Out Of The Blue And Into The Black
by T'eyla
AN: Like I said, my first try at writing in English, so I apologize for any spelling, grammar or other mistakes I might have made (if you see something really bad please write and tell me, then I'll change it). Else, I just hope you enjoy it.
Warning: This might not agree with any of the episodes after 'Oasis' (that was the last one that aired here in Germany)
Disclaimer: Paramount and others own Star Trek, I don't make profit from this.
Chapter 1
People are strange
When you're a stranger
Faces look ugly
When you're alone
The Doors; People Are Strange
"Hey, Arschloch, weg da. Dassis mein Schlafplatz. Verpiss dich!"
He heard the voice but couldn't make sense out of the words. He felt something kick him in the thigh, the pain came an instant later, somehow softened by the daze surrounding him. He groaned and curled up tightly.
"Wennu nicht wegehst kann ich dir sang dass dus bereun wirst."
Somebody grabbed him by the back of his shirt and pushed him to one side. He hit the ground and sharper pain stabbed his head. He groaned again and opened his eyes, looking into the darkness surrounding him. First he incoherently wondered if he might have gone blind, then his eyes adjusted and he could make out a large bulk laying beside him. He tried to sit up and slipped, hitting the bulk. The guy yelled something, sending another painful stab through his head. Groaning, he crawled away from the nonsense-shouting guy until he could feel something behind his back. A wall. He leaned against it, pulling his knees up and cradling his head in his arms. The pain hadn't ceased, on the contrary it had gotten stronger, and it felt like his brain was going to explode. He moaned again, louder this time. Instantly, he heard the other guy moving and yelling again. Suddenly a fist grabbed him by the collar and yanked him upward. He screamed when the man slammed him into the wall. Yelling something, the guy punched him in the stomach. Letting out a cry, he tried to pull away, but he couldn't move in any direction;so he desperately slammed his palm into the face of the other guy. He was released and, clutching his stomach, he fell to the ground and curled up again, trying to ignore the shouts of the other guy that cut through his head. He wanted him to stop, just stop...suddenly, he was grabbed again and thrown. He stumbled and fell. A sharp pain cut through his palm and he winced. Then he felt something stab his arm and realized dazedly that he had fallen in a heap of glass shards. He scrambled to get up, cutting his arms, hands and fingers at least a dozen times. Swaying, he stood. The whole world was a blur of pain. He tried to walk and stumbled to the nearby wall. Supporting himself on it, he made his way away from the guy who was still grumbling somewhere behind him. After about ten meters his legs gave in and he crumpled to the ground, unconscious.
-###-
Light. There was light shining through the darkness behind his closed eyelids. It made his head hurt. He winced and tried to put his hand over his eyes, but halfway up, somebody grabbed his wrist.
"Hey, du bist wach! Na endlich, hat ja auch ne Weile gedauert!"
He couldn't understand what the voice was saying, but since covering his eyes didn't seem to be an option, he opened them. Through the bright light that was suddenly stabbing his eyes he could make out a face-shaped form leaning over him. He tried to speak but only a whispery croak escaped his throat, and he had to cough. That made his head hurt again.
"Na wie fühlste dich? Sollt ich vielleicht nicht fragen, was? Hahaha... Willst bisschen Kaffee? Na sicher willste einen. Ich hol ihn schnell."
The figure disappeared. He blinked and tried to make out his surroundings. It felt as if he was laying on a sofa or anything like that, with his head propped up on a pillow. After realizing that, he also noticed that the pillow smelled. Wrinkling his nose, he tried to push it away, but immediatly stopped again. It made the pain in his head unbearable. Looking around as far as he could without moving he saw that he seemed to be in some kind of living room. Across the room there was a big old moth-eaten armchair, and pillows were scattered all over the floor. An old carpet was spread out in front of the sofa. Some decades ago, the color might have been green, but it was no way to tell from the dust-gray color that it displayed now. The walls as far as he could see, were bare, only very dirty. Gray wet spots crawled up in the corners and there were brown footprints up until one meter over the floor. Listening, he could hear nothing he recognized. Then there was a clatter and the voice spoke again:
"Ich hab dir auch gleich zwei Aspirin mitgebracht."
He blinked into the direction of the voice. His eyes had adjusted to the brightness now, and so he was able to see the talker relatively clearly. He blinked as he took in the appereance. The person was probably female, but it was hard to tell. He/She was defenitely human, though. A long nose protuding from a haggard face with a sickly color, greasy gray hair hanging around the cheeks and a skinny body clothed in a big stained sweater and dirty jeans; bare, filthy feet. He listened to the person saying something else and decided that she was probably female. The voice was just a little too high-pitched to belong to a man.
Suddenly the woman slid an arm behind his back and pushed him up. He tried to go with the motion and sit up; and it worked, but not without sending another sharp jolt of pain through his head. Bending forward, he waited for the pain to subside.
"Hey, kotz mir hier nicht rein, hab den Teppich erst kürzlich auswaschen dürfen!"
He lifted his head and for the first time looked his host in the eyes. They were the only things that looked alive in her face, a lively shade of green mixed with brown and gray. Very intense eyes. He tried to say something, but only a croak escaped his throat. He cleared his throat and tried again:
"Where am I?"
The woman looked at him strangely.
"Was hast du gesagt?"
'Yeah, sure, if you can't understand her, she probably won't understand you, stupid', he thought. He pointed a finger at himself, then around the room, then looked questioning at the woman.
"Was...sprichst du kein Deutsch? Na scheiße...was sprichste denn? Ah..versteht er ja nicht...oh mann...What...äh...what speak you?"
"English", he said with a slight half-smile. The woman blinked, then said:
"Oh gut, das kann ich wenigstens bisschen. I..." and she pointed a finger at herself "...Bianca." Then she stabbed her finger at him and asked: "You?"
He opened his mouth to tell her his name, hesitated, and closed it again. His name. What was his name? Somehow..he didn't know. He couldn't remember. Shaking his head slightly in confusion, he tried to find that basic information in his mind, and for a second he felt it hovering just out of his reach. Concentrating harder, reaching out with his mental hands, he came a bit closer - and then hit a wall, a barrier in his mind that wasn't letting anything through. Blinking, he looked up at the woman and shook his head. "I...don't know."
"Oh mann, wie heisst du...is das so schwer zu verstehen? Na, irgendwie muss ich dich nennen...." Again she jabbed her finger at him. "You...Leo, okay?"
'Leh-oh?' he thought doubfully. 'My name's Leh-oh?'
"My name's Leh-oh?" he asked out loud. She waved her outstretched forefinger in front of his face and said something in her language, then added:
"I give you name. I give you Leo."
-###-
Several hours later he was sitting on the sofa and watching Bianca as she puttered around the room, shoving pillows from one corner to the other. After naming him Bianca had given him some coffee, something to eat and two little white pills, assumingly against the pain. After that, he had slept again, until five minutes ago he had woken up to see her fussing around with the pillows. He wondered what she was doing but until now, he hadn't had the energy to ask - the pain pills had made him kind of drowsy, even though he had slept after taking them.
"Hey Leo," Bianca said suddenly, turning."You is good?"
"What?" he asked, confused.
"Ah...You is *good*??! Your...Kopf! Mann!" she said, exasperated patting her head.
"Umm...my head's good?" He still didn't understand. Bianca made an unnerved sound in her throat, and again patted her head. Then he got it. "Oh, you mean, if my head still hurts?"
She looked at him, not understanding, and shrugged. He smiled at her.
"I'm fine, thanks." At her doubtful look he added "I'm good," and made the thumbs-up sign. That she obviously understood, because she smiled, too.
"Super!" she said. "Dann kannste ja helfen! Äh...you..help!"
And she dragged him up from the sofa into a standing position. Surprised and still weak, he stumbled forward and nearly fell. He caught himself and stood still, waiting for the dizzyness to subside.
"Ups, sorry." she said. "Gehts wieder? Ähh, ich mein...you good?"
He blinked, looking at her. His headache, which had had disappeard except for a slight pounding in the back of his head was flaring again, and the room was blurred before his eyes. He grabbed her shoulder for support and tried to straighten up. The room was whirling.
"I think I'm going to be sick." he croaked, and as soon as he had finished the sentence he did throw up. It wasn't much thanks to the fact that he hadn't eaten much, but even as his stomach was already empty he kept retching dryly. Then he felt himself being pushed backwards onto the sofa. He sat down heavily and looked up into the furious face of his hostess.
"Was soll die Scheiße, ich hab doch heut abend die Clique da, soll ich das jetzt wieder aufputzen oder was?" Then she obviously remembered that he couldn't understand her because she opened and closed her mouth several times and then burst out:
"Oh mann, fuck you!"
He closed his eyes briefly and tried to catch his breath, then said:
"Sorry. I...I think I got up to fast..." 'Not that I had a choice', he added in thought.
"Red nicht so einen Scheiß daher, du weißt genau ich versteh dich nicht. Das hier kannst aber selbst aufwischen, ich bin nicht dein Putzmädchen!"
He looked at her, but she turned and left the room. He thought it would be best to follow her and get the situation sorted out, so he got up again - slowly this time, first sitting up straight then standing carefully, waiting after each movement for the dizzyness to subside. Finally standing, he turned to the door, but at that moment, Bianca returned carrying a bucket and a rag. She gave them to him and pointed to the mess on the floor. He took the stuff and knelt down, which sent another jolt of pain through his head. Gritting his teeth, he barely kept himself from producing another mess and set himself to cleaning up the first one. As he dumped the rag into the soapy water, he got the first good look at his hands and noticed that they were cut in several places, just the same as his arms. He frowned, not remembering the event that had led to the cuts - but, thinking about it, it seemed he couldn't remember anything before the moment he had woken up on Bianca's sofa the first time. Pausing in his cleaning motions he tried to recall anything that had happened before that. Closing his eyes he probed his mind for any kind of memory, and shortly he saw the husky image of a bare, dim-lit room with an opening in the wall where the door should have been. Digging deeper, he thought he could see a light shimmer in the opening, and beyond that, a dark corridor and a person...a guard with a big gun slung over his shoulder. But as he tried to reach for more a black curtain swept down, concealing all images and pictures behind it. He attacked it, tried to force it to show him more, but there was only blackness. He opened his eyes and straightened up.
"Where do I come from?" he asked Bianca who was sitting on the sofa, watching him.
"Hm?" she asked. He sighed.
"Me...I" he said, pointing at himself. "Where from?"
She shook her head. "Heut Abend...when sun down you know." she said. He tried to figure out what she meant and after some thinking came to the conclusion that she either meant he came from the west - where the sun sets - or that he would know after sunset. Since both possibilities didn't seem to make much sense to him, he returned to his cleaning work, still trying to remember and wondering if he might have lost his mind.
-###-
'Well, I think I understand now', he thought later while Bianca introduced him to a guy in a shabby suit and a tie that was so old and dirty that you could barely decide which color it was.
It was nine pm and since eight, quite a crowd had gathered in the small room. About twenty people were talking and laughing and drinking - the latter to an extend that he was wondering if anybody would be standing come ten o'clock. Bianca had had her share too, and now she was babbling away happily, waving her forefinger frantically in front of the face of the guy. He had just come, and as he had walked through the door Bianca had pointed at him and said:
"Er kann Englisch...He speak English!"
The she had run to the guy and started talking, so that Leo - he had reluctantly started thinking of himself by that term since he lacked any ideas what his real name was - had had time enough to follow without setting off his headache again. Now as he was standing there and watching as the guy tried to interrupt the flow of words coming from Bianca's mouth, he thought of Bianca's strange statement earlier: 'When sun down you know.' He hoped he interpreted her correctly and was right in his conclusion that this guy was able to talk some English so he himself could get some answers to his questions, which had increased exponentially in number since he had woken up earlier that day.
"Hi", the guy said, interrupting Bianca in mid-sentence."I'm Franzl, if you can't pronounce that, just call me Frank."
He had a hard accent, something from the continent - not French, though - but apparently was able to talk English fluently. Clearing his throat, Leo answered: "Oh, hi...I'm...well, it's a little strange..."
"I know that Bianca named you Leo since you didn't tell her your real name...or at least, couldn't make her understand you. But you could tell me, since Leo isn't the most desirable name, is it, and I would understand."
"Uhm...that's just my problem...Frank", he said uncomfortably."You know, I don't think I could tell you since I don't seem to remember my name."
"What?" Frank looked at him unbelievingly. Then he shook his head and sighed. "Well, seems like this is going to take longer than I thought. Why don't we sit down?" And without waiting for a reply he turned and walked over to two big pillows which were laying on the floor near the door. Leo followed him. Bianca, who had been watching them intensely, said something and disappeared.
Seating himself across from Frank, Leo waited for the man to start the conversation. It was clearly visible that his statement had taken him by surprise. Leo had thought that Bianca had understood at least that much - but thinking about it, people normally didn't assume that somebody couldn't remember his name if the person didn't say so explicitely.
"So..." Frank started. "Maybe it would be best if you just told me what happened and where you come from. Who knows, mayby then your brain decides that releasing the information about your name isn't that a bad idea after all."
Leo sighed silently. "It's not that easy, you know. I have no idea where I come from or what my name is, the least how I came to be here. I can't remember anything of what happened before I woke up here in this room on this very sofa." And he pointed at the couch, where now several people were sitting and talking, each with a bottle of beer in their hands. "I don't even know how I came to get my hands cut up like that," he said, once again examining the mysterious injuries covering his hands and arms. Suddenly something in his mind twitched and the blurred image of a dark place appeared, a yard of some kind. Focusing, he tried to make out something, some clue what this could be, but instantly the black wall appeared, locking him out. He looked up at Frank. Frank, seeing Leo watching at him, raised an eyebrow.
"A real case of amnesia," Frank said. "Interesting. I never thought I'd really meet one. Always assuming," he said, cocking his head, "that you're telling the truth."
"Why shouldn't I?" He was getting slightly annoyed by the arrogant behaviour the other man displayed.
"Well...to get attention. Or you were really a bad boy in your past and just don't want to blemish your new life with it. Although, considering it," Frank said, giving Leo a thorough once-over, "you don't look like the bad-boy-type to me. More the guy in the background. You're to small for one of the guys who go around and beat people up."
"Well, I can't remember 'going around and beating people up', neither giving order to do so," Leo answered wryly.
"Not even blowing up buildings or people? You could have been a bomb expert."
Blinking, Leo considered. Blowing up things sounded...somewhat familiar.
'Yes, and maybe if I can get the target scanners to stay online for at least two weeks in a row...'
He paused. Where the hell had that thought come from? Dismissing it, he focused again on the conversation.
"Whose bomb expert?" he asked. Frank looked at him strangely.
"That was just a joke," he said. "Did you remember something?"
"No." he said hesitantly. "I thought I did but..."
"Well..." Frank said, throwing him a careful look."Let's find out if we can somehow jog you memory. Umm...you said you don't know how you came here?"
"No, not at all."
"Well that's something I can clarify. Bianca told me that she found you laying in front of her door, unconscious and covered in blood. She first thought you were dead but then discovered that you had only cut yourself - she said that you probably fell into some of the glass shards that are laying around everywhere out there. So she took you inside - she said she didn't want to make the cops notice her place by finding an unconscious and injured guy directly in front of her door - and washed off the blood. Then she just waited till you'd wake up on your own, which you did eventually - but it took you quite some time, she said. Well, you know the rest. She told me to ask you some questions, but since you apparently don't remember anything, most of them can't be answered anyway. She wanted to know who you are, where you come from, if you have any people looking for you - dangerous people or cops, you know - if you talk any language exept English and if you're in Germany legally."
"Oh, so I'm in Germany?" Leo, who had been listening intensly, asked.
"Yes," Frank answered, frowning. "You didn't know that?"
"How could I? Nobody told me. Well, I mean, I noticed that I'm not on Enterprise..." he trailed off. Again a picture had flashed in his mind, a picture of long, narrow hallways and doors that swished open if you touched a pad next to them. Concentrating, he tried to force his mind to show him more, but instantly hit the black wall again. Frustrated, he attacked it, trying to break through, and he thought he could feel it crumbling...
"Hey!"
He blinked and focused again. Frank was looking at him, frowning.
"What's the matter?" he asked. "Remember something?"
"Yes...no...not really." Leo said, confused. "I saw something...looked like the inside of a starship...or of one of the old submarines, those the Americans used in the Eugenian Wars..."
"What?!"
Startled by the urgent tone Leo lifted an eyebrow. "Yes?"
Frank blinked and frowned. "I don't know what you're talking about. Enterprise...starship...Eugenian Wars? What's this all about?"
"I don't know...I'd rather say what I saw was the inside of a starship, though, not one of the old U-Boats..."
"What U-Boats?"
"Well, the submarines that the Americans used to fight Khan's men."
"Who's Khan?"
"Khan? Khan Noonien Singh? You must know him! He started the Eugenian Wars!"
"I don't even know what the Eugenian Wars are."
Leo stared at him, unbelieving.
"What kind of trick is this? You can't tell me that you don't know about the Third World War!"
"The *Third* World War? As far as I know, there were only two, and they were both caused by the Germans. That Khan-guy doesn't sound like he's German."
"He's not German. He...but, why don't you know about this? That can't be!"
Leo stared at Frank. How could it be that this guy didn't know about the vast devastations caused by Khan and the Eugenian Wars? He obviously had had some kind of education since he could talk in a foreign language. And even if you had never seen a school from the inside, you couldn't avoid hearing about the Third World War.
"When do you say did this war occur?" Frank asked him.
"Well, it were several battles fought in places all over the world. But officially", Leo said, digging up dates and events from his memory, "it started when Khan and his men destroyed Washington DC in 1990."
"In 1990," Frank said thoughtfully. Leo nodded.
"Well," Frank said, "I think our problem is solved. I can't know about your Eugenian Wars if they started in 1990 since right now we have 1985."
"What?" Leo asked. He didn't think he had hear Frank right. If he had, that would be too much to take right now.
"Well, it's 1985. Your Eugenian Wars won't start for another five years."
"But...but no, you're wrong, it's 2151. If it were 1985 I wouldn't have been born yet, since I'm only..." He tried to remember his age but only blackness greeted him. It was getting very familiar by now. "...well at least not 166." he finished lamely. Frank gave him the strangest look.
"What, it's 2151? Oh yeah right, I forgot. You remembered the inside of a starship, and the 'old' U-Boats that won't be built for another five years, look similar. And what's Enterprise? A company that builds flying cars? Or rather computers that fit into you pants pocket?"
"Stop that." Leo said. "Please. I'm not making fun of you. I...I really thought that it's...but how could it be anytime else? I mean, that's impossible, that's...just plain impossible!"
He was totally at sea. Here he was in this strange room, couldn't remember his name, couldn't remember his age, was being hosted by a rather strange woman whom he couldn't talk to and now he was told by a rather strange guy that that what he *could* remember was wrong. And his headache was coming back.
"I got to get out of here." he said, getting up and heading for the door. He heard Frank letting out an exasperated sigh and fastened his pace. Trying not to pay too much attention to his surroundings (he just realized that they seemed really old-fashioned, if not ancient, and that scared him even more), he passed through what he thought to be the front door. In his head, his thoughts chased their own tails. Hundreds of questions popped up, dragging a tail of thousands of related ones behind them. Why couldn't he remember his name and age, but was easily able to recall the date of the beginning of a war nobody else knew about? Why was he so sure that it was the year 2151 if Frank had said it was 1985? Why could he even remember what year it was? Or had his mind just made that up? Why seemed everything so old-fashioned to him if he couldn't even remember what his former environment had looked like ? Why had he mentioned Enterprise although he couldn't relate any memory with this name? What was Enterprise?
He could feel the wall in his mind, could feel that behind it, the answers were being held captive, and he attacked it viciously with all the mind force he could muster.
I want to remember my name!
I want to remember my past!
I want to remember!
Tell me!
It was giving way, small parts were crumbling under the force of his demands. Pushing harder, he threw his full force against it.
Tell me!!! Tell me!!! TELL ME!!!
And finally the wall fell, releasing a flood of pictures and memories. Enterprise. Captain Archer. Trip. Hoshi. The armoury. His quarters.
Then, earlier things. Starfleet academy. High school. His father, yelling at him. His sister. His mother...
Letting out a cry, he staggered and fell to his knees. Holding his head in his hands, he opened up to the flood of memories drowning his consciounsness.
My name's Malcolm. Malcolm Reed. I am the Armoury Officer on a starship called Enterprise, in the rank of a Lieutenant. Enterprise is the first starship of its kind, NX-01, and we are the first humans to go that far out into space. I was born on the second September of 2121, as the oldest child of Mr and Mrs Stuart Reed. I have a sister called Madeline, and I haven't talked to my family in more than half a year. I hate my father. I never had any real friends, neither during my childhood in England nor during my time at the Starfleet Academy in San Francisco; until I came to Enterprise. Trip's my friend. Hoshi's my friend. Travis' my friend. I don't think Vulcans consider themself as anybody's friends, but I get along with T'Pol. I'm not sure about Captain Archer, I think I critisized him too often for him to be my friend but I like and greatly respect him. I once won an award for inventing a force field capable of withstanding ten minutes of massive phaser fire. I disappointed my father and his family by not joining the Royal Navy like they wanted me to. I couldn't because I couldn't stand the thought of being out on the sea and living on the water all my life. My mom could accept that, my father couldn't. Some months ago, I was captured in a shuttlepod with Commander Tucker and our oxygen was limited. I got really drunk although I was on duty. I threatened him, a superiour officer, with a phase pistol. I...
"Stop!" he cried out hoarsely. "Just bloody stop!"
Slowly the flood subsided. When his mind had somewhat cleared up again, he took his hands from his face and looked up. Somehow he had obviously gotten outside, because he was kneeling on the pavement in front of the apartment building's entrance.
"Malcolm has left the building," he murmured for no particular reason, and started to giggle. Being unable to make himself stop, his giggling developed into real laughter, until he was laying on the pavement, his arms wrapped around himself, and laughing so hard it hurt his stomach. After a few minutes, he slowly gained control over the hysterical outburst, and sat up, panting. Looking around, he took in his surroundings. He was sitting in some kind of back yard, surrounded by a couple of houses that looked really old and really shaggy. Scattered all over the ground were bags of garbage, mostly empty glass bottles, some whole but most of them broken.
'Lucky that I didn't fall into the splinters', he thought, but then remembered his cut up arms and hands. He had had his share of splinters, it seemed. Then he remembered Frank. And Bianca. Getting up fast, he turned to the door, half expecting one of the two to emerge from it. But no, the door didn't move and stayed in its slightly ajar position.
'I have to get away from here', he thought. There was no way he was going back upstairs. Now that he had his memories back, he wasn't as vulnerable anymore, and neither Bianca nor Frank had seemed to happy to have him there. He was aware that Bianca had probably saved his life, but he thought she nevertheless would have thrown him out sooner or later anyway. So before that could happen, he decided he'd rather pick his own time. He turned and started walking.
Germany 1985 Frank had said. Well he didn't speak any German, but if he had his dates right then most German people should speak at least some kind of English in 1985, it being the world's most important language. And maybe he was in northern Germany, then it shouldn't be too hard to get to England somehow.
'Good thing I didn't land in Malaysia,' he thought wryly. 'The next English speaking country would have been Australia, and considering that accent, you could argue about that.'
-###-
Some hours later he had to admit that Australia woud have had at least one advantage: less people, less houses, not so many small streets and alleys where you could get lost if you just went around three corners. He had always thought that he would never get into a situation where he would lose his bearings so completely that he didn't even know if he was walking in a circle, but then, he had never expected to be walking through a German city of 1985. It was dark, but that he had expected, since it was about ten pm. It was that every house looked the same. All were the same unpleasant grey street colour and had the same ugly backyards scattered with garbage. The small streets were all cobblestone, the bigger ones smooth pavement, and looked all very much alike. First of course he had tried to find his direction by the stars, but the smog in the air and the lights radiating from the city made it nearly impossible to even see the stars, let alone get any clue where you were going from them. He had also given up counting his lefts and rights hours ago because Germans let their streets not only part in lefts and rights but also in half-rights and threequarters-lefts. He had never been able to find a liking to how Americans built their cities - all square and boring - but right now he would give anything to be lost in an American city. At least then he would have been able to continue walking in one straight direction without hitting a wall after 500 metres. He had been to London a couple of times, and it had been complicated to find your way around but compared to this...
"You'd need a bloody tracker dog and a searchlight even to find your way to the supermarket!" he growled, scanning the grey walls for something he recognized. He had already tried to memorize the street names, but he had always gotten mixed up because he wasn't able to remember the right spelling. At one point he had decided to just trust his memories and follow the street signs. Half an hour later he had had to admit that it hadn't helped a bit, he just had gotten even more lost, and now, fifteen minutes after that, the desperate wish that Hoshi would be with him was getting very strong.
'She would be able to memorize the street names, and surely she speaks German anyway', he thought. 'The only thing my father never bugged me about were my bad marks in languages...probably because he considered them as girls' subjects. Mistake, daddy, mistake. Now I got lost in the past and can't even ask my way through to the next bloody time machine.' He sighed deeply and closed his eyes. Suddenly he felt very weary. He had been walking for hours and his headache which he had hoped had left him was coming back. He opened his eyes and walked around a corner into one of the back yards every house seemed to possess. This one even had a small shelter where the garbage cans were stored. Pushing some aside so the smell wouldn't be so bad he created a small protected spot where he first cleaned the ground of the most obvious dirt and then laid down and curled up.
by T'eyla
AN: Like I said, my first try at writing in English, so I apologize for any spelling, grammar or other mistakes I might have made (if you see something really bad please write and tell me, then I'll change it). Else, I just hope you enjoy it.
Warning: This might not agree with any of the episodes after 'Oasis' (that was the last one that aired here in Germany)
Disclaimer: Paramount and others own Star Trek, I don't make profit from this.
Chapter 1
People are strange
When you're a stranger
Faces look ugly
When you're alone
The Doors; People Are Strange
"Hey, Arschloch, weg da. Dassis mein Schlafplatz. Verpiss dich!"
He heard the voice but couldn't make sense out of the words. He felt something kick him in the thigh, the pain came an instant later, somehow softened by the daze surrounding him. He groaned and curled up tightly.
"Wennu nicht wegehst kann ich dir sang dass dus bereun wirst."
Somebody grabbed him by the back of his shirt and pushed him to one side. He hit the ground and sharper pain stabbed his head. He groaned again and opened his eyes, looking into the darkness surrounding him. First he incoherently wondered if he might have gone blind, then his eyes adjusted and he could make out a large bulk laying beside him. He tried to sit up and slipped, hitting the bulk. The guy yelled something, sending another painful stab through his head. Groaning, he crawled away from the nonsense-shouting guy until he could feel something behind his back. A wall. He leaned against it, pulling his knees up and cradling his head in his arms. The pain hadn't ceased, on the contrary it had gotten stronger, and it felt like his brain was going to explode. He moaned again, louder this time. Instantly, he heard the other guy moving and yelling again. Suddenly a fist grabbed him by the collar and yanked him upward. He screamed when the man slammed him into the wall. Yelling something, the guy punched him in the stomach. Letting out a cry, he tried to pull away, but he couldn't move in any direction;so he desperately slammed his palm into the face of the other guy. He was released and, clutching his stomach, he fell to the ground and curled up again, trying to ignore the shouts of the other guy that cut through his head. He wanted him to stop, just stop...suddenly, he was grabbed again and thrown. He stumbled and fell. A sharp pain cut through his palm and he winced. Then he felt something stab his arm and realized dazedly that he had fallen in a heap of glass shards. He scrambled to get up, cutting his arms, hands and fingers at least a dozen times. Swaying, he stood. The whole world was a blur of pain. He tried to walk and stumbled to the nearby wall. Supporting himself on it, he made his way away from the guy who was still grumbling somewhere behind him. After about ten meters his legs gave in and he crumpled to the ground, unconscious.
-###-
Light. There was light shining through the darkness behind his closed eyelids. It made his head hurt. He winced and tried to put his hand over his eyes, but halfway up, somebody grabbed his wrist.
"Hey, du bist wach! Na endlich, hat ja auch ne Weile gedauert!"
He couldn't understand what the voice was saying, but since covering his eyes didn't seem to be an option, he opened them. Through the bright light that was suddenly stabbing his eyes he could make out a face-shaped form leaning over him. He tried to speak but only a whispery croak escaped his throat, and he had to cough. That made his head hurt again.
"Na wie fühlste dich? Sollt ich vielleicht nicht fragen, was? Hahaha... Willst bisschen Kaffee? Na sicher willste einen. Ich hol ihn schnell."
The figure disappeared. He blinked and tried to make out his surroundings. It felt as if he was laying on a sofa or anything like that, with his head propped up on a pillow. After realizing that, he also noticed that the pillow smelled. Wrinkling his nose, he tried to push it away, but immediatly stopped again. It made the pain in his head unbearable. Looking around as far as he could without moving he saw that he seemed to be in some kind of living room. Across the room there was a big old moth-eaten armchair, and pillows were scattered all over the floor. An old carpet was spread out in front of the sofa. Some decades ago, the color might have been green, but it was no way to tell from the dust-gray color that it displayed now. The walls as far as he could see, were bare, only very dirty. Gray wet spots crawled up in the corners and there were brown footprints up until one meter over the floor. Listening, he could hear nothing he recognized. Then there was a clatter and the voice spoke again:
"Ich hab dir auch gleich zwei Aspirin mitgebracht."
He blinked into the direction of the voice. His eyes had adjusted to the brightness now, and so he was able to see the talker relatively clearly. He blinked as he took in the appereance. The person was probably female, but it was hard to tell. He/She was defenitely human, though. A long nose protuding from a haggard face with a sickly color, greasy gray hair hanging around the cheeks and a skinny body clothed in a big stained sweater and dirty jeans; bare, filthy feet. He listened to the person saying something else and decided that she was probably female. The voice was just a little too high-pitched to belong to a man.
Suddenly the woman slid an arm behind his back and pushed him up. He tried to go with the motion and sit up; and it worked, but not without sending another sharp jolt of pain through his head. Bending forward, he waited for the pain to subside.
"Hey, kotz mir hier nicht rein, hab den Teppich erst kürzlich auswaschen dürfen!"
He lifted his head and for the first time looked his host in the eyes. They were the only things that looked alive in her face, a lively shade of green mixed with brown and gray. Very intense eyes. He tried to say something, but only a croak escaped his throat. He cleared his throat and tried again:
"Where am I?"
The woman looked at him strangely.
"Was hast du gesagt?"
'Yeah, sure, if you can't understand her, she probably won't understand you, stupid', he thought. He pointed a finger at himself, then around the room, then looked questioning at the woman.
"Was...sprichst du kein Deutsch? Na scheiße...was sprichste denn? Ah..versteht er ja nicht...oh mann...What...äh...what speak you?"
"English", he said with a slight half-smile. The woman blinked, then said:
"Oh gut, das kann ich wenigstens bisschen. I..." and she pointed a finger at herself "...Bianca." Then she stabbed her finger at him and asked: "You?"
He opened his mouth to tell her his name, hesitated, and closed it again. His name. What was his name? Somehow..he didn't know. He couldn't remember. Shaking his head slightly in confusion, he tried to find that basic information in his mind, and for a second he felt it hovering just out of his reach. Concentrating harder, reaching out with his mental hands, he came a bit closer - and then hit a wall, a barrier in his mind that wasn't letting anything through. Blinking, he looked up at the woman and shook his head. "I...don't know."
"Oh mann, wie heisst du...is das so schwer zu verstehen? Na, irgendwie muss ich dich nennen...." Again she jabbed her finger at him. "You...Leo, okay?"
'Leh-oh?' he thought doubfully. 'My name's Leh-oh?'
"My name's Leh-oh?" he asked out loud. She waved her outstretched forefinger in front of his face and said something in her language, then added:
"I give you name. I give you Leo."
-###-
Several hours later he was sitting on the sofa and watching Bianca as she puttered around the room, shoving pillows from one corner to the other. After naming him Bianca had given him some coffee, something to eat and two little white pills, assumingly against the pain. After that, he had slept again, until five minutes ago he had woken up to see her fussing around with the pillows. He wondered what she was doing but until now, he hadn't had the energy to ask - the pain pills had made him kind of drowsy, even though he had slept after taking them.
"Hey Leo," Bianca said suddenly, turning."You is good?"
"What?" he asked, confused.
"Ah...You is *good*??! Your...Kopf! Mann!" she said, exasperated patting her head.
"Umm...my head's good?" He still didn't understand. Bianca made an unnerved sound in her throat, and again patted her head. Then he got it. "Oh, you mean, if my head still hurts?"
She looked at him, not understanding, and shrugged. He smiled at her.
"I'm fine, thanks." At her doubtful look he added "I'm good," and made the thumbs-up sign. That she obviously understood, because she smiled, too.
"Super!" she said. "Dann kannste ja helfen! Äh...you..help!"
And she dragged him up from the sofa into a standing position. Surprised and still weak, he stumbled forward and nearly fell. He caught himself and stood still, waiting for the dizzyness to subside.
"Ups, sorry." she said. "Gehts wieder? Ähh, ich mein...you good?"
He blinked, looking at her. His headache, which had had disappeard except for a slight pounding in the back of his head was flaring again, and the room was blurred before his eyes. He grabbed her shoulder for support and tried to straighten up. The room was whirling.
"I think I'm going to be sick." he croaked, and as soon as he had finished the sentence he did throw up. It wasn't much thanks to the fact that he hadn't eaten much, but even as his stomach was already empty he kept retching dryly. Then he felt himself being pushed backwards onto the sofa. He sat down heavily and looked up into the furious face of his hostess.
"Was soll die Scheiße, ich hab doch heut abend die Clique da, soll ich das jetzt wieder aufputzen oder was?" Then she obviously remembered that he couldn't understand her because she opened and closed her mouth several times and then burst out:
"Oh mann, fuck you!"
He closed his eyes briefly and tried to catch his breath, then said:
"Sorry. I...I think I got up to fast..." 'Not that I had a choice', he added in thought.
"Red nicht so einen Scheiß daher, du weißt genau ich versteh dich nicht. Das hier kannst aber selbst aufwischen, ich bin nicht dein Putzmädchen!"
He looked at her, but she turned and left the room. He thought it would be best to follow her and get the situation sorted out, so he got up again - slowly this time, first sitting up straight then standing carefully, waiting after each movement for the dizzyness to subside. Finally standing, he turned to the door, but at that moment, Bianca returned carrying a bucket and a rag. She gave them to him and pointed to the mess on the floor. He took the stuff and knelt down, which sent another jolt of pain through his head. Gritting his teeth, he barely kept himself from producing another mess and set himself to cleaning up the first one. As he dumped the rag into the soapy water, he got the first good look at his hands and noticed that they were cut in several places, just the same as his arms. He frowned, not remembering the event that had led to the cuts - but, thinking about it, it seemed he couldn't remember anything before the moment he had woken up on Bianca's sofa the first time. Pausing in his cleaning motions he tried to recall anything that had happened before that. Closing his eyes he probed his mind for any kind of memory, and shortly he saw the husky image of a bare, dim-lit room with an opening in the wall where the door should have been. Digging deeper, he thought he could see a light shimmer in the opening, and beyond that, a dark corridor and a person...a guard with a big gun slung over his shoulder. But as he tried to reach for more a black curtain swept down, concealing all images and pictures behind it. He attacked it, tried to force it to show him more, but there was only blackness. He opened his eyes and straightened up.
"Where do I come from?" he asked Bianca who was sitting on the sofa, watching him.
"Hm?" she asked. He sighed.
"Me...I" he said, pointing at himself. "Where from?"
She shook her head. "Heut Abend...when sun down you know." she said. He tried to figure out what she meant and after some thinking came to the conclusion that she either meant he came from the west - where the sun sets - or that he would know after sunset. Since both possibilities didn't seem to make much sense to him, he returned to his cleaning work, still trying to remember and wondering if he might have lost his mind.
-###-
'Well, I think I understand now', he thought later while Bianca introduced him to a guy in a shabby suit and a tie that was so old and dirty that you could barely decide which color it was.
It was nine pm and since eight, quite a crowd had gathered in the small room. About twenty people were talking and laughing and drinking - the latter to an extend that he was wondering if anybody would be standing come ten o'clock. Bianca had had her share too, and now she was babbling away happily, waving her forefinger frantically in front of the face of the guy. He had just come, and as he had walked through the door Bianca had pointed at him and said:
"Er kann Englisch...He speak English!"
The she had run to the guy and started talking, so that Leo - he had reluctantly started thinking of himself by that term since he lacked any ideas what his real name was - had had time enough to follow without setting off his headache again. Now as he was standing there and watching as the guy tried to interrupt the flow of words coming from Bianca's mouth, he thought of Bianca's strange statement earlier: 'When sun down you know.' He hoped he interpreted her correctly and was right in his conclusion that this guy was able to talk some English so he himself could get some answers to his questions, which had increased exponentially in number since he had woken up earlier that day.
"Hi", the guy said, interrupting Bianca in mid-sentence."I'm Franzl, if you can't pronounce that, just call me Frank."
He had a hard accent, something from the continent - not French, though - but apparently was able to talk English fluently. Clearing his throat, Leo answered: "Oh, hi...I'm...well, it's a little strange..."
"I know that Bianca named you Leo since you didn't tell her your real name...or at least, couldn't make her understand you. But you could tell me, since Leo isn't the most desirable name, is it, and I would understand."
"Uhm...that's just my problem...Frank", he said uncomfortably."You know, I don't think I could tell you since I don't seem to remember my name."
"What?" Frank looked at him unbelievingly. Then he shook his head and sighed. "Well, seems like this is going to take longer than I thought. Why don't we sit down?" And without waiting for a reply he turned and walked over to two big pillows which were laying on the floor near the door. Leo followed him. Bianca, who had been watching them intensely, said something and disappeared.
Seating himself across from Frank, Leo waited for the man to start the conversation. It was clearly visible that his statement had taken him by surprise. Leo had thought that Bianca had understood at least that much - but thinking about it, people normally didn't assume that somebody couldn't remember his name if the person didn't say so explicitely.
"So..." Frank started. "Maybe it would be best if you just told me what happened and where you come from. Who knows, mayby then your brain decides that releasing the information about your name isn't that a bad idea after all."
Leo sighed silently. "It's not that easy, you know. I have no idea where I come from or what my name is, the least how I came to be here. I can't remember anything of what happened before I woke up here in this room on this very sofa." And he pointed at the couch, where now several people were sitting and talking, each with a bottle of beer in their hands. "I don't even know how I came to get my hands cut up like that," he said, once again examining the mysterious injuries covering his hands and arms. Suddenly something in his mind twitched and the blurred image of a dark place appeared, a yard of some kind. Focusing, he tried to make out something, some clue what this could be, but instantly the black wall appeared, locking him out. He looked up at Frank. Frank, seeing Leo watching at him, raised an eyebrow.
"A real case of amnesia," Frank said. "Interesting. I never thought I'd really meet one. Always assuming," he said, cocking his head, "that you're telling the truth."
"Why shouldn't I?" He was getting slightly annoyed by the arrogant behaviour the other man displayed.
"Well...to get attention. Or you were really a bad boy in your past and just don't want to blemish your new life with it. Although, considering it," Frank said, giving Leo a thorough once-over, "you don't look like the bad-boy-type to me. More the guy in the background. You're to small for one of the guys who go around and beat people up."
"Well, I can't remember 'going around and beating people up', neither giving order to do so," Leo answered wryly.
"Not even blowing up buildings or people? You could have been a bomb expert."
Blinking, Leo considered. Blowing up things sounded...somewhat familiar.
'Yes, and maybe if I can get the target scanners to stay online for at least two weeks in a row...'
He paused. Where the hell had that thought come from? Dismissing it, he focused again on the conversation.
"Whose bomb expert?" he asked. Frank looked at him strangely.
"That was just a joke," he said. "Did you remember something?"
"No." he said hesitantly. "I thought I did but..."
"Well..." Frank said, throwing him a careful look."Let's find out if we can somehow jog you memory. Umm...you said you don't know how you came here?"
"No, not at all."
"Well that's something I can clarify. Bianca told me that she found you laying in front of her door, unconscious and covered in blood. She first thought you were dead but then discovered that you had only cut yourself - she said that you probably fell into some of the glass shards that are laying around everywhere out there. So she took you inside - she said she didn't want to make the cops notice her place by finding an unconscious and injured guy directly in front of her door - and washed off the blood. Then she just waited till you'd wake up on your own, which you did eventually - but it took you quite some time, she said. Well, you know the rest. She told me to ask you some questions, but since you apparently don't remember anything, most of them can't be answered anyway. She wanted to know who you are, where you come from, if you have any people looking for you - dangerous people or cops, you know - if you talk any language exept English and if you're in Germany legally."
"Oh, so I'm in Germany?" Leo, who had been listening intensly, asked.
"Yes," Frank answered, frowning. "You didn't know that?"
"How could I? Nobody told me. Well, I mean, I noticed that I'm not on Enterprise..." he trailed off. Again a picture had flashed in his mind, a picture of long, narrow hallways and doors that swished open if you touched a pad next to them. Concentrating, he tried to force his mind to show him more, but instantly hit the black wall again. Frustrated, he attacked it, trying to break through, and he thought he could feel it crumbling...
"Hey!"
He blinked and focused again. Frank was looking at him, frowning.
"What's the matter?" he asked. "Remember something?"
"Yes...no...not really." Leo said, confused. "I saw something...looked like the inside of a starship...or of one of the old submarines, those the Americans used in the Eugenian Wars..."
"What?!"
Startled by the urgent tone Leo lifted an eyebrow. "Yes?"
Frank blinked and frowned. "I don't know what you're talking about. Enterprise...starship...Eugenian Wars? What's this all about?"
"I don't know...I'd rather say what I saw was the inside of a starship, though, not one of the old U-Boats..."
"What U-Boats?"
"Well, the submarines that the Americans used to fight Khan's men."
"Who's Khan?"
"Khan? Khan Noonien Singh? You must know him! He started the Eugenian Wars!"
"I don't even know what the Eugenian Wars are."
Leo stared at him, unbelieving.
"What kind of trick is this? You can't tell me that you don't know about the Third World War!"
"The *Third* World War? As far as I know, there were only two, and they were both caused by the Germans. That Khan-guy doesn't sound like he's German."
"He's not German. He...but, why don't you know about this? That can't be!"
Leo stared at Frank. How could it be that this guy didn't know about the vast devastations caused by Khan and the Eugenian Wars? He obviously had had some kind of education since he could talk in a foreign language. And even if you had never seen a school from the inside, you couldn't avoid hearing about the Third World War.
"When do you say did this war occur?" Frank asked him.
"Well, it were several battles fought in places all over the world. But officially", Leo said, digging up dates and events from his memory, "it started when Khan and his men destroyed Washington DC in 1990."
"In 1990," Frank said thoughtfully. Leo nodded.
"Well," Frank said, "I think our problem is solved. I can't know about your Eugenian Wars if they started in 1990 since right now we have 1985."
"What?" Leo asked. He didn't think he had hear Frank right. If he had, that would be too much to take right now.
"Well, it's 1985. Your Eugenian Wars won't start for another five years."
"But...but no, you're wrong, it's 2151. If it were 1985 I wouldn't have been born yet, since I'm only..." He tried to remember his age but only blackness greeted him. It was getting very familiar by now. "...well at least not 166." he finished lamely. Frank gave him the strangest look.
"What, it's 2151? Oh yeah right, I forgot. You remembered the inside of a starship, and the 'old' U-Boats that won't be built for another five years, look similar. And what's Enterprise? A company that builds flying cars? Or rather computers that fit into you pants pocket?"
"Stop that." Leo said. "Please. I'm not making fun of you. I...I really thought that it's...but how could it be anytime else? I mean, that's impossible, that's...just plain impossible!"
He was totally at sea. Here he was in this strange room, couldn't remember his name, couldn't remember his age, was being hosted by a rather strange woman whom he couldn't talk to and now he was told by a rather strange guy that that what he *could* remember was wrong. And his headache was coming back.
"I got to get out of here." he said, getting up and heading for the door. He heard Frank letting out an exasperated sigh and fastened his pace. Trying not to pay too much attention to his surroundings (he just realized that they seemed really old-fashioned, if not ancient, and that scared him even more), he passed through what he thought to be the front door. In his head, his thoughts chased their own tails. Hundreds of questions popped up, dragging a tail of thousands of related ones behind them. Why couldn't he remember his name and age, but was easily able to recall the date of the beginning of a war nobody else knew about? Why was he so sure that it was the year 2151 if Frank had said it was 1985? Why could he even remember what year it was? Or had his mind just made that up? Why seemed everything so old-fashioned to him if he couldn't even remember what his former environment had looked like ? Why had he mentioned Enterprise although he couldn't relate any memory with this name? What was Enterprise?
He could feel the wall in his mind, could feel that behind it, the answers were being held captive, and he attacked it viciously with all the mind force he could muster.
I want to remember my name!
I want to remember my past!
I want to remember!
Tell me!
It was giving way, small parts were crumbling under the force of his demands. Pushing harder, he threw his full force against it.
Tell me!!! Tell me!!! TELL ME!!!
And finally the wall fell, releasing a flood of pictures and memories. Enterprise. Captain Archer. Trip. Hoshi. The armoury. His quarters.
Then, earlier things. Starfleet academy. High school. His father, yelling at him. His sister. His mother...
Letting out a cry, he staggered and fell to his knees. Holding his head in his hands, he opened up to the flood of memories drowning his consciounsness.
My name's Malcolm. Malcolm Reed. I am the Armoury Officer on a starship called Enterprise, in the rank of a Lieutenant. Enterprise is the first starship of its kind, NX-01, and we are the first humans to go that far out into space. I was born on the second September of 2121, as the oldest child of Mr and Mrs Stuart Reed. I have a sister called Madeline, and I haven't talked to my family in more than half a year. I hate my father. I never had any real friends, neither during my childhood in England nor during my time at the Starfleet Academy in San Francisco; until I came to Enterprise. Trip's my friend. Hoshi's my friend. Travis' my friend. I don't think Vulcans consider themself as anybody's friends, but I get along with T'Pol. I'm not sure about Captain Archer, I think I critisized him too often for him to be my friend but I like and greatly respect him. I once won an award for inventing a force field capable of withstanding ten minutes of massive phaser fire. I disappointed my father and his family by not joining the Royal Navy like they wanted me to. I couldn't because I couldn't stand the thought of being out on the sea and living on the water all my life. My mom could accept that, my father couldn't. Some months ago, I was captured in a shuttlepod with Commander Tucker and our oxygen was limited. I got really drunk although I was on duty. I threatened him, a superiour officer, with a phase pistol. I...
"Stop!" he cried out hoarsely. "Just bloody stop!"
Slowly the flood subsided. When his mind had somewhat cleared up again, he took his hands from his face and looked up. Somehow he had obviously gotten outside, because he was kneeling on the pavement in front of the apartment building's entrance.
"Malcolm has left the building," he murmured for no particular reason, and started to giggle. Being unable to make himself stop, his giggling developed into real laughter, until he was laying on the pavement, his arms wrapped around himself, and laughing so hard it hurt his stomach. After a few minutes, he slowly gained control over the hysterical outburst, and sat up, panting. Looking around, he took in his surroundings. He was sitting in some kind of back yard, surrounded by a couple of houses that looked really old and really shaggy. Scattered all over the ground were bags of garbage, mostly empty glass bottles, some whole but most of them broken.
'Lucky that I didn't fall into the splinters', he thought, but then remembered his cut up arms and hands. He had had his share of splinters, it seemed. Then he remembered Frank. And Bianca. Getting up fast, he turned to the door, half expecting one of the two to emerge from it. But no, the door didn't move and stayed in its slightly ajar position.
'I have to get away from here', he thought. There was no way he was going back upstairs. Now that he had his memories back, he wasn't as vulnerable anymore, and neither Bianca nor Frank had seemed to happy to have him there. He was aware that Bianca had probably saved his life, but he thought she nevertheless would have thrown him out sooner or later anyway. So before that could happen, he decided he'd rather pick his own time. He turned and started walking.
Germany 1985 Frank had said. Well he didn't speak any German, but if he had his dates right then most German people should speak at least some kind of English in 1985, it being the world's most important language. And maybe he was in northern Germany, then it shouldn't be too hard to get to England somehow.
'Good thing I didn't land in Malaysia,' he thought wryly. 'The next English speaking country would have been Australia, and considering that accent, you could argue about that.'
-###-
Some hours later he had to admit that Australia woud have had at least one advantage: less people, less houses, not so many small streets and alleys where you could get lost if you just went around three corners. He had always thought that he would never get into a situation where he would lose his bearings so completely that he didn't even know if he was walking in a circle, but then, he had never expected to be walking through a German city of 1985. It was dark, but that he had expected, since it was about ten pm. It was that every house looked the same. All were the same unpleasant grey street colour and had the same ugly backyards scattered with garbage. The small streets were all cobblestone, the bigger ones smooth pavement, and looked all very much alike. First of course he had tried to find his direction by the stars, but the smog in the air and the lights radiating from the city made it nearly impossible to even see the stars, let alone get any clue where you were going from them. He had also given up counting his lefts and rights hours ago because Germans let their streets not only part in lefts and rights but also in half-rights and threequarters-lefts. He had never been able to find a liking to how Americans built their cities - all square and boring - but right now he would give anything to be lost in an American city. At least then he would have been able to continue walking in one straight direction without hitting a wall after 500 metres. He had been to London a couple of times, and it had been complicated to find your way around but compared to this...
"You'd need a bloody tracker dog and a searchlight even to find your way to the supermarket!" he growled, scanning the grey walls for something he recognized. He had already tried to memorize the street names, but he had always gotten mixed up because he wasn't able to remember the right spelling. At one point he had decided to just trust his memories and follow the street signs. Half an hour later he had had to admit that it hadn't helped a bit, he just had gotten even more lost, and now, fifteen minutes after that, the desperate wish that Hoshi would be with him was getting very strong.
'She would be able to memorize the street names, and surely she speaks German anyway', he thought. 'The only thing my father never bugged me about were my bad marks in languages...probably because he considered them as girls' subjects. Mistake, daddy, mistake. Now I got lost in the past and can't even ask my way through to the next bloody time machine.' He sighed deeply and closed his eyes. Suddenly he felt very weary. He had been walking for hours and his headache which he had hoped had left him was coming back. He opened his eyes and walked around a corner into one of the back yards every house seemed to possess. This one even had a small shelter where the garbage cans were stored. Pushing some aside so the smell wouldn't be so bad he created a small protected spot where he first cleaned the ground of the most obvious dirt and then laid down and curled up.