Disclaimer: I own nothing Star Trek-related…though I might consider the idea of beaming Kirk, Spock, Khan, and the actors who play them to my house, once I manage to construct my own transporter. Until then, nothing is mine except original characters.
AN: A bit of warning: this chapter might cause a few tears to flow, so keep a few tissues handy, just in case. Other than that, please enjoy and review. Thank you.
Chapter 2: Facing Facts & Reality:
That short burst of optimism I'd displayed to Lydia didn't last very long. As soon as it fully hit me how much history, technology, culture, and all around information I had to catch up on, I immediately felt my will-power caving in.
Not that Lydia let me give up, of course –she was determined to help me, and flatly told everyone that she would stay by my side until I was deemed fit enough to leave the hospital. And since her father was head of the hospital, her words carried a lot of weight, which was convenient for the both of us.
Even though I probably could have tried handling things on my own, Lydia turned out to be a godsend. With her constantly lat my side, everyone began to stop wondering whether or not I was going to fall into a deep depression and throw myself off the hospital roof –an idea that some might think overly dramatic, but it was one that had crossed my mind, and only Lydia's friendship and stubborn refusal to let me feel "down" managed to get me through my days of tears and sleepless nights.
Today, nearly two weeks after I'd been woken by the doctors, I was finally given permission to leave my room and wander the grounds. Since I'd managed to cry myself out and was able to sleep on my own with only a sedative, the hospital heads-of-staff decided that I was becoming emotionally and mentally stable enough to venture out and get some exercise and fresh air.
Much to my relief, the staff had chosen to let Lydia and I wander around the grounds alone together so that we could talk and gradually let me fully process where and when I was. However, I had the distinct feeling that there would be more than a dozen eyes watching us, just to make sure I was okay and that I wouldn't try and make a break for it. Not that I could have, of course –thanks to my being immobile for so long, my legs weren't fully functional yet, so I wasn't able to move very far or fast unless I was in a wheelchair.
"So, I guess you guys haven't improved upon the good old wheelchair," I couldn't help commenting to Lydia as she rolled me outside.
She chuckled. "No, we did that. The wheelchair is mostly for those who only need to use it temporarily –anyone who is permanently paralyzed gets a hover-chair."
Well, that certainly showed me. "That makes sense," I grudgingly admitted as Lydia laughed at my discomfort. Not that I held it against her, as I showed with a playful pout at her amusement.
While she pushed me along a nice smooth pathway, I looked at my surroundings. In the afternoon sunlight, I could still see the city in the distance, flying vehicles traveling to and from it with ease. "You know, I never asked which city that was," I realized, completely surprised that I hadn't thought of it before.
"It's San Francisco," she said. "I know you're probably surprised, since according to your file, you're not from the area in the first place."
She was right; I was actually from a completely different state than California. "Let me guess: I was shuffled around a lot while I was frozen," I sarcastically replied, growing more bitter and upset with each bit of information I thought about.
The chair stopped moving, and Lydia came to kneel in front of me. "I know you're angry and upset, Ria," she said, putting a hand on my arm to give it a gentle squeeze, "But try and believe that while you'll miss your friends and family, you'll make new ones here."
I knew she was trying to comfort me, but deep inside, my heart screamed that my parents and brother had to be alive, even after all these centuries. I knew it was a mixture of denial and futile hope, but when those two things were combined, it tended to make people believe even the craziest things.
"Come on," Lydia said as she took her spot behind my chair. "Let me show you the gardens."
The greenery outside did help a bit, though the hover-cars I saw pulling up to the front of the hospital tended to snap me back to the fact that this wasn't my time. Still, it was nice to see that transportation had come so far, a fact I mentioned to Lydia on the way back to my room.
"Wait until you see a transporter," she commented as we entered the hospital's main corridor.
I turned to look at her. "What's a transporter?"
When she explained the concept of taking a person apart, molecule by molecule and reassembling it somewhere else, I shivered. I did not like the idea that I might have bits and pieces of me scattered across who-knows-where if something didn't go right with that process! Images of my head being put on backwards or one of my organs being put outside of my body filled my head before I put a firm stop to them.
"Well, now that you've gotten a bit of exercise for your body, it's time to get going on your mind," Lydia declared, placing a clear piece of plastic the size of my head in my hands. "This computer has access to all documents in the public records. You're welcome to start looking up whatever you like today, but tomorrow we start with your education so that you can start catching up."
I looked at the plastic sheet. It had several white lines framing it and along the center, but it really didn't look like it could be a computer –it was too light, too thin, and the center was completely see-through. But most importantly, I had no idea how to use it. Sitting there with the 'computer' in my hands, I must have looked uncomfortable and completely clueless.
Smiling, Lydia reached out and turned the computer on with a touch of her hand. The back of the computer went dark and white in center of the half facing me, showing a colorful screen with all sorts of different icons for me to mess with. "There, now you can play with it. You can either tell the computer what you're looking for, or type it into the screen."
Oh! Well, that seemed simple enough. "Thanks," I whispered, tentatively reaching out to put my fingers to the screen.
Before I could get started, though, Lydia reached out to block my view with her hand. "Don't push it too much," she warned. "I don't want you having a mental or emotional breakdown because of something you learned. Take it slow; one step at a time, okay?"
I didn't want to take it slow, but I knew better than to argue –the last thing I wanted was to have my newly-given freedoms taken away because I'd pushed myself too hard. "Okay."
And then I was alone, the computer glowing softly as it awaited my command or request.
Anyone would think that, with so much information and such technology at my fingertips, I'd have immediately dived in, my brain drinking in everything that this century's public records could give me. The fact that it had so easily been handed to me might have only made it that much more exciting and intoxicating to indulge in.
The problem was finding the right question to start off with. I had so many, and all of them seemed to be more important than the others, so finding the right one to kick-start the whole thing off was proving harder than I thought.
At last, a random thought popped into my head, and I decided to head off with that: San Francisco.
Typing the city into the computer, I watched as the entire history of the area filled the screen. I skipped past the years leading up to my own time, and went straight for what the area was like now. The information also included images and videos, which caught my attention. I saw a few pictures of space ships, and was about to begin a search on them, but stopped.
"Starfleet," I whispered out loud, almost against my will.
"Searching: Starfleet," the plastic computer replied, scaring the crap out of me.
"Jesus Christ," I gasped, almost dropping the damned thing.
"Still searching previous request," the computer told me. "Shall I cancel current search?"
"No!" I hurriedly replied, fingers griping my only source of information. "Keep searching for Starfleet information."
"Understood." A few seconds later, "Search completed."
The screen then filled with a huge amount of information, starting with the formation of Starfleet and its origins, as well as its link to some kind of Federation of Planets. It was all so incredible, I wouldn't have believed it if it weren't for the flying aircrafts I could see from my window going to-and-from the city.
"Those ships are actually taking people to space stations and space ships," I marveled, alternately looking out my window at the darkening horizon before turning back towards the computer in my hands. "Incredible."
I sat for hours, reading up on Starfleet, its history, its internal ranks and structures, the ships it had, and its allies from other worlds. I also had to marvel at how much it was like the armed forces from my own time, where everyone had a purpose and function on the starship.
'If I can't find a job or occupation that I seem to like, Starfleet might be an option.'
For a few minutes, I dreamed about flying through space, watching stars go by as the ship traveled among them. What would it be like, to walk on another planet and interact with other races and experience their cultures?
I got a full smack of reality right in the face, courtesy of my common sense. If Starfleet was anything like the armed forces back in my day, then there was no way I could join. I didn't have the determination, intelligence or the physical attributes they'd be looking for, and I was so far behind them that by the time I caught up, I'd probably be considered too old to enroll or enlist.
'Guess it's the sidelines for me,' I quietly sighed to myself. Oh, well.
"Miss Drake?" called a voice from my door. "I have your dinner here for you."
Gross, hospital food. Too bad that hadn't improved since my days, either.
As the nurse laid out my meal, she gave me an encouraging smile when saw that I was making use of the computer. "Studying already, huh? Good idea; there's a lot to catch up on."
Her tone was kind, not mocking, so I returned her smile with one of my own. "I don't suppose I could get something other than hospital food, could I?"
She laughed and shook her head. "Sorry, but you'll have to wait a few days. Once everyone is sure you're making a steady recovery, and that you're making progress in walking, they'll let you have anything you want." She winked. "As long as it's healthy, of course."
"Of course," I replied, rolling my eyes. "Thanks."
The nurse nodded and left me to finish my bland chicken breast, mashed potatoes and peas. I left the peas and went straight for the cup of custard on the platter. It wasn't Jell-O by any means, but it was still better than the food itself!
When I was finished with the tray, I pushed it aside and picked up my computer again. This time, I decided to do something a bit riskier: I was going to look up something very personal to me.
"Are you sure you want to do this, Ria?" Lydia asked for the tenth time today. "I think it might be too soon for you and too much for you to handle."
I looked out the window and sighed. "I have to do this, Lydia," I told her. "It's the only way I can move on with my life. I need closure, and this is the only way I can get it."
It was her turn to sigh as the door opened and she moved to help me get out. I still couldn't walk fully on my own, but a cane was usually all I needed to get around. I knew she wasn't just helping me to walk, though –she was coming along for emotional support, too.
Together, the two of us trudged up the grassy hill, following the map glistening on the plastic computer screen in my hands. It had been easy, finding out where this place was –it was apparently a historical site, and a complete list of the site's occupants, as well as a detailed map, was publicly available. It was also open to those interested in history.
When the lights that were us reached our destination, they stopped glowing, fading to nothing as Lydia took the device and put it into her shoulder bag while she handed me the one that hung from her arm.
"I'll leave you to it," she said quietly. "Call if you need me."
Looking down, I swallowed hard, the bag in my arms suddenly feeling like a thousand pounds as I stared at the sight in front of me. It was difficult reading the words that were etched in the stones, but they were still legible.
With a grunt of pain, I managed the difficult task of getting to my knees, my hands rummaging around inside the bag for the precious cargo they held. I found what I was looking for easily enough, but doing what I had to with them took a few minutes of deep breathing and will-power.
Finally, I steeled myself and forced myself to do what I had come all this way to do.
"Hi, Mom," I whispered, pulling out the bouquet of white roses and gently setting them down on the level ground in front of the tombstone. "I brought some of your favorites."
Retrieving another bouquet, this one of yellow roses, I put them in front of the other stone. "Here you go, Daddy," I whispered, holding back tears. "I never knew your favorite flowers, so I took a guess. I hope you like them."
For several moments, things were quiet as I struggled to keep it together. Finally, when I felt composed enough to talk without breaking down, I spoke.
"Thank you both for trying to give me a second chance. I guess your wish did come true: I got treated for what was wrong with me. It just didn't happen when you thought it would."
I pressed a kiss to the fingertips of both hands and put them against the stones. They were worn and heavily blemished from centuries of rain, snow, sun, and whatever little bits of plant-life that had briefly taken root on them. The plants were gone, but I had to admit that the chips and cracks "gave them character," as Dad would have said.
"I'm going to miss you both so much," I quietly told them. "And even though this half kills me inside, I'm going to try and go on with my life, just like you would have wanted me to."
I closed my eyes. "I'm going to try and be okay."
Turning, I looked out from my spot on the hill to stare down at San Francisco. It was a shock, finding out that Mom and Dad had decided to retire here, so far from where we had lived together as a family. Still, I guess the weather would have been better for Mom's health, since arthritis had started settling in shortly before I'd been put under.
'Either that, or maybe they'd somehow known that I was close by.' It could have been that one of the last records of my location had placed me somewhere near San Francisco or someplace in California, and they'd simply followed as best they could.
My brother wasn't here, though, which hurt. He was in Washington D.C., of all places; close to his children and grandchildren, which was only fair. At least he'd managed to live a long life and start a long family line of his own.
'Still, it's nice knowing that Mom and Dad are close by, in case I want to visit.'
That idea was pushed aside quickly. There was no possible way I would come up here again, even if I would be staying in the city –the pain would be too much for me to handle. I couldn't stand looking at their tombstones, knowing that so many years had passed and that they'd never known what happened to me.
But now that I knew where they were, and had seen them with my own eyes, a sense of peace and closure sparked inside me. I didn't feel completely at ease, yet, but now that the spark had been lit, it was only a matter of time before I fully accepted it all. It might take years, but at least the process of healing inside had begun.
Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath and smiled. Even without opening my eyes, I knew there wasn't a constant haze of smog hovering over the city, leaving my lungs able to enjoy the scent of the sea.
When I did open my eyes, I knew that the future was literally right in front of me. I could feel my parents' graves at my back, their centuries-old spirits silently given me strength.
It was time for me to move on, one slow step at a time.
AN: Review?