Sickbay, USS Enterprise NCC-1701

Saturday 22nd January 1994

Other than some phantom pain signals intermittently firing his nerves that Dr McCoy had explained was a holdover from the extensive use of the agoniser, David was recovering well and had been officially discharged from sickbay. Apparently, he'd had a heart attack, triggered by Karg's extensive use of the agoniser. McCoy had also found and fixed a minor defect in the wall of his heart as well as clearing out a couple of arteries that, courtesy of too many years of eating junk food in the hospital canteen, were showing signs of blocking. That had been shocking news; a defect of that kind would eventually have been fatal but just like that it was fixed. As for the blockages, it had been with some embarrassment that he'd listened to the lecture from McCoy about improving his diet.

McCoy wanted to keep him on board Enterprise for a while to monitor his progress and Captain Kirk had been a little too quick to agree to that, arranging for him to be allocated guest quarters for the foreseeable future.

Learning that he was on a starship from the future had been another massive shock. Unlike his sister and her friend, David was not a sci-fi fan. He'd never had the time for anything like that, having devoted all his energy to his medical studies and getting ahead in his chosen field. When the girls had settled down to watch their favourite show, he'd retreated to his room to catch up on the latest medical journals and enjoy an hour or so of peace and quiet. He found himself regretting that now; maybe if he'd joined them sometimes, his current situation might make a little more sense.

David was coming to realise that he and Sarah might not be allowed to return home permanently. He understood that, even if he didn't like it – and he really didn't like it. The idea of going into space, into the future, did not appeal to him in the slightest. His life was here, his work, everything that mattered to him was here. But as Captain Kirk had explained, they had knowledge of the future that could contaminate the timeline – although how it could be contaminated any more than it already was, thanks to the Klingons, was beyond him.

Following McCoy across sickbay and into his office, David looked around him, taking in the brightly lit, sterile environment - the faint smell of antiseptic, the occasional hiss or bleep from medical machinery… it was all too familiar to him and at the same time, it was not. The advanced technology here was way beyond anything he could ever have imagined or dreamed of. Even the beds… bio-beds as he'd heard McCoy call them… were computerised. And as for some of the tools available to McCoy - things like the tricorder and the dermal regenerator… He was almost envious of McCoy but at the same time, he was excited at the chance to improve his knowledge. How had medical technology gone so far in just three hundred years? That was a stupid question, he admitted. Fifty years ago, there'd been no transplants. One hundred years ago there'd been no antibiotics. Three hundred years ago they'd thought illness could be caused by 'ill humours' and treated it by bleeding the patient. Even so, there was so much for him to learn that it was almost overwhelming. Yet learn he must if he were to continue practicing medicine.

As for his relationship with Sarah, he was conflicted. When Chrissie had arrived with the children and her friend, he had not hesitated to take them in. It had been a decision that had turned his ordered life upside down, even if he did not regret it. Focused exclusively on his work, he had not realised how lonely he was until their arrival. He had known Sarah only through conversations with his sister who had regularly spoken of her American friend, and had met her only once, at Chrissie's wedding to Diego. He'd liked her then, but she'd already been involved with Pete, whom she'd eventually married. Sarah was a widow now, but it had been very clear to him that she was still grieving for her dead husband and he had kept his growing interest in her to himself.

But then he'd woken up in Enterprise's sickbay to find Sarah holding his hand. Her relieved smile when she'd realised that he was awake, coupled with the look in her eyes, had led him to hope that she was finally ready to love again. Her presence… and that hand in his… had given him comfort and hope through that difficult, confusing time as he'd worked his way through the explanations and come to terms with everything that had happened. With Sarah at his side, the future did not seem quite so daunting.

As the days passed, he began to fall more and more in love with her. The sweet excitement of their first kiss had quickly turned into a passionate night together and he'd known then that he wanted to marry her.

David's main concern now was Chrissie. The elder by twelve years, David was admittedly overprotective of his little sister, considering it his job to protect her after the sudden, needless loss of their parents in a car accident almost exactly ten years ago. A surge of anger went through him at the memory. They'd been in a taxi, returning home from a New Year's Eve party just after midnight. The other car had come out of nowhere, its driver too drunk to control the vehicle, smashing into them and killing them instantly.

As usual, Chrissie was giving him plenty to worry about. Her taste in men was atrocious! First that Spaniard and now, if Sarah was to be believed, a Klingon… and not just any Klingon but one of the most senior ones on the planet! He had not approved of her marriage to Diego, accepting it only because he seemed to make Chrissie happy. As for the Klingon… Chrissie been subdued and quiet since her return to England, mourning her husband's loss. If this Krang treated her right and made her smile again, then that was good enough for him.

Sarah however was not so accepting and her anger at Chrissie had led to their first row. Chrissie and her children were the only family he had and however much he had fallen in love with Sarah, nobody got to call his little sister a collaborator and a whore!

A random nerve fired and he flinched as pain signals shot down his spine. Giving him a sympathetic look, McCoy got up and moved across his office, opening a cupboard and retrieving a bottle and two glasses, which he brought across to the desk. "Finest Kentucky bourbon," he said cheerfully. Opening the bottle, he poured a generous portion and handed it to David before pouring one for himself.

David picked up the glass and studied the golden liquid with a mixture of interest and distrust. "You're prescribing whiskey?"

The other doctor grinned. "It'll calm the nerves down. I could give you something a bit more official, but trust me, this'll taste better."

David considered the glass doubtfully. Not a big fan of American whiskey, he'd always preferred a good quality single malt. "Well, here goes… Slainte!"

The whiskey slid down his throat far more smoothly than he'd expected, its flavour richer and more aromatic than he had expected, even if it did not have the dark, peaty tones he was accustomed to… Tallisker, Jura, Islay… those were his favourites. "Not bad," he acknowledged, holding out the glass for a refill.

Typically, as often happened when two experts in the same field were put together in a social situation, the talk turned to their work. Born three hundred years apart, the two men had completely different skillsets and experiences. Where McCoy… or Leonard, as he'd invited David to call him after their second glass of bourbon… described himself as an old-fashioned country doctor, David was a specialist trauma surgeon. Even so, they had a lot in common. The gap in their knowledge was not as extensive as he had feared, at least where humans were concerned. His main deficiency there was lack of training in the advanced technology that Leonard McCoy took for granted and that was not going to be difficult to remedy. But to requalify and be allowed to practice medicine, he was going to have to spend years learning about Vulcans, Andorians, and Tellarites to name just a few of the many alien races out there. Apparently, not all sentient species were descended from primates, nor were all of them humanoid.

Oddly, or maybe not since apparently the Federation and the Klingon Empire were lifelong enemies, it was he, not McCoy who had the extensive knowledge of Klingon physiology. David had spent a significant amount of time in the last two years treating Klingon patients, operating on them and healing their injuries.

His willingness to treat the Klingons had been controversial to say the least and he had more than once been called a collaborator and even threatened. As he'd told Karg, he took his oath seriously and that meant treating anyone who needed it, even a Klingon.

"I'm surprised they let you treat them," Leonard said, knocking back his fourth whiskey and glaring in annoyance at the now empty bottle. "They have some horrendous ideas about medicine."

"I can't argue there," David said. "Some of their ideas are repugnant. If a patient is considered beyond help or cannot be returned to full physical fitness, I'm expected to let them die."

McCoy shuddered. "Animals! No doubt Spock would say that it's only logical in a warrior culture, but no… just… no. It's barbaric! How did you end up working for them anyway?"

"I don't work for them," David said defensively. "I'm a surgeon. I treat whoever ends up on my operating table. That's my job."

That was a sentiment the other doctor understood. Waving a hand dismissively, he let it be known that no offense had been intended. "Sorry, carry on…"

"The first time was a few days after the invasion began," David said. "There was a gas explosion just across the road from the hospital. An underground pipe had been damaged in the initial fighting and there were quite a few injuries. They pretty much stormed into A&E and demanded that I treat them."

He'd been absolutely terrified. These Klingons were… well… alien, their internal systems nothing he had ever seen before. What would happen if he failed and they died? He had little choice, however. He was a doctor and they were in need of medical assistance and so, he'd got on with it and treated them. He must have done something right because they had survived. One of their own medics had turned up shortly afterwards and after examining his work, had given him a grudging nod of approval. "After that," he finished, "whenever there were injuries to be treated, the Klingons started coming to me for assistance."

A nerve fired again, not so aggressively this time and cushioned by the pleasant warmth of the alcohol in his system, the resulting pain was barely noticeable. Obviously, David thought appreciatively, the whiskey had done its job.

With the conversation focussing on the Klingons, his mind turned to the agoniser and the way it worked. "I wonder," he mused. "Bearing in mind the current use of the TENS system and the way the agoniser interacts with the nervous system, do you think an adapted version could have applications for the treatment of nerve diseases?"

McCoy nodded. "Well, yes… Good question. There were some major breakthroughs in that area in the late twentieth century. It couldn't have been much after your time, come to think of it." Leaning across his fellow doctor, he pulled up an article on the infirmary computer. "Here, take a look at this."

David read the article carefully. "The use of pain stimuli in the treatment of motor neurone disease. By Dr D.W. Kendal. First published in the British Medical Journal, 18th July 1998." He frowned. There could possibly be another doctor with the same surname and initials, but it was unlikely. Scanning to the end of the article, he studied the author's biography. Dr David William Kendal, born 1954… graduated with honours from King's college, London in 1977… leading trauma surgeon…

He shook his head, for the first time truly beginning to understand the paradox of time travel. There was no doubt at all that he had written this article. Except… he hadn't…. yet!

A big thank you to RobertBruceScott and JDC0 for your reviews and your support.

To anyone reading, I thoroughly recommend you go take a look at JDC's story about Starbase 1 and the Dragons of Berengaria. It's beautifully written and very original.

Thank you also to Arc-Shipping99 for favouriting the story.