A/N: Aw, so this is it. I appreciate all your nice reviews and I hope you enjoyed this. I'd love con crit on the ending.
Over the next week or so, Neal fell into a fairly fixed routine. Eat breakfast with Chekov, who was one of the only other morning people on the ship; talk with Kirk on the bridge for a while; have lunch; then, probably his favorite part, alternately helping and just talking to Nicole. She was cheerful, intelligent, and funny. He enjoyed being around her and they almost always ended up eating dinner together.
One night he was walking her home after a particularly late dinner, when she asked him a question he wasn't expecting.
"How long are you going to stay?" Her eyes were bright and sincere, and he didn't know exactly how to answer. Why would a figment of his own imagination ask him how long he was going to be able to stay for?
He decided a psychologist would probably have a field day with this dream and all its meanings. But for now he didn't care about that. He just shrugged with a small smile.
"As long as I can," he said sincerely. It had been about a week and a half since he'd arrived, and it was definitely the longest-feeling dream he'd ever had. The runner-up wasn't even close, a mental vision of a two-day heist.
"I hope it's a long time, then," Nicole said quietly, and then they were at her quarters. They paused for a moment outside her door in the silent silver corridor, and she started to say good night. On an impulse, he leaned down and kissed her. She looked surprised then pleased as she broke away, smiling and opening her door.
"Good night," she said happily.
"Good night, Nicole." Neal watched the door close behind her with a rush of happiness he hadn't felt for a long time. He let out a quiet sigh and started back down the corridor with a serene smile on his face. This was a strange dream, yes, but probably also the best he'd ever had.
xxxxx
Neal woke up very early the next morning. He didn't think even Chekov would be awake so early, but went to their normal meeting place nonetheless. To his surprise, the seventeen-year-old Russian was sitting with his back leaned against the wall, a PADD in his lap.
"You're here early," Neal said, sinking down beside him. Chekov jumped then grinned.
"So are you," he returned with a small smile.
"Were you just waiting?" Neal asked.
"No," Chekov said, switching off his PADD and shrugging. "Zis is where I come to think. It is usually quiet."
"It's a nice spot," Neal agreed, smiling. "So, are you hungry this early in the mornings?"
"Today I am," Chekov said, nodding. "Ken we go now, zen?"
"Sure." Neal stood up and grabbed Chekov's hand, pulling him up. PADD tucked under his arm, the Ensign walked with Neal to the mess hall, his chatter quieter than usual out of courtesy for most of the still-sleeping crew.
"You look happy today," Chekov observed as they sat down in the mess hall. "Is zere any particular reason?"
Neal shrugged, grinning. "It's just nice here, that's all."
"It is," Chekov agreed happily, digging into his cereal and fruit. Neal started eating his pancakes more slowly.
"Oh, Neal, I wanted to ask you," Chekov started in between bites. "I have to go to engineering zis morning, to help Mr. Scott. Would you like to come?"
"Sure," Neal said with a shrug. "Just tell me when."
"I will," Chekov promised, looking pleased.
Neal went to the bridge afterward, but no one was there except the tired-looking redshirt who'd had the night shift. Chekov had said he'd be to the bridge soon, so Neal figured he'd just wait. He started looking around and ended up at the science station. He moved a dial.
"Please refrain from touching that," a voice said from behind him. Neal jumped guiltily. Spock regarded him with faint irritation.
"Good morning, Commander Spock." Neal smiled.
"I would prefer that you not modify these settings," Spock said.
"Sorry," Neal said. "I didn't know that this area was off-limits."
"Indeed." Spock lifted one eyebrow. "Now you have been informed."
"I have," Neal agreed, nodding. "And I will be careful not to ... modify anything." He looked at all the equipment. "You really know how to work all this?"
"I do," Spock said. Had he been human he would have added an of course there. "It is my responsibility."
"That's interesting," Neal said with a grin. Spock didn't react. Neal rolled his eyes mentally. Fine.
"Sorry to have bothered you," Neal said, beaming.
"Your apology is unnecessary," Spock said flatly. Neal felt frustrated. Really? Nothing at all? But Spock just continued to look at him with a mildly reproving expression. Neal was good at remaining calm while being stared down, but Spock was a professional.
"Okay. Well. I'll just be going now." Neal sort of scooted away and sat down in a chair on the other end of the bridge, quietly not doing anything. Unbeknownst to him, Spock raised both eyebrows and turned back to his console, slightly... intrigued (he'd never say amused) by Neal's Nealness.
Neal was on the bridge with Kirk a few hours later when Chekov tapped him on the shoulder, looking excited.
"I am going to engineering now," the Ensign said.
"Alright, I'm coming," Neal said. He gave Kirk a mock-salute and followed Chekov down.
They walked into engineering and Chekov walked over to Scotty, who was leaning against a column and sleeping.
"Mr. Scott?" Chekov said, tapping Scotty's shoulder. Scotty slipped to the side slightly as he awoke, cursing.
"Laddie, don't do tha'," he said, blinking himself out of grogginess.
"I'm sorry," Chekov said, looking repentant. "I just needed you to show me what you wanted me to do."
"Okay, fine," Scotty said, standing up. "Follow me. Morning, Caffrey." Neal gave a slight nod. He and the Scotsman were on friendly terms, but not well-acquainted. Neal drifted behind them, looking around. Chekov started working out math calculations Neal could barely fathom, and Neal was no novice in math himself.
After a while Neal found himself leaning in a position much like the one Scotty had been in when they found him, and his eyelids started to feel heavy. Chekov's quiet mutter as he fixed the problems. He guessed he must've fallen asleep at some point, because he heard a voice calling his name in the slightly obscured way of half-consciousness.
"Neal? Neal, wake up." He opened his eyes slowly and two concerned faces blurred into view above him, but they were not the ones he was expecting. He blinked, then blinked again.
"Pe...ter? Elizabeth?" He pushed himself up slightly and looked around; he was in a small hospital room.
"Yeah," Peter said, nodding. "It's us. June was by a little earlier."
"How are you feeling?" Elizabeth asked, tilting her head slightly to one side.
"I- fine," Neal said, confused. "Why?"
"You don't remember?" Peter asked, lifting one eyebrow.
"Remember what?" Neal sat the rest of the way up and blinked.
"You got hit by a car." Peter let out a breath. "I should've been more careful."
"Peter, it's not your fault," Elizabeth said soothingly, laying a hand on her husband's arm. "You couldn't have known it would happen."
"I don't feel like I got hit by a car," Neal protested.
"Yeah, well, they've got you on drugs right now. But your injuries weren't too severe in the first place. A mild concussion and some ugly bruises."
Neal nodded slowly. "So how long was I out, then? A week?" He guessed. Peter looked at him strangely.
"A few hours, actually, and they're letting you out tonight," Peter said. "Why would you guess so high?"
"No reason," Neal said, shrugging. They chatted for a few more minutes, then Peter went in search of some coffee and Elizabeth went to use the restroom. Neal leaned his head back against the wall behind him, letting out a sigh.
He grinned slightly. That had been the strangest, most detailed dream he'd ever had. And how could it have felt so long when it had taken place in such a short amount of time? He could come up with no real explanation.
Oh, well. It had been a lot of fun, and he'd probably needed the vacation.
He'd just blame it on the drugs.