A/N: Gosh, so I originally posted this story on AO3 and forgot that existed again. I'm horrible. I have fics here I need to update. But anyway, here's a romantic Scotty and Jaylah novella in case anyone was into that. Also, no one seems to have mentioned the name of Jaylah's species, which bothers me to no end. So until that comes out, I'm just dubbing her a Reedollian, given that the entire creation of her character had been based on a Jennifer Lawrence character named Ree Dolly. I mean, heck, why not. Reedollian it is.)

1.

If she hadn't proved her skills on Altamid to the whole of Starfleet already, she certainly went above and beyond all expectations upon the beginning of her formal training. Her ability to decipher and reverse-engineer machinery and software of varying types seemed to be innate. As a Reedollian, her age was entirely unclear—she slipped in well amongst the fresh enlists and the twenty-somethings easily. All the same, she could run academic laps around them. She was every bit as capable as she was a mystery.

As per protocol, she had been given proper medical and psychological evaluation. There were still conditions that troubled her, but her ability to compartmentalize emotions were on par with Spock's.

"If y'don't mind me askin'… how long were y'on Altamid, anyway?"

Gold eyes flit to the right, glancing upward for a moment as she sucked in a breath and answered, "Five and ten years."

It was a different answer than she'd given Uhura. Occasionally, Scotty saw moments where that "effective compartmentalization" trait of hers wavered. She was good at giving a straightforward answer, the sort that one would get from Spock—unburdened with all the details that would hold the answers everyone really wanted.

Who are you? Where did you come from? When did you come from? How did you learn all of this? Are your gifts inborn or acquired?

She dodged questions as gracefully as she dodged kicks and blows on the sparring mat. Her competency and usefulness to Starfleet led them to accept the answers she gave without third (or fourth) question, regardless of occasional inconsistencies.

2.

The reconstruction of the Enterprise-A would take roughly seven months. Seven months of downtime in Yorktown, in which many of the crew were grateful to have some sense of home. Jaylah's daily routine was a pattern of physical training (for her own personal entertainment,) classes, Starfleet-regulated PT, more classes, and then exploration of Yorktown that always ended in varying bars.

In the first weeks the crew had spent on Yorktown, Scotty was all too glad to jump back into his bar-hopping routine, gambling where he could, getting punched out once or twice over bad games of pool, and bickering with Keenser over more alcohol than any one (human) man should be consuming on a nightly basis.

Their paths crossed frequently, although it would be several crossings of these respective wires before any conversation sparked.

"Ye come 'ere offen, Lassie?" Scotty had greeted her, having always wanted to toss that line jokingly toward her.

She was always of stern face with infrequent smiles. Taking his question literally, she answered, "No. This is my first coming. I am still searching for a drink to 'take off the edge' they speak of."

He wasn't always sure what to follow her statements up with—she did not joke often. Yet, still, it seemed that she preferred their company. She followed Scotty and Keenser for the duration of the evening, drinking with them and watching them bicker with confusion and, what Scotty suspected was the first trace of amusement. At least, occasionally, he caught a smile forming at the corner of her lips.

She wasn't nearly as glum as she seemed, was she?

Jaylah had come to the bars each night to drink, and drink she did. She drank to "take off the edge" and she threw back liquor like a fish filtering water through tiny, translucent gills. He hadn't seen even the mildest sign of a buzz creeping up on her, much less the tell-tale slur of drunkenness slipping its way through her stiff accent.

Keenser had squandered his budget for the night away on cards. He ducked out early, on that particular seventh chance meeting with Jaylah. Keenser hopped off the bar stool, announcing bitterly that he was out for the evening. He gestured between Scotty and Jaylah, a Roylan good luck, sign—…the 'ell was that s'posed ta mean?

Jaylah had just downed another shot of whiskey when Keenser left. The clink of her empty shotglass against the small wall she'd built between herself and Scotty drew his attention from Keenser's drunk waddling. Jaylah glanced over at the third untouched glass of pickle juice that had been offered as a chaser. She narrowed her eyes at it and asked, "Why does this keep happening? I do not order this strange juice."

"Y'er supposed ta chase it, Lassie. Withee pickle juice. 'at's a pickleback shot."

Jaylah looked at the empty glasses that had once held whiskey and then at the corresponding (untouched) glasses of pickle juice. She winced and then downed one. Had she been drinking all of that liquor without knowing what a chaser was the entire time? His jaw was slack for a moment, as he fought off a laugh. Scotty's resolve broke when she made a soured expression from the pickle juice's taste.

"Who would drink this?"

"Well, ye don't 'ave to, y'could easily jus' get the Jameson and not 'ave that wall of glasses… I just… alright, that's, that's a wee bit of a crime there, I'll just… if y'don't mind—"

Reaching past her, he happily took the other two shotglasses and emptied them in two quick swigs.

Jaylah looked at him with an expression just as confused and offended as her last, "…you just…"

At that moment, he recalled just how easily she could snap him in half, should she be so pressed to do so. Perhaps, in retrospect, taking anything from her, (whether or not she wanted that juice,) was a categorically horrible idea. He choked out a quick, "Oh, please don' kill m—"

This must have been a cultural faux pas.

"First, you suggest this horrid concoction and then you take without it being first offered."

"Ye—ye din't look like ye wanted it, I just… it was in y'er way an'—"

"How could you so casually ingest such a disgusting thing?"

"I…" he thought about it for a moment, and then shrugged, "…well, I've 'ad worse. But it's not that bad."

"Foul." Jaylah grunted, her moody gaze falling back on her glasses, "…I would like another."

"Another…" Scotty repeated, before he shrugged and said, "…alright. Confusin' but alright, Lassie. This time, let me show ye 'ow it's done."

When he managed to get the bartender's attention again, he ordered them both another pair of drinks. She watched him, this time, as he demonstrated what chasers were for. She looked at the pickle juice with disdain and with a sigh, she drank back the whiskey and followed it quickly with the pickle juice.

"See, now, the taste's not so bad after that, right?"

She winced and shook her head, gagging slightly, "…I do not like these chasings. I prefer not to be chasing."

She garnered a laugh from Scotty and he agreed then, at least for the remainder of the evening, "Right'en, no more chasings."

Curiosity got the better of him, the more he watched her experiment with different liquors and showed very little sign of any effect. Did she drink for the taste, or was she actually feeling something and simply hid it well? What did an alcohol buzz feel like for her? He made the mistake of trying to keep up with her that night, hoping that if she drank into a slightly relaxed state, she'd help him win a bet Jim had started—"oh, of course, all women lie about their age… I'm saying she's probably about twenty-three, tops,"—which even Bones had commented on with a very casual, "…you really don't pay attention, do you? She's closer to thirty than you know, Jim, and she's not on your side of it."

Fifteen years on Altamid. Give or take. If she were really closer to thirty, she must have been a teenager when Altamid happened. It was hard to imagine her going through hell back on that planet. Just the thought of Krall laying a finger on her got him riled up. Not that he was any sort of fighter who'd last more than two breaths next to the guy.

Her family…

In a moment of clarity, he suddenly found Jim's bet less humorous.

"Ye gettin' on well in the Academy?"

"It is enjoyable," Jaylah answered, starting on another tall glass of some stout she had yet to try. She brought the glass to her lips and quirked her head to the side at the taste. It was a small expression he caught gracing her features when she found a beer she liked. She took a longer, deeper swig of it and setting the glass down, she burped with very little regard for manners. Perhaps a cultural difference, there, too. Maybe just the solitude. It was a little endearing in an odd way—a far cry from the women he'd boozed with who pretended they were utterly made of plastic. Where they were all high heels and crossed legs, she was heavy boots and knees spread like a man.

"I knew they'd take ye, ye've got so much more raw talent than ye know, Lassie. Ye'll be the top of the fleet in time, I'm sure of it. Where'd ye learn yer way aroun' a ciruit panel, anyway?"

"From my home."

Her home. The Franklin. Surely there had to be some kind of formal education prior.

"Ye'ever learn it anywhe'else, eh? School or your old home, er…" Perhaps he was overstepping by bringing the past up.

She drummed her fingertips on the glass. She drummed hard.

"Fifteen years is time enough to learn from my home."

Fifteen years again. A constant where there would have been a variable. It could have simply been a repeated variable, or simply a constant for an equation she saved just for him. He wondered if it were simply wishful thinking, before quickly kicking the act of wishful thinking aside—there was absolutely no wishful thinking with Jaylah, she was categorically off-limits.

She didn't need to be hanging around bars getting drunk with a guy like him.

Well. She was probably not getting drunk. He certainly was, though.

Scotty couldn't remember much of the night beyond that, having taken a few more shots with her before learning the hard way that he should never, ever try to keep up with Jaylah at a bar.

He woke up in the men's room at a little past 0630 with the worst hangover of his life. Somehow he'd not been kicked out. The night regulars seemed to take more amusement in the way he made the hobble of shame from the men's room. Jaylah was nowhere to be seen. He hadn't expected to see her out there.

3.

The next couple of days saw Scotty deciding to give the bar-hopping a rest. Keenser went out on his own the first night, but opted to stay behind in Scotty's Yorktown apartment and bicker there over a considerably smaller amount of booze and beer. The crooked dartboard on Scotty's wall was hit with Keenser's surprisingly accurate eye.

Jaylah preferred to keep herself shrouded in mystery. During the day, she was compliant enough with the rules and regulations of Starfleet. She wedged small subtleties of rebellion in where she could. A knack for wearing boots out of uniform, a habit of sparring just a little too hard, a penchant for never having a goddamn hangover no matter how late she was out drinking.

Was it likely that she was out running her same routine? Physical training, classes, training, classes, training, drinking, sleep (maybe?) then repeat. Maybe she was out there trying her damndest to clean out every bar in town before getting stationed elsewhere. Maybe she was out there, right now, experimenting with a chaser that didn't make her gag or cringe. Maybe, Scotty thought bitterly, he was thinking a bit too much about Jaylah.

When an outlier dart bounced off of the board and toppled just a hair's width shy of Scotty's head, he realized he'd been in a mild daze the whole evening. Keenser glowered at him. Scotty shrugged, "Aye, kinna guy space out once inna while? No need ta be aimin' at me 'ead!"

Keenser cackled.

When he went back to the bar, he'd hoped that no one recognized the guy who passed out in the toilets.

"Hey, Men's Room! Welcome back!" An attractive female bartender called out to him. Great. Lovely.

Keenser cackled a cackle just like before, just like always.

"Thanks fer that," Scotty grumbled—dammit, Keenser.

They took up the same spots they held the last time they were there and begun their nightly ritual. Jaylah never showed. Perhaps she'd moved on to another bar.

It would be two weeks before they crossed paths again, at a bar almost across the south end of Yorktown.

Keenser had again abandoned him early and drinking alone was never a ball. Taking his own leave, Scotty stepped out through a back exit, if only to see what he'd missed out on in the patio area. There were a handful of kissing couples whispering against the walls and mingling in shadows. Sitting on a table's edge at the far side of a dark wood patio, Jaylah was alone, staring upward at the glass shield enveloping Yorktown, her eyes fixed on the stars beyond.

Jaylah's eyes were half-lidded, sleepy, and the bold shine of sunshine gold in her irises had somehow melted into a cold silver. Her head and her shoulders had the tell-tale sway of a slightly more-than-buzzed drinker. It looked as though she could nod off at any moment.

There it was—proof that she did in fact, at some point, get drunk.

"A-ha! I knew it!" Scotty exclaimed—Jaylah didn't react—and he continued as he approached her with a beaming grin, "So ye kin get plastered, oh, oh, this is rich, Keenser's gonna be so pi…"

Upon closer inspection, however, Jaylah's intoxication was far less amusing. Tear streaks were wet along her cheeks, leaving a slightly pearlescent sheen on her moon-white skin. She didn't look as though she were having a good time at all.

"Oh… oh, no, Lassie, I'm sorry, are ye…"

"Leave me alone, Montgomery Scotty." Jaylah said, voice cold and quaking.

He sucked in a breath—leaving her alone was the last thing he really wanted to do. Alone, emotional, intoxicated (maybe?) and in less-than-favorable part of Yorktown at 0345. But she wanted her privacy. He respected that. No one liked to cry in front of their friends. He averted his eyes and nodded.

"Aye. Aye, ofc'erse. Not, not 'e problem. I just, well, heck, Lassie, are ye alright? I can't just leave ye like this."

"It is not a matters that concerns you."

Well. There really was no arguing that.

There was a peculiar and certain kind of sting that tore through him when he glimpsed again, the glistening trails crossing down her face. Her eyelids had the smallest hint at a swell and where every other crying woman he'd seen would normally be red in the face, Jaylah's flesh took on a deep cerulean. Around the eyes, over the cheeks, spotty around the nose. Her blood was blue. The flush to her face was icy and blue.

The blood vessels in her eyes, a web of blue lines.

Being "blue" took a whole new level of literal on Jaylah.

"Right, then. I'll be leavin' ye. I hope ye feel better," Scotty conceded defeat and carved his path away, but not without turning back to her once more, "…ye know, ye aren't alone 'ere. I, uh, what I mean is…"

Jaylah looked at him, waiting, listening.

What did he mean? He couldn't possibly…

"What I mean is… I don' really know what I mean, but, ye… ye jist aren't alone, 'ere. I… if ye ever need anythin', anythin' at all, just say the word, Lassie, and I'm there. For you."

"Montgomery Scotty…" Jaylah said—her unique way around his name had a ring that echoed in his dreams as of late—and spinning her words with the utmost grace, she said, "Go. Away."

Fair enough, then.

Well, there was not much else he could do for her. She wanted her privacy. She was also more than capable of dismantling any unsuspecting threat that crossed her. With a sullen about-face, he made to leave. It was only when he heard a very unceremonious thump on the patio's wooden deck that he paused. He winced, hoping he hadn't just heard what he thought he heard. One of the giggling couples at a nearby table stopped giggling abruptly and one called out in his direction, "Hey, man, I think your girlfriend just passed out."

"Is she alright?" The fairer half of the couple asked.

"Oh, heck…" He murmured. She may or may not wake up and snap his neck like a twig, but it was worth it to at least get her somewhere safe. He took her into his arms—and she was much heavier than she looked (or was it that he was more out of shape than he remembered?)—and carried her out.

Her alcohol tolerance was such a damned question that he wasn't sure whether he should run her to the nearest hospital or just simply get her back to her apartment. Bones was only four doors down from her residence… and any time was always a fantastic time to bother the old bastard.

Jaylah was in and out of consciousness throughout the walk.

"Lassie, ye back with me 'ere?"

Her response was unintelligible muttering, something in her language that he couldn't hope to understand—"Rokk iththill!"—It didn't sound happy with this turn of events, though. An occasional flail of one semi-limp arm made that point clear. He thought she was aiming for him, but he wasn't quite sure—"Rokk iththill, thusu!"—if there were any loanwords between her tongue and Vulcan, she may have called him an idiot, though.

By the time he made it to apartment 541—the residence of one Leonard McCoy—his arms were screaming under her weight and he was sure that if she was going to wake and break him, he wouldn't have the strength left to even lift a finger in protest.

"God, man, it's almost five in the morning… have you been out all night!?" Bones glowered, before realizing who the woman in Scotty's arms was, "Jaylah? What in God's name happened!?"

"Aye, Lassie drank a wee bit too much, passed out, not sure if we should worry 'bout alcohol poisoning."

"Oh hell, get her in here, I'll take a look. Why didn't you take her straight to an infirmary?!"

"Because ye lived right next door to 'er, if she were fine we could just have 'er go back home. Ye know she doesn't like strangers pokin' an' proddin' 'er."

"Never understood those sorts who resist medical care with such vitriol. Set her down."

"Oh, thank god." Scotty's sore arms were all too happy to set Jaylah on the couch. He stepped aside, stretching his muscles as Bones looked over her, checking her eyes and pulse.

"She get sick at all?"

"Nah, but she'll probably have one 'ell of a 'angover. If she even gets 'angovers."

"Reedollians have a keen ability to metabolise alcohol. It is admittedly a bit of a concern if she drank enough to disable her like this. You lovebirds haven't been binge drinking every night have you?"

Looking back at Bones, slightly incredulous, Scotty answered, "Me 'n her? I… I just ran into 'er a coupl'a times at a few bars."

"I'd work on that cover story."

"Cover… there's, there's not'in goin' on!"

"…and it looks like there's nothing going on of great concern here, either. She seems all around fine, just incredibly drunk. Encourage water intake and keep an eye on her. Be sure when she's coherent again she gets some food in her and stabilizes her blood sugar level. It's a bit off, but I wouldn't call it alcohol poisoning. In my personal opinion, she might be waking up to her first real hangover in a short moment here."

"Short moment?"

"She's come home stumbling once or twice, but she's always fine after about two or three hours of sleep."

"Two 'er three hours…?"

"Well, Reedollians have an exemplary metabolism compared to humans. It's kind of the evolutionary lottery if you're a drinker. Just get her home, let her sleep it off. Get some sleep yourself, man. Enough with these wild parties…" Bones said.

"She's two doors over, aye?"

"You don't know your own girlfriend's address?"

"She's not—she's not me girlfrien', Bones." Scotty growled, before moving to pick Jaylah up again. He bolted away quickly when one pale arm flung fast for his head, to which he whispered harshly to Bones, "See?!"

"Well, I'd react that way too, if I were your girlfriend."

"Oh, heck…" Scotty groaned.

"Here, let me…" Bones moved in and again, Jaylah swung—both men half-gasped, half-yelped, bolting away from the girl. A stray mug was knocked off of the coffee table and all of flew across the lounge until it shattered on the kitchen wall. Scotty winced.

Bones eyed Scotty, his tone cross, "…I liked that cup."

"Do we really 'ave to move 'er?"

"What are you going to say when she wakes up on my couch!?"

"Ye hosted the afterpar'y."

"Get your girlfriend and go somewhere. Anywhere."

Scotty leaned in again, and her predatory growl of, "Kel-rokk ni iththill!" was more than enough to have him leap away. He gave Bones a pleading look.

"Alright. She can have the sofa till she wakes up." Bones sighed, dragging a palm across his tired face, "…you'd best stick around."

"Why me?"

"Well, I don't want to be the first thing she sees when she wakes up." Bones shrugged, "That'd be one hell of a misunderstanding."

Scotty feigned a half-laugh as Bones made his way back to his bedroom and said, very casually, "Oh, aye then, don't mind me, I'll just… make me'self cozy 'ere and wait to have me 'ead kicked off, first thing inna mornin'."

"Thattaboy, Scotty." Bones shut the door behind him and that was that.

There wasn't much more to the remainder of the evening. Scotty took a seat on the sofa across from the sleeping Jaylah and decided that this wasn't much different from what he'd gone home and done anyway. The only new addition to the equation was Jaylah. Despite his over-exaggeration, he didn't think she'd be that upset and disoriented when she came to… at least, he tried to remain cautiously optimistic about it. She was a rough sort of girl, but she wasn't a maniac… her half-asleep, half-violent reactions weren't out of vitriol.

Just self-defense.

He wasn't sure how much he wanted to follow that train of thought. She didn't deserve any of what happened to her, any of what made her so quick to swing, or so quick to binge-drink herself into oblivion like this.

4.

At some point in the night (or rather, early hours of the morning) he'd dozed off. When he came to, Jaylah was gone, without a word, and luckily, without his head in tow. How long ago that had been, he couldn't be sure. Bones was long-gone, opting to leave Scotty passed out on the sofa, pillows huddled in his arms.

Just like before, the following days were decidedly devoid of Jaylah. She had a way of coming and going as she pleased—or perhaps, it was more aptly that their paths were never meant to cross in any major way, beyond occasional brushes with alcohol-fueled shenanigans, small laughs, and then parting once more.

It was beginning to bother him that he was mulling over that more and more with each day.

They did not live anywhere near one another, nor did they have any main trajectory of the day that would lead them to bump into one another, save for those incidences at the bars—which he was starting to believe Jaylah should take it easy on.

Her schedule was always the same.

Train, class, train, drink, sleep, repeat. Like clockwork. Always moving. Even if, by chance, he was tasked with passing by the Academy to meet with his superiors, he caught himself hoping to run into her again. If only to have a small laugh about the night before, if there were any to be had. Probably not. She'd been in a state. Probably wouldn't even want to talk about it.

"You keep looking over at the PT field." Bones observed, walking beside Scotty, who was rather buried in a number of boxes, filled with files and hardcopy logs they had managed to salvage from the Franklin.

"How kin ye even see me 'ead pass'all these boxes?" Scotty answered.

He'd taken up volunteering on the Franklin's restoration project on a whim, if only to pass the time as the Enterprise was rebuilt. That afternoon saw them walking boxes to the Academy's History and Archival Works Department, at least, what Starfleet decided would be procured for academic repurposing.

Admittedly, Scotty volunteered the minute he heard mention of the Academy.

Why the hell did I volunteer for this…?

"You're being more obvious than a circus parade waltzing through a cemetery."

"The 'eck does that even mean?"

"She's in the science department right now, anyway. Pretty damn impressive, that woman. She's setting records for crashing through the coursework like a convict through a confessional."

"I knew she could do it. I alw'eys knew it. The Lassie's ginna be a top-rankin' engineering graduate before ye know it. Might jist break all me records 'ere. …'an ye'know, it wasn't even entirely me that got the Franklin runnin' again—all I did was look at it with ano'er set of eyes. We have the Lassie to thank for all of it. She reverse engineered that whole navigational system, 'in… what?"

Bones was grinning ear to ear. He shook his head, "Nothing. Go on."

"What the 'eck was that look for?"

"You know what that look was for."

"Oh, heck, you carry the damn boxes!" Scotty grumbled shoving them back into the doctor's arms. Bones was cackling.

"You could really go on and on about her all day, couldn't you? Can't say there's a good prognosis for that." Bones tsked.

"Yeh, yeh, and I'm sure ye'got a metaphor for it, too."

"Well, man, you're about as smitten as a baker's daughter in a cupcake factory."

"…right, where do ye think of these?"

They bantered a path down the halls—and in spite of Scotty's efforts to deny the doctor's accusations of inappropriate fondness for Jaylah, he had to admit, the telltale symptoms were there. He'd had enough flings and failed relationships to know, all too well, the way that downward fall started as a slow descent just before it became a full-on drop.

It wasn't a drop yet. Just a slight downward curve, still, that he could still up and run away from.

"I'm not smitten. I just… I just really admire 'er. She's all brain as well as brawn. She'll be a Chief Engineer 'erself one day. If not that, then maybe even a Captain. Y'gotta respect it. She bailed us out of there."

"There's a fine line between hero worship and a high school crush, my friend."

All that talk about Jaylah was making him nervous. He didn't like her in that way, he argued with Bones, who was taking all too much amusement from teasing him with the fact.

"In fact, speaking of the good hero…" Bones gestured forward. Jaylah was walking their way with a handful of other enlists, all of which were carrying boxes of folders and files as well.

Jaylah radiated confidence and maybe even a bit of boredom in the scarlet uniform. Every bit of it was unique on her body—long black sleeves under the red that reached down like gloves, stopping at her palms. Black tights under the uniform's skirt that hugged her slender legs down into the dirty black boots she would wear until she was ordered back into something regulation—and knowing her, she would be caught with those boots again, a day or so later.

"Montgomery Scotty. McCoy's Bones." She acknowledged them as she passed with the entourage of enlists. Scotty wanted to say more, but all he could do was grin and wave.

"That's not my…" Bones muttered from behind the boxes, with a defeated sigh, "McCoy's Bones. Alright. Alright, I guess it's stuck. Come along now, lover boy."

Scotty was shushing him quickly, praying Jaylah was already far enough away to have not heard that.

Jaylah's ivory mane waved behind her, contrasted like a ray of white against the scarlet uniform. Each step she took was steady and as if she were walking through some divine meditation. He watched her lips move as she spoke to another enlist. The echo of a smile was faint at the corner of her lips. Scotty thought, for a second, he may have seen a glint of gold fixed in his direction, but perhaps that was just wishful thinking. Her head turned again, her gaze fixed before her, and soon enough, she and the enlists were gone.

Alright. Maybe there was a wee bit of a crush.

But crushes were nothing important, a distraction, even. A nuisance. He got crushes on attractive women all the time. It'd pass. They always do. Just a matter of a couple days, maybe a few weeks.

Maybe when they boarded the Enterprise again and resumed the Five Year Mission. Even at her breakneck pace, clearing through the tests and trials of the Academy, she wouldn't be nearly authorized to venture onto the Enterprise, on their mission, even if she wanted to.

He'd have to just let her go, then.

5.

Slouching was Jaylah's trademark position in any seat. She visited the Franklin for nostalgia's sake two days after their run-in at the Academy. Jaylah took the Captain's chair just as she had done before, while Scotty and two other volunteer techs reassembled a restored navigational panel. He caught himself looking over his shoulder in her direction often. He never caught her gold eyes fixed in his direction—why would he, anyway? He kept working, lingering around the repairs in the bridge longer than he needed, perhaps for the off-chance that she'd say something, anything.

"Ma'am, do you intend on helping or just sitting?" A tech asked, passing by the stoic visitor.

Jaylah looked at the young, female tech, but said nothing and continued to stare out past the viewing pane. Scotty quietly grinned at Jaylah's disregard for the exasperated tech, but that was the last interaction he'd seen Jaylah involve herself in that afternoon.

Perhaps in a bout of mental stammer, he'd mulled over something to say to her, to start conversation by, far too long. There were a million and one things he wanted to ask her about. What other music she loved—loud and disorienting, most likely—had she found a new favorite drink yet, was she enjoying Yorktown—what were her favorite haunts if she had any, yet? The list went on. Each time he had passed her by, he found himself more afraid to ask and stutter or jumble his words. When finally, he had enough courage to suck up the anxiety and go for it, she was gone.

Mentally kicking himself, he sighed with some disappointment. She slipped out of the Captain's seat and out of the bridge like a ghost, as quietly as she had snuck in.

He had to wonder if she missed this place at all—she'd loved "her house" and seemed thrilled when Starfleet announced they wanted to restore it, if only for historic sake. It would be a landmark at the heart of Yorktown, to mark the victory against their attacker. Like a brass statue in a park. Initially, Scotty thought, she would be overjoyed to see her "house" shined and glimmering in all of Yorktown's greatest lights.

However, the more she slipped in and out of the place like a silent specter, the more he wondered just how true that was.

A few more days passed.

He had been crossing through the corridors of the lower decks when glimpsed her silhouette through the open doors of the medical bay. In its once-ruined state back on Altamid, she had explained to him that the medical bay had mostly been her dwelling. Of all the residential dormitories on the ship, she was safest there, at the metaphorical sternum above the old ship's sleeping heart.

She wasn't there to admire its restored glory—Scotty realized, then, at the sullen aura about the woman, that she was saying goodbye to it.

Perhaps he could steal a moment to finally speak with her.

She spoke first.

"I barely recognize this place."

"She really cleans up nice, don't she?"

"I always wondered… what my house… this ship, had looked like before it fell. I imagine it to being more like the one I lived in before. It is… much different."

The one she lived in before?

Well, of course, she had to have wound up on Altamid somehow, Scotty thought.

Jaylah was dragging her fingers gently over a panel on the wall, until a slender digit stopped over the viewing pane's shade system. Slipping the switch upward, the restored electrical system hummed to life and the shading that darkened the viewing pane as opaque as a wall went translucent. A window out to the hangar the Franklin was docked in. Further out, stars beyond the glass "snow globe" barriers of Yorktown. A small smile crossed her face. It was every bit as mesmerizing as she was.

A beautiful distraction with eyes like liquid suns taking in the sight of the universe around her.

"I am glad that I got to see the stars like this, from here, before moving on."

Scotty shrugged, "Well, Lassie, I think it woul'nt be surprising at all if ye somehow, uh… acquired this ship one day. In some way or another."

Jaylah laughed softly.

It was almost strange to hear and see so much pleasantry on her normally-intense face. But it was a welcome change. Oh, yes, it seemed—she smiled and she laughed, once in a blue moon.

"Not this one. I do not look back. Only forward… but… I would like to Captain a ship. Lead a crew. Explore. Learn."

"I think ye could do it. Ye'd be a great Captain."

Her eyes lowered. Her lashes were long, thick, and as black as the void of space itself. When they flit downward, all he could see in her eyes were pools of molten gold.

"You are… very sweet, Montgomery Scotty."

"Well, I'm not lyin' 'ere. I really do see ye becomin' a Captain one day. At the very least. Ye'r at least a hun'red times more capable than three-fourths of the cadets in Starfleet. I'd bet on'nit."

"Is this flirt-ery?" Jaylah said, causing him to freeze midway in his approach to stand beside her.

Scotty felt himself pale and the soft flutter of butterflies inside tickled away. He glanced sideward and sucked in a breath, trying to find some way to deflect the very forward question.

"Eh… y'mean flattery?"

"Ah. Yes. Flattery."

A quiet laugh escaped him—some relief, and maybe a smidgen of disappointment. Yes. Just flattery. Scotty answered, "Well, it's sincere. It's the truth."

"I would prefer something else. I like the wiring and electrics of the ship. The wood that builds the home. I want to build it and repair it when it is injured. I want to be a part of the Engineering division."

That would be something. She would shine there, just as much as he knew she would shine on the bridge. Whatever crew was blessed with her would surely thrive. Whatever lucky ship would have her on board would be taken care of, lovingly. Wishful thinking was creeping its way into his mind, again—the fantasy of having her aboard the Enterprise, of seeing her every day. He wanted to scoff the thought away—relations with other crewmembers never went well, even Spock and Uhura had problems, for all the absurdities they'd lived through together.

Although, they were still together, and they were still, very happy.

Enough of that, he chastised himself, there was no point in dwelling on this entirely unnecessary crush of his. Perhaps his wires were just crossed. Perhaps he just admired her. Her mind, her quirks, her way with words and the way her native tongue sounded when he caught rare pieces of it. The way her eyes lit up when she stepped in to guide unknowing techs through the "veins" and "arteries" of her former "house" as if it had been less an object to her and more a companion.

That's all it was. Crossed wires. Admiration. Not a crush, just admiration.

She waved her hand and said his name, jilting him from his thoughts. He wasn't sure when he'd chased that rabbit of thought and left her stranded.

"I could see it, yeh, ye'd be a fantastic Engineer. Chief Engineer, I'd say. Any ship would be lucky to have ye."

Any ship—although he'd love for that ship to be Enterprise—any crew—although he'd love for that crew to be theirs. A slight prick of jealousy at the thought of her graduating the Academy with honors and top marks, being sent out on a mission with a different ship, a different crew, meeting some strapping young Engineering lad with a chiseled grin like Jim's or a physique like Spock's. Oh, most definitely, he'd be a distant memory for sure.

"I would like to be a part of your crew, Montgomery Scotty. You and I. We are a good team. I had not realized it until I had to learn to work with others in the Academy. They are not like you. You follow well. You lead well. I believe this word is symbiosis. I would like a symbiosis with you."

Oh, heck.

He inhaled, grateful that he was already leaning on a railing, otherwise he may have been literally beside himself. Whatdid that even mean, surely it didn't possibly mean whatever his jaded, gutter-prone mind wanted it to mean. She was talking about mechanics. She was talking about work. Keep it professional.

"Well, I… ah… yeh, I… I'd… ye would fit in well. Ye already do. After everythin' we've been through together… ye're family to us. It'd be… I'd love ye—love to have ye accompany us. I… we're…" Sweating a slight drizzle he could feel his cheeks burning.

"Are you well?" Jaylah was moving closer, but in manner of concern as she took sight of the hot mess she'd rendered him in.

"I-I'm fine!"

"You have turned very… pink? Can you breathe?"

"I-I, yeh, ofc'erse, I'm breathin' jus' fine, Lassie, no need to worry!"

She was getting closer. Don't bolt away. Why was she asking if he could brea—oh, right, blue for her is the color of a flush, then… perhaps pink is a hue of asphyxiation? Was she really that worried? Her hand was reaching for him—oh, she was definitely that worried. He inched away and swallowed hard. Heck, how could she make him so damnednervous?

"Might… might be catchin' a slight cold 'ere. That's just it. No worry, Lassie, I'm fine."

She tilted her head to the side, confused, but taking in the information carefully.

"I will be going, then. Have a good night, Montgomery Scotty." Jaylah said, before she left without another word or glance.

He exhaled and leaned against the railing. Reaching over with a lazy hand, he pawed for the viewing pane's shade and darkened it again. It was getting on in the evening. Perhaps it was about time to turn in for the night and drink this stupid crush away.

Perhaps that and the disappointment of knowing there was no way she could be approved to join their crew before the Enterprise was rebuilt and departed again. Not even with her smarts or talents, or even the fiercest recommendation from James Kirk himself. A Five Year Mission was a Five Year Mission and taken damned seriously, they wouldn't just throw what amounted (in their eyes) to a trainee on board for their first long haul trek.

Well. They were about half-way through with it, and there were always roster reorderings and reorganizings when they were stationed for repairs and resupply.

Best not to think further on it, Scotty decided—lingering on that little hope would just end in disappointment… andheck, even if she did make it aboard, he wasn't sure he could work so symbiotically with her anymore. On Altamid, somehow, she was less of a distraction. Her presence in his mind was becoming less platonic with each passing day, each crossing of their paths, each accidental brush of their elbows or fingertips when reaching for the same circuitry.

Another two and a half years of it would only end in something good or lots of regrets.

Had it been any other lass, maybe the risk wouldn't feel like such a gamble he'd lose.

Heck. Heck, heck, heck. Things were so much easier when she wasn't kicking down doors in his mind twenty-four-seven, blaring ancient rock music and stomping those big boots of hers.

The Enterprise would depart soon, with he and the rest of the crew on it. Without her. And it would all of entirely break his heart and he realized at that moment, that the slight downward shift of his plane of gravity had become that telltale, full-on drop. This one was going to hurt.

Let her go.

6.

The reconstruction of the Enterprise-A was a lot like Jaylah's race through the Academy's multitude of technical exams. Expedited, but not without care and caution. It never ceased to amaze him how much faster the Federation was able to turn out these ships. Each one took less time than its predecessor. When the automatons finished laying down the skeletal hardware and core connections, the hull was completed in a matter of weeks. Watching its progress from afar was about as romantic to him as watching an aurora borealis flare to life.

Once or twice, he caught what seemed like the ghost of Jaylah's presence not far away, watching the ship from the open, glassy corridors of Yorktown's structural labyrinth. She was often stopped, looking up at the hangars from a corridor two decks away, gazing upward with starry-eyes. She never seemed to notice him, but he always caught himself staring until she disappeared, back on the path she carved with heavy boots and a head held high.

With the life support systems completed, the Engineering crew would be assigned to assist in testing hardware and software, double-triple-quadruple-checking each system before the ship was given regulation clear for long-term journey.

That was always his favorite part—being let back on the sleeping ship, just mere months before she was woken up to get back to the stars. Keenser accompanied him and the rest of his reassembled Engineering team. There was a myriad of new faces and a painful reminder that many who had spent years with him on the previous ship were never to return. There were surviving faces that would see him in Yorktown's ship hangars, assisting from behind desks now, all of which he couldn't blame for being fed up with the wild shenanigans their beloved Captain seemed to pull them into. Enough was enough for some, it seemed.

Assembly automatons always did a well-enough job, but as per usual, paneling and bulkheads had to be re-examined and some wiring arranged in a neater fashion, one easier for less-precise human hands to work around. Scrawled detailing on the insides of the panels were always a barely-legible mess. Keenser growled that for being so damned capable, the machines could work on their handwriting.

Some software-based bug was grating on Scotty in the transporter room, while Keenser double-checked hardware configurations beneath the workstation.

"Still getting' a connections error, would ye jus' double-check that upstream cable alrea'y, it won't kill ya."

Keenser grumbled and climbed back under the workstation into a jungle of loosened cables.

"It's fine!"

"Clearly it in't fine, otherwise we'd have proper data flow. Cannae get the damned transporter workin' if we cannae get the damned operatin' system booted, Keenser."

Keenser asked if he tried turning it off and then back on again.

"It's a simple fix," Scotty grumbled, climbing down beside Keenser and shoving him a bit to the side. Keenser grumbled and shoved back. Scotty shoved again and said, "What kinn'a mess ye got goin' down 'ere!? Just… just get up there and check the operatin' panel."

Keenser signed and climbed back up. When Scotty heard tiny feet stepping on the panel, he barked, "Git down from'mer!"

Digging through the small tool container nearby, he fumbled with the disorganized mess of circuitry Keenser had left. The upstream cable wasn't anywhere near where it was supposed to be. Resetting it back into its proper home, he called up to Keenser, "Workin' now?"

Keenser answered in the negative. Scotty rolled his eyes, "Try shuttin' it down and startin' it back up again."

When the system booted up again, he heard the tell-tale chime of the operating system making successful hardware-software detections and grinned. What the heck was Keenser doing down here, playing video games? Before he could beam too long and make a smart-assed remark to his companion, an all-too-familiar error chime followed, as Keenser read back to Scotty from above, "Critical Device Error 721.35, upstream cable not detected."

"…iss'at right?" Scotty's tone was flat.

Keenser cackled. Ass.

"…feck."

Back to square one, the problem was further into the wiring connections, probably in the component module further into the bulkhead. Disconnecting the upstream cable and taking a screwdriver between his teeth he climbed further into the gutted paneling, partly wondering just what those automatons were being paid for. Figuratively, anyway.

"Did you try turning it off and back on again?" Jim's voice came. Scotty glanced down out of the bulkhead and saw the familiar boots and uncuffed trousers of Jim's uniform. The Captain took a seat casually in an open chair beside Keenser. He heard the crunching of an apple in his mouth. All of too casual. What did he want?

Scotty took the screwdriver from between his teeth and as he worked to open the module, he quipped, "Ye want to come down 'ere and say that to the data net?"

A web of cables dropped unceremoniously in his face from within the module.

Scotty added a very flat, "…Sir."

Jim was chuckling, "No, my friend, I can't say I really do. However, I did come in to run some roster reshuffling by you."

"Roster reshufflin'… welp, now's about the time to get the roster out'a the way. Cannae do much after we set out."

"Nope. No, we can't. So. I wanted to ask you your thoughts on taking up another trainee."

"For the remainder of a Five Year? Ye really want ta make this a regional occupation program, Sir? I mean, with our penchan' fer gettin' shot at, shot down, shot left 'n right, an' that's just diplomacy missions."

He picked out the tiniest, polished wrench in the toolkit beside him and worked at further opening the module. With its enclosure opening up, he could already see where the wiring bots had missed a couple of connections.

"Well, she's a capable trainee. I'd even say she's only an acting trainee. You and I both know she's more than capable to come along in the Engineering crew." Jim said. Silence followed, as Scotty paused—"her", "capable", "come along"—another crunch of an apple. The small wrench slipped free of his fingers and knocked him over the bridge of his nose.

Half-stammering, half fumbling his hands in the dark for the dropped wrench, Scotty answered, "Is this 'she' a 'she' I'm thinkin' ye'r referrin' ta?"

"Well, I wanted to run it by you, first. By the time this ship departs again, after all the clears and regulation test-runs are completed, she'll be at seven months into the Academy's training—on paper, anyway. But her placement exams are putting her closer to the achievement level of a first-year complete. By the time she is at seven months in, by the time we leave, if she keeps up this pace, I could pull some strings for her, if she wants. See if we can't get her cleared for an acting-enlist role. Count it toward the rest of her units. Have her around again."

"Just—just so we're clear, aye, we're talkin' about, about Jaylah?" Scotty tried to keep composed, but just thinking about the possibility of her waltzing around the Engineering decks with her big boots and her confident-bordering-on-arrogant aura was like an unexpected blow to the nose. Or perhaps that was just the wrench falling on him, he couldn't quite tell. She had a way of knocking him off his feet without even being there, he noted.

"Well, she did repair an entire ship on her own. Granted, it was over the course of over ten years, she learned it all on her own, hands-on. Kind of gives me the sense she learns better by doing than by reciting what she reads in textbooks. I relate to that. I respect her combat prowess incredibly, on that note. She could bring great things to the crew. You two have excellent working rapport. What would you think? Having her on your team like that?"

Scotty sucked in a breath quietly and considered just how damned distracted he was going to be with her around in the uniform's short skirt. It wouldn't have been the first time he got a crush, a thing of sorts for a girl on the ship with him, but those breakups were always a nasty affair, one he'd rather not risk experiencing with Jaylah. And heck, that was if she even saw him as anything more than some greasy nerd buried in wrenches and wires—it'd likely be nothing at all, she probably barely knew he existed. She'd wind up fancying a handsome lad like Jim and that'd be the end of it. No distractions, no issues, no nothing.

"I think she'd be great, I'd love to have 'er, really."

"Same," Jim said, and Scotty could just about hear the grin on his perfectly-punchable face when he added, "…we could use another pair of great nacelles on board, if you know what I mean."

Alright, Scotty thought, not alright.

He feigned an empty laugh and quietly murmured, "…and that's how Scotty became an alcoholic."

"Okay, you know you'd have said it at some point or another, man." Jim said.

"Well," Scotty confessed bitterly, "Yer not wrong."

Jim laughed and was standing now, taking his leave, "Well, spending so much time with her since we came back from Altamid, I guess I'm a bit hard-pressed to just move on without her. She feels like part of the family, now. It'd be like leaving her behind. I just can't do that. Not to anyone, not Jaylah."

Spending so much time with her? He quietly hoped it was in the company of others—perhaps Bones or Uhura or heck, even Spock. Scotty decided right then that he categorically did not enjoy hearing about Jim spending so much time with Jaylah. Since when the heck did he get so jealous over a girl he barely knew? He kicked himself mentally—she wasn't even aboard the ship yet and she was already a distraction and he was already a damned idiot for her.

But Jim got what he came for—an okay from the head of the ship's Engineering division to bring Jaylah aboard in a role where she shined. She wasn't going to be a trainee for long, he already knew. She learned quickly and had the mental faculties that knocked the socks off of any human engineer on the roster. In some time, she would probably leave him in the dust as well. Leave him far, far behind.

When the workday was over with and insomnia struck, he found his way back into bar-hopping. A flicker of hope that he'd casually run into Jaylah was squashed under the echo of Jim's words in his mind, "…spending so much time with her since we came back," he wondered if Jim was luckier in running into her in bars than he was. It didn't matter, he reminded himself, he was used to drinking alone with Keenser didn't accompany him, he was used to being alone, it worked out best for him, it suited him.

The possibility of Jaylah working with them for the duration of their mission was a heavy weight on his mind that couldn't seem to just dissolve under the liquor. Two shots, two beers, another shot, more beer, she was still there.

She was burned into his memory, staring up at the rebuilding of the Enterprise, she was still there, eyes shining like gold stars, she was still there, fresh in his mind, sitting alone with glistening tear streaks crossing her pale cheeks. Hell—she was still there, all of feral in the wilderness of Altamid with her staff, her traps, and molten golden in her fiery eyes. That was before he had the slightest clue he could even trust her not to kill him on sight.

Here he was, drunk and stuck on a problem he couldn't solve, trying his damndest to disassemble and reassemble her in his mind when she had all of done exactly that to him, without even lifting a finger.

This was not a good idea, falling so hard and letting her linger around—he couldn't dismantle the admiration he had for her even if he wanted to. The idea of her drinking and laughing the night away with Jim barely pulled a wire out of place.

"Damn it," Scotty murmured into his beer, "…I am fucked."

Maybe it was just the dawning realization that the shots were kicking in, hard.

It was the night before a "weekend" (in civilian regard,) and the hazy walk back to his residence had luckily not left him as the only idiot drunk tumbling through Yorktown. Bars were loud in the south side of town and parties were held, birthdays celebrated and hangovers raced toward at high velocity. Everyone was out and about, couples hand-in-hand, enjoying the "night sky" as the base lowered its artificial lighting to keep the illusion of night and day.

His route always brought him passed the reconstruction of the Enterprise, and every time, he stopped or at the very least, glanced its way, even days after the outermost hull was completed and it slept proud in the 54th South Hangar. The lighting systems were being tweaked and perfected by the "nightshift" technicians. He could see some flickering in the ten-forward's panes. Scotty watched it for a long time, before he realized a much-craved for presence was nearby, watching it as well.

There she was, out of the Academy reds and in casual attire. He'd seen her casualwear a few times, noting the edge to her style that matched her rough and tumble personality to a tee. Form-fitting, but not intentionally sexy. Modest, bearing little glimpse of arm or leg under long, dark sleeves. Her face was always so straight, stern and with purpose. At first glance, he knew, no one would ever expect a grin or cracked-joke from her, but he'd been around her long enough to catch those rare moments and see just how bright she could shine when her roaring music rattled walls and she pulled those around her into clumsy dance.

She was a star that shone so much brighter than anyone knew.

She was looking at him, then, expression all of unreadable. He wasn't sure how long he'd drunkenly let himself stare like a git before she finally spoke.

"She is almost finished." Jaylah began to smile as she gestured back up to the ship with a nod, "…she is much bigger than my house was."

It took him a moment to comprehend that, before a laugh escaped him, "Aye, she's definitely in a class of 'er own. Well, not particularly, as they're both actually Starship-class, but the diff'rence only starts at the warp core and then there's a cooling system for the power network that would make the Franklin's development team absolutely green with envy—"

Jaylah nodded, grinning as she eyed the ship, "Keeping warp nacelles from overheating, a common problem with the Franklin and the pre-NX ships. The deflector system alone would make me cry if I had created the Franklin. But that is the process, isn't it, to create a ship and then to create a better ship, learning from the previous ship's shortcomings."

She had made her way closer to him in more ways than one, as she leaned against the railing and stared out at the Enterprise. He wanted to look back at the sleeping beauty before them both, but he was fixated on the way her eyes glittered when she admired the Enterprise out loud.

"…I once got caught in the hydro-cooling system of the last Enterprise."

Jaylah turned to him with a tilt of the head, "…how did you end up in there?"

"Well," Scotty began, trying to figure out a way of explaining a certain time-displaced Vulcan ambassador, before he decided to skip to the end, "…kind of a transporter mishap."

"A starship's cooling system is a poor place to go swimming, Montgomery Scotty," Jaylah smirked.

Her calm garnered a laugh from him and he nodded, "Well, this is true."

Fixing his gaze back on the ship, he mulled over something to say, anything, if only to keep her interest a moment longer. She beat him to the punch, however.

"James Tee asked me this evening if I would like to work with the crew aboard the new ship. He said that you would like to have me."

Praying she hadn't taken that last bit out of context in her typically Jaylah-literal way—not that it would have been a lie—Scotty answered quickly, "Oh, aye, aye, of course! Ye'd be a great member of Engineerin', I, uh, I honestly couldn't imagine it without ye, really. After Altamid, ye'know, after all this time,"—all of Jim's supposed time with her, he thought bitterly, only able to count the evenings he'd shared with Jaylah on one hand—"…ye'know, the good Captain, he was really pushin' ta have ye aboard, as part of the crew, if we can get ye cleared by the Academy."

"James Tee is enthusiastic about everything." Jaylah said calmly, "…almost too enthusiastic. But he is a good leader. I have much respect for him. If I can be back on a ship, I would be happy."

Back on a ship, she had said. It got him back to wondering just how much she knew about ships before the prison that was Altamid came into her life.

Drunk, and without much of a mental filter, Scotty asked all of far too casually, "Where did ye learn ye'r way arounn'a bulkhead like that, anyway? Before Altamid."

At "before Altamid" he was certain he'd felt the air drop a few degrees and saw a slightly paler shade come over Jaylah's already-ivory complexion. The slightest part in her lips and the subtle, but sudden inhale told him instantly he was stepping on something he shouldn't have.

"I lived on a ship before…"

She looked as though she were trying her hardest not to trail off. Jaylah took another breath and continued, keeping her chin high, "…I was born on a ship called Mol-komma. We were… ambassadors of sorts, for Reedolla and the Arivnet N'fai-Tuh. It was a sort of union amongst planets in our local systems, with pursuit of knowledge. Sciences. My mother was a translator and my father, an engineer aboard the Mol-komma. I spent more time in space than I ever did on any rock. Child or not, we all worked to keep the Mol-komma functioning. Knowing how to heal our home's injury, it was a matter of survival."

"…so ye… ye ever been to yer home planet?"

"Redolla is not my home, Montgomery Scotty," Jaylah said, her lips curling in a smile as she gestured outward, past the structure that held them in Yorktown, "…that is my home."

Quiet as she was in that moment, beaming and looking out to the stars, she was like deafening music that rattled him to the very core.

"I'd like to visit my home again. Soon."

"Come wit'us, on the Enterprise. I mean, if ye 'adn't already decided to come along."

"Yes. I would like this. Verra much."

Scotty laughed.

7.

The seven months of reconstruction were drawing to a close. In that course of time, he busied himself with less bar-hopping and more focusing on getting the Enterprise ready to resume the mission. In that time, he saw less of Jaylah, perhaps in the mild hopes that stepping away from her would let that bothersome crush die down a little.

Bones had mentioned off-handedly that she wasn't drinking herself into a stupor anymore. She stayed in those days, buried in books and technical manuals. Scotty couldn't help but feel a bit proud of her for that. She had more reason to drink "the edge" away than anyone he knew. Instead, she was working hard for something greater. He envied her resolve.

Test runs were all successful and issues left by the wiring bots were resolved. Hardware to software system snares were rightly unsnared. Any and all technical fuckups were happily unfucked, and the ship was just a day shy of a week from scheduled departure. The particular day stood out to Scotty—all last-minute arrangements being sorted by their superiors and mission outlines were wrinkles to be smoothed out.

"She did it." Jim was grinning ear to ear when he crossed paths with Scotty in the Enterprise. Technicians around them were hurrying to do last-checks and fix any remaining door-glitches that the software specialists had overlooked (and doors were always the bane of last-checks.) He'd done well enough the last few days to busy his mind with something other than Jaylah, but there Jim was, coming in to mow all those efforts down.

"Did what?"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about," Jim walked with him, hands folded behind his back, "…let Keenser know I was right, by the way. Knew she could pass the exam."

Of course she could pass the exam. She'd grown up in ships. He wondered if Jim knew that.

"So she'll be joinin' us fer sure, then?"

"You bet, Mr. Scott—and I've got a favor to ask you."

"Favor? And what's that, Captain?"

"Uhura and a few of us, we figure… why not show the newbie how to celebrate a little? Welcome her into the family. Formally. At the Scarlet Vision tonight. 2100. She doesn't know."

He was never one to turn down an invite to a party. But he found he was decidedly nervous at the prospect of trying to invite her out with him anywhere. What if she mistook it for a date? What if she figured out just why he got so damned nervous around her? What if she simply didn't want to come out that evening? Why him?

"If ye can forgive me fer askin' Sir, why me of all people?"

"Well, if I asked her to come out with me, it'd seem like I'm asking her on a date."

Whywoulditseemlikeadateifitwereyou—Scotty laughed off the thought and feigned a grin, "It probably would, wouldn't it?"

"You're a good friend," Jim said, giving Scotty a pat on the shoulder, "…and you're the first one of any of us who was a friend to her. I feel you would be the best to bring her to a surprise celebration. Poetic, maybe."

That was that—the Captain had a way of giving orders that were followed, even informally like that. After the day's repairs and fine-tuning were completed, it was Scotty's task to convince Jaylah to come out to some bar he'd heard namedropped repeatedly but had never quite been to. Sounded a bit busy, perpetually.

At least there was some solace in the fact that the Captain and the others weren't adverse to the same parties they were this time last year. It seemed that Jim had been growing more solemn and serious with time. Bones never hesitated to bring up the Captain's annual existential crisis that was his birthday. Just the thought of that brought Scotty some mild amusement—if he had an existential crisis every time he thought about his age…

"Who is it?" Jaylah's voice snapped him out of his thoughts, coming from the comm-panel beside her apartment door. Scotty straightened up, fumbling between sticking his hands in his pockets or folding them behind his back. Didn't matter, the door was still closed.

"I, it's… uh," Scotty mentally kicked himself for stammering right off the bat like that, "…Scotty. You busy, Lassie?"

There was an uncomfortable pause, before she answered, "Come in."

The door clicked and slid open with a soft whir. He wasn't sure what he had been expecting at the thought of Jaylah's residence. Perhaps he'd imagined it to be a bit sterile and barely-used, given that she was always training or studying, or otherwise bar-hopping her way through Yorktown. He was partly right—the residence looked unfurnished and barely used.

But glimmering in the dim light of wall-lamps and whatever filtered in from the night beyond the window, there were some kind of hand-made streamers. Corded trinkets strung across the ceiling, reminiscent of the oddities he'd seen when the Franklin was her abode. Things he'd mistaken in the past for some kind of handmade décor were here again, some small personalization in the form of bottlecaps and circuit pieces wound about like tinsel on Christmas tree.

Letting the tips of his fingers brush over one streamer of bottlecaps, an amused grin crossed his face. He recognized these bottlecaps from all the beers she'd ordered. It didn't surprise him one bit to see what she'd done with each and every one she'd acquired. The girl drank like a beast. It'd have been a damn shame not to be a bottlecap collector.

Looking around her lounge a bit more, he found other small trinkets, including a piece of old machinery from the Franklin. An audio-system, complete with a panel she'd reassembled and cleaned up… and apparently wired into the recreational sound paneling system. He wondered if Bones could hear her blasting music at odd hours of the night.

A few more treasures around caught his eye—sitting over a stack of Constitution-class technical manuals were small metal models of 1:24 vehicles to a 1:600 and another 1:350 scale Enterprise. Each little project was in varying states of completion, where another larger model sitting on the kitchen area's table was as large as 1.5 meters in width alone.

"What are you here for, Montgomery Scotty?" Jaylah's voice came, stepping out of her bedroom and into the lounge area.

"Oh, wow, these are cool… ye've really been studyin' the ins and outs of the…" Scotty's words were caught on his breath when he turned to see Jaylah placing a completed model of the Franklin on a shelf among several other Federation ships. That alone wasn't startling by any means—no, what really caught him utterly off-guard was the fact that she'd come out so casually in just a pair of trousers, with no top, not even an undershirt of any sort.

Bolting back around, as not to be caught looking he said quickly, "…ins and outs of the ship, that's brilliant, aye, ah… well, I'm 'ere to ask if ye were busy, maybe wanted, to go out somewhere, ta celebrate?"

Was she not aware of the whole topless with guests around faux-pas? She had to be. She was walking toward him now, he could hear her soft steps and was doing his best not the let his eyes linger on her reflection in the mirror-backing of a nearby shelf. Damned be his best intentions, however—he looked.

Jaylah looked confused, eying him carefully before she picked up a book from a nearby countertop and asked as she thumbed through it, "What is a… oh. Celebrate. A party?"

Looking up from the dictionary in hand, she said with a confused expression, "Has someone died?"

"Died? What? Nae, nae, a party—a party to celebrate your exam, your accomplishment."

Jaylah considered this and nodded, "…you… celebrate accomplishments. This makes sense. This is favorable. Yes, I would like to go to a celebrate party. Why are you turned away like this?"

"Well," not mincing his words, Scotty answered, "…it wouldn't be right, yer not decent, I-I try to be a gentleman?"

"Is this not custom?" Jaylah murmured aloud, before he saw (in the mirror's reflection) her features become a bit irate, "…James Tee said it was normal."

I'mgonnabreakhisnec—Scotty laughed, "Haha, ha… oh, haa, aye, that… that James Tee, he's… he's a funny guy, every once inna blue moon, aye, he's still got those pranks up his sleeves…"—gonnabreakhisneck—"…he, uh, came by here?"

"Yes, he and Miss Lavigne walked me home a few times. He said, the best thing to do when you get home is to throw off all your clothes and get comfortable."

Oh, thank god.

"He has a very nice chest. What is the word… it is chiseled?"

I'mgonnabreakhisneck.

"Welp, Lassie, I cannae comment on that one, but, ah… that's… that's good to know, fantastic."

"There is a hot pool two floors below. We all had quite a fun evening there. But I am still confused about the nature of undergarments, nudity and swimming garments. Do we cover chests or let them be? And the rules are the same within residences? Strange!" Jaylah said, crossing past him into her room, she was thinking aloud now, "…when we swim here, we do not swim naked, we have clothing to swim in, that others can see, but similar clothing we wear under our primary clothing, we do not allow others to see. It is very confusing."

"Ahh, aye, ye'll… ye'll get the hang of it," Scotty said with a nod, feeling how hot his cheeks burned. He could still see her topless form moving about her room as she searched her wardrobe for something to wear. Jaylah's form was lithe and, perhaps it was coincidence enough to use the word, chiseled. Her shoulders and back muscles were adorned with the same symmetrical black markings that patterned her face. Down the curve of her hips and the dip of her back, these lines etched paths over moonlight-pale skin like conductive tracks on a circuit board.

She turned, then, eyes fixed on something across her room, out of sight. He couldn't have looked away from the heavenly sight if he'd tried. Petite musculature, an abdomen like some kind of athlete and—he turned his head quickly when she looked back in his direction.

"Get the hang of it… slang is strange, Montgomery Scotty. But I understood that," her voice gave the hint of a smile as she spoke, "…strange, strange, turnings of phrase… I would like to know them."

"Well, I'd be happy to teach ye everythin' I know, Lassie."

She stepped out of her room now, having slipped into a black dress with a short skirt and long sleeves. Under the skirt, she wore tight black leggings and had slipped into a pair of boots he'd not seen her wear before. It wasn't formal, but in Jaylah's fashion, this was her rogue sort of fancy. Her hair was down and free, not bound by her usual black band. She stopped a few steps shy of him and looked up at his face, her expression pleasant, somehow a bit softer than he'd seen before.

"Good. I have questions. Let's go," Jaylah said, taking his hand and leading the way to the door. Her hand was small and soft and her pull was so strong and purposeful. He nearly stumbled over the coffee table to keep up with her. But out they went, down the halls and into the corridors that made of the "roads" and paths of Yorktown. And oh, questions shedid have.

"First, explain to me the shirt protocol," Jaylah began.

"Shirt protocol?"

"As I understand, the circumstance to take off your shirt is only in residential areas and when swimming?"

"Well," Scotty began, trying to wrap his head around the question (which was still very much out of sorts from the eyeful he'd just been graced with.) He thought about it and then explained, "Well, eh, if-if ye'r …intimate with someone, ye kin walk aroun' naked if ye wanted. In ye'r hoose, I mean. People dannae take it too kindly when ye walk around naked outside. Uh, lads tend ta throw their shirts off for any damned reason. Lassies, a wee bit more conservative about it?"

"Why is that?"

"Well…" Damn it, how was he supposed to answer that? He had only just caught up to her pace when he said, "…I guess it's an intimacy thing?"

"Strange. What is intimacy?"

The realization dawned on him then that for all the studying and cramming she had been doing, her focus must have been almost entirely on technical machinery, physics, and sciences. It made sense. For all the racing through the courses she'd done, she must have just barely skimmed over the basics of interpersonal and psychological sciences.

Spending fifteen years in isolation on Altamid must have made the topic somewhat irrelevant and uninteresting to her.

"Right, so, ye'r kinna leadin' the way 'ere, do ye know where we're even goin, Lassie?"

She stopped and as the realization dawned on her, she grinned and she began to quietly laugh. Jaylah shook her head and apologized, "Forgive me, Montgomery Scotty. I was so excited. I… became ahead of myself."

He stared for a moment, half-blank, half-mesmerized and then could not help but laugh with her.

She was excited to go out? Taking him by the hand like that, rushing out… asking about intimacy… he couldn't just be getting hopeful, could he?

"Where are we going?" Jaylah asked.

"Oh, ah… the… the Scarlet Vision. Ye ever 'ear of it?"

"Yes, this is where James Tee goes with Mr. Sulu and Chekov. They are there often. Perhaps we may run into them?"

"Heh, who knows?" It would have been nice to find out she'd be so excited to come out with him sooner, Scotty decided. Some place where they wouldn't likely run into Jim or the others. They used to wind up drinking alone together so much just months ago—to think, just a couple of months ago, he had no clue that she would delve so deeply into his mind without even trying.

She was going to step into the Scarlet Vision and see the others and they would be there, all of them, waiting for her. Her new family. He wanted to see what kind of smile crossed her face then.

"Even if we don't, I believe we will still have a great celebrate," Jaylah said, smiling still, "…I have missed drinking with you, Montgomery Scotty."

Straight for the heart.

Fighting off the urge to maroon the others in the Scarlet Vision and just go carry her off to a date alone with him, he lead the way, "Well, let's get the party started then, Lassie. I'd say we've got some shots to catch up on."

"But no chasings."

"No chasings," Scotty repeated, grinning like an idiot.

She took his hand again. A tiny spark of static electricity on her palm zapped them both and she pulled her hand away.

"Sorry!" Jaylah said, keeping up with his pace.

"A bit of static never killed anyone."

She glanced sideward, before taking his hand again and following, "…a bit of static."

"A wee bit of static."

"A wee bit." Jaylah repeated his words, his dialect—he quietly adored when she did that.

"It happens all the time." God almighty, he was on cloud nine. He had butterflies like a schoolboy.

"Where I am from, it is," Jaylah scoured her mind for the equivalent word and said, "…good luck?"

Good luck, huh? He never was a guy with much luck. Any luck would do; any luck was good luck.

"What is luck like, where you're from?"

They were passing by the ship hangars, where the Enterprise was docked not far from where they were. Just a short distance ahead they would take a lift to a higher corridor, and from there, the Scarlet Vision was not far away, in a recreational district of bars and restaurants. The lights from that district shone like gold stars not too far from where they walked.

"That is a good question. I never believed much in the luck my parents spoke of. But they said that luck is sometimes what brings us happiness… or keeps us alive. They believed too much in luck."

"Well, for what it's worth, there might 'ave been a bit of luck to landin' where I did… back on Altamid. Y'know, if I 'adn't abandoned the Kelvin Pod when I did, I wouldn't even be 'ere. What a day that was."

Jaylah's expression softened as she followed him, "…you've never mentioned that."

He shrugged, "Never put much thought into it, really."

After so many near-death experience following on Captain Kirk's coattails, he found himself dwelling less and less on those pleasantly unpleasant moments in life. Truth be told, Scotty realized, he hadn't ever thought of the beginning of his chapter on Altamid as the moment in the Kelvin Pod, ditching it before it tumbled off of a cliff.

God, just how long had I been weaving life around the moment I first saw her?

That realization was a tad sobering. He wasn't sure how much he cared to dwell on it—the idea that he had been steadily falling for her just minutes after nearly falling to his death. Heck, that couldn't possibly be the case. Maybe he just blocked out a less-than-favorable memory was all. Right, that had to be it. He had a crush, but he wasn't crazy about her.

"That is a good way of leaving the past behind. There is little need to keep with you the things that give you fear. Only what comes after. What makes you stronger." Jaylah said with a small nod.

Heck, that little nod to accentuate her point was cute.

He was so distracted by her face that he only realized too late that the lift's door had closed with three other people already inside. A mild disappointment that they would have to wait for the lift to return… but not so much a disappointment that he got another small moment with her before the party began. Before they conveniently ran into "James Tee" and the others.

Silence fell over them as they waited for the lift to return. A couple sitting on a bench together were kissing rather loudly, hands exploring one another's legs, thinking they were under the veil of enough shadow not to be noticed. Jaylah looked their way with a tilt of the head.

"Strange. That is… how you…" Jaylah made a very confusing gesture with her fingers.

He couldn't have made heads or tails of that if he tried.

"Huh?"

"How you…" Jaylah shrugged and changed the subject, "…does that happen in public?"

"Oh, oh—nae, well, ah… that… that's not… wait… what?" Flustered, Scotty pressed the button to the lift again as though it could make the thing come faster. He was getting red in the face again.

"We cannot have nudity in public… but procreation—"

"OH! Oh, nae, that's not… that's just…" Scotty tried to find the words. The couple had stopped and started giving them both odd looks. Jaylah was staring back at them, as if in challenge. Gently guiding her around by the shoulders, he said, "…just, just give them their privacy. That's, ah, that's not… that's just an expression."

"That is not how…?"

How the heck does she—

Drawing in a heavy breath, Scotty was grateful for the lift's arrival and its door sliding open as he shook his head and said, "Nooo… no, no, no, no—that's just something couples do when they're, ah, very enthusiastic about one another, and, ah, think they're alone. Unless they're Spock and Uhura. In that case it happens anywhere they damn well please."

With a scoff and half-laugh Scotty added, "In't that somethin', though? Little bit of irony."

"Forgive me, I still have many questions," Jaylah sighed, "…particularly about, being close to people."

"Right. Intimacy. I get that."

"That is intimacy?" Jaylah confirmed.

"That… aye, that was intimacy." Scotty nodded, trying his damndest not to be caught in her stare.

"It looked nice. James Tee does that often, with a lot of women. I did not understand the exchange at first, but it makes sense now. He is full of much kindness."

Scotty was trying his hardest not to laugh.

Kindness.

Well, that certainly was a word for it.

The lift ride was quiet, save for her presence beside him. Her hand had somehow found its way back into his. Scotty couldn't have asked for anything more. As odd as her way with words was, her way with customs and interactions, nothing about this evening seemed strange in the slightest. Hardly that. Only exciting and amusing. For all the oddity, he felt as if he'd been sleeping through dates with other girls in comparison—date, it wasn't a date, he was just walkingwith her to the party.

Of course it wasn't a date.

Of course it wasn't… was she looking up at him? He looked her way, quickly, her attention was on something else, beyond the glass paneling of the lift. Must have been his imagination, his wishful thinking. Out of the corner of his eye, though, he swore he caught her staring—and again—but no, she was looking elsewhere now. He couldn't make heads or tails of her.

Once more—looking back again, she didn't turn away, and instead, pointed out past the glass paneling and with a bright smile said, "…is that my house?!"

The Franklin was restored fully, now, and had taken up a new home on display at the heart of the Westford Park. The largest park in Yorktown, home to a number of historical monuments from different planets. He'd heard there was a proposal to keep it there for a time. He'd been every bit supportive of that proposal himself—he could not stand to see such a beauty kicked back into a hangar to rust.

"Oh, wow. That is. I di'n't think Langley's proposal to 'ave it there would go through!" He grinned perhaps just as brightly as Jaylah.

Polished and clean, the Franklin truly was a petite beauty suspended over the park's lake. A monument to the battle it had won. The sight was beautiful and brief, as the lift reached its destination level and the door whirred open. A few passengers were already filtering in when the two of them made their way out.

Again, he found her catching his hand in hers—another spark of static electricity garnering a noise of surprise from the two of them. It was odd—he hadn't imagined her to be the hand-holding sort. She seemed like the sort who didn't care for physical contact in general.

But there she was, the soft flesh of her palms becoming as familiar to him as an old lover.

He had paused, and didn't realize just how lost in thought he'd been before Jaylah tugged his hand and said, "…where is this Scarlet Vision?"

"Oh, ah, right this way."

Did she only hold his hand for him to guide her in a direction? That had to be it. There was practical motive between their contact, nothing more. When he pointed to the building and its lit sign not far down the road, she released his hand. Of course, it was just for guidance.

Nothing more.

When she was a few steps ahead of him, she stopped and turned back to him. There was mild confusion in her gold eyes as she asked, "Are you coming?"

"Ah, aye, aye, ofc'erse!" Scotty feigned a smile. Jim and the others were waiting for her. It would very quickly go from just this moment, the two of them, to Jaylah and everyone. There was nothing wrong with that—he loved the thought of everyone welcoming her like this. But… somehow, a very selfish thought was creeping into his mind. Perhaps to suggest some place else, to steal her away.

She took his hand again, just as she had done in her apartment and lead the way.

He would follow her to the edge of the universe if she took his hand like that.

The Scarlet Vision it was, then.

They entered the bar—their timing was right, 2100, just as Jim had said.

He glanced around looking for the others. Where were they?

"This place is loud!" Jaylah shouted over the music with a toothy grin, "I like this!"

Happiness was perfect on her.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't the Academy's new wonder girl!" A familiar voice called out to them—Jim, followed by Uhura, Spock, and Chekov. Not far behind, he saw Sulu and his husband, Ben Sulu, both wearing party-hats. Ben waved to them. Sulu started laughing for some reason known only to the two of them.

"Glad you could make it to your party!"

Uhura hugged her tight, "Congratulations, sweetheart. We're so proud of you."

Jim's arms were around Jaylah in a welcoming sort of embrace. Scotty slipped into the background without complaint. He did what he was asked, and it was all Jaylah from this point on. She looked around at them all, surprised, and then back at Scotty. He shrugged and smiled.

Jaylah was happy, though—and he could think it once and think it a million times over, happiness was perfect on her.