The streets of San Francisco were unusually busy—or maybe it was just Leonard's constant struggle for air that made him feel suffocated amongst the crowds.

Spock.

He clung to the hope that finding the Vulcan would bring him some peace of mind. That Spock would have all the answers. He always does.

This hope was the only thing pushing Leonard forward when he wanted so desperately to curl up into a ball and let the world fade to black.

It was all too much to take. The logical part of his brain knew this… this insanity couldn't be real. There were no angels, no screwed up realities—no way he just didn't exist.

If I didn't exist, I wouldn't be here. I wouldn't…

Would he?

Was this some weird sort of purgatory? Had he overdosed on the alcohol and ended up in between worlds?

Leonard sucked in a breath, holding it a few seconds too long before giving his aching lungs release.

No.

No, this is some sort of crazy mental thing.

He was under a spell and all he had to do was find the way out.

There's got to be a way out.

There's always a way out…

At least, there always used to be.

And what then? When he broke free, wouldn't he be right back where he'd started?

Alone in a bar.

Sam's lifeless face flashed across his mind's eye.

Stop.

When they had received the distress call, the last thing they'd all expected was a reunion between Jim and his older brother. And in critical condition, no less.

After all, how many times had Leonard sat on the other side of a bottle of brandy, listening to Jim make vague comments about how his brother had left him all those years ago? How many times had inebriated Jim openly wished for what sober Jim would never admit to in a million years?

That his brother would come running back to him with open arms like the end of some kind of prodigal son story.

Leonard clenched a fist, relishing the pain of the nails spreading slowly across his palm.

"Is he going to be…?"

He remembered Jim's pinched face, the worry spilling over for someone the captain hadn't held a conversation with for close to ten years.

"It's…" Leonard had sucked in a breath. "It's not looking good. But we're giving it all we got in there." A hand on the younger man's trembling shoulder. "I promise, Jim. I won't let you lose him. Not this time."

Promise.

Leonard scoffed.

When are you going to stop making promises you can't keep?

"Papa, you're gonna be all right. I promise…"

But, wait, that wasn't the same memory…

That wasn't—

—Crack!

The phantom bruise on his lip throbbed, and despite the lack of trickling blood, he ran a hand over the wound anyway.

Only to realize it wasn't there anymore. Why wasn't it there?

Dreaming. That's right. This is all just one big bad d—

His tools hadn't slipped. His hands hadn't trembled in the slightest. Christine had performed admirably, handing him exactly what he needed milliseconds before he'd asked for it. Everything had been going right. For the first time since the surgery had begun, things had finally been going right.

He had simply grabbed the wrong hypo.

How?

The dosage shouldn't have—

"We're losing him!"

"What? How? He shouldn't be—"

He must have played that scene in his mind close to a million times.

The flatline. Christine's face. The shock. The tears. The confession. Jim's fist in his face.

It had all happened too fast.

The conclusion always remained the same: he'd grabbed the wrong hypo. He'd messed up the entire procedure.

Putting a second splatter of blood on his record, large, thick, and red.

First, his father. Now, Samuel Kirk.

Leonard shivered, rubbing at his arms with a vengeance.

Wake up, McCoy! Wake up!

That's when he saw her. Rather, heard her. That voice, the one that had grounded him countless times in the operating room. The one that offered more reassurances than he deserved during those bleak slumps in career.

He could never forget that voice.

"Wait…" Leonard turned, following the sound of the rising commotion. "Wait a second, that's…"

Running down the cold streets, pushing and shoving at the thick crowds, he didn't know if Jackson was still trailing him.

And frankly, he didn't care.

Because that was Christine.

Drawing nearer brought a sickening clarity to the scene. Several people had seemed to make it their personal mission to restrain Chapel, holding her back from another small crowd, one gathered around someone on the pavement.

"I can help him!" Christine cried, struggling against her captors. "I've practiced medicine! I know what's wrong and I can—!"

"Christine!" He didn't know why he called out. If she could even hear him over the chaos, she certainly gave no indication.

"Oh, don't you understand?" She fought once more to no avail. "He'll die if I don't—I can save him!"

Those restraining her didn't seem to care much for her words, only for getting her as far away from the ruckus as possible. Off to one side, someone called emergency services.

But if Leonard knew Christine, he knew she was right. Whatever the medical emergency, they wouldn't get there in time.

Part of him screamed, urging his legs to go after Christine. He needed to help her, to get their filthy hands off her. In the end, his medical roots won out and he approached the cluster of people.

"What happened?" He asked, kneeling down as near he could get to the unconscious body. An Orion teenager, green face pale and drawn, lay motionless on the edge of the walkway.

"Hovercraft accident," came a woman's curt explanation.

"Hit and run, from what I saw," a man added.

Leonard's fingers brushed against his belt, realizing half a second too late that he wouldn't find any of his emergency medical supplies there. Fumbling for an alternative, he checked the kid's pulse, all the while sizing up the thick trail of blood oozing down the Orion's temple.

"You should've let Christine help," he began, glaring up at the onlookers. "She's a top-notch nurse and she would've been a hell of a lot more help than you all are."

Someone clasped his shoulder, pulling Leonard's attention away from the boy. "You're friends with that woman?"

Brown eyes met blue in a contest of wills, ending only when Leonard scowled. "Of course, I am. We're stationed on the same ship. I went to the Academy with her and everything, and you—Hey! What do you think you're—?"

Two onlookers jerked him to his feet before he could finish calculating the Orion's heart rate, their grip hard and unrelenting.

"What the hell are you doing? I'm a doctor, I can—!"

"Save it for someone who cares," the first man snapped as the other nodded.

"Yeah, if you're friends with that psychopath, you have no place here. Or have you forgotten what she did?"

Ice settled over his veins, but Leonard refused to let it freeze him solid. "What'd she do? And you better make it snappy because I have a patient over there who could very well be dying."

"You must not be from around here," the one said, tightening his grip as he dragged his captive away from the scene. "It was in the papers for weeks. No one's forgotten the body count."

"Yeah, pal, where were you when she blew up the Starfleet Academy lab? Killed twenty people."

The world tilted and Leonard almost lost his footing.

"Got off easy," the other man spat, "on account of Starfleet not wanting the publicity. That, and claiming it was an 'accident.'"

"They got the publicity, all right, but she got a sentence of only five years." The leader of the two shrugged, then glared at Leonard. "You have to be nuts, too, to hang around her."

With a force that couldn't be classified as anything but brutal, they shoved Leonard out of the fray and into a large patch of grass.

This time, his loss of footing sent him crashing to the ground. The pain shot up his spine like a bad hypo injection. For a moment, he couldn't breathe; couldn't think.

Couldn't think about anything but Christine.

How…?

Another pinch did nothing. Wake up, wake up, wake up!Leonard could've pinched his arm black and blue and he knew he still wouldn't be able to pull himself out of this nightmare.

"You see…" That now-too-familiar voice sounded from above, but Leonard didn't bother glancing up. "You weren't there to stop Christine. To help her that first year in the Academy when she almost mixed those mislabeled chemicals."

"What do you mean, I wasn't there?" Leonard snapped, glaring up at Jackson. "Of course, I was there! I remember it like it was yesterday! Christine's the best nurse I know and not you or anybody else can say otherwise!"

"Christine got expelled from Starfleet her first year after she made a mistake with the chemicals, causing a delayed yet fatal reaction."

"Christine graduated with honors and was handpicked by Jim to serve on the Enterprise! I don't know who you are, but you've got me under some sort of a spell or something. Well, I'll get out of it! I'll get out… You really think you're the first mystical being I've dealt with?"

The man simply shook his head. "Christine served time in prison because you weren't there to help her in the lab that day."

"Look," Leonard hissed, pushing himself off the ground and wagging a finger at his companion, "you keep telling me what I did and didn't do. Why don't you just shut your mouth and try to help me out here! Isn't that what you said you wanted to do? You wanted to help me so you could get your damn wings? Well, I have some news for you, Jack, this isn't helping! You're just making things… worse…"

His breath hitched, chest seizing as his gaze drifted to the statue looming behind Jackson.

The likeness wasn't just uncanny, it was downright chilling. A breathtaking, spot-on image of Captain James T. Kirk himself. All decked out in his finest uniform, Jim towered over the lawn, standing tall, brave, and larger-than-life in all his bronze glory.

"I don't…" Leonard wet his lips, willing his heart not to shut down completely. "Jack, I don't remember this statue…"

Coming up beside him, gait slow and somber, Jackson shook his head. "They put it up right after the defeat of Khan."

The most Leonard could manage was a tremble. Crossing his arms tightly across his chest—the motion serving more as a protective barrier than anything—his gaze flitted about the statue, taking in every detail before landing on the plaque. The dedication plaque.

Oh, Lord…

The contents of which brought his entire world to a screeching halt.

"I don't believe in no-win scenarios."

James Tiberius Kirk

Captain of the USS Enterprise

Friend, Hero, Legend

2233 ~ 2259

A sudden heat crept across his neck. Leonard couldn't remember the last time he had passed out, but the tell-tale signs were slowly beginning to make themselves apparent. A flush of warmth, a vertigo he couldn't blink away, and an awful ringing that wouldn't leave his ears alone.

James Tiberius Kirk.

2233 to 2259…

Maybe passing out wouldn't be such a bad thing after all.

"Jack." Try as he might, he couldn't raise his voice above a hoarse whisper. "What… What's this for?"

"To commemorate Jim Kirk," came the solemn reply, "who gave his life to save his ship and his crew, dying from radiation poisoning."

"No… No, Jim's not…" Leonard shook his head. "I fixed it, I…" Swallowing hurt like hell, yet he tortured himself anyway. "The transfusion worked. Khan's blood worked."

"There was no transfusion. Jim died a hero, yes, but he still died because you weren't there to—"

"Shut up! Do you hear me? Jim is a hero! He saved millions of people at Yorktown!"

"Everyone at Yorktown died at the hands of Krall and his weapon."

Pulling at his hair, Leonard let out a muted scream. "Quit lying! If you know as much as you claim you do, then you'll know exactly what Jim did that day! He's a damn hero!"

"Jim wasn't there to save Yorktown because you weren't there to save Jim." Air wouldn't come. As Leonard fought for a breath, Jackson spread his arms. "You have such a wonderful life, Leonard. Can't you see what a mistake it would be to throw it away?"

Jim's alive.

It's all right.

Jim's alive.

Don't listen to him.

Jim, Christine, Chekov, Spock.

They're all alive and well and—

Spock.

"Take me to Spock," he whispered.

"I still don't know if that's a good—"

Leonard's hands were on him before the shorter man could even begin to defend himself, grabbing at his jacket collar.

"Take me to Spock, you blasted fool! If anyone can figure this out, it's Spock, so take me to him now!"