"Doctor, as you know I have been working at finding a way to reverse Lieutenant Hutchinson's genetic modification," Spock began quietly. "I believe I have found an anomaly."

McCoy stared at him. "In what way?" he asked, concerned.

"Initially when we uncovered the lieutenant's situation, we failed to take into account that she herself is not Martian," Spock replied. "And while Bokar physiology is nearly identical to human, there is still a fractional percentage of it that is not."

"Is it significant?" McCoy demanded. A rush of self-recrimination, worry and fear washed through him as he considered the ramifications of Spock's comment, and he braced himself for bad news.

"It . . . alters the issue," Spock murmured, moving to the view screen in McCoy's office. Flicking it on, Spock pointed to a magnified view of a strand of DNA, and more specifically to a tiny discolored section of it. "This is the section modified by the Anzoluz, in a typical bonded Bokar wife."

"I remember," McCoy replied, "Go on—"

"And *this* is strand from the lieutenant that I obtained less than an hour ago," Spock pointed out quietly.

McCoy studied the second image, his gaze narrowing as he tried to see the difference. He blinked. "It's . . . not there."

"Indeed," Spock murmured. "While the lieutenant's husband had altered her to be dependent on his hormones, it appears that the Martian genetic element within her DNA has disappeared completely. Do you know of any recent factor that might have caused this change, doctor?"

McCoy blushed. He didn't do it very often, and certainly never before around Spock, but the flush of pink across his face spoke volumes to the Vulcan, who arched an eyebrow at him. "Possibly . . ." he hemmed, not meeting Spock's gaze.

It was well-known that the First Officer could outwait a glacier.

Spock simply continued staring until McCoy finally sighed. "Sexual intercourse. The direct absorption of human male hormones through various bodily fluids over an extended period of time, all right, Spock?"

"Logical," Spock murmured after a few seconds. "And perhaps in this case, serendipitous."

"Spock, this is . . . awkward," McCoy muttered. "It was never my intention to . . . get involved with Jess."

"I leave the ethics of the situation to your own recognizance, Doctor. What fascinates me is the genetics. It is highly likely that the lieutenant's husband had no idea that the fractional percentage of difference would be enough to eventually break the bond so firmly established in Bokar culture."

"I doubt he thought at all about dying before her," McCoy pointed out, "but it's fortunate he did."

"For the lieutenant, the fortune, as you call it, lies in that you had both the capacity and interest in helping her," Spock managed with bland bluntness. "Without your direct sexual involvement, her condition would have been treated, but not cured."

McCoy winced. "That's not exactly the way it unfolded."

Spock held up a hand. "Doctor, despite your denial of the same, you do possess a degree of discretion, and I trust you will handle the matter of informing Lieutenant Hutchinson that she is cured. I will write up the final report for Starfleet Medical and pass it to you for review."

After the first officer left, McCoy sat looking at the DNA images, brooding for a while.

*** *** ***

She came into his cabin as shift ended, carrying a bag of something, and McCoy wondered what it was. He'd made a half-hearted attempt to decorate; multi-colored balloons were tied to the furniture and in lieu of streamers, he'd used glittery colored yarn to loop around the walls.

Hutchinson snorted, looking at them. "I know I should be sweet and tell you it looks lovely, but Len--"

"I know, I know—looks like an explosion at an old-world craft faire," He grumbled through a smirk. "I couldn't get anyone at MWR to decorate, not without having to explain what it was for."

"It IS sweet," she told him, setting the bag down and slipping into his arms for a hug. "Honestly, nobody's done anything like this for me in years. Hey, I um, brought dinner."

He sniffed the air expectantly. "Oooooh!"

"Chivill lasgana with fresh tomatoes and mushrooms," Jess announced. "A couple of them were ripe; I swear I heard the plant sigh with relief when I harvested."

They ate. All through dinner, McCoy debated with himself on exactly when to tell Jess the news. Jess didn't leave him many openings, though, and by the time dinner was through, he felt an increasing anxiety.

Jess noticed. She watched him clear the dishes, and came over to him, slipping her hands up along his shoulders, rubbing. "Wow, like Altaran mahogany, Len. What's got you so uptight tonight?"

He turned, mouth twisting slightly as he met her gaze. "Jess, you're cured."

Jess blinked. Her hands slid from his shoulders and her confused expression was almost funny, but McCoy didn't—couldn't—laugh.

"I'm . . . cured," she echoed. "Um, okay. How?"

"Because your husband didn't realize that you're human. Beautifully, wonderfully, completely human. Anzoluz makes you dependent on male hormones, yes, but you haven't been getting them with Martian DNA, you've been getting them with human DNA."

"Big time," Jess agreed softly, smirking for a second. "So . . . let me get this straight. All I needed to break the Bond was to get . . . laid?"

"In a manner of speaking," McCoy muttered, blushing.

For a long, long moment, they simply stared at each other, and finally Jess gave a harsh sigh. "Oh this is stupid!

She cupped his face in her hands, pulling him to her, kissing McCoy hard and deep. He gave a happy groan and kissed her back, arms slipping around her hips. When they finally ended the kiss to breathe, Jess snorted at him softly. "Okay. I'm cured, and that's a good thing. Thanks for sharing your grouchy McCoy maleness with me. Now can we please have some cake and go to bed?"

"Still bossy as ever," he grumbled with relief. "But yes. I take it this means we're still---?"

"New therapy," Jess informed him. "I'm going to make you a Hatfield by osmosis."

"Fat chance," he hooted. "I've already cured you of Martian idiocy; you're the one who'll become a McCoy with repeated exposure, woman."

"Care to put that theory to the test?" she murmured, "because I'm the birthday princess here, and I get my way today. At least with *you.*"

"I don't recall being promoted to xenobotanist's plaything," McCoy mused, even as he began to lead Jess towards the bed. "But I like the perks."

"Yeah, that will be the highlight of your CV," she laughed. "Snuggling, now. The princess commands it!"

"The princess is going to get a birthday spanking if she doesn't stop ordering me around," McCoy informed her, and with a quick spin managed to pull Jess down with him onto the mattress. "Hell, I think you need one just on general principles."

"You and what security team?" came her scoff, and the battle was on.

*** *** ***

They lay together sated and limp across the bed, quiet and happy, not speaking but saying much through gentle touches and kisses. Just as both of them were dozing a bit, a thought struck McCoy, and he mumbled softly. "Hey Jess . . . so why did you take the name Hutchinson instead of reverting to Hatfield?"

"I wanted my own name," she whispered back. "I didn't want to be Jess Ti once Ed died, and going back to 'Hatfield' would have felt like denying I was even married, so I picked an old family name from my mother's side."

"Kept it as a middle one though," McCoy observed. "True to the roots."

She rolled to face him, smiling through a yawn. "Yep."

McCoy heaved himself up and returned with gifts, lightly tossing them to Jess as he pulled back the covers and slid in. "Here."

"Great presentation speech there. Bet you worked on that for hours," Jess teased, but lightly. Her voice held a contented tone as she moved to kiss his bare shoulder before sitting up and turning to the presents. McCoy folded one arm behind his head and watched her, feeling smug.

"Coffeeee beeeeans---!" she squealed, picking one out of the little jar.

"More than that. Taste 'em."

Experimentally she did, and gave a purr. "Oh yeah! Chocolate AND caffeine. That should put me into warp drive for a while!"

"Tomorrow," McCoy told her sternly. "The last thing I need is you jacked up on theobromine and caffeine all night."

"Pffft," Jess scoffed. "You're my attending physician; deal with me." She popped a bean in her mouth and happily chewed it, but set the jar aside after that. "Thank you."

"I expect a tiny fraction of those," he grumbled.

"We'll see," Jess murmured, turning to the other two boxes. "You know, you really didn't have to do this, Len."

"I wanted to," he told her quietly. "Now finish up so we can get some sleep."

Jess shot him an arch look. "Somebody's tired."

"Somebody's resting up," McCoy corrected. "You've never heard of the strategy of attacking before dawn?"

"Len!" But her attention was on the little gold pass in her hand. She examined it and gave a happy squeak. "A priority spa pass! ohhhhdamn these babies are harder to get than Vulcan diamonds!"

Jess bounced a little, rocking the mattress; McCoy stifled a laugh and murmured, "I take it you approve?"

"Big time," she shot back, not taking her eyes off the card. "I'm going to get a Turellian massage with mango oil!"

"Right now?"

"Later," Jess laughed. "Much later. Thank you, sweetie. I WILL put it to good use."

"Last one," McCoy nodded towards the intricately wrapped package left. Jess reached for it, but instead of opening the green glittery box, she snuggled down against him, molding along McCoy's side under the blankets and sighing.

"Can I . . . keep . . . you?" she murmured quietly, her voice low and hesitant. "Because much as I like the gifts, I know I like you better, Len. I like you a lot."

He took in a deep breath, feeling his pulse race, and looked towards her, managing his own gruff smile. "I'm not the best bargain around, you know. I'm cranky, and I'm on-call for life, and you're a damned beautiful woman, Jessamyn. But, since it's your birthday . . ." he trailed off magnanimously.

Jess laughed, tilting her head to kiss him.

McCoy sighed with pleasure, and when they pulled apart contentedly, he gestured to the box again.

Jess opened it. "Emerald Fire?"

"So I'm told," McCoy nodded.

She was already sitting up, dabbing a little on behind her ears and humming happily. "Coffee beans, spa pass, perfume: that settles it—I think you like me too."

He laughed, slow and deep, hugging her firmly. "I'd be happy to prove it to you on a regular basis, m'dear."

Jess gave a happy sigh, and they dropped off to sleep, entangled together.

end