Fandom: Star Trek XI
Characters: McCoy, Jocelyn
Disclaimer: They aren't mine and I'm broke. This is just for fun and no profit is being made. Please don't sue.
Summary: "He that is not jealous is not in love." St. Augustine
Jocelyn was not jealous. She didn’t get jealous anymore, least of all over her ex-husband. Which was strange considering that the emotion currently running rampant through her felt an awful lot like jealousy.
Face it, Joc. You’re jealous.
She sighed, taking a larger than necessary sip of the cocktail in her hand. It was ridiculous really to get so bent out of shape over a conversation. It wasn’t like she had any rights to Leonard anymore, and while she was sure he wasn’t putting any effort into goading her, he was doing a fantastic job of it. Afterall, the smile he directed at the blonde diplomat was one she recognized all too easily considering how many times he’d used it on her back in the days before an ugly divorce or even being married. If she thought back on it she could still remember the smell of peach blossoms on humid night air and the soft feel of an old cotton quilt over grass, that smile and the reflection of the starlight in his eyes when he asked if he could kiss her.
The memory was one she had to physically shake herself free from just in time to see the other woman place a flirtatious hand against Len’s chest.
She’s half way across the room before she’s had the time to think twice about what she’s doing. Resting a possessive hand on his arm she clears her throat, ever the lady-- if ladies managed to pull off the kind of distasteful glare Jocelyn was. She felt Leonard’s posture change under her touch, a shift from flirtatious to conscientious, like he’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
“I’m sorry to interrupt, but there were a few things I needed to discuss with you, Doctor.” It’s the farthest things from the truth, not that it matters when the other woman dejectedly excuses herself once his attentions shift to herself.
“I was curious as to what functions you, or rather medical, were serving when we beam down to the surface.”
The look on his face clearly said he didn’t buy it for a minute and that her ruse was just as shallow and see through as she’d feared it would be. Luckily for her, he was too much of a gentleman to call her on it.
“M’Benga’s goin’ down, Josey. Not me. Though you knew that. And even if they say none of the hostages were hurt, better t’check ‘em out before they get moved.”
Jocelyn flushed from embarrassment. It was common sense really and again the look on his face told her he knew good and damn well what this had really been about. “Was that all?”
She nod and made to walk away but his sudden grip on her wrist cut off her retreat.
“Then if you’re done talkin’ shop, I seem to be down a dance partner.”
It was a kindness on his part to offer her that when it was so much more than a dance really. It was part forgiveness and reassurance, two things she really had no right to expect but that he offered freely. It was who he was. Who he had always been. No matter what everyone else around him had come to believe Jocelyn knew the truth. She still saw the same boy that she’d asked to dance however many years ago; the one that had worn that sort of sweet, and trusting, and hopeful expression on his face when he’d asked her to stay on the floor with him for another song.
She couldn’t let herself think about it though, couldn’t really let herself dwell any more than she already had. She’d been selfish enough as it was except when they lapsed into the kind of comfortable silence that was only born from history and familiarity, she couldn’t help wanting it to last a little bit longer.