Author's Responses at the end:

Chapter Four: What is my Name?

"Thank you for speaking to us, Miss Chamberlain," the Starfleet lieutenant said.

Susan looked briefly at her parents, who sat along the side of the wall. Her mother gave her an encouraging nod while her father forced a sickly-looking smile.

"Of course," Susan finally said.

The lieutenant appeared to be in her twenties and wore her blonde hair in a bob. The yellow hair looked slightly odd with her otherwise Asian features. Still, she had a soothing contralto voice and moved with calm, deliberate competence as she removed her PADD to record the interview.

"My name is Lieutenant Helen Yang. I am with Starfleet Security. And I wish to assure you that neither you nor your friends are in any trouble. As soon as this interview is done you will be free to go regardless of your answers. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"Good. First, please state your name, age and place of residence."

"Susan Chamberlain, eighteen, San Francisco."

"Good. Susan, where were you on July 31st of this year?"

"I was in Scotland."

"Where in Scotland?"

"Hogwarts Valley."

"Can you describe what you were doing there?"

Susan described their trip and Grams last will and testament where Grams asked her, Mary Caraough, Diana Boxing and Katherine Dunningham to scatter her ashes by the lake in Hogs Valley, and then to drink a toast of Irish whiskey to her at Midnight.

"And did Margaret Dulheim ask you to do anything else?"

"No."

Lieutenant Yang looked at her for a very long time without blinking. Susan kept her eyes just out of focus with the lieutenant. "Can you tell me when and how you found the young man we are calling Bill?"

"There was a flash of bright light," Susan said. "We thought it was a flare. And then he was simply there."

"Can you describe his appearance?"

"Naked," Susan said quickly. She blushed and looked down. "Scared. Really scared. He tried to run from us at first."

"Did he have any specific markings or identifying features?"

"He had tattoos on his hands and feet. Otherwise that was it. No scars that we could see."

Yang smiled. "And I suppose you looked closely?"

"Have you seen him?" Susan muttered. Her blush had risen to her eyes. "Er, I mean, yeah, I guess we looked. Katherine found a pair of sweats for him to wear and Diana gave him some of our travel packs to eat."

"Did he speak?"

"Yeah, he did. It sounded strange, though. Like those ancient pre-war movies they sometimes show on the infonet."

"Now, Susan, I do not want you to be embarrassed," Lieutenant Yang said. "There is no judgment here. We're simply trying to understand everything that happened. Were you, or any of your friends, sexually intimate with this young man?"

"What? No!" Susan sputtered. "We…I mean, Diana and I held his hands because he was acting really scared, but…no!"

"I see," Lieutenant Yang said. "Did you kiss him or engage in any intimate contact of any kind?"

"Again, no. Why are you asking that?"

Yang made a note in her PADD instead of answering. Instead, she said, "Susan, are you sexually active?"

Susan turned and stared at her parents, who both looked slightly nauseous. "Mom, Dad, are you going to let them ask this?"

"It's for a good reason, Susan," Peter Chamberlain said. "I promise, sweetie, it'll be okay. But please answer for now. Remember, we're not judging you."

Susan turned and glared at the lieutenant. "As a matter of fact, no, I'm not sexually active."

Yank smiled and made another note. "Thank you, Susan. Like I said, I'm not trying to embarrass you. This conversation will be held in the strictest of confidences. Now, can you tell me what happened when the shuttle arrived?"

Susan took a deep breath to steady herself. "Bill was terrified. He jumped up and put himself in front of us, like he was trying to protect us or something. It was silly. I've seen Katherine fight and she could probably take on most cadets. Anyway, the Andorian officer came out first. Bill couldn't see him at first until the shuttle turned on its brights. Bill took one look at the man and screamed. He waved his hand, the Andorian fell down, and Bill grabbed Diana and told us all to run."

"And then what?"

"Katherine told him not to be an idiot, and the other Feddie shot him."

Yang made some more notes. "Now, Susan, one last question, and I hope you are honest with me. We are having a difficult time identifying Bill or locating his family. Do you know where he is from?"

"I'm sorry," Susan said with absolute honesty, "I really don't. Is he okay? Can I see him? He must be scared right now, and probably hungry."

"Perhaps later," Yang said. "Once we locate his family, we will send him home. And chances are, that will not be here." The lieutenant stood abruptly. "Well, thank you all for your time. I know this has been difficult for you, and I appreciate your assistance. Susan, it was a pleasure meeting you."

Susan took the offered hand numbly, and then walked out with her parents.

The Starfleet Command campus took up much of the land surrounding Horseshoe Bay and looked out over the Golden Gate Bridge. The bridge looked perfect, with no sign of its destruction during the Dominion War when Susan was a baby.

"Uhhg, that was irritating!" Susan muttered. "Mom, why were you letting her ask personal questions like that?"

"I'm sorry, dear," Jennifer Chamberlain said. She reached across and toyed with some of Susan's hair. "There were some indications during your physical this morning that made them concerned. What if the boy wasn't human or had come in illegally without getting his immuno boosters? You could have caught an illness."

"I didn't do anything," Susan said. "What, did you think we set up some type of orgy out there? We tossed Gram's ashes, got slightly drunk on the whiskey, and then there he was. The Feddie shuttle arrived a couple hours later, and mostly what we did before then was sleep."

"Okay, dear. Let's go home."

* * *

"She's lying," Yang said.

Commander Tom Paris watched the playback and compared it to the other three interviews. "True, but they matched their stories up well enough and there's no sign of any actual crime being committed. And frankly even if there were a crime, it's way outside of Starfleet jurisdiction."

"What about Petty Officer Shahkria? Doesn't that make it our jurisdiction?"

"He recovered with no other effects than a mild headache. But yeah, that's why we're holding the boy. Any word on him?"

"He's at Medical. Our background check turned up nothing on DNA scan. The scan itself was a little strange, but that's for medical to figure out. From what we can tell, he has no family, ID, or name. He doesn't exist."

Commander Paris shrugged and logged the case as complete. "Well, we've done our part. It's for the white jackets to figure out now."

* * *

He woke to a gentle voice telling him it was time to get up. He blinked against a bright light and tried to sit up. A feminine hand pressed against his back to help him.

"Better?"

He nodded. The speaker moved out from behind him. She was a pretty woman with hazel eyes and long chestnut brown hair with a few natural highlights held by a tie at the back of her neck. Her most startling feature, though, were four small horns that started at the bridge of her nose and ran up between her eyes to just about the line of her brows.

"Are you…an alien?"

The woman smiled, and he felt somehow comforted. He could feel that she meant him no harm. That she could be his friend.

"My father wasn't human, if that is your question," she said. "My mother was. Words like 'alien' don't mean very much any more. Can you tell me your name?"

"They called me Bill," he said. "Diana. Is she here? Did that laser gun get her too?"

The woman shook her head gently. "No, Diana was fine. That was called a phaser, and the officer only used it because he thought you were trying to hurt him. But you weren't, were you?"

"I thought he was a demon or something," Bill admitted. "But he was another alien, right?"

"His species is called Andorian. His name is Petty Officer Shahkria. He is married with a young daughter. They came by while you were sleeping to make sure you were okay."

Bill looked down at his knees. They were covered by gray slacks that felt very smooth and comfortable. "That was nice of him. I'm glad he's okay."

"Well, Bill, are you hungry?"

Bill's eyes widened. "Yeah."

"What would you like?"

"Bangers and mash would be smashing if you have it."

The pretty woman looked a little confused. "I'm sorry, I'm not familiar with that dish. Can you describe it?"

"Sausages and mash," Bill said. "Best with Cumberland sausages, and maybe a little onion gravy. I never got gravy." He blushed and ducked his head. "Never got the bangers either, really. But I'd get some of the mash since Dudley just wanted the sausages."

The woman smiled again. "Computer, inquiry, bangers and mash?"

"Bangers and Mash is a dialectic term describing any type of sausage served with mashed potatoes, most commonly served with an onion-based gravy. Commonly known as pub-grub. No longer vernacular usage."

Bill stood and looked around the spacious room for the voice. "Who's that?"

"That's the computer," the woman said. "It has sensors in the walls that can hear and understand questions, and answer them out loud."

"Wow, bet that cost a few pence," Bill said.

"Computer, one order of bangers of mash, please."

Bill watched as an alcove lit up, then a moment later he could smell a familiar scent. His mouth was watering as the woman walked over, collected the plate, and walked back to a small table by a window. He realized on some level he should have looked around, but he only had eyes on the food.

"Thanks," he said as he took the proffered silverware and demolished them. "Bangers taste a bit wonky, but still good. Got any butterbeer?"

"Computer?"

"No reference found."

The woman shrugged. "What else would you like?"

The boy looked down at the now empty place. "Er, don't suppose…you got any soda?"

"Soda?"

"You know, like Coke?"

"A popular carbonated beverage," the computer explained. "The last bottle of Coke was produced in 2198."

"May we have a glass? Bill, do you like ice?"

"No, thanks."

"Twelve ounces, chilled."

The alcove in the corner lit up, and the woman brought the glass. "Thanks," Bill said. He sipped it, eyes closed. "Never got Coke either," he whispered. "Hey, should I know your name? You feel familiar."

"My name is Naomi Wildman," the woman said.

"Naomi," the boy said. "That's a pretty name. Should I know you? I feel like I've met you before."

"I don't think so, but thank you. Bill, do you know your last name?"

"Er…" He put the cup down and stared into the distance a moment before blinking. "No, not really."

"You mentioned someone named Dudley?"

"Aye. My whale of a cousin. Used to beat me up all the time."

"What was his last name?"

"I don't remember."

Bill's eyes wandered from those of Naomi to the window. His jaw dropped. "Bill?" Naomi asked.

"That's…that's the Golden Gate Bridge!"

"Yes it is."

"That means we're in the States, right?"

"States?"

"You know, the United States of America?"

"Well, I suppose yes, we are in North America," Naomi said. "Where are you from, Bill?"

"I'm from…Surrey?"

"You don't sound sure."

"I…don't remember. Little…something, Surrey."

"Computer?"

"Searching. Surrey was a county of the United Kingdom bordering pre-war London. The only locations within Surrey that match the parameters were Little Bookham and Little Whinging."

"That's it!" Bill said. "Little Whinging. Number 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging." He grinned. "I remember that."

"That's excellent, Bill!" Naomi said.

"Can I see Diana now?" Bill asked. "Or Susan or Katherine? Mary? Are they okay?"

"They've actually gone home," Naomi said. "They are all from this area. I'm sure after we get things settled you could see them again."

Bill stood up abruptly. He started looking at the room, really looking at it. There were two couches and three chairs, all a sandy brown color and overstuffed. They looked very comfortable. One wall looked like glass, but was black. He found a strange looking bathroom, but eventually he came back to the windows.

"I've seen pictures," he said softly. "I recognize the bridge. But I don't recognize the rest." He turned and looked at Naomi. "Why can't I remember?"

"I don't know, Bill," Naomi said. "I am a doctor. And I would very much like to help you. But there are tests we would need to run, and none of us here would do anything like that without your permission."

"Would they hurt?"

"No. You wouldn't feel a thing."

Bill looked back out the window. After a moment Naomi placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "It feels like I've lost something," Bill whispered. "Something really important. But I just can't remember."

"Maybe we can find out together."

"Will you stay with me?" He turned and stared with brilliant green eyes. "I…I don't like being alone that much."

"I'll be with you," Naomi promised.

* * *

"A fascinating case, Dr. Wildman," Dr. St'alar said.

"You're telling me," Naomi whispered. On the other side of the window Bill lay on a thin cushioned slab while a deep-tissue resonance scanner swept over him to make a perfect holographic map of his body, all the way down to his cells.

"Little Whinging, Surrey, does not exist," St'alar said.

Noami raised a brow. "Think he's lying, then?"

"No. Scans indicated a high probability that he is telling us the truth. Little Whinging does not exist because it was destroyed in your last world war, along with much of London." The Vulcan raised a brow. "I would have thought you knew that."

"The war was covered in a class I missed," Noami said. "Raised 70,000 light years from Earth, remember?"

St'alar raised a brow. "Indeed. I sometimes wonder how Admiral Janeway put up with you."

"I had a winning smile," Naomi said. "Also I went from one to six in the course of a year until the Doctor fixed my faulty genome, so there wasn't so much diaper changing. But back to now—Bill used some other very anachronistic terms. Bangers and mash? Butterbeer? That one the computer had no idea. But Coke? He didn't just ask for soda but asked for a brand that hasn't been in production in two centuries."

"Perhaps he was in stasis?"

The resonance technician stepped away from the control. "Sorry to interrupt, doctors."

"Done?" Naomi asked.

"No, Doctor," the tech said with a shake of his head. "I've had to call maintenance. The imager is malfunctioning. We can't get anything below two millimeters. I'm sorry."

St'alar asked, "Do we have another we could use?"

"There's another deep-rez scanner over at the academy, but it's usually pretty booked up." The tech turned to go back to his controls, but paused. "I know we weren't able to do it all, but you might be interested to know that the subject has no scars."

"I'm sorry?" Naomi asked.

"No scars," the man said. "In fact, he has no skin conditions at all. No freckles, no varicose veins, no sign of acne past or present. No indication of any trauma ever. Most beautiful skin I've ever seen. If he weren't a teen, I'd say I was looking at the skin of a newborn baby. And those tattoos—they're birthmarks."

Naomi stared. "That's not possible."

The tech shrugged. "Otherwise it's the most advanced form of genetic engineering I've ever seen outside the Eugenics Wars. The 'tattoos' weren't done in ink. They're natural skin pigmentation."

"Can we get a carbon date of his skin?" St'alar asked.

"I'm sorry?"

Naomi understood where her supervisor was going. "If the skin looks new, maybe it is."

The tech nodded. "We don't normally do sample scans here. But then again, this is Starfleet Medical."

"Indeed," St'alar said. "Thank you for your assistance."

"You're welcome, Doctors," the tech said.

Since the scan was done, Naomi stepped into the room. "Hello, Bill. Didn't hurt at all, did it?"

"It tickled a bit," Bill said. This made St'alar raise a brow, since patients were not supposed to feel anything. "So what's this thing do again?"

"Well, this time, it took a really good picture of your skin. The technician said you have very beautiful skin."

Bill blushed beat red. "Well, er, that's nice, I suppose. So, when's lunch?"

* * *

Chief of Psychiatry Captain Deanna Riker looked down at her PADD while the rest of her staff looked over the notes from the other reports. "And finally, Naomi, do you have anything on the John Doe found in Scotland? Keep in mind you're all that's keeping us from lunch."

Chuckles ran in a wave around the room. It was not unusual that Naomi was last. At twenty, she was the youngest psychiatrist on staff. So young, in fact, she was lucky to get the job at all. She tried not to think about the possibility that her friendship with Admiral Janeway had anything to do with it.

When Naomi didn't answer immediately, Deanna looked up. "Naomi?"

"I'm sorry, I'm still trying to understand it myself."

"Understand what?"

Naomi placed her PADD on the table and looked around the table. "I know I'm the youngest doctor on rotation, and some of you sometimes don't trust my results, so I want everyone to know that I've been consulting Dr. St'alar the entire time."

"What is it, Naomi?" Deanna asked.

"According to a carbon date of Bill's skin, he is exactly one week old."

Deanna blinked while the others at the staff conference whispered. "Can you explain?"

"We attempted to do a deep-rez scan on the patient to perhaps get a better understanding of his amnesia. Was it physiological, pathological, or psychological? The deep-rez imager could only penetrate a few millimeters. However, the operator noted that Bill's skin was perfect, showing no sign of daily wear. We got him into the other imager at the Academy with the same exact results. For whatever reason, we can't do a deep-tissue resonance scan on him. So we did an EM scan. At the same time we took a skin sample. Rather than just scan it, we did a date test on the tissue."

"I wish to confirm Dr. Wildman's report," St'alar added. "The results were conclusive. The skin had only been exposed to the atmosphere for approximately a week, which corresponds to the time when the four human females supposedly found him in Scotland."

"What about the EM scan?" Dr. Feingold said.

"Bill is generating a ten millicochran energy field around his body," Naomi said. "It appears to be organically produced. Since both deep-rez imagings failed, we haven't been able to determine why."

"That's very interesting," Deanna noted as her colleagues commented on it. It was not entirely unheard of for beings to generate Cochran fields, but it was rare. "A clone, perhaps?" Deanna said.

"The tissue shows no mitochondrial degradation consistent with cloning," St'alar said. "If it were not for the fact that he speaks pre-Standard English and has some limited memory, I would almost be willing to speculate that he was a new born with artificially enhanced growth."

"Except he does have some memories," Naomi said. "He remembers an abusive cousin named Dudley. He says he is from a place destroyed over four hundred years ago in the last world war. He likes to drink a carbonated beverage from the twentieth century. His assault on a Starfleet officer was because he had never seen a non-human before and was scared."

"What does he think of your horns?" Deanna said with a teasing smile.

Naomi blushed. "He likes them a great deal."

Deanna reviewed the report and then leaned back. Though in her fifties now, Naomi always thought Deanna Riker was a beautiful woman. And a determined one. Getting a medical degree was difficult. Getting the degree and the internship while serving as a commander on board a starship was almost unthinkable. It was little surprise that when the Titan came home and Captain Riker was offered an admiral's position as chief of Terra Sector security, she was tapped as the department head for mental health services.

"Tell, me, Naomi, what you think of him? Personally?"

"I think he's charming," Naomi admitted. "Intelligent but shy and unsure of himself. Kind and unselfish. He was deeply concerned for the well-being of the girls who found him, and was very apologetic when he met with Petty Officer Shahkria. He actually ended up playing with Shahkria's daughter for nearly two hours. He is very good with children—he has a natural empathy. Perhaps not developed to your level, but he bonded with her very quickly and she adored him. She cried when her father told her it was time to go home."

"You seem taken with him," Deanna said.

There was just the hint of warning in her voice. Naomi understood. "Within the confines of my role, I suppose some transference and counter transference has occurred. But I've made clear that I am his doctor. I am a friend if he needs it, but my primary role is to heal him. He understands that."

"Good. So, next steps?"

"With Dr. St'alar's concurrence, I do not feel that Bill poses a danger to himself or to society at this time. While he is a mystery and I would like to continue to meet with him to plan out a treatment strategy and further study, we also have to take into account what is in his best interest. I believe at this stage our long term goal should be societal integration. We need to start looking at what he knows and what he will need to know to fit into our society."

"With continued surveillance," St'alar added. "While the subject appears on the surface to be harmless and we can find no evidence of harmful pathogens, the fact we are unable to perform a deep scan is cause of some concern. If he is an organic weapon, it would be difficult to defuse him without further information. So a tracking implant would appropriate until we have a better idea of who or what he is."

"I agree," Deanna said. "Very well. Let's contact Hope's Point and begin the reintegration process for him."

sp

Author's Responses:

I am absolutely thrilled about the number of reviews so far. I did not really think I'd have this many people reading. So I'd like to thank the following people for their reviews and comments:

White Merlin; Vyrexuviel; Bobbky; dajohu; Obsidius; gaul1; Pointer3109; JEKrug01; Debbster21; Skuert; Roosterman71; SomeGuyFawkes; jpdt19; Gogolu; Wonderbee31; bord to life; GinnyLover14; dexterZ; David Fishwick; jarad hillman; Sharnorasian Empire; Voldemort is Dead; Johnny Bravo J; OrionTheHunter; Cyrix98; Manus Dei; and CatWriter.

Questions and Answers:

Q: I wonder what Starfleet is going to make of a guy who doesn't need a phaser to stun / kill someone. or do a whole heck of a lot of other things.

A: To be honest, a good part of the story is dedicated to that.

Q: It doesn't really make sense that Harry would just start zapping a stranger who'd made no hostile moves.

A: To a teen-age boy seeing an alien for the first time, it was a fight or flight response, and we all know which Harry would choose.

Q: Are you going to pair harry up with 4 girls again or just 1 or none at all?

A: You'll see. Promise.

Q: If i had to guess, and i do, i would guess Grams is Luna. It just sounds like something she would do.

A: Good guess, but no.

Q: I can hardly wait for Harry to remember his name I like his name it suits him.

A: Ordinarily I would not address this since it's a plot point, but I just wanted to say that the recovery of his name and memory is the true climax of this story and will follow with memories of how things got to the way they are. This is a truly immersive cross and honestly I gave myself goosebumps when it got there. But it will be the latter half of the story that this happens. Just be aware.

Well, thank you all for reading and for your feedback. Once again I am genuinely thrilled with the reception this fic has had so far.