She'd missed lunch, she realized.

"You and Kirk didn't have another fight, did you?" she asked as they stepped off the turbolift. She tried to sound nonchalant, but she really was worried.

"No," said her dad. "I just feel like spending the evening with my daughter." There was just the slightest emphasis on my, and it pushed a button in her, one that started a torrent of mindless babble.

"What was the evil universe like?" she asked as they walked toward his quarters. "Was everything dark and scary, or did the Enterprise look the same? What does ISS stand for? Did Spock really have a beard? Wow, you've met three different Spocks now. Did you go on evil missions? I mean, instead of seeking out new life and new civilizations, did you – oh, I don't know – go around killing things? Were you still a doctor? What does an evil doctor do, anyway, commit malpractice on purpose? Was I a power-hungry bitch?"

"Jo." They'd reached his quarters. Once they were inside and the door had closed behind them, he turned to face her and take her by the shoulders. He looked so tired, she thought.

"I'm sorry I said bitch. Uh, twice."

"Jo, I don't want to talk about it."

"Okay. Hey, can we have dinner with Kirk tomorrow?" She remembered the way he'd flinched; she had to show him she didn't hate him just because he was twisted and gross in another universe.

Her dad sighed. "Are you ever going to call him by his first name?"

"I don't know. I guess. So, can we?"

"Maybe."

"And Spock too?"

He frowned.

"I know you don't always get along," she went on hurriedly, "but, Daddy, you should've seen him. He was so awesome. He knew almost right away that something was wrong and he … kind of protected me. I swear, he jumped right between me and those … people. He got beat up, too. Not badly, but… Could we invite him? And Uhura too? Since you like her. And I guess Scotty, since he was there."

"Maybe," her dad said again.

She stared up at him. He looked more than tired, she decided. He looked completely drained. He was leaning against the door as if he truly needed it to keep him upright.

"You okay?" she asked quietly.

"My head hurts," he said. Then he pulled her into his arms and held her tightly.

Her ribs creaked, but she didn't protest. She squeezed him back and rested her head against his chest. He smelled like coffee and antiseptic: comforting, familiar scents. The hand that cupped the back of her head was warm. She actually felt sorry for the other Joanna; maybe she was having passionate sex with the captain and practically ruled the Enterprise through him, but her dad clearly didn't love her like her own did.

Don't be mad at Kirk, she wanted to tell him, but she didn't dare look up. She felt the way he shook, and she knew that if she looked up and saw her dad crying, she'd shatter.

Five

The dinner went well, with Spock and her dad acting almost frighteningly civil toward each other. Afterward, the six of them – Joanna, her dad, Kirk, Spock, Uhura, and Scotty – sat around drinking coffee and talking about the academy and old missions, and Joanna saw her dad give Kirk's hand a squeeze, so she figured things were going to be okay between them.

But Kirk continued to act spooked whenever he bumped into her alone in the corridors or the galley. She didn't know how to tell him it was okay without asking him what the hell he'd seen in the mirror universe, and she'd decided that she didn't want to know. So Joanna started going to her dad's office to study. Kirk never went there when her dad was off-duty, and it turned out to be a good place to work. Between missions, it was pretty quiet, her dad's computer was faster and had better programs installed, and the other doctors and nurses were nice to her; they brought her coffee and tea, and tried their best to help when a particularly difficult problem had her stumped.

So she was there when her dad's voice came over the comm, telling the med team on duty to be ready for an emergency surgery. And she was still there when they brought Kirk in on a stretcher.

Standing in the office doorway, she didn't actually see him – there were that many people – her dad and Spock included – crowding around his stretcher. She just knew it was him. Then her dad said – pleaded – above the others' voices – "Damn it, Jim, stay with me, kid. Just breathe—"

And her own throat closed up.

For a few terrifying seconds, she struggled to breathe. During that time, they transferred Kirk to a biobed in the OR. Once they were all out of sight, she gasped and the dark, icy thing that clogged her throat dislodged itself. But her heart started beating like crazy, like it was trying to punch a hole through her chest, and all her limbs trembled.

Nurse Robbins emerged from the OR. She caught sight of Joanna. "Honey," she said, "you shouldn't be here."

"Is Kirk … is he..." She touched her neck.

"Breathing? Yes, he is." But there was nothing comforting in her tone or in the way she avoided Joanna's eyes while she loaded up a hypospray. There was blood on her scrubs. Too much, Joanna thought, though she honestly didn't know how much was too much. It was Kirk's blood. Any of it was too much.

"I don't understand. I thought … it was supposed to be a cakewalk. That's what Kirk said. They like the Federation on Lystraea."

"Some of them don't."

"Robbins!" It was her dad's voice again. "Where's that goddamn—?"

Nurse Robbins disappeared.

Joanna stood there. She could hear the anxiously pitched voices, muffled both by the door to the OR and the hums and beeps of machines. "Please," she whispered, her fingers curling uselessly against her thighs. She didn't even see Spock approach. She jumped when he touched her shoulder.

"Your father has asked me to take you to your quarters." There was blood on his clothes too, and on his hands.

"I wanna stay," she said. She really didn't, but she wasn't sure she could walk all the way back to her quarters. Besides… She swallowed. Besides, what if Kirk…? She couldn't make herself think the word, but what if…? When her mom and stepdad … when they were in that shuttle crash, she'd been at her friend Eleanor Ann's house. For something like two and a half hours, she'd been blissfully unaware. She'd been sitting on her best friend's floor, eating pizza and playing stupid computer games while her mom and stepdad… And if Kirk, if Jim…

Spock pressed her shoulder gently. His palm was very warm. "The captain is receiving the best possible care."

"That doesn't mean anything! That doesn't mean he'll be okay."

He had no response to that.

"He can't die. He can't. He just can't." With each can't, her voice dropped until it was barely a rustle in her throat. "What happened?" She mouthed the words.

"The captain was shot with an arrow."

That was just about the most ridiculous thing she'd ever heard. She wanted to laugh. They lived on a spaceship. Living on a spaceship and dying from an arrow wound just … did not go together.

"That's all? He just got shot with a stupid arrow?"

Spock appeared to hesitate, and something in Joanna crumpled.

"It was not," he said, "an ordinary arrow. Upon contact with an organic life form, the arrowhead bursts open, sending out…"

She didn't hear the rest. She couldn't hear anything over the roar of blood in her ears. She wished Spock would go away. Once he was gone, she could crawl under her dad's desk and cry. She'd done that years ago when her parents fought and it seemed like the right thing to do at the moment.

And suddenly she missed Savannah. She missed it so badly it hurt. She missed the rustle of Spanish moss, and the hum of bees in the magnolias and azaleas. She missed sitting outside on hot summer nights, talking with Eleanor Ann and her other friends about the stupidest things: holovids and boys and which teachers they hoped wouldn't be back next September. She wanted her old room, with her glow-in-the-dark stars, her ruffled lilac bedspread, and her stuffed animals, which she was way too old for but couldn't bring herself to throw away. She wanted her books and her music. She wanted real pecan pie, not that synthesized crap that came out of machines in the wall.

"The captain," said Spock in a low, almost gentle tone, "is in the best possible hands."

She'd forgotten he was touching her shoulder and that he was a touch telepath. He could sense her homesickness. And that realization made her feel even worse because he didn't have a home to go back to; New Vulcan was nice and all, but it couldn't replace the planet those Romulans destroyed.

"I'm sorry," she stammered, "I—"

He looked down at her quizzically. She glanced away, to the OR door. It stayed closed, and she took that as a good sign because it meant they were still working and if they were still working, Jim was still alive.

"He's like … your best friend. Isn't he?" she said. "Kirk, I mean."

"He is my brother."

"Do you … do you think he's gonna be okay?"

There was a fractional pause. "I do not know."

But at least that wasn't no. She clung to his answer as if it were a lifeline. She'd have clung to him, but it would've been really awkward. Though she might've tried with the older version; he wasn't quite as uptight.

Instead Joanna grasped at her disappearing hope and clutched what little she could to her heart. For Spock, who'd lost his whole planet and needed his brother. For her dad, who belonged out here in space no matter how much he grumbled, and wouldn't want to stay without Jim. For Jim, who... Who defied definition, she decided suddenly. Whatever he was, she loved him and she needed for him to be okay. She held her formless love like a light, a beacon to lead him back home to her.

Chapter Text

And One

Spock left after Jim stabilized and was moved to recovery. He didn't say where he was going, so Joanna didn't know if he was heading for the bridge or to send a report to Starfleet or to hug Lieutenant Uhura tightly. A little after that, her dad left Jim's bedside, but he only got as far as the cot in his office. He stripped off his bloodstained shirt, then just sort of collapsed onto his back. He blinked up at Joanna, almost like he didn't recognize her, or really hadn't expected to see her there.

"Thought I told Spock to…" His voice was hoarse, scratchy. Well, he'd been running around, barking commands for – Joanna realized she didn't know how long Jim had been in surgery. She'd completely lost track of the time.

"I know," she said. "But—" And that was all she could get out.

Her dad gave this grunt, like he understood. Then he turned onto his side, curling his arm under his cheek. Joanna went and got a blanket from one of the supply closets. Her dad was asleep when she got back. He didn't stir when she draped the blanket over his shoulders, or even when she bent to kiss his cheek.

She winced as she straightened. Her back hurt. She'd been standing quite still for a very long time. She knew she ought to go to her quarters and lie down. There was nothing for her to do here. Her dad didn't need her. Jim didn't need her. He'd be all right – probably. She told herself firmly that her dad wouldn't just fall asleep if he thought Jim wasn't going to be all right.

Joanna retrieved her forgotten PADD from her dad's desk. But instead of heading for the turbolift, she got a chair and pushed it close to Jim's bed. He was so pale, his cheeks sunken like he'd been ill for weeks. His thick lashes looked too heavy for the delicate skin of his eyelids. He was breathing and his heart was obviously beating, but apart from that, he seemed so still. And that was wrong, she thought, obscenely wrong. He shouldn't be so still. Not Jim. Tears blurred her vision; she scrubbed them away with her knuckles, drew a steadying breath, and glanced at the monitor above the bed. She didn't know what most of the stuff on the screen meant, only that you were pretty much fucked if the little arrows dropped to zero. Jim's were low, but steady.

"Okay," she said, as much to herself as to him. Willing her fingers to stop trembling, she reached over and stroked his hair, just like her mom used to do when she'd been sick as a child. "It's gonna be okay. I'm here."

The time seemed to go by so slowly. Joanna felt her limbs getting heavier and heavier, and her eyes began to itch. She longed for her pillow but she refused to leave, even when Nurse Ryan, who'd come by to check on Jim, offered to walk her to her room. She fell asleep at some point, and woke the same time Jim did. It was his indistinct muttering that jerked her out of her dreams, dreams that were full of blood and exploding arrows that just ripped up your heart. Blinking the film from her eyes and ignoring her stiff joints, she bent over him.

"Hey." His voice was barely a whisper. His eyes were half-lidded and dull.

"Hey," she whispered back.

She had to lean closer still to hear his next words: "You look worried. Something bad happen?"

"Damn it, Jim." And then she burst into tears. Big, heaving sobs clawed their way up her throat, and the weird thing was, it felt so good to finally let them out. It was like getting up and stretching after being made to sit still for far too long.

Somehow, his fingertips found hers. He pressed them weakly. "You called me Jim."

"An arrow," she choked out. "A stupid fucking arrow. What the hell kind of stupid way to die is that? It's the twenty-third century. Real people don't die like that." She was aware that her words made little sense, but she didn't care.

"Would've been one for the history books."

"No," she insisted thickly. "It's too stupid for the history books. They'd've had to come up with something different, 'cause otherwise people reading the books would get to the part where you got shot with an arrow and died and they'd fucking laugh." The tears kept streaming down her cheeks. Her nose was running too. The crying had stopped feeling good. Now it was just childish and embarrassing, but she couldn't stop.

"Jo," said Jim.

"You idiot. I love you. You stupid fucking idiot."

"Sweetheart, language." It was her dad. She hadn't heard him approach, but suddenly he was there behind her, a hand on her shoulder. "Though I'm not sure I disagree."

Grateful for someone to cling to, someone who didn't look as if he'd break at the least pressure, she turned and buried her face in the fabric of his black undershirt. It probably reeked of blood and sweat, but at that moment her nose was so clogged she could hardly smell a thing.

"Not like I was trying to get shot," she heard Jim say.

"Oh no? Jo, sweetheart—" He didn't try to disentangle her, but she felt his arms moving on either side of her, and imagined that he was checking Jim's vitals and his sutures.

"Well," Jim said, "I do have that shirt with the bulls-eye on the chest, but it doesn't really go with my eyes. Come on, Bones. Name one reckless act. One instance where I broke protocol." He paused. "It's because I said it would be a cakewalk, isn't it? Think that should go in the mission report?" He was talking too much; Joanna could hear the strain in his voice. She wanted to tell him to shut up, but she didn't want to stop hearing him.

"Tell me how you feel," said her dad. He'd have sounded more professional if his voice hadn't hitched.

"Tired. And bad," said Jim. "Really kind of … bad."

"And on a scale of one to ten? Ten being 'Witness my newfound love of hyposprays,' one being—"

"Six. And a half."

"And when you factor out the bullshit?"

"Higher."

"There's a surprise," her dad said dryly. "Goddamn thing almost made stew out of your insides. Weapons like that should be banned. Sadistic, barbaric— Why the hell are you grinning?"

"She called me Jim."

Joanna felt her dad sigh. "And I suppose you think that makes all of this worth it?"

"Wouldn't go that far, but… She said she loves me."

"So I heard."

By now Joanna's tears had stopped. She didn't let go of her dad, but she lifted her head and glared at Jim. He was grinning, almost imperceptibly, but… "You're still an idiot," she snapped.

"Smart enough to keep a couple of McCoys on hand." The grin became a grimace of pain.

"Jo," said her dad. "Let go for just a minute. I need to—" Gently but insistently, he unwrapped her arms from around his waist.

"I love you too," Jim said, after her dad had gone. "Just in case you weren't aware."

Her dad came back just a few seconds later, a hypospray in his hand. He pressed it to Jim's neck. It hissed on contact and Jim gave a sigh of relief. His eyes opened wider and a little color came back into his cheeks. Until that moment, Joanna hadn't realized just how much pain he'd actually been in.

"I kind of figured," she said. "So, um." She swallowed. Something flickered in his blue eyes, something that made her think of ghosts. She'd been pushing aside her memories of the people from the mirror universe, but they all came back to her now. She remembered what the evil Kirk had said about her clothes and how he'd told her to wait in his quarters, and suddenly she had a clear picture of what had happened on the other side. Revulsion curled in her belly, not for Jim, but for that other version of him, and also for that other version of herself, who'd probably… Ew.

She'd spent so much time wondering what he was to her, and she'd never stopped to consider what she was to him. She could understand why the mirror universe would freak him out, especially if … well, especially if he loved her. As a daughter.

But I can fix this. There's finally something I can fix.

"So, in the mirror universe, I – I mean that Joanna McCoy – she was pretty scary, huh?"

"Terrifying," her dad and Jim said together.

"Well, that wasn't me. Whatever she did or said, you don't hafta act like I'm gonna just come out and say it or do it. Okay? 'Cause she's not me. And I know the people who came over here weren't really y'all. They said stuff y'all wouldn't ever say. I know that. We're not them, and it's not like we're suddenly gonna turn into them." She could hear her accent thickening the way it always did – and the way her dad's did – when she was upset. It annoyed her, but she kept going. "The evil Kirk – he said he'd made the evil Joanna. I don't know what that means, and I don't wanna know, 'cause I'm guessing it's bad. But I know you wouldn't ever do what he did … 'cause it's bad. You're not him and she's not me. We're not responsible. They can have their evil universe and be disgusting, if they want. It doesn't affect us. So … please stop being scared of me." She couldn't believe she'd just told Captain Kirk not to be scared.

She almost apologized, but her dad turned slightly and gave her a brief, reassuring nod. "You got that, kid?" he said, turning back to the bed and laying his palm gently against Jim's cheek.

"Aye, aye," Jim murmured, his eyelids drooping.

Joanna decided it was time for her to leave. Her weariness had caught up with her again; her body ached and her scalp prickled. She wanted a long, hot shower and then her bed. She pointed vaguely in the direction of the door. "I'm gonna—"

"Come back later," said Jim, an entreating note lifting the last syllable.

"You're gonna be asleep later," her dad informed him, twiddling the hypospray between his index and middle fingers. He raised an eyebrow like he was daring Jim to challenge him. "If you're very lucky, I'll let you read Spock's mission report first. We'll have breakfast tomorrow. If you're feeling up to it."

As she walked away very slowly, Joanna heard Jim ask her dad, "Kill any Lystraeans?"

"No."

"Did Spock?"

"No."

"Not even my would-be assassin?"

"Captured. Imprisoned." There was a pause, then her dad said bitterly, "Him I'd like to've gotten my hands on. I'd've—"

"Murder's not in your nature, Bones."

"So I have to keep telling myself. Every goddamn time some lunatic takes his problems with the Federation out on you. And don't try telling me that's pretty much what you're out here for. I know. Damn it, I know. One of these days, I'm afraid I'm going to be just a second too slow, or I'll make the wrong call, and—"

There was almost no strength at all in Jim's voice, but he managed to cut her dad off. "You won't."

Joanna paused in the doorway and turned. She saw her dad lift Jim's left hand to his lips and kiss it with a sort of fierce tenderness that made her chest ache. Clasping Jim's hand against his heart, her dad sank into the chair by the bed.

"Not going anywhere." Jim's voice was so low Joanna could barely hear him.

"Better not," was the rough reply. "You better the hell not. I l—"

Joanna didn't wait to hear the rest. It was nothing she didn't know, after all, and her dads deserved privacy.

And Two

Joanna had never been shy. Her mom always told her to speak up and be assertive, and her dads – all three of them, her dad, her stepdad, and Jim – reinforced the lesson in their own ways. Her stepdad had been an elementary school teacher, and he'd always encouraged her to ask questions and not be afraid of appearing ignorant because that was how you learned things. Her dad was kind of private and kind of … not. He didn't always like talking about how he felt, but he sure didn't believe in hiding it either. And Jim was … Jim.

Joanna had never been awestruck by rank, either. She tried to be polite and proper when she met admirals and ambassadors because she didn't want to embarrass Jim and his crew or make anyone think she had no manners. Her mama brought her up right. But she didn't swallow people's bullshit just because they happened to have lots of bars on the cuffs of their sleeves.

So she couldn't account for the nervous flutter in her belly when Captain Winona Kirk beamed aboard the Enterprise, with Jim's one-year-old daughter Gigi in her arms.

Joanna hung back and watched as Jim swept up his daughter and spun her around, high over his head, making her shriek with delight. "Who's flying? It's a Gigi-bird!" Joanna had never seen him so love-struck; his whole face lit up and his eyes just blazed, like a perfect Georgia sky.

"Very dignified, Jim." Her dad's tone was wry, but he was smiling.

Jim lowered Gigi to his chest and quirked an eyebrow. Except for the eyebrow, Joanna thought their expressions were remarkably similar. "No man could retain his dignity in the face of such adorableness. Come on, Bones. Look at us."

"Who's an adorable baby?" her dad drawled. But it was Jim he was looking at, and Jim whose nose he poked with his index finger.

"Ha," said Jim. "Ha, ha. Gigi, scowl at the mean old man. Better yet, throw up on him. It's the traditional Kirk-McCoy greeting."

But Gigi, her arms around Jim's neck, just kept beaming as Joanna's dad leaned in and gave the crown of her head a kiss, then brushed a blond curl away from her pink cheek. "Hey there, darlin'," he said.

Jim sighed and shook his head. "Kids these days. No loyalty." Then he finally turned to his mom and gave her a welcoming hug.

"Carol says hello," said Winona Kirk. "And thanks you in advance for a week's peace."

"I told Scotty to make sure repairs take at least a week," said Jim. "I thought his head was going to explode. Usually, I tell him he's got ten minutes to do an hour's work. Some mean lizard people broke Daddy's spaceship," he explained to his daughter, who was watching him with saucer-eyes. "I'll tell you all about them later. Plenty of explosions, I promise."

"Apparently," Winona went on as if she hadn't been interrupted, "Carol's experiments are at a delicate stage and she doesn't need a one-year-old who likes to push shiny buttons and pull levers running around Regula One. She tried to explain what she was working on to me. I'd explain it to you, but I'm an astrophysicist, not a molecular-biologist."

"And I'm neither," said Jim. "I just keep the galaxy safe so the people I care about can do science. What're you gonna do, Gigi-bird?" he went on, bouncing her in his arms. Joanna vaguely remembered her own dad bouncing her like that, a long, long time ago. She wasn't jealous, but it kind of made her wish she were still small and cute. "Exo-botany? Neuroscience? Medicine?"

Gigi grabbed his ear in a chubby fist and squeezed.

"Ow."

"That's what you get," Joanna's dad said, "for trying to plan her future for her." Ignoring Jim's protest, he turned to Winona and held out his arms.

She embraced him. "Leonard," she said, which struck Joanna as odd because hardly anyone called her dad by his first name. As far as she knew, Uhura was the only one on the Enterprise who did; he was Bones to Jim and Doctor McCoy to everyone else. "It's good to see you again. And looking good. I was worried the last time I saw you."

"Kept my promise," he said, which made no sense to Joanna – or Jim apparently – but caused Winona to hug him tighter.

"I know. You're where you belong. I'm so glad everything's working out." She let go of him then, and turned to Joanna.

Under the sudden scrutiny, Joanna's cheeks burned and she had to stop herself from looking at the toes of her boots. It was stupid. Winona Kirk was a starship captain, sure, but she wasn't some imposing figure, some superheroine all decked out in medals. She went around charting star systems, gathering specimens of rocks and plants, and taking pictures of nebulas and things. Which was all very cool, but it wasn't like making contact with alien races or fighting Klingons or convincing deranged supercomputers to commit suicide. Despite the silver in her hair, she was still rather youthful and pretty, but she was a grandma four times over, and she was short. Well, shorter than Joanna, who had her dad's genes for height.

"So," said Winona, and the delicate lines at the corners of her blue-grey eyes deepened as she smiled. "You're my other granddaughter."

Joanna's uncertainty fell away. And now that she was free of it, she could diagnose it with professional detachment: without ever having met her, she'd yearned for Winona Kirk's acceptance, not just of her, but of what her dad and Jim had together. That made it real beyond the Enterprise's metal hull. That made it real on Winona's ship, the Hypatia; and on Regula One, the research station where Gigi usually lived with her mother, Doctor Marcus; it made it real even as far away as Iowa, where Joanna was suddenly able to picture all of them, her whole new family, sitting down for Thanksgiving dinner, or Christmas, or…

"Jo? Hailing Jo McCoy."

She blinked at Jim.

"She's enraptured. Mom, you have some strange power over McCoys. The first time I introduced you to Bones, you had him acting like a perfect gentleman within minutes. D'you remember that?"

"It only seemed that way in contrast to your infantile behavior," her dad remarked.

"Speaking of which…" Jim deposited Gigi into Joanna's arms. Joanna gasped at the unexpected warmth and the wriggly weight. "Abuse your sister for a while."

Joanna stared into the blue, blue eyes, and everything else seemed to vanish. My sister. "Hey," she cooed to Gigi. "D'you know my name? It's Jo."

"Do?"

"No, Jo."

"Dodo?"

Joanna scowled.

"She can't pronounce her own name yet," said Winona from what seemed like far away. "Honestly, she'll be five before she wraps her mouth around Gloria Georgette Kirk Marcus. What the hell were you and Carol thinking, Jim?"

Jim scoffed. "Says she who thought Tiberius was a decent middle name. You're lucky I didn't get beat up in the schoolyard."

"You're lucky, you mean. And don't complain. It was good enough for your grandfather, and for about three seconds, it was almost your first name too."

Joanna sighed and gave her sister a sympathetic look. "Fine, kid. We'll work on it. We got a week, after all. I bet I can teach you a lot in a week." Only half-aware of the amused glances she was getting from the grownups, she leaned down and kissed her little sister's silky blond curls. Gigi took the opportunity to seize one of her earrings. "Ow. Damn it. Lesson one: keep your hands off my stuff."

And Three

Because she was a civilian and a minor, Joanna was not allowed on most away missions. It wasn't fair, she told her dad. The ship got threatened all the time, almost as often as the landing parties got themselves into trouble. Besides, she was almost seventeen. Chekov had been seventeen when the Enterprise started its first five-year mission. He got to beam down sometimes. So what if she wasn't a genius at math and hadn't been through officers' training? She wasn't stupid, and she'd been learning self-defense. Security Chief Dawson said she was strong for a girl, and last week she threw Janice Rand over her shoulder.

Unfortunately, none of those arguments carried any weight with her dad. And if her dad said no, nobody else was going to say yes.

Jim was great at telling stories about the interesting things he and her dad and Spock – and sometimes Chekov, Uhura, Scotty, and Sulu – got to see when they beamed down to new planets, but it wasn't the same.

So Joanna loved it when the Enterprise conveyed ambassadors and other dignitaries to summits on neutral worlds and space stations. Her dad hated it; Starfleet dress uniforms made him uncomfortable, and he was always worried someone would get sick or injured and he'd accidentally kill them because he didn't know anything about their physiology. He was convinced he'd instigate an interstellar war. Joanna agreed that the dress uniforms were pretty ridiculous, though Uhura managed to look elegant in hers. But she trusted her dad's skills as a surgeon; anyway, he hadn't accidentally killed anyone yet.

Joanna loved the conveyance missions because they were about the only times she got to see new kinds of people up close.

Of course, not all of the Enterprise crew was from Earth. Obviously, there was Spock. Plus Gaila was from Orion, and Keenser was from … she could never pronounce the name of his planet. There was Mrrkoth, the stellar cartographer; he was from Katera. There were quite a few others, whom Joanna didn't know so well. But the thing was, they were all Starfleet officers. They'd all spent at least a few years on Earth, and followed Starfleet's rules and regulations. They all believed the Federation was great, or useful anyway. They all came from different places, but somehow they didn't strike her as really alien, even though they sort of were.

So she loved it when aliens came to stay aboard the Enterprise. The more alien they looked and acted, the better. Sometimes, if things weren't too tense, her dad or Jim or one of the other senior officers would introduce her to the dignitaries. Most of them treated her with distant politeness, though the ambassador from Omicron Persei VIII had looked her over and boomed, "So that is what your species looks like in its larval state," which was kind of awesome. Plus, he'd looked like Godzilla or some kind of stumpy dinosaur, which had thrilled Jim. Over supper, he hadn't been able to shut up, which had led to her dad threatening to tranquilize him, which had led to Jim coughing "Hippocrates" into his soup.

Then there'd been that alien whose planet had this long, complex name that sounded kind of like blowing your nose and whistling at the same time – at least, that's how it had sounded when she'd tried to pronounce it, and he'd declared it close enough. Uhura could do it much better. He'd been tiny – not even as high as her waist – and so cute, all covered in tufty blue fur, with his big sad eyes, and his long hooked nose. She'd wanted to scoop him up in her arms, but refrained because that would not have been proper. Perched on a console, he'd flirted with her and Uhura, offering to entertain them by eating a tricorder to musical accompaniment. Again, Joanna had been tempted, but Uhura had dissuaded him politely.

Her favorites, though, were the Klingons. Not her favorite alien race – those would be the Omiads, who looked like big shiny gumdrops, and who communicated by vibrating, which meant that if you wanted to talk to them, you had to be good at wiggling. Joanna had never seen her dad or Spock stand so perfectly still. No, her favorite conveyance mission involved Klingons. Enterprise was taking Ambassador Gorkon to this summit meeting on a neutral world called Babel. Old Spock – who still did diplomatic work on behalf of the Federation sometimes – had arranged it. Apparently he'd predicted that the Klingon moon of Praxis was going to explode in about thirty years, and make things really bad for the whole Klingon Empire. So he and the Organians were trying to get the Klingons and the Federation and some other races, including the Romulans, to talk out their differences.

Usually, when Klingons were around, Jim ordered Joanna to keep out of sight. Which was silly, she thought. She'd read all about Klingons, and she was fairly confident that most of them didn't see hurting or kidnapping a teenaged human girl as very honorable. But she also knew that undermining the captain's authority, especially in front of the Klingons, was a really dumb idea, so she grudgingly stayed out of the way.

She figured this mission with Gorkon would be the same as all the others involving Klingons, so she didn't even protest. She just grabbed a few snacks from the galley, and holed up in her quarters. The aptitude tests were coming up, and she still had plenty of studying to do.

To her surprise, at around 1900 hours, Uhura came by with a blue dress uniform in her hands. "Get changed," she said with a smile as she tossed the uniform to Joanna. "And do something with your hair. Come on, we're waiting for you."

"I'm actually going to meet the Klingons?" Joanna said, incredulous, as she pushed her PADD aside. "Face-to-face? No one's afraid I'll get kidnapped or say something stupid and start a war?"

"No, if anyone inadvertently starts a war with the Klingons, it'll be the captain. I'm kidding. It'll be fine. Just don't gag on the gagh."

Joanna made a face. By then she had her civilian clothes off and the blue dress uniform on. The skirt fell to just below her knees, which was nice, but the bodice was a little roomy. She wondered whom Uhura had borrowed it from. Maybe Gaila. She undid her messy ponytail and ran a comb quickly through her hair. It got caught on a snarl, which she tried to tease out as she asked, "Is there gonna be bloodwine, too?"

"Not for you," Uhura said firmly. "And not for me, if I'm lucky."

The reason for her invitation was clear the moment they entered the captain's meeting room. "There you are," Jim said, beckoning her and Uhura over to where he, her dad, and Spock stood beside a tall, well-dressed Klingon man, who had to be Gorkon, and a Klingon girl, who was … huh.

"This," Jim said, putting a hand on Joanna's shoulder, "is Joanna McCoy, the daughter of my Chief Medical Officer. Joanna," he said, gesturing toward the Klingon girl, "this is Azetbur, Ambassador Gorkon's daughter. You're about the same age."

"I am older," Azetbur said in a clipped tone, and Joanna narrowed her eyes.

The ambassador's daughter was tall and thin, with razor-sharp cheekbones that plunged to a small red mouth. Her black hair was pulled back so severely that Joanna was frankly amazed she had any forehead ridges at all. She bit back the desire to say so, and instead said, in her most sugarcoated tone, "How very nice to make your acquaintance."

The ambassador seemed less uptight. "You must enjoy having her with you, Doctor," he said, with a look in Joanna's dad's direction. "Showing her the worlds beyond her own."

Well, the ones the captain thinks are safe enough for me to see, Joanna thought, smile firmly in place.

"Her presence makes the voyage much more pleasant," her dad replied.

"How interesting," said Azetbur, her dark eyes on Joanna. "I understand Starfleet usually forbids the children of officers to travel in starships. She really isn't a liability?"

Out of the corner of her eye, Joanna saw her dad and the captain open their mouths. She was faster. Anger burned in her belly, but her words dripped honey. "Why," she drawled, "no more than you are, I'm sure. But how kind of you to worry, bless your little heart!"

"My heart," declared Azetbur, "does not require your blessings."

So, no, theirs was not one of those instant friendships. In fact, Joanna was quite certain she loathed the Klingon girl, and she was pretty sure the feeling was mutual. However, when the adults drifted toward the buffet table, the two of them remained behind, eyeing each other guardedly.

At length, sounding bored and perhaps a little put-upon, Azetbur said, "Do you intend to follow in your father's footsteps?"

"I don't know," Joanna replied honestly, with a shrug. "I mean, medicine's exciting, but I haven't decided yet. What about you?" she added because, tempting as it was, she still didn't want to start an interstellar war. "Are you gonna be like your dad…" She couldn't resist adding, "…when you grow up?"

The dark eyes narrowed. "My father was a warrior before he went into politics. His profession is an honorable one."

"And my dad's isn't?" Joanna hissed back. "Is that what you're implying? Oh, let me guess. Y'all think it's more honorable to poke holes in people than to patch them up afterward. Which is a lot harder, for your information."

"Some are harder to injure than others," Azetbur said, squaring her shoulders as if she were daring Joanna to take her best shot. "Among my people," she continued, her tone low-pitched – she obviously didn't want her own dad to hear what they were saying to each other either – "death in glorious battle is considered one of the highest of honors."

"Well," said Joanna, "if you don't mind my saying so, that's stupid. I mean," she went on quickly, before the other girl could cut in, "if you survive one battle, maybe you'll make it to the next one, and that one'll be even more glorious. And anyway, it's not like doctors just sit on the sidelines and wait for people to be carried to them. Maybe some of them do, but not my dad. If someone gets hurt, he'll just rush right in there and save 'em if he can. He won't even care if people are shooting at him." She couldn't believe she was bragging about that. She hated it when her dad did stupid stuff like that.

But a curious little twinkle had come into Azetbur's eyes as she'd spoken. It took Joanna a moment to realize that the other girl actually looked kind of impressed. "You defend your honor well, Joanna of the House of McCoy," she said.

"That's just my dad's honor," said Joanna. "I've got plenty of my own."

She half-expected Azetbur to challenge this claim. Instead, the other girl cast the adults a sideways glance. "This gathering is uninteresting. Let us talk somewhere else."

Joanna didn't think her dad would approve of the two of them sneaking off, but she sure as hell wasn't going to let Azetbur think she was weak. A Klingon thought she defended her honor well. A snooty teenaged Klingon, but still. "Fine," she said, lifting her chin proudly because she was Joanna of the Noble House of McCoy. "Let's go to one of the observation platforms." A daring thought came to her. "My dad's got a stash of bourbon. He won't miss one bottle."

"And my father," said Azetbur, the tips of her sharp white teeth showing against her red lips as she smiled, "never travels without a few bottles of firewine."

We are going to get into so much trouble, Joanna thought, with a delicious thrill.

And they did, but it was so worth it, despite the worst hangover Joanna ever had or ever would have. Because decades later, when Azetbur was Chancellor of the Klingon High Council and Joanna answered to Doctor McCoy (the Younger, when she and her dad lectured together) they still enjoyed a friendly drink now and then.

Chapter Text

And Four

Joanna knew exactly what she wanted for her seventeenth birthday. It wasn't the Arusian emerald ring her dad had gotten her. (Though she thought it was beautiful, and kept tilting her hand so the light caught the small gem at different angles.) It wasn't the care package Eleanor Ann had sent all the way from Savannah (though the praline pecans were heavenly, and she ate so many in such a short amount of time that she got a stomach ache). It wasn't the recorded Vulcan lyre music from Spock or the Tholian silk scarf from Uhura or even the antique, leather-bound Complete Works of Shakespeare from Jim.

She loved all her gifts, but there was one thing she really wanted, more than almost anything else, and she didn't even realize it until she, Jim, and Gaila were seated at the bar on Deep Space Station K-7, enjoying a round of hot drinks.

Then he walked in.

He was a Trill. (The bar was well lit at that hour, and Joanna could see the spots climbing up from under his collar and sort of curving up to frame his handsome face before disappearing at his hairline). He looked young – twenty, at the most, she estimated – and he was tall, fine-boned, and dark-haired. He wore civilian clothes, had a book – an actual paper book – tucked under his arm, and caused Joanna's heart to careen against her ribcage. "Oh," she said to no one in particular, as he seated himself at an empty table across the room.

"Oh?" said Jim, sounding curious.

"Oh?" echoed Gaila. Then, "Oh, yeah, I see what you mean. I could slurp him up like he was … hmm." She touched the tip of her tongue to her top lip.

"Him?" Jim made a dismissive sound. "Pretty boy."

Joanna snorted.

Gaila laughed. "And you didn't know him ten years ago, when he was a dewy-eyed cadet. Before the ravages of time and space—"

"Ravages of time and space," Jim muttered into his coffee cup. "Hey."

Gaila had probably given his shoulder a playful shove. Joanna didn't see because she was focused on the Trill boy. By now he'd ordered a drink and a sandwich, and had started reading his book. A lock of dark hair kept falling across his brow. He'd flick it away with his fingers, but it would just fall back down a moment later. Joanna's fingers, curved around her own coffee cup, twitched. She wanted to touch his hair, his face, his lips.

"So," said Gaila, "is that what you want for your birthday?"

"Yeah." The word spilled out quick and breathy. Joanna blushed, but she didn't try to take it back. Gaila knew as much about sex as she did about computer programming – which was basically everything. Joanna had no doubt about Gaila's ability to read exactly what was on her mind at the moment. Why even bother denying it?

"Then you should have him." And with that, Gaila slid off the barstool and started to walk toward the Trill boy.

"Um," Joanna stammered. "Wait—" But Gaila either didn't hear or disregarded her protest. She dropped into a chair opposite the Trill boy's, and folded one long green leg over the other. "Oh, shit," whispered Joanna. As she watched, Gaila leaned across the table and touched her fingertips gently to the back of the boy's hand. He glanced up at her. Joanna glanced away quickly. "What's she saying?"

Jim shrugged. "Hi, I'm conducting a survey on the sexual preferences and behaviors of various humanoid species. Would you mind answering a few deeply probing, personal questions?"

Joanna blanched. "Don't even joke about it."

"Hi," Jim said in that same bright tone, "I happen to be friends with the most beautiful, intelligent, and interesting seventeen-year-old girl in the quadrant. She's seated at the bar, next to the devastatingly handsome man in gold. Would you like to meet her and maybe take her out for ice cream? And if I know Gaila," he went on in his normal voice, ignoring Joanna's groan, "she's sizing him up, making sure he deserves the privilege." He paused for a moment, as if in thought. "Bet you anything she's also informing him that the girl in question is under the protection of a certain starship captain, and that he'll be in a world of pain and misery if anything happens to her. And if she's not back at the ship by 2200 hours."

"That early? Come on, I'm seventeen. And I have my communicator. And I know basic self-defense. And I'm not stupid. It's not like I've never been on a date before." And he might not even be interested, she thought. He might have a hot girlfriend. Or boyfriend. He might not think I'm that pretty. Or intelligent. Or interesting.

Jim grinned at her, his blue eyes warm with affection. "I know. I trust you. I don't even have to lecture you about the evils of alcohol, since you discovered them all by yourself. And I know you know that if things start to go really well…"

"Yeah, I'm protected," Joanna said quickly.

"It's just I expect the restocking to be done by about then, and there's only so long I can keep your dad distracted."

Joanna laughed. "Somehow, I doubt that."

Jim reached over and ruffled her hair. Then he said, "Uh-oh. Well, there's your answer. You can always change your mind. Say Gaila forgot that you were grounded and you're supposed to be swabbing the deck or peeling potatoes."

Joanna glanced up. "Oh, shit," she muttered again. Gaila and the Trill boy were looking in her direction. As his eyes met hers, he smiled and gave a little wave and Joanna's heart skipped a beat. Gaila gestured for her to join them. Quickly, she set her coffee cup down on the bar and started smoothing down her hair. "I don't wanna change my mind, but what do I say to him?"

"You could ask him if his spots go all the way down."

"No," said Joanna.

"Please?" said Jim. "I kinda want to know."

His name was Reeshann and his eyes were gray. He did not have a symbiont, but he wanted one badly. He'd just finished his first year as a student at the Trill Science Ministry, and was spending his vacation traveling. For the past month, he'd been hitching rides with freighters and trade vessels but, amazingly, he'd seen fewer worlds than she had. So she told him all about the things she'd seen since leaving Savannah, and he actually listened as if he were interested.

They walked all over the station. On the observation deck, they sat on the floor by the huge windows that looked out on a field of stars. Neither of them knew which constellations they were looking at, so they just made stuff up and laughed about it. They shared a bowl of Trantorian berries and shaved ice drizzled with syrup.

The only dumb thing he did was to tell her that joined Trills hardly ever got into relationships, so he was glad he'd met her first. Not that he was sure he'd be allowed to host a symbiont. It was dumb because it was a corny thing to say and, lovely as he was, she had no illusions about seeing him again. The universe was just too big, and besides, she didn't want a relationship at this point in her life. Not while she was basically drifting through space with the Enterprise. She was pretty sure her heart would ache a little when she left him, but that was all right, she told herself.

What she wanted was a moment.

And a moment was what she got.

Reeshann's lips were as soft as they looked. His tongue was cool from the shaved ice, and sweet from the syrup. His hands were cool as well, and she shivered as they cupped and traced the curves of her.

And yes, she discovered, his spots went all the way down to his toes.

And Five

Delta Pavonis had been below the horizon for about twenty minutes, but a soft glow still lingered over the sea. It wasn't quite enough light to see by, but Joanna made her way along the beach without tripping over any rocks or getting tangled in the clumps of spongy seaweed that the waves had carried in and left behind.

Amid the dunes to her left, campfires flickered. Joanna didn't know how many crewmen and women had ultimately decided to beam down to Delta Pavonis III in order to stretch their legs and watch the meteor shower that was supposed to start soon. Quite a few, judging by the number of fires. Still, as she walked along the edge of an alien sea, she felt very much alone.

All right, maybe not alone, but … removed, somehow. She knew the people seated around the campfires were talking. Some of them were singing. She could hear them, but their songs and conversations were muted by the rustle of the waves and the crunch of sand beneath her boots. She knew that Delta Pavonis was about a billion years older than the Sun, and that civilizations had risen and crumbled on its third planet millions of years before human beings had evolved on Earth; she'd spent part of the afternoon climbing over ruins with Chekov, collecting and labeling artifacts. She also knew that Delta Pavonis was about twenty light years from Earth; it would be almost twenty years before the same light that had burned her cheeks and the tip of her nose today reached her home. She wondered where she would be when it finally did.

She'd be thirty-seven, older than her mom had been when she'd died.

Would she be on Earth, or some other planet? On a space station? On a ship? What kind of job would she have? Would she be in love, married, a mother? Or alone, either happily or unhappily?

She breathed deeply, tasting the briny air. It was enough like the sea air she remembered from childhood trips to the Atlantic to make her wistful, but different enough to make her skin tingle with excitement. The world on which she now stood was so old; so many things had happened here, and she couldn't even begin to imagine them. She felt so young; there were so many things she wanted to see and do, and it seemed almost possible that she would.

Soon, she thought.

Delta Pavonis' afterglow had faded completely by the time she found her dad. He lay stretched on a half-buried boulder, his head pillowed on his forearm, his face tilted skyward. Joanna sank down beside him and rested her head against his chest.

"Hey," he said, wrapping his other arm around her shoulders and holding her close. "You warm enough, sweetheart?"

She nodded. The temperature had dropped considerably since the sunset, but she was still comfortable in her fleece pullover. Her dad, she noticed, was bundled up in a jacket and scarf. But he ran cold, as he liked to put it.

"Dad?" she said after a moment. Since turning seventeen, she'd decided she was too old to call him daddy. "You're happy now, aren't you?" She didn't know why she asked. She knew the answer. But she wanted to hear him say it.

"Yeah," he said after just the slightest hesitation, like he still wasn't completely used to the idea. "I am. I'm exploring the universe with the two people I love most. How 'bout you?"

"Huh? Oh." She found herself hesitating as well. Just for a beat or two. "Yeah. I am."

"You don't sound so sure."

"No, I'm happy," she assured him. "I'm just – I don't know. Nervous, I guess. I have all those tests coming up really soon."

"You'll do fine," her dad said, sounding like he really believed it. He ruffled her hair. "I know you've been studying hard. Besides, you're intelligent, you're intuitive…"

"I know."

"Modest, too."

She grinned. She was sure she'd do all right, actually. She felt like she'd been studying for years and she'd already taken a couple of practice exams. That wasn't what worried her.

They were quiet after that. The world turned beneath them, revealing other parts of the sky. Stars that Joanna had never seen before were suddenly bright against that cold, cold blackness. She wondered how many of those stars had planets orbiting them, and how many of those planets had people, and if any of those people had their eyes trained on her part of the sky.

Then the meteor shower began. Stars streaked across the sky and vanished. At first, she tried to count them. It was something she'd done as a child, watching the Perseids or the Leonids from her backyard in Savannah. You were supposed to make a wish for each one you saw. Unfortunately, the lights from the city dimmed the stars, so she'd never seen more than three before her mom or stepdad ordered her back inside. But apart from the campfires, there were no lights on Delta Pavonis III. And so there were far too many shooting stars for her to count, never mind wish upon. She thought she deserved at least one really good wish, but before she could come up with something, Jim showed up and distracted her.

"There you are," he said, hunkering down on the other side of her dad. Once he was settled, he went on in a hushed tone, "Go and catch a falling star,

Get with child a mandrake root
Tell me, where all past years are
Or who cleft the Devil's foot
Teach me to hear mermaids singing…"

He trailed off, and Joanna jumped in. "So, are you gonna marry my dad, or what?"

She'd meant to discomfit him, and succeeded. Jim spluttered. Her dad, however, said with perfect composure, "Yeah, he is."

There was a beat. Then: "Wait - what?" Joanna and Jim said it at the same time. Jim laughed. Joanna did not.

"Wait," she said, turning and raising herself slightly so she could look down at them. "You're serious. That was a proposal? That?"

"Hey, I'll take it," said Jim.

"But that was pathetic," Joanna protested. "That wasn't even – that was the most unromantic proposal I've ever heard in my life!"

"How many have you heard?" her dad asked, cocking an eyebrow at her. "Outside the holovids? Jim, d'you wanna get married?"

"To you, sure," Jim said, his voice shaky with laughter. "Let's see if we can get Pike to officiate."

"Deal." Her dad's eyebrow arched even higher, daring her.

"But—" Oh, who cared? Look at the way he was smiling. And Jim too. Their faces glowed the way the sea had after the sunset. They were meant for each other and they knew it. In the whole universe, how many people were that lucky? "Fine," she sighed. "I guess I approve. I mean – I do approve. Really. I'm really happy."

And she was, she decided, but she kind of wished she hadn't said it because Jim seemed to take it as permission to kiss her dad right there in front of her. Oh, well. She'd have to get used to it at some point, she supposed. Just – not tonight. She couldn't exactly ignore the wet kissy sounds, but she didn't have to watch. With a groan, she rolled onto her back again, and stared fixedly at the stars.

After a time, Jim and her dad broke apart. She could hear them breathing heavily, but she was pretty sure they were just lying side-by-side, maybe forehead-to-forehead, maybe holding hands. That was all right.

Then Jim murmured,

"If thou beest borne to strange sights,
Things invisible to see,
Ride ten thousand days and nights,
Till age snow white hairs on thee,
Thou, when thou return'st, wilt tell me
All strange wonders that befell thee…"

All strange wonders, Joanna thought. Why, her life was full of them. And her heart … her heart was full too. So very full that she almost cried out when her dad slid close and gathered her back into his arms.

And that was the thing about hearts, Joanna suddenly understood. You let people in, and when they left – because they died or disappointed you, or whatever – they left big, gaping holes. You patch them up as best you can, and guard your heart. But inevitably, new people come along, and they get in. Not into the holes, because those'll never be filled, but … somehow, there's room for new people. The heart grows to accommodate them. So there was room for Jim and Gigi and Winona. There was room for Azetbur and her friends in Georgia and on New Vulcan. There was room for two Spocks, and Uhura, and Scotty, and the other crewmembers who'd become her family and guardians over the past two years. There might even be room for Reeshann, if she ever met him again.

It was so strange and wonderful. When she'd first come aboard the Enterprise, her heart had felt like a used up, shriveled thing. She'd missed her mom and stepdad so much, and she'd been so sure that she hated her dad. Jim had shown her that she was wrong. He'd helped her see that hate just wasn't in her nature, and he'd helped her dad keep his promise to her. Her dad hadn't abandoned her on Adhara; he'd just gotten a little lost, and Jim had found him and brought him back to her.

She loved them so much. And it was all right. Despite the holes, her heart was big enough for the love that filled it. And there was room for more, for when she finally found someone to love the way her dad loved Jim. Lying on the cool, alien earth, with her head on her dad's chest and Jim's warm breath stirring her hair, she felt as if her heart were as big as the sky arching above her, and just as full of starlight.

And One To Grow On

"Hi," Joanna said casually, like she'd just happened to bump into him here on the observation platform, like she hadn't been stalking him all the way from Deck 5.

"Hello," said Chekov, glancing over his shoulder at her. He smiled and something fluttered in Joanna's belly. She loved his accent. And he really had the most adorable smile; it just lit up his gray eyes. But that wasn't why she was here.

"Um, I wanted to talk to you," she said as she joined him by the railing that ran along the huge windows. She leaned her elbows against the railing and looked at the stars. They seemed to fall away slowly as the Enterprise glided by at warp one.

"Everything is all right?" Chekov asked, sounding concerned.

"Yeah," Joanna said, "I guess. I mean, I just got a message from my best friend back on Earth. They just had their senior prom. Well, actually, it was a couple of weeks ago. Do Russian kids have a senior prom?"

"Russians inwented the senior prom." There was a teasing note in his voice.

"Well, anyway, I'm kind of sad that I missed it. I mean, it's a rite of passage. And I guess I'd been looking forward to it since … I don't know. Since I started high school, I think. I had this boyfriend, and I thought… I had this dress in mind. It was emerald green and kind of slinky, but I was going to convince my dad to get it for me anyway. Then my boyfriend dumped me. He was such a jerk. He dumped me a week before Valentine's Day. And two weeks before my birthday."

"What a jerk," said Chekov with enough vehemence to satisfy her.

"Anyway," Joanna said, "I guess in the grand scheme of things it's not a big deal. I'm glad I went into space. This is so much more interesting than high school. But I keep thinking…" She looked at him and smiled. "I got my test results back. Did you hear?"

"Yes," he said. "You did wery well. The captain and the doctor were bragging. Congratulations. What are you going to do now?"

"See, that's the thing," said Joanna. "I could apply to Starfleet. I mean, I want to. I love it out here. I want to become an officer so I can actually do some exploring and not just see the planets the captain and my dad think are safe enough. I just don't know if I want to do it now. I thought I did."

She ducked her head slightly because she was about to tell him something she hadn't told anyone else yet. "For the longest time, it was like I couldn't see anything past the Enterprise. I needed to be here to make sure my dad was all right. But now that he and the captain are getting married, it's like… It's not that I don't need him anymore, or that he doesn't need me. But I think he's gonna be okay. And suddenly I can see that there's more for me to do. D'you know what I mean?" Her glance met his briefly, and he nodded. "I could be an officer in four years," she went on. "I could be back in space by the time I'm twenty-two. I could be back on the Enterprise. If I'm good enough. And if it's not nepotism. Or I could go to college. What do you think? I mean, you were my age when you graduated from the Academy. Do you feel like you missed a lot? Are you ever sorry? I'm sorry," she went on quickly. "I'm just bombarding you with questions. But I didn't know who else to ask. I'll be quiet now." She bit her lips to show him she was serious.

"Joanna." He ducked his head and his shoulders shook slightly as he laughed. "Joanna. No, I am not laughing at you. I am just trying to think how to say… When I was fourteen … I was wery smart. You are also wery smart, but I think … you are normal."

"Ha." She couldn't hold that back.

"I mean that you have friends and you care about things like … slinky dresses and boys. I did not. I mean," he added hastily, blushing, "of course I did not care about slinky dresses or boys. Girls are … I like girls. Ah…" He bit his lip as well.

She wondered if it would be wrong of her to slide just a little closer to him. He was twenty-five. That was close to the borderline of too old for her, but it wasn't over it.

Yes, it would be wrong, she decided.

Anyway, he'd recovered his composure, though color still played sweetly across his cheeks. "All I really cared about was math," he said. "While other children my age were playing games, I was in my room solving equations. I did not belong. To make a long story short, my aunt was a Starfleet officer. She – what is the metaphor? – pulled some strings, so they let me take the tests early, and they let me into the Academy. In some ways, it was good for me. I had the best instructors. I learned a lot. But because I was so young, I did not have many friends. I did not go on any dates."

"Oh," Joanna said. "Not even with local girls?"

"No," Chekov laughed. "Oh, no. I was wery young, remember. All the girls my age were just starting high school. And I had no practice talking to them. And it was my first time away from home, and I had this wery thick accent. No."

"Their loss," Joanna said.

"Mine as well," he replied. "More and more I think that I made the right choice when I was fourteen, but … It is strange. In some ways, I was wery far ahead. But then, when I came aboard the Enterprise, I had much catching up to do. And I did," he added so quickly that she fought the urge to laugh. She hadn't actually thought that he was still a virgin, or that he'd never been out on a date or spent a night drinking with his guy friends.

"So you're saying I should go to college," Joanna said.

"I am saying … maybe college would be a good idea. Do you think you might study medicine?"

"I don't know. My dad would like that, and I think it would be pretty exciting. But there are so many different kinds of medicine. My friend Azetbur thinks I should study Klingon medicine. That would be interesting. And useful, since the Federation signed that treaty with the Klingon Empire. Or … my dad was saying the other day that Starfleet could use more psychologists, especially on long voyages. That could be interesting too." She gestured expansively. "I don't know. My mom ran an art gallery. My stepdad was a teacher. Those aren't super-glamorous jobs, but they're important. They're useful. And why should I have to follow in someone's footsteps, anyway? I want to be back in space, that's all I know. How I get there…" She slumped against the railing and glared at the stars, as if she could force them to give her the answers she needed.

"Joanna," Chekov said.

She glanced up. He had stepped away from the window and was holding a hand out to her, palm up. When she hesitated, he caught her hand in his and pulled her gently away from the railing. His other hand dropped to her waist.

"You have to live your own life," he said. "You have to decide what is best for you. I think that you like space a lot, and that you will find your way back here. But it has to be your own way. And maybe that means college first, then Starfleet Academy. Maybe that means trying many things until you find the thing you really want. I do not know. But," he went on as he began to dance her around the observation platform, "I know that the stars will wait for you, Joanna McCoy."

They would, she thought, in their own way. Time wouldn't stop while she made up her mind, but there would still be worlds and people to discover by the time she did. And, she thought as Chekov spun her and the stars twirled by in a strange and wonderful dance of their own, she had time.

11/14/09