Leonard lit the candle and said a silent prayer that the fire suppression system would remain inactive. It was highly sensitive to smoke, but the candle produced so little that it seemed safe enough. He could have used an electronic one, but he was already improvising enough as it was. He turned his attention back to the place settings. They were nothing fancy, but she wasn't the kind of woman who went for that sort of thing anyway.

He jumped when the door buzzed and quickly raced to straighten the silverware. He was halfway to the door when he saw a pair of dirty socks draped over the back of the couch, so he turned, wadded them into a ball, and hid them under the couch's skirt. The door buzzed again.

He stopped, brushed his hair back, straightened his shirt, and proceeded to the door. It slid into the wall to reveal Christine. She was wearing a simple, long sleeved black shirt and a tan skirt with flat black shoes. Her straight blonde hair hung around her shoulders and she smelled like she always did, light and fresh, like clean laundry.

"Am I too early?" she asked. "I wanted to make sure I left enough room for traffic. You know how busy the turbolifts and corridors get around shift change time."

"But you live right next door," he replied, pointing to her quarters on the right.

She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. "I know. It was a joke."

"Oh," he chuckled, mentally kicking himself for being too nervous to detect her sarcasm.

She glanced over his shoulder to the small table he'd set up. "So when you invited me over for dinner, you meant like a real dinner. Like a date?"

He rubbed the back of his neck. "It can be as much of a date or not a date as you want, I guess."

"Ok then." She stepped over the thresh hold and made her way to the table. She still moved with a slight limp that would take time and physical therapy to heal, but it was good to have her back on her feet. It had been a month to the day since the accident on Sulibaa.

She sniffed the air and said, "Something smells really good."

Before he could answer, the timer dinged in the thermal unit and he made his way to the kitchen to shut it off. "Yeah, I wasn't sure what you'd like, so I decided to stick with what I know. If pineapple chicken and rice isn't to your liking, I can always replicate something else."

"Wait – you cooked this?"

"Yeah."

"You made all of this?"

He pulled the hot dish from the thermal unit and set it on a silicone pad and craned his neck to look at her. She stood at the entrance to the tiny kitchen with her mouth hanging open.

"Well, I didn't make the ingredients, those were replicated, but I put them all together, if that's what you mean. Some people might call it cheating, but there's not exactly an abundance of fresh pineapples at the edge of explored space."

"It looks and smells wonderful," she breathed. "I can't believe you went to all this trouble."

"Do you like to cook?" he asked.

"Not really. Besides, I'm not great at it. The last time I tried, I burned a pot of beans."

Leonard chuckled. "Well, dinner's served. Go sit."

He set the dish on the table between them and stared at the place setting and then snapped his fingers. "Ah, I almost forgot. Jump in. I'll be right back."

He dashed back to the kitchen and ordered drinks at the replicator. It took nearly ten seconds for each to materialize, but it was well worth the wait to see the look on Christine's face when he offered her the red and yellow beverage with the pineapple wedge on the side of the glass.

"You made me a mai tai?" she laughed. He loved the way her dark blue eyes sparkled when she laughed.

"It came from the replicator, so I make no promises about the alcoholic content."

"And you made yourself a mint julep," she chuckled, resting her elbows on the table and propping her chin in her hands.

"And just one more thing," he said, setting his drink down by his plate. "Screen, display viewing image 612-84."

The long view screen on the sidewall illuminated, displaying a picture of an azure tide washing up on a white sandy beach. The light was fading, casting beautiful hues of red and orange along the water.

"You took me to the beach," she said quietly through a pursed smile.

"I know it's not the real thing, but-"

"It's perfect," she interrupted, glancing over at him.

They tucked into their dinner and after she heaped praise on his cooking, they fell into an unusual silence. Was she unhappy? Had he gone too far? He had wanted to make the evening special, but things between them were still poorly defined. Were they dating or were they just friends, or worse yet, just colleagues?

"So it turns out pigs do sweat," she finally said, giving him a small smile. "I looked it up."

"What?"

"We were talking about it in the cave," she explained. "It turns out they actually do have sweat glands, but not enough to effectively cool themselves, which is why they wallow in water or mud."

He stared at her for a second before allowing a crooked grin to spread across his face. "Good to know."

"Ok, so maybe barnyard facts aren't the most sexy dinner date conversation," she sighed.

"So this is… a date?" he asked, trying to keep his tone casual.

"Or maybe it's not," she shrugged. "Maybe you do all of this for everyone you invite over to dinner."

"You're the only person I've ever invited to my quarters to dinner."

She pushed food around on her plate. "Did you want it to be a date?"

What kind of question was that? He gritted his teeth and then figured he might as well throw all his cards out on the table. What did he have to lose, besides professional respect?

"I think it's pretty obvious how I feel about you," he finally admitted.

She chewed the inside of her mouth to keep from smiling but could do nothing to hide the red flush that spread across her cheeks. "People will talk, you know."

"People will talk anyway," he countered, trying to play it cool while taking a sip of his cocktail. He'd forgotten how smooth mint juleps could be.

"So I know it's a few months out, but I'm already thinking about staff evaluations," she said, casting her eyes down to her plate.

His heart sank. Just when he thought he was making progress, she did what she always did and changed the subject. If he knew Christine like he thought he did, one more word about exploring a relationship would send her scurrying back to her room.

They continued their bland and casual conversation about work while they finished their meal, and when the last bit of rice was scraped from their plates, they sat back in their chairs and stared at one another. She studied him carefully, crossed her arms, and offered a weak smile. Leonard was tired of the charade.

"Thanks for coming, Nurse Chapel."

A crestfallen look swept her face. "Thanks for having me, Dr. McCoy."

"Any time."

"So I kind of get the sense you're kicking me out."

"You can stay, if you're feelin' up to it, but I didn't have any grand plans for the rest of the night."

"I was hoping I could stay…" she murmured. "As Christine… not Nurse Chapel."

He crossed his arms and gazed at her. "Dr. McCoy doesn't really care either way, but as Leonard, I'd love it if you stayed."

He watched her fight back a growing smile. "Maybe we should get this all cleared up and then see where it goes?"

"I'd rather see where it goes first," he shrugged. "I can clean dishes whenever."

He could see it tore at the fastidious neat-freak that lurked within her to leave dirty dishes sitting out on a table, but she managed to fight her way through it and joined him on the small sofa. Then they dimmed the lights and talked for hours.

She told him about Jim, Roger, her mother's passing, and life aboard the Constellation. He told her about his Joanna, his father's untimely death, how he ruined things with his ex, and the myriad of ways Jim had nearly gotten him killed in the past decade, along with all the ways he'd come through in the end. He felt like he was seeing the real her for the first time – each incarnation had finally merged into one woman, and he loved what he saw.

At 2200 hours the lights went off automatically and he could only see her by the light of the lone candle burning on the table. He leaned forward and kissed her and though she was slow to respond, eventually the tip of her tongue traced his lips and her fingers began exploring his chest.

He was transformed into a ball of nervous energy. She pulled her blouse over her head and slid her right thigh over his lap to straddle him. His hands, usually so calm and steady, suddenly felt sluggish and oversized as he explored her soft skin. She began to unbutton his shirt but after the first three buttons, paused and looked him in the eye.

"Is this ok?" she whispered in his ear.

"Uh, yeah?" he muttered, unsure why in the hell she thought it wouldn't be.

He gently cupped the sides of her face and kissed her again, more lightly than before. She pressed herself against him. The warm heat of her soft breasts and tickle of her satin bra on his chest was delicious. She uttered a low moan and he contemplated flipping her over when the candle finally died, leaving them to explore one another in the dark.

That was until the smoke from the extinguished candle caused the fire suppression system to go off. Under most conditions when no lifesigns were present, the computer would automatically vent the oxygen from the room to extinguish the fire with minimal damage, but as he and Christine happened to be living organisms, the computer opted for a method that would kill the fire it detected without killing them. They were quickly bathed in a powder of potassium bicarbonate.

He definitely hadn't meant to hit her in the mouth with his forehead any more than she probably intended to knee him in the testicles, but even he could appreciate that sometimes those things happened when two people fumbled around blindly in the dark when a fire alarm went off unexpectedly.

"Computer, lights," he squeaked, cradling his crotch.

The lights came on and the intercom buzzed to life. "This is Hendorff from security. System just detected fire in your quarters but I'm seeing that it's already out. Everything ok in there?"

Christine rolled off of him and when he managed to open his eyes, he jumped in shock. The white powder covering her body – not to mention every surface of his quarters – made her look like she'd aged about sixty years. She was cupping the lower half of her face and he could see blood trickling between her fingers.

"Oh God! Christine?"

"Go," she snapped, her voice muffled by her hand. "Answer him before they send a security team."

The pain in his groin was radiating up through his lower belly and the thought of getting up and walking made him want to vomit, but he stumbled over to the comm on the wall and in the calmest voice he could manage, told Hendorff that everything was sunshine and rainbows. Then sickbay called.

"This is Nurse Riley. Security alerted us to a fire in your quarters. Do you need a medical transport, doctor?"

He sighed and cursing Hendorff's efficiency under his breath, muttered, "Bastard."

He took a deep breath and prepared to tell her everything was all right, but he was too slow. A second later, he and Christine were swept into a matter stream and found themselves on the emergency side of sickbay with Nurse Heikkinen standing by to receive them as casualties.

What Maria Heikkinen found instead was Christine stripped of her shirt and clutching a bleeding lip, Leonard with his shirt unbuttoned and hunched over in pain from what was probably the worst blow to his testicles in his life, and both of them covered in a fine layer of chemicals designed to put out fires. Her eyes darted back and forth between them, trying to make sense of the situation.

"Are they ok?" Nurse Riley asked breathlessly, trotting into the room.

"Why did you transport us to emergency?" he seethed.

Nurse Riley's eyes widened – from panic or confusion he couldn't really say – and she responded, "I asked if you needed a medical transport and you said, 'Yes sir.'"

"I said 'bastard!'" he cried, stepping in front of Christine and hurriedly trying to button his shirt. "And why would I call you sir?"

"Who's a bastard?" Nurse Riley stammered, taking a step back.

"Hendorff!"

"Who's Hendorff?"

"I heard Dr. McCoy was injured in a fire in his quarters," Dr. M'Benga interrupted, entering the room behind Nurse Riley.

"No. He wasn't," Leonard snapped.

A brunette head popped over M'Benga's shoulder and declared, "I'm not on shift yet but the news is Dr. McCoy-"

"Is fine," he snapped, finishing Dr. Jarvis' sentence. "Apparently news travels faster than a jackrabbit in heat around here."

"Could everyone just give us a minute?" Christine called from behind him.

People started shuffling back to their workstations and it was hard to ignore the wild side eyes the rest of the medical staff were giving one another. Maria lingered behind but left after Christine gave her a pleading look. "I'll just leave you both to it and see about finding you a shirt," she grinned.

"Well, at least you know they care," Christine mumbled, trying to wipe some of the potassium bicarbonate off her face.

Leonard hit the privacy divider button with the meat of his fist, shuffled over to Christine, and gently lifted her chin to get a better look at her split lip.

"You should have listened to me, you know," she muttered.

"What do you mean?"

"If we had cleaned up when I wanted, we would be naked by now and I doubt your genitals would hurt as much as they probably do. Sorry about that, by the way."

"Yeah, sorry about your face," he grumbled, rubbing his hands through his hair and sending a puff of powdery chemicals outward, causing her to cough.

She uttered a hoarse laugh and said, "Nothing a few sweeps of a dermal regenerator won't fix. I'm starting to think having a relationship with you will be hazardous to my health. At the rate we're going – sprained ankle, amputated leg, fat lip – I'll be dead in six months."

"Good thing I'm a good doctor," he grinned, hoping she would think it was funny.

She shot him a stony look and he started to feel as though he'd stuck his foot in his mouth until she chuckled, leaned forward, and kissed him. She winced as her busted lip made contact with his mouth and pulled away. "That was stupid of me."

He pulled her into a hug and kissed her on the forehead, trying to ignore the salty taste of the potassium bicarbonate on her skin. "People are going to talk you know," he whispered.

"People will talk anyway," she said as the corners of her mouth turned into a small smile. "Let them talk."