Bones had been in surgery when Harriet's unresponsive body had seemingly fallen out of the transporter room's ceiling a second time. Therefore, he hadn't been there when they'd placed her in a biobed or he'd have warned them against it. Something about Hari simply didn't get along well with technology and as curious as he was to find out why, now really wasn't the time.

The biobed was apparently starting to malfunction anyway, which… they really couldn't afford that right now.

"Shut it off," he instructed the attending tech. "I'll do manual readings for now."

"As you say, doctor."

It was just Hari's luck they'd brought her to him and not some other doctor. Who knew what kind of care she'd have received if they were too busy routing her from biobed to biobed… who knew what kind of care she'd receive if they realized it was her and not the beds …

He sighed and briefly considered her: of all the times to have to play 'guess the species'…

'Well, she said she was born to perfectly normal parents right?' He narrowed his eyes. 'But did she ever explicitly say they were human?' At least it was him doing the investigating, he supposed.

He pulled out his tricorder and began scanning. After a time, he shut his eyes, took a deep breath, opened his eyes, reset his tricorder, then scanned again. And again. Just to be sure the amount and rate of cellular regeneration he was observing was actually happening. It was almost as if… was half of Harriet dead? And regenerating?

'What the –' Bones closed his eyes again and dragged a hand down his face.

'Right. Fine. What to do? At this rate, what, she'll be perfectly fine in, what, fifteen minutes? Half an hour?' He'd go make up some ridiculous chart for her, bury it in jargon and double speak, and pretend nothing out of the ordinary was happening.

Damn.

This explained so much about why she kept avoiding the topic of Starfleet and why she wouldn't join properly. HELL, it explained why she refused checkups and medical care in general.

… Did she even need medical care?

As he created the false chart, he idly wondered if she'd actually been alive for the Eugenics Wars. No, he wasn't going to go there.

Ten minutes later he was wondering if Spock knew she was probably immortal?

On which freakin' Earth had they discovered the secret of effective immortality?!

No, he wasn't going to go there; he was a professional, damnit, and her friend.

He was going to go back and check on her before someone else had any bright ideas about follow up scans.

"What the hell Hari," he muttered at her prone form, placing the chart on the bed.

"Bones?" came a groggy reply.

"Hari? You okay? How do you feel?" A groan was her only response. "What do you need that'll help?" he pushed.

Like hell if he knew what to do in this situation.

She moved her head slightly towards him with obvious difficulty.

"Coffee?" she grated out.

Was she serious?

"I'll get you some water," he decided. With all the cellular activity seemingly going on within her body, basic, universal hydrating fluids were probably a safe bet.

He WAS NOT going to freak out… or rush to find that carafe of calming draught he knew she had stashed somewhere.

He could wait.


When Harriet came to properly, it was to the feel of another's hand on her own.

'Huh?'

"Harriet?" came a vaguely familiar feminine voice. "O, Hari, are you with us now?"

'… with us? With who?' Hadn't she gone to sleep on Eärendil's ship?

… or had she died on it …?

… or was she already dead when the ship found her?

She scrunched up her face tiredly and went to rub at her eyes with her other hand before the feel of the IV drip in her arm halted her.

… She felt oddly well rested, considering she'd just been in the realm of Death for an unspecified amount of time.

… wait, this person called her by name…

She opened her eyes and was met with bright hospital light. She hissed in surprise and immediately narrowed her eyes to slits.

"Hari dear, do you need anything? Water?"

Harriet used the time her eyes were adjusting to the light to process the voice she was hearing. "Amanda?"

"Yes? I'm here."

"Where?" she asked slowly. Her throat felt as if it hadn't been used in sometime… or was that just a side effect of having all the air sucked out of you after being jettisoned into space?

A beat passed before Amanda answered in a quiet voice: "You're in medical. On the Enterprise." She paused. "They thought you died."

She blinked slowly. Well, didn't that sound familiar.

Wait, she'd been brought back? To the same time and place? She blinked again.

"How long…?" she got out softly, haltingly.

"You've been here for roughly half an hour. Dr. McCoy requested that someone stay with you, and I volunteered."

Harriet blinked at her. 'But how did I get to medical?' and why had Bones assigned her a chaperone?

"Harriet, dear, he said it was a repeat of what happened before. Except," she hesitated, "except I'm certain I'm not being told something important. We're told the ship is no longer in danger, but there was a moment there when I was certain…" she trailed off.

Amanda's other hand reached for the one already holding Harriet's and gripped it tightly. For a while, they sat in tense silence. Amanda was waiting for something, asking for something, and for the life of her, she simply couldn't concentrate enough to figure out what it was.

"… the last thing I remember is open space." Amanda took in a sharp breath but otherwise held her silence.

When it became clear Harriet wasn't going to continue, Amanda firmly asked the right question: "then how did you get back onboard the ship?"

"I don't know?" she hazarded. Amanda squeezed her hand just a bit tighter.

"Try again dear."

'But it's the truth!'

Harriet opened her eyes a bit more and stared at the ceiling. It was so different than the all encompassing dark of space…

"Hari dear, I don't know what you're not sharing, or why you're so reluctant to share, but you can't keep it all bottled up inside." She paused, searching Hari's face for something, then smiled sadly. "I'm here for you Hari. I understand what it's like to – well, I'm here for you. Do you need anything?"

Harriet sighed. "Is there any coffee?"

Amanda's lips quirked slightly. "No. Dr. McCoy says you need to hydrate. How about some herbal tea instead?"

Harriet shut her eyes in resignation.


Harriet parked her very low tech wheel chair beside Captain Pike's biobed after being given permission to enter his private room. It wasn't exactly private given all the glass paneling but the door at least shut securely behind her.

"So, this is where he's hiding," she murmured as she spotted one entirely too comfortable looking Smaug.

Pike looked over at the cat sitting on his bedside table. "I wasn't aware there were any pets on board… until recently."

"Nor was I. Ambassador Sarek's wife found him. I'm still not sure how he got here."

Pike raised a tired eyebrow at her, as if to say 'sure, I believe you.' She ignored the expression and focused on her rather perplexing cat.

"You asked to see me?" she prompted, after the silence had gone on a bit too long.

"Two other ships survived our initial encounter with Nero, the Farragut and the Exeter, both with heavy losses – but they did survive. More than likely due to your warning. On behalf of Starfleet, I would like to thank you."

"Your gratitude is noted but unnecessary, Captain." She took a deep breath, then released it slowly. "In fact, I'd be much obliged if you never mentioned it again. Ever."

He stared at her for a moment and she noted how haunted his eyes seemed. It was disconcerting but not surprising given he'd effectively been a prisoner of war and likely tortured.

"How did you know? Actually." Harriet blinked at him. He gave her a wry smile. "Despite Spock's best intentions and efforts, it was you who warned him of the coming of some large scale destruction and death before we even received the distress call." His face grew serious again. "How did you know?"

There was something there, something desperate in his voice that called to her. Magically exhausted as she was, her Death sense was still active and there was something … there…

Oh.

OH.

"You saw …" Her voice was strangely filled with wonder. "You've been…"

"I saw something, and I'd greatly like to know if it was real."

Harriet's jaw remained slack for a moment before she gathered herself.

"Right, well, that's, hmm." Well, this had gotten quite heavy and quite quickly. "In all seriousness, it can be difficult to keep Their company for long periods of time; I can see why you're so interested in getting answers. However, I can't have this conversation so soon after meeting with It without a coffee. Want one? I'll be right back."

Was she running? Perhaps. What of it? She was tired.

"Harriet." She paused just after she finished wheeling her chair around, somewhat surprised he'd used her first name. "You have my word your explanation will stay between the two of us."

She nodded, then continued out through the doors, officially on a quest for caffeine.


Spock was on his way to speak with Captain Pike. As he walked, he ruminated on how it was both 'a blessing and a curse' to be more in touch with his human side, and the events, the journey, that had brought him to his current state of understanding regarding Harriet.

It had started innocuously enough: a simple investigation of the unknown. Yet, it had grown and changed him in ways that he had only recently accepted. He supposed that the death and near-death experiences he had lived through in the last twenty-four hours had played a significant role in that acceptance:

He had lost his home world, his home; watched as it was destroyed before his very eyes.

He had nearly lost his mother, a piece of his home; watched her fall to what he had been certain was her death.

He had nearly faced his own mortality; watched as Nero's ship and his own drew closer and their collision grew imminent.

…He had nearly lost Harriet; watched as Mr. Scott furiously tried to lock on to any sign of life after the declaration that they'd lost all trace of her.

Then he had the Narada destroyed and in his grief, he offered no quarter or sympathy. In his grief, he had clung to the desperate needs of the ship to keep him going. And just as that desperation was beginning to wane, and his will to perform began to lag, there had been the call from the transporter room.

After the initial shock, he realized he was too hopeful to be angry with her for making him think she'd been lost along with his home, that he'd nearly lost everything that he now acknowledged he held close to his heart.

Had he truly been forced to face her loss, what would he have done, become, after the adrenaline had come under control?

… but what ifs did not often lead the mind down useful paths in life.

Instead, he would focus on what he could actually do and understand. Or seek to understand. What prevented Mr. Scott from being able to lock on? Had Harriet jumped?Where did Harriet go when she jumped? Why had it taken so long between the jump and her arrival on the Enterprise? What were her limits?

Was she human?

Did it bother him either way?

… No. It didn't. Hari was, and always would be, just Hari. And that was more than satisfactory.

He decided that since both Pike and Harriet were in the same medbay, it would not be out of his way to check on Harriet's status before seeing the captain. As Harriet was unconscious when he spoke with McCoy earlier, he assumed the visit would be quick, offering little in the way of answers but, perhaps, much in the way of assurances of her safety and status amongst the living.

And yes, he recognized that there was both a desire and a need for those assurances. For those agonizing minutes he'd thought he'd lost her…

No, Vulcan he may be, but blind to his own emotions he was not. And he had Hari to thank for that.

He entered Central Medical and went to the bed Harriet had been assigned.

Harriet wasn't there.

Quietly, he turned and sought out McCoy.

"Doctor?" he asked, immediately catching McCoy's attention. He didn't need to elaborate – it was clear who he was looking for by his tone of voice.

"Captain Pike asked to speak with her."

He took a breath and nodded his thanks, then altered his course.

If McCoy wasn't worried, then it meant she was well. If she was able to be moved, it meant that she was well. If she was speaking with the captain, it meant that she was well.

'But how well?' his inner voice worried.

Coming upon the glass doors, he immediately noticed the captain's room held only Pike himself and he acknowledged that he was now indeed concerned.

'Where could she have gone?'

Noticing his approach, Pike waved him in.

"Mr. Spock."

"Captain."

They quietly regarded each other for a moment.

"Take a seat Mr. Spock. I would like a general report. But first, I want to know what happened to Harriet."

He remained standing. "I am unaware of her location Captain."

Pike waved his answer away.

"Not what I meant. She claims she was going to get coffee." He was mildly surprised when his shoulders relaxed, not having noticed they'd tensed. Based on the captain's facial expression and slight smile, he inferred that Pike had noticed the release of tension. "She's alive and relatively well Spock. You don't need to hide your concern."

Hide his concern? Since when did a Vulcan hide things that were intangible to begin with?


Harriet was doing her best not to cry. It was a near thing but she was holding strong!

The darn replicator, however, was not. In fact, it was starting to fritz. Likely because she was on the fritz.

Because really, how was she supposed to process the fact that she'd died, then come back to life, again, WITHOUT traveling to the next reality, dimension, what have you? HOW was she supposed to process the fact that she'd somehow intentionally, unintentionally chosen Spocky Pocky while she was "unconscious" so to speak?

What did that choice even mean!?

Where the HELL was Death when she needed It!

Okay, so yes, she was reacting rather poorly to the situation. To be fair, however, it was an entirely new situation for her. Traveling to the same reality twice? Sure. Linearly? No. Dying, but not really? Sure. After taking a ride on the 'train'? Nope.

…She was perfectly justified in her struggle to contain herself. And her magic. Which was fritzing. Which was causing the machine to fritz. Which was preventing her from getting her fix.

She'd be reacting so much better right now if she could get her fix.

'Breathe, Harriet. Just take a moment and breathe.'

Right. She could do that.

As soon as she figured out what it actually meant to choose a Spockity Spocktastic life!

'DEATH!'


There were only so many replicators within immediate reach of Central Medical. Thus, Spock came upon Harriet relatively quickly. He wasn't entirely sure why she was weakly hitting the replicator but he knew it was an action humans sometimes indulged in when they were frustrated with a machine. As such, he approached wearily, hoping, for a reason that defied logic, her frustration would not switch to him.

"Harriet?" he called tentatively.

She turned her head to look at him, eyes wet and body clearly displaying signs of fatigue.

He hesitated, unsure why she would be at the point of lacrimation. "Harriet? Are you well?" Clearly, she was not. Truly, given she should likely still be in her bed, that wasn't entirely unexpected. Still, he felt it prudent to ask rather than state.

She turned her head back to the machine. "No." She sniffed. "It's not working."

He took a closer look at the replicator. Indeed, it was no longer functional. It would explain her distress. If she was seeking comfort by way of her favorite beverage, then having it withheld from her in a perceived time of need would certainly induce an emotional response.

Of all the challenges faced in the last forty-eight hours, this was one problem he could easily solve, a fact that was satisfying in a way he could not quite explain.

"Harriet, I will obtain the coffee for you." He gently took hold of the oddly primitive wheeled chair and turned her back in the direction of her bed. The captain would ask after her, but he could tell she needed rest… and he was feeling oddly protective. "For now, it is best for you to rest."

Why was he speaking so softly? Could she hear him properly?

She 'sniffled' again and said nothing on their way back to her bed. When she was once more settled within it, he couldn't help but take a moment to study her face. It showed clear signs of exhaustion, even with the emotional tearing. But, her eyes, they were still so oddly full of life that he momentarily stopped breathing.

To think, he'd almost lost the ability to ever study her in such a way again.

"Spock?"

He blinked and thought for the first time that he understood what it meant to drown in another's gaze.

"Yes?"

"Do you know where I can get a bit of whiskey?"

He tilted his head in slight confusion. She merely smiled back at him. And, suddenly, he truly understood what his father had been trying to tell him.


Prompt: 4 +1 or four times Harriet really wanted a coffee and that one time she needed a stiff drink