Despite his better judgement, McCoy felt a surge of happiness when he was lead to his first class cabin. It was located in the middle of the ship with no windows but it was still clear that it was one of the best cabins that could be bought on board. It was large enough to house a single bed with white sheets, a large sofa, two small oil lamps situated by his bed and the basin and a small wardrobe. The floor was half covered in tiles with a new rug laid down on the other side. On his own, there could have been no way to cover for expenses of a sophisticated voyage to Boston such as this one. He'd have to sincerely thank Ron once he returned to Liverpool for his gesture.

His luggage which consisted mostly of clothing and other utilities provided by Ron, as well as a few basic medical supplies, had already been already carried in. The moment he locked up the cabin, ignoring his luggage, McCoy shed his wet coat and boots, placing them by the sofa. He then realised that even his shirt had gotten wet. He didn't hesitate to remove the rest of his clothes before dropping down on the bed and getting under the covers. If he was going to suffer through a ten day trip on a ship, he refused to do so while also being ill. To sleep would also help curing his seasickness, if only a little.

Momentarily, the ship shook while he was about to drift off and McCoy jolted awake. His trip had finally begun. As he felt the ship engines roar and plow through the ocean, he was happy to be away from the waves as humanly as possible. Sleep refused to find him for a long time. All his inner thoughts were muddled by the wrongness of the colour of the cabin and the hardness of his bed. He assumed it was due to getting homesick already, and missing the stable and secure room he had in Ron's house. He thought he was missing the wooden structure of his bed, the parquet flooring or the scent of the forest entering through his window. But alas, every time he closed his eyes, he kept seeing images of an unearthly design of grey walls, metal desks and bright rooms. It wouldn't have been so odd had he not also attempted to switch off the lights using his voice by mistake as if it was done out old habits.

He decided to focus on the tangible reality that he included in his last year. Despite the vast emptiness where once his memories resided in, he truly felt blessed for having met Sir Ron Ross and his colleagues when he did. He might not have any idea what he was doing lying face down on the shores of Crosby, alongside other esteemed passengers who survived a shipwreck tragedy, but it was made certain that he had not been one of them the moment he woke up and started talking. His heavy southern accent and a simple look at the passenger list of the sunken ship had proven that he was not supposed to be there. To some he was a stowaway who hid in the bowels of the ship for a free ride, but for others, who were kinder hearted people like Ron, he had been an exotic American with a bizarre fashion sense and a tragic past waiting to be unravelled. Perhaps Ron had that kindness to him because McCoy had saved his life on the beach and then shown to have a weird tendency to help other patients in the hospital he had been a patient of. Or it could have been his cool-headed mannerism, during the time when he wasn't spouting sarcastic comebacks, that convinced the man that he meant no danger to anyone. McCoy was actually certain that Ron had enjoyed his retorts more than he let on. Regardless of his reasoning, Ron had reached the conclusion that McCoy was a reputable physician who strongly needed help.

When he thought back on those first few weeks, where McCoy had been seconds away from being deported back to the USA, it hadn't felt right. McCoy didn't feel like it was the right answer to his long lost memories and without being able to pinpoint the exact origin of his whereabouts, no passport and no proof of existence, he was let into the care of one very excited Ron Ross. Ron's first advice had been following the evidence and do everything that felt right to McCoy in an attempt to jog his memories. Following the evidence, unfortunately, meant getting on a ship and crossing the ocean. Something McCoy didn't feel like the right answer. But now he had been forced to do just that because some young prick had doubted his honesty. He already spent too much time as a freeloader in Ron's house and even if he had been taking shifts in a few clinics, it hadn't covered the courtesy Ron had shown him.

Of course, he had to accept the request. He owed the man far too much, he reminded himself. Anything to justify this voyage, he added bitterly.

,,,,

By the time McCoy's stomach felt strong enough to leave the cabin, the sun had already begun to set. After putting on one of his better suits, an ironed shirt and a black vest, he checked himself in the mirror above the basin. He only looked slightly exhausted with puffy eyes. His trimmed beard and combed hair would definitely hide the fact that he had spent several melancholic hours on his own.

For a change, he was actually feeling good about himself as he made his way towards the dining saloon along the stale coloured long corridors, that it happened again. The vision. Or the proof of him losing his last bits of sanity. It didn't make sense that he expected to see the cabin doors to open with a swoosh nor to wait for the lights to go off on their own as he moved forward. At every corner, he was surprised not to see curvy walls stretching along grey mats and protective arches; a blinding white making up for the eternal darkness outside. At every corner, he reminded himself that those images didn't belong to the real ship and then, at the bottom of the stairs, he gave up.

The spiral stairs didn't help his hallucinations. It wasn't the conventional pathway to the saloon and was rarely visited by the guests. Rather it was more for the crew and those simple steps triggered the strongest urge in him to go up to the Bridge. He wanted to observe the vast emptiness of the sea from beyond the glass windows and quiver before the sight of unparalleled marvels. It was an odd need, a stupid one. A need he should not be having but there it was. As strong as the need to eat and sleep.

Was it related to his previous life? Maybe a simple obsession of his to explore and learn about the vessel he was in. Neither seemed likely and the latter didn't even sound like him.

Regardless of his reasoning, he stood, body half leaning over the railings and willing his itching to go away. He had to move forwards, towards the saloon and join the rest of the passengers while acting like a normal person. But, for the love of God, he couldn't make his legs move in the right direction so he remained at the junction. It took him too long to decide and eventually someone found him and if they were afraid of his troubled face, they didn't mention it.

"Lost or dizzy?" was the question instead and McCoy groaned in frustration, having realised who the voice belonged to. A warm hand was placed on his shoulder which relaxed him but he was in no way willing to admit that.

"Jim, right?" he asked because he had to. Because he apparently could not trust his own mind even only to follow a straightforward path. With a sigh, as he cracked open an eye just in time to catch the hurt spreading and disappearing on Jim's face. The damn kid had a face of million expressions per minute. McCoy was nowhere near being able to identify them all but facial expressions of confusion, hurt and forced happiness seemed to be constants for Jim. Now, that wouldn't do. One miserable soul was more than enough for one trip.

"Yes, doctor," the blond man replied as he flashed a tired smile. McCoy reciprocated the gesture and leant backwards from the railing. "Something on your mind?"

McCoy returned to Jim and regarded his grey suit somehow matching perfectly to his light beard tinged with white and bringing out the blue of his eyes. Jim knew how to dress to impress and McCoy felt a surge of pride in seeing this young man taking himself seriously.

"Only ever the usual," McCoy replied once he swallowed thickly and averted his eyes from Jim, "You? Are you having a nice evening?"

Jim perked up a bit, obviously waiting for him to ask him something "Better now. I was wondering, doctor; since both of us appear to be without an associate, would you like to accompany me to dinner?" McCoy's eyebrows rose up but his lips moved without his consent.

"You don't even bother to present your full name and you expect a man to trust you for the course of a whole dinner? Where has the youth gotten to these days? No manners!" he teased. Oh God, was he flirting with a stranger on a ship that would be sailing for ten days? He must have lost it completely to be so openly doing it then and there, fully disregarding the fact that Jim was a man.

Despite his inner panic, Jim took his flirting with a relative ease and flashed a dazzling smile. Okay, McCoy could definitely continue with this. No problem. And, oh, didn't that say a lot about the kind of a man he used to be.

"I could complain about the same, McCoy," Jim replied, unaware of his thoughts, "I haven't been graced with your first name either!" The man was a charmer alright and McCoy wished he had an answer for him but this was a delicate matter in which he was troubled with.

"Sorry to disappoint, kid. I can't share something that I don't know." he said off-handedly while trying to act casual. It must have failed because Jim's face fell.

"Oh, I didn't realise your amnesia was that bad. Well, what do you remember?" The question was as sincere as it got and McCoy had nothing to lose if he took Ron's advice and opened up a little. They had a long trip ahead until he reached solid ground and anything was better than spending that time alone. Also if this stranger helped with jogging some more of his memories then it would be a pleasant addition. So, he nodded, much to his companion's surprise.

"Sure, but let's do that in the saloon. I need some food in me."

Jim agreed and took McCoy's arm. He expertly led them to the dining saloon which was in the back of the ship. Two waiters opened the door for them, unaffected by Jim's strong clutch at McCoy's elbow. With curt nods, they allowed them into the large saloon decorated with fancy chandeliers, round luxurious tables, a group of musicians and a room full of well-dressed passengers. Everything was way too shiny and golden for McCoy's taste but he wasn't going to comply. Not when Jim dragged him to an empty table, closest to the centre of the ship.

"Where the balance is at its best!" Jim explained as they sat side by side.

"Jim, do you get seasick, too?" McCoy asked out of curiosity because there had to be a reason why Jim knew so much about it so that he actually reserved a table at a central location for himself.

"No," he laughed "but my table is open to anyone who may need it, Bones... I mean it's a strategically good position for bones and balance, you know. You are a doctor after all." McCoy made a face at Jim, not really understanding what he was going on about but he let it slide. He wouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth. Having chosen to sit with his back to the wall, Jim made a point of showing the empty chairs on the side of the table and began describing the people who would soon occupy them. "They are nice people, mostly. Maybe Mr Scott is a bit too eager to overshare but you'll definitely get along with Madam Chapel!"

"How do you even know these people already?" McCoy questioned. In the last five hours or so, all he could have achieved was to take a nap, settle down his stomach and get redressed.

"I make a point of knowing everyone I share a table and a ship with. It's a force of habit I suppose."

"Oh?" was all McCoy could manage. He took a spoonful of his cold soup and wrinkled his nose at it but kept eating before coming up with an appropriate response, "How come?"

"It's supposed to be cold," Jim gestured at the soup and returned to gaze directly into McCoy's eyes, "As an answer to your question, doctor, there is but a simple answer. I'm a captain of a ship myself "

"Bullshit!" McCoy exclaimed at Jim's response, earning disapproving looks from the nearby tables and making Jim's hand falter midair. He decided to act a bit more diplomatic, "I do not mean any offence. You had mentioned that you graduated a few years back only. I don't think anyone would hand over a ship to a youngster like you."

"I literally have grey hair in my beard," Jim countered, he seemed more amused than offended which suited the doctor well.

"That proves nothing. It could be a hereditary trait."

"I'll have you know that I am the youngest ever to be made captain."

"That I would believe if you really are a captain."

"Fine, laugh it off, doctor. I'll prove it to you!"

"Can't wait to see it, kid," They both smiled at each other and focused on their meals for a little while. As per Jim's prediction, their table began to fill up with people which Jim was somehow already on first name basis. He distinctly heard Jim ask after Mr Scott and Madam Chapel but was disappointed to know that they would not be joining them that evening. The orchestra began their third song and everyone seemed at ease with each other, leaving a very confused McCoy to wonder how in Earth's name they got to befriend each other this quickly. They were mostly rich adults with no families close by. Some were in business' ranging from oil to enterprise, and none of them knew a lick of the medical studies, let alone being able to engage in any common topics. Oh, excuse him; an elderly couple was hell bent on criticising the dress of a young maiden by the corner seat. So there was that.

Beyond the chatter of the sophisticated people and feeling a little like an outsider and terribly out of place, he kept his gaze on his meal until a soft touch on his shoulder caught his attention.

"McCoy?" Jim had a concerned look plastered on his face and an angelic voice which promised an interesting conversation amidst the boredom that was their table. He turned to him a little too quickly. "I am sorry if this is a bore. I thought being among people would calm your anxiety."

"And help me forget that we are floating in the middle of nowhere with barely enough lifeboats and far too much turbulence? Yeah, yes, it's helping, for the most part!" Jim's laugh made him feel better.

"I want to ask you about your amnesia but it's overly crowded so instead of yelling your problems at me, do you want to go out to the deck? If it's no problem with you and your tummy?"

"Well, aren't you an adorable lil' captain, kindly asking after your people" McCoy teased and then nodded after seeing Jim's serious expression, "Alright, fresh air could do me some good."

"My thoughts exactly," he smirked with full white teeth and shot up from his seat "Ladies and gentlemen, please excuse us for the now and you all have a lovely night!" Along with Jim, McCoy relayed his good night wishes and followed the man out of the glass doors without missing a beat.

The moment the salty breeze hit McCoy, his shoulders relaxed and he revelled in the silence of the deck. He located a spot, with enough distance between the ocean and him, and sat on the closest metal bench. "Fresh air does wonders to my lungs. I can feel myself actually calming down, despite having to stare at absolute nothingness in the middle of a moonless night! Thank heavens for the oil lamps, yes?"

"Yeah," Jim replied, opting to stay on his feet and leaning on the railings, "Don't worry too much, McCoy. Nothing can hurt you on this ship. S.S. Catalonia is as sturdy and malfunction-free as she will ever be!"

"Unless we meet an iceberg halfway through!"

"What makes you say that?" Jim questioned.

"Nothing, just-" from a book he read? A news he heard? He didn't know for sure but it was all depended on chance, wasn't it? An unforeseen event that could doom every person on board. "a possibility" he finished for the sake of being pessimistic. Jim was not amused by his answer.

"Fear not, Dr McCoy. In case we hit an iceberg, I'll get you out safe and sound."

"Don't make promises you can't keep, Captain" McCoy said heatedly and lowered his voice when he saw how dark the look on Jim's eyes got "Besides, I am way too old to be swooned by that kind of a promise anyway" That must have lightened him up because Jim let out a hearty laugh which also improved McCoy's mood.

This ship trip may not be as bad as he originally assumed after all. Then, Jim proposed something that managed to make it even more delightful and McCoy was eager to say yes, giddy with anticipation.

"Wait here," Jim requested and McCoy spent a few peaceful moments looking at the midnight sky. The stars shone brightly and he found himself wondering what it would be like to roam through the never ending space, amongst those stars. Then, he shivered at the idea of being in the darkness, facing off the unknown and he shook his head, clearing away the scary thoughts.

Jim returned soon enough. He passed a glass of bourbon to McCoy with a coy smile. McCoy was surprised to notice a silver glimmer from a ring on his pinky finger. He meant to ask about it but Jim took a seat beside him, his thigh touching the doctor's, effectively distracting him from any questions. The clinging of their glasses was the only sound on the deck; loud gulps and equally pleasant sighs over the fine taste followed as they sipped their drinks. They fell into a comfortable silence until Jim could no longer keep to himself.

"So, you want to talk about it?"

McCoy had only managed to take three sips before Jim's curiosity took over and he smiled at the blond man's impatience. "I can but the truth of the matter is I don't have much to tell."

"Try thinking about what you remember instead of what you don't. Familiarity may jog your memory," Jim replied. McCoy was ready to counter that but the kid had a point. By doing nothing, not even trying to remember, he wasn't going to regain any memories.

"Alright, I'll see what I can do," he said and gulped down a considerable amount of his bourbon "I recall waking up on a shore of Crosby. With me, there were a few people lying around, some dead and some still breathing."

"What did that feel like?"

"I was cold. So fucking cold. It was like waking up with death hanging over you, ready to take your soul to its eternal resting place. Knowing that some people around you were already nothing more than bodies, being moved only by the pull of the waves and thinking, believing that you were going to be the very next... It was terrifying."

"I am sorry, McCoy," Jim sympathised but McCoy shook his head. It wasn't his fault.

"I didn't die," He replied and watched as relief became apparent in Jim's eyes, "I woke up to screams and calls for help. I remember that it was dawn and there weren't that many people around but it was still so loud for the next few moments until I regained my full consciousness. You won't believe it, but my first instinct was to reach out to the closest body and try to resuscitate him. It didn't work. He was far too gone so I move on to the next person and by God's good grace, he woke up."

"I am in fact not surprised to hear that, doctor. Helping others is engraved in your bones," Jim interrupted and a blush crept up to McCoy's neck.

"I did what felt right. I was able to help some of them and even managed to calm one of the spectators enough to have her get some help from downtown. That was a feat like no other." McCoy laughed and took another sip, "One of the man I helped, Sir Ronald Ross, he was adamant on repaying his debt to me. I would have refused had I any idea who I was or how I got there but alas, I had neither the memory nor the money to survive on my own. So, he took me in and after he and his colleagues realised my penchant for the medical profession, they offered me a job at the clinic and later at the Victoria University. But the latter part lasted shorter than intended."

"What about in between," Jim asked as he swirled his drink in the glass, he appeared lost in his own thoughts "Did nothing seem familiar? No flashbacks or names or something?"

"No, nothing. Don't get me wrong, I knew things that no one could explain. The moment they put a scalpel in my hand, I could cut open any cadaver, I would be able to tell what a patient's problem was without even finishing up the preliminary examination. Not all of what I said made sense to the other doctors and professors. They must have thought that a part of the brain was scrambled from the trauma but they all agreed that I was at my best when I was performing a surgery. They were really all curious where I've practised before and I tell you, that's half the reason why they let me work with them for the last year."

"It must have been tough, not even knowing your name but being so efficient in your job."

"That must say a lot about my character, don't you think?"

"I think it says that you are damn good doctor, McCoy and they were lucky to have you save their asses when you did."

"I'll drink to that," McCoy raised his glass to cling it one last time before finishing off his bourbon. "Ron was kind enough to give me a home and even start an investigation to figure out my origin. He is obsessed with detective work. Nothing turned up but at least I had my name to give. Of course, I am not certain if I am really called McCoy or not but you make do with what you got!"

"Oh, you are definitely McCoy. If nothing else you look like one." Jim's input was as random as it was welcomed. Not that he would let it be known.

"Speaking of mysteries," McCoy echoed, Ron's words "Did you know that the detective, Holmes was dead?"

A sudden surprise appeared on Jim's face as McCoy observed his reactions "He was a fictional character, wasn't he?" he asked McCoy with both uncertainty and confusion.

McCoy suddenly clapped his hands and exclaimed "That's what I thought, too! I couldn't figure out how I would ever know something like that if I didn't already know about it from before I lost my memories!"

"So, you are remembering things!" Jim said with a hopeful tone.

"I believe so. I also knew I would get seasick without remembering boarding a boat before."

"It's a ship" Jim interjected and McCoy rolled his eyes at him "Perhaps you just need the right triggers."

"You sure you aren't on the medical track because you could have made a fine psychiatrist."

"Only fine?" Jim smiled smugly and McCoy almost instantly regretted complimenting him. When McCoy remained silent, Jim realised that he was afraid to confess something. He waited patiently as he too polished off his drink and turned to the doctor only to find him regard Jim with a deadly serious expression.

"I think I was a part of another ship crew in the past," he said much to Jim's surprise "When I was heading for the saloon, I had this silly urge to climb up the stairs to go to the Bridge for no reason. It was like I was compelled to do so as if I belonged there. I mean it makes no sense because I am sure of my profession; I am a doctor! I have no place on a bridge regardless of having worked on a ship. I just don't know, kid. Perhaps that explains why I was on that shore alongside other shipwreck survivors. Maybe I served on that ship as a physician?"

"Did you check the records of the sunken ship?"

"Yeah, Ron did. No records on any ship surgeon or physician on the ship... So that answers my question."

Jim placed his empty glass onto the bench and levelled McCoy with an equally serious face. He leaned in close, threw an arm over his back and gently squeezed McCoy's shoulder. "I think, McCoy, whether you were a doctor or not if you are a part of the ship and her crew then your place is in the bridge right by your captain's side. You shouldn't have to question that. A doctor is the heart of any ship, the one who keeps everyone alive including the captain."

"Who is the soul of the ship" McCoy finished, mesmerised by the unyielding gaze of the blue eyes, "You have very strong opinions on this subject"

"Yeah, you have no idea!"

"Which ship's soul are you then, Captain?" McCoy teased, remembering the man's earlier claim, but Jim didn't appear to be joking around.

"One that is already sailing amongst the stars but hasn't been built yet" Jim answered and McCoy snorted loudly. The simple touch on his shoulder which was grounding him to reality assured that McCoy wasn't hearing things but he made a point of laughing at his companions expense. He had to respond without breaking his heart somehow and he figured that telling Jim that he was insane wasn't the best way to do that.

"That makes no sense, Jim." he said jokingly and took the opportunity the let out a long drawn sigh "So, the doctor of a sunken ship and the captain of a nonexistent ship meet up. What do you think is the end result going to be?" It was a rhetorical question but unfortunately, the answer was not.

"Together, they are going to break into the Bridge!"