The gust of wind nearly took the door off its hinges, prompting several tipsy customers to fight to close it again.
Filled with a growing sense of wariness, Leonard squinted at his unwanted companion. "What did you say?"
"I said, you were never born. You don't exist. You don't have a care in the world." What? "No worries, no obligations. No dead patients or angry captains to answer to—nothing."
No patients, no…
Shaking his head only made him dizzy. He eyed his empty glass with disdain. "Must've had more to drink than I thought… Either that or you're crazy. Did you ever think of getting yourself checked out?"
"Your lip's stopped bleeding."
Far from an answer, the comment only increased Leonard's confusion as his hand flew to his mouth.
"Huh. What d'you know about that…" He took another glance around. The bar atmosphere had returned to normal. So why didn't things feel normal? "Look, it's been a pleasure—sorta—but I've got to get back to the ship and collect my things. If Scotty even lets me back on," he mumbled, reaching for his communicator. "Probably should've done that first. Pull off the bandaid nice and quick, you know what I mean…?"
He trailed off, his hand coming up empty. Gaze landing on the stranger, suspicion seized his chest.
"All right, what'd you do with it?"
"Your communicator isn't there."
"Of course, it's not! So, that's been your game all along, has it? To rob me blind once I had too much to drink? Well, you've messed with the wrong guy, let me tell you—"
But the man was already shaking his head, even as Leonard grasped at the air near his belt.
"Your phaser isn't there either."
Right…
He pulled himself out of his chair before he could decide where he was going. In a most predictable fashion, the man followed.
"What'd you say your name was…?"
"Jackson—your guardian angel."
"Right, right…" Massaging his brows didn't get rid of the growing headache, but at least it made him feel like he was doing something. Like he was still in control. "Well, come on then, Jackson. We'll just have to walk to Starfleet—sorry, I'll walk, you'll fly—and find someone to beam me up."
"I told you, I can't fly! I haven't got my wings yet—"
"On the way, you can clue me in as to what kind of telepathic powers you have. Whatever it is that made you know all that stuff." That makes me feel so…
Another shiver—and it wasn't because they had stepped out into the cold night air.
"Are you secretly a Vulcan? What kind of ears do you have under that hat?" Leonard smirked, his only defense against the rising nausea. "Are we in some sort of mind meld? Did you use your powers on me when I wasn't looking?"
"I told you: you were never born."
"Sure." Leonard rolled his eyes. "Tell me this, then: if I wasn't born, how am I here? You know what? Never mind," he went on as Jackson opened his mouth. "Whatever you're gonna say is probably going to make things more confusing than they already are."
The walk to Starfleet shouldn't have taken so long. It was almost as if…
Leonard struggled to keep an edge to his voice; to keep it from trembling. "All right, start explaining. What's wrong with HQ? If I didn't know any better, I'd say it's gotten smaller."
"Nero destroyed San Francisco." The simplicity of the reply struck Leonard to the core.
"Nero? What are you talking about? Nero's dead."
"Yes, he was killed, but not before destroying half the quadrant with his machine, including Starfleet Headquarters. They had to completely rebuild and it was never the same."
"Now I know you're off your rocker. Jim stopped Nero before—Oh," he scowled, shaking his head, "never mind. I don't know why I keep talking to you, you just confuse me."
Ignoring his shadow, Leonard pushed through the main doors. The heavy feeling that something was terribly wrong pressed down on him like a dozen weights. Everything looked the same, for the most part. He should've been breathing easy now.
Starfleet Headquarters looked the same, but it didn't feel the same. And he couldn't for the life of him figure out why.
"Excuse me, sir." The woman at the desk glared at him from beneath too-long lashes, her pinched face expressing her distaste for the night shift. "Is there something I can help you with?"
A sudden feeling of nakedness washed over him as Leonard remembered he wasn't wearing his uniform.
He cleared his throat, sensing more than seeing Jackson follow him up to the desk. "I'm Doctor McCoy, CMO of the USS Enterprise. I, uh," he forced a chuckle, "seem to have misplaced my communicator. I just need someone to beam me back up to the ship."
Her eyes scanned the computer, her dull stare revealing nothing of her findings. "Sir, the Enterprise isn't showing up on my list of docked ships. If I'm not mistaken, it should be halfway across the galaxy right now. First five-year mission and all that."
"What?" Even after everything, would they really just leave without me…?
Of course, they would.
You were going to leave anyway. Why shouldn't they get a move on, too?
"There must be some mistake. See, Captain Kirk put his crew on shore leave for the next week. He's in no condition to resume a five-year mission at this time."
You saw to that, didn't you?
Shut.
Up.
"My records indicate Captain Canne hasn't made port in over two years," came her dry response.
"Who?"
She blinked. "Is there anything else I can help you with, sir?"
"Yeah." To hell with formality. "Who in the world is Captain Canne?"
"Captain Samuel Canne of the Enterprise. Beyond that is information I'm not at liberty to discuss with non-Starfleet personnel."
"Non-Star… I am Starfleet personnel! Doctor Leonard McCoy! Look that up in your records."
As she fulfilled his request—rather, demand—Leonard glanced back at Jackson with a frown.
"Somehow, this is your fault. I don't know how, but it is."
"Sorry, sir," she began, her own frown deepening, "we have a Doctor McGrath and McGowen but no McCoy. Is there anything else I can help you with?"
"What do you mean, I'm not in your records? Check them again!"
"The search is very thorough, sir."
"Well, maybe it missed something."
"Sir, if there's nothing else I can—"
"Find someone to beam me aboard the Enterprise, that's how you can—Oh, just forget it." He shoved away from the desk, muttering, "I'll find someone myself."
"Sir. Sir!"
If he ignored her and just kept walking…
"Sir! That hall is for Starfleet personnel only!"
Then maybe…
Damn it, I am Starfleet personnel! I don't care what your computer says! I'm—
The kid always seemed to be in a hurry—for as long as Leonard had known him—so it wasn't that jarring when Chekov whisked around the corner and slammed into the doctor's shoulder.
"Nu náda zhe!" The familiar Russian exclamation spoke of more than just surprise, but of an odd confusion as well. "My apologies, sir! I didn't see you there!" The kid flashed an apologetic smile, fingers tightening around the PADD in his hands. "My friends, they're always telling me to slow down…"
The relief he should've been feeling wouldn't seem to come. Instead, the deep seeds of apprehension began to take root in its place.
"It's fine, Chekov," he sighed. "Actually, it's a good thing I ran into you. I need to borrow your communicator."
How's Jim doing?
Is everyone still on the ship?
Do you feel that weird electricity in the air, or is it just me?
Please, tell me it's not just me…
Leonard bit his lip to keep the questions locked away. Now wasn't the time to overcomplicate things.
Just get back to the ship, get your things, then get out.
You can submit your official resignation later.
Unless Jim beats you to it and court-martials you for killing his—
The young Russian's brows furrowed, hand drifting down to his utility belt. "Why do you…? Uh, I'm sorry, sir, but Starfleet communicators are for—"
Nails nearly gouged the skin out of his palm. "If you say Starfleet personnel, I'm going to wring your neck."
Chekov had the audacity to look frightened, and maybe that comment was a bit unnecessary, but didn't the kid know an empty threat when he heard one?
"Look," Leonard began, sucking a slow breath in through his nose, "I just need to beam back up to the ship. I can't find my communicator. I know I screwed everything up—believe me, I know—so I'm not asking for much. I just… I just need a little help, all right?"
The kid nodded, that searching gaze chilling Leonard to the bones. "Of course, sir. Uh, I'm sure the support team at the front desk can assist you."
"What the hell are you talking about? Chekov, it's me."
"Uh… Right, sir. And you are…?"
"Cut that out! I'm your doctor!" If his heart would only slow down for a second, maybe he could think more logically about it all instead of shouting at scared children in the hallway. "What's the matter with you, anyway?"
"Uh, I don't remember ever making your acq—"
"McCoy. Leonard McCoy! We serve together on the USS Enterprise under Jim Kirk!" His hands flew forward, grasping the young man's shoulders. Whether he was doing this for Chekov's benefit or his own, Leonard couldn't tell. Come on, come on! Why don't you—? "Don't you know me? I gave you a physical just last week!"
The mix of pity and blank confusion on Chekov's youthful face cut Leonard to the core.
With just the slightest bit of force, he eased Leonard's hands off and backed away, PADD clutched to his chest. "Last week, I was in Russia. Shore leave, sir. Speaking of which, it's just now ending and I'm going to be late if I don't…" Rolling a hand in the air, he gestured toward the door before making his hasty retreat.
He'd barely had time to comprehend the conversation when heavy hands closed around his arms, jerking him back toward the entrance.
"Hey! What do you think you're doing?"
The two security guards didn't even spare him a glance as they dragged him out.
"Starfleet personnel only." One of them declared.
"Besides," the other added, "Miranda says you've been causing a disturbance."
"You call asking a few questions a disturbance? You just wait till Jim hears about this! He'll—"
What?
Leonard wouldn't let himself answer that question. Even if he'd wanted to, security had already tossed him back out into the darkness, derailing his train of thought as he fought to stay on his feet.
Jackson righted himself rather quickly and Leonard shot a hard glare at his companion.
"It's like he didn't even know me, or something…" Breathe.
You drank too much, that's all.
The breath he took could hardly be classified as calm. Shaky at best. At worst, distressed.
Leonard narrowed his eyes. "Look, who are you?"
"I told you, Leonard. I'm your guardian angel."
"Yeah, yeah, I know." Leonard waved a dismissive hand. "You told me that. I mean, what else are you? What... are you a hypnotist? A Betazoid? A Changeling?"
Jackson shook his head as if such ideas were simply ludicrous. "No, of course not."
"Yeah? Well, then why am I seeing all these strange things, huh?"
"Don't you understand, Leonard? It's because you were never born."
Calm. Leonard clenched a fist. Why does he always have to be so calm about these things?
"Okay, fine. I'll play your little game." He crossed his arms, trying to ignore the thump, thump, thumping of his heart. "If I wasn't born, then who am I?"
Jackson offered a shrug. "You're nobody. You have no identity."
"What do you mean, no identity? My name is McCoy! Leonard Horatio McCoy!"
"There is no Leonard McCoy," Jackson stressed. "You have no cards, no ID, medical license…"
Only when the man trailed off did Leonard realize just how frantically he had been searching his coat pockets for those very items. His brain screamed at him to breathe yet his lungs paid the message no mind.
Wait…
A trembling hand flew to his breast pocket.
"It's not there either."
Leonard jerked his head up, eyes daring the man to say another word. "What?"
"The hypospray."
His mind swirled at warp speed, his fingers flexing in a desperate attempt to ease the tension seizing his body.
The next thought nearly sent him over the edge.
"My ring," he breathed, willing himself not to hyperventilate. His empty pinky finger seemed to laugh up at him, chiding him for falling all to pieces like this. "Where is it?"
"You've been given a great gift," Jackson continued as if Leonard never opened his mouth. "A chance to see what the world would be like without you."
"My father's ring!" he snapped. "What did you do with it?"
"You have no father. No mother. You have no one."
"All right. All right, wait!" Sucking in a deep breath, Leonard massaged his forehead. "Just wait a minute… There's got to be… Wait a minute. There has to be some sort of explanation for all this. I went to the bar, I drank too much, I passed out. Right… Right, this is all just some weird dream I'm having. Now, I'm going to go back home, I'm going to wake up, and everything will be back to normal."
Before Leonard could take two steps, Jackson quirked a brow. "Home? What home?"
"The Enterprise!" The shout echoed off the pavement. "Just… shut up! You're insane and you're driving me insane, too! You're making… making me see things! I don't know who you are, but stay out of my mind! I'm not crazy! I'm going back to the ship, do you understand that? And I'm going there alone!"
"How are you going to do that? You have no comm—"
"I know what I don't have! I'll figure something out. I just have to think logically about all this and I'll—" His breath caught in his chest as a new thought arose. "Spock." He whirled on his unwanted shadow. "Look, somehow you know everything. I don't know what sort of mind-reader you are, but I don't care. Take me to Spock."
"I—"
"You have to know where he is! Is he still on the ship? Or did he beam down already? I don't know how you do the things you do, but I know you can take me to him! He'll be able to figure this out… He'll… He'll tell me I'm not absolutely losing my mind…"
"You're not going to like what you see."
"I don't care! I know they're all mad at me, but you have to get me to Spock! He can fix my mind, make things normal again…"
An eternity seemed to pass, crawling by as Leonard waited on baited breath for an answer. Eventually, Jackson nodded.
"All right. Follow me."
"Oh, thank God," he whispered, closing his eyes for a brief moment and basking in a small wave of relief. "That's the first good thing you've said all night."
The man didn't smile. In fact, he appeared to be pained by the task set before him.
Leonard couldn't care less.
Just get me to Spock.
Get me to someone who can knock some sense back into me.
Someone who can wake me up from this awful dream.
As he trailed behind Jackson, Leonard pinched himself. Long and hard on his palm. Then, on his neck.
It did nothing.