Chapter 37 - 2402
A bird sang, high and shrill, as Shaw walked across the pasture.
Kinglet, he thought as he glanced up. He knew he probably wouldn't be able to see it. They were tiny birds, not much bigger than hummingbirds …
A curious sensation washed over his body. It was similar to dizziness, but not quite. Vertigo? Not the right word either. Just a feeling of being unbalanced. It passed quickly.
Shaw shrugged and paused under the tree, looking more closely at the branches. Pretty much the only way to spot a kinglet was to see it moving. They darted around, quick short flights from branch to branch. They also often flicked their wings while not flying …
The feeling hit again, stronger this time and definitely some variety of vertigo. Shaw stumbled, put his hand on the tree trunk to steady himself.
What the hell is going on?
The tiny bird sang again, just over his head, and he looked up in time to catch a glimpse of it before it darted away.
The third time the feeling hit, Shaw's knees buckled. He checked the area under him – it was a cow pasture, after all – and then eased himself to the ground. He leaned forward, put his head between his knees. It helped, a little.
The bird sang. A sharp, high song, ending in a fast trill on an even higher note.
How the fuck do I know what a kinglet's song sounds like?
Becca.
I'm bored. Let's go for a walk.
Shaw, bored out of his mind, had agreed. But he couldn't walk far. His legs got tired; his recently broken leg ached. They'd stopped here, right here, and sat in the grass, and she'd taught him about the kinglets that nested there. He hadn't cared about the bird. He was just glad to have something to look at besides the walls of the cottage.
The grass, the wind, the sun dappling through the leaves. The bird singing, and Becca talking about nothing, anything, just to fill the day. Soaking it all in, learning, because he couldn't remember anything before his nap. Because his brain felt parched for content. Even tiny bird content.
But that had been –
-that had been—
"That was last summer," Shaw said aloud. "That was when I first got here."
It had to be, because his broken leg still hurt then and it didn't since they'd done the revision knitting –
Shaw's breath came in short little pants. He remembered the bird. He remembered that they'd repaired his leg a second time, in the winter. No, in the fall. Pissing ice rain but no snow. Dr. Bashir had come in to assist and –
-Julian, he remembered Julian. Standing with him and Becca by the pasture fence, watching a moose and her new calves there, under the next tree over –
He was very dizzy now. He shifted around and lay down flat under the tree, looking up at the green leaves and the sunlight breaking through and hearing the little bird and and and –
And suddenly it was all there.
It hit him like a tsunami, a giant wave of stored memories. There were too many, too deep, and the current was much too strong. The minute he grabbed one – Canada goose, on a nest, and she will attack you – a hundred more crowded it out of his mind. Conveyor belt's down again. Hail on the survival tent over the Soak while they floated. Thunder so close it shook the cottage's stone walls. Becca in Crusher's pristine Sick Bay – Sorry I'm late, I was pulling a calf. Throwing rocks against the stone until the tendon in his elbow snapped. Pub-sliced pizza. Toasted cheese sandwiches. Waking up so hungry, over and over and over. The memories and images started to slide, to overlap. Waking up not knowing where he was. A dozen times. A hundred. Becca's voice, you're safe, the ship's safe, every time. Becca floating in the Soak, in daylight, starlight, cold air, colder air. Watching bull moose fight in the back yard, their antlers cracking together like deck plates. Foxes screaming in the dark. Rabbits, rabbits, rabbits, deer and deer and deer. Bald eagles, golden eagles, ravens, crows, swans, Canada geese, snow geese, herons, storks, cranes, pelicans, gulls, terns, sandpipers. Deadfishwhalesgreensnakesblacksnakesstinkbugsskunksgroundhogssquirrelssuirrelsbigdogkittenssquirrels-
Shaw cried out, put his hands over his eyes. The wave receded for an instant, but he could feel it building again. Every memory, every experience for the past year, every conversation, every emotion, every thunderlightninghailfullmoonsnowsleetsunrainrainrain—
His brain was on fire. He pressed the balls of his hands against his eyes, but it didn't help. He threw his arms out to his sides instead and looked straight up into the tree. Find the bird. Just find the bird.
For a moment his concentration held. Then the damn kinglet flitted into and out of sight, and the next wave crashed.
Float, then. Like in the Soak. Just float.
That worked for another minute. Then the waves were too big, too wild, and he was flailing again, drowning.
He needed a lifeline, something that ran through all of it, something he could grab onto so he didn't wash away entirely.
Thunderlightningnightstormlikethis –
Becca.
Becca in the storm, in his arms. Becca when he woke in her bed. Becca in the Soak. In the rain, the snow, the sunlight. Standing in the doorway with him watching the moose fight. Standing by the fence with him watching the moose calves struggle to stand. Moving down the fence line to open the gate for them while their mother stomped her feet in warning. Becca with coffee, with coffee, with coffee. Becca every time he woke up. You're safe, they're all safe …
The waves kept coming, but they calmed enough that he could keep his head above water.
Becca crying. Evie's dead, Nico's dead, Harald's dead, my dad died yesterday.
Becca crying helplessly while he screamed at her about the Borg nanoprobes that coursed through his veins. Becca crying and him feeling like a shitheel for screaming at her about something she had nothing to do with. Becca crying and him insisting that they had to find a way to deal with this, because he wouldn't remember the next day. Becca sending him out to throw rocks. To break something. To run.
"At least we did that right."
The sound of his own voice, his real voice, startled him. "Oh, that's better," he said, still aloud. The dizziness receded. "You hear that, little bird? Talking helps."
The bird promptly left the tree altogether.
"Fine, be that way. I'll just lay here and talk to myself then." He turned his head. The cows were at the far end of the pasture. "Hey cows! Come on over, let's talk."
The distant shapes ignored him.
"Okay fine. Well. I have my memories back. Okay." Shaw pushed himself up to sit. His head swam again. "Keep talking. Keep breathing." He became aware of his breathing – erratic – and of his heartbeat – much too fast. He was covered with cold sweat. He lifted one hand and watched his fingers shake, then put it back down on the grass. "Kinda wish Julian had given me a heads-up on this part. But maybe he did." Carefully, Shaw ducked into his own memories. Presque-vu, Bashir has said. Nothing about this wipeout wave.
"I should probably call him."
The storm sirens sounded.
Shaw squinted up at the sky. It was still sunny overhead, but out over the ocean were gray-black clouds, approaching fast. It was oddly reassuring. The wiring inside his brain was frayed and sparking into meltdown, but the real world went on functioning around him just fine. As long as he kept his eyes open and kept talking to himself, he could stay above the memory flood.
"Except, genius, you're about to get struck by lightning. Which is just too perfect. Die, get resurrected, spend a year-plus getting your memory back, and then die again crispy fried in a cow pasture. It's perfect."
He tried to stand up. His legs were not having it. Which was ridiculous, because his thighs were as heavily muscled as they'd ever been in his life. Running, he's done so much running. Throwing rocks, shooting racquetballs against the wall, swimming, running. So much running. "Fat lot of good that did me."
He rolled over to the tree trunk and managed to leverage himself up hand-over-hand until he was standing, but then he was stuck again. He knew he'd fall is he let go.
The storm siren sounded again. The leaves on the tree stopped dancing and blew in earnest in the freshening wind.
He could crawl. It wasn't really that far to the cottage.
A dog barked once in the distance.
"Melody," he remembered instantly. He put his fingers in his mouth and whistled sharply. Some campers had taught him that last summer. Bratty little shits, whistling at each other all over the camp at all hours of the night …
The dog barked once, hopefully in response. Shaw waited, then whistled a second time. A black bear-like shape wriggled under the fence at the far side of the pasture and loped towards him. "Good girl," he said when the massive dog was close enough. He rubbed her ears and she panted lovingly at him. "Now go get Becca."
Melody cocked her head.
"Becca, go get Becca." He waved toward the cottage.
The dog considered him for a moment, and then turned and trotted off toward the cottage.
Watching her go, it occurred to Shaw that he could have just kept whistling until Becca got pissed off enough to come outside. Good to have a back-up plan, anyhow.
The dog reached the back door of the cottage and barked once. Then she jumped up, battering her massive paws against the door. She barked again.
The back door opened and Becca spoke to the dog. Melody immediately turned and ran back toward him. Becca stepped down into the yard. "Are you okay?" she called.
"Bring the four-man," Shaw called back.
"Are you hurt?"
"Twisted my ankle," he lied. No need to panic her.
"Be right there."
He held onto the tree trunk and tried to calm himself the way they'd taught him way back when at the Academy. It didn't work for shit. It hadn't way back when, either. He was still shaking, still hearing his heart pound in his ears. Still shimmering with cold sweat. The dog came back to him and he rubbed her ears, told her she was a good girl. She trotted off the way she'd come.
Becca pulled up in the four-man. "You look like shit." She hurried over to help him into the passenger seat. "Let's get you up to Medical."
"No."
"Liam." She climbed into the driver's seat.
"I'm not hurt," he insisted. "I just – there was a kinglet."
Becca frowned. "Yeah, they have a nest there. Did it dive-bomb you?"
"No."
"Liam, what happened?"
His head was swimming again. He was suddenly ravenously hungry. "I remembered."
"You remembered the kinglet?"
"Yes."
"Okay."
"And then I remembered everything."
Becca stared at him. "That's … good. But you're in shock and we're going to Medical."
"No. No." He grabbed her arm. "Becca, I'm okay, I am. I just … just take me home and make me a sandwich."
"A sandwich."
"I'm starving."
She hesitated. "Alright. But if you don't pink up after that we're going to Medical or calling Julian."
"Deal."
She drove back across the pasture, concentrating on avoiding the biggest bumps. She parked the little vehicle by the front door and helped him inside.
"I'm okay," he insisted.
"Pffft. You didn't even ask to drive." She let him drop onto the couch.
"Cheese. Toasted. Just replicate it."
She raised an eyebrow, but she brought him the fast sandwich. He wolfed it down while she put the four-man in the shed. She brought him a second one, and a mug of tomato soup, and a glass of water.
She left once more and came back with a medical tricorder. "We're gonna run a scan," she said, "and then we're gonna call Julian."
"I'm okay," Shaw insisted, calmly and more convincingly this time. He felt better. Less shaky. Less sweaty. His heart had slowed down. "It just – hit all at once. I'm okay now." He took another big bite of the second sandwich. "And before anything else, I am so sorry."
"For what?"
"For screaming at you about the nanoprobes. It was unfair. And wrong. And I'm sorry."
"That only happened once," Becca assured him.
"It happened every day."
"No. After the first time we figured out a way to handle it."
"You shouldn't have had to handle it."
"Liam. You were learning something very disturbing for the first time every single day. We got through it just fine."
He nodded ruefully. "I did get great thighs out of it."
"Yeah you did."
"Still. It was wrong, and I apologize."
"Apology accepted. Drink your soup."
He tested a sip of the tomato soup, then chugged it. The edge finally faded from his hunger and he was suddenly sleepy. "We're going back to the beginning."
"What?"
"I was starving. Now I'm exhausted. I'm right back to where I was before."
"Probably for the same reason. The whole brain repair thing." She powered on the tricorder and waved it over him.
"Well?" Shaw asked while she studied the screen.
"Damned if I know." She turned it around to show him. "Nothing's green."
"But nothing's red, either." The last bite of his sandwich dropped from his fingertips and his head lolled forward. He lurched upright.
"You can't fall asleep here," Becca said firmly. "You sleep on this couch it'll take a week to work the kinks out of your back." She stood, set his plate aside, helped him to his feet. "C'mon."
"I can't." Shaw could barely keep his eyes open. "I can't fall asleep."
"Why?" She was already leading him toward the bedroom.
"What if … what if it's all gone again when I wake up?"
"We know it will come back." She sat him down on the edge of the bed, knelt to take his boots off.
"But what if I don't remember that?"
"I'll remind you."
"I don't want to sleep." His chin was already on his chest again.
"Liam." She sat beside him on the bed and worked his jacket off. "All this time, every day, you woke up and I told you where you are, how you got here, right?"
"Yes."
"And I haven't lied to you, right?"
"Right."
"You've trusted me with your memories this long. Can you trust me a little longer?"
"I can," Shaw realized, through the haze of settling sleep.
Becca eased his body onto the bed and pulled the comforter up over him.
"Will you stay with me?" he murmured.
"I will, love. I'm going to call Julian and then I'll stay with you." She kissed his temple and slipped from the room.
Thunder rumbled, close, and rain began to clatter on the roof.
"I love a good thunderstorm," Liam Shaw said quietly, and then he slept.
When he woke it was dark in the room and outside the window. The rain continued to fall, but the storm was over. Becca was propped up against the headboard beside him, reading a tablet.
"Studying up on brain damage?" he asked quietly.
"The Stars at Noon. Jacqueline Cochrane's autobiography."
"Does she admit she was wrong?"
"Of course not." Becca set the tablet aside. "You know how you got here?"
Shaw nodded. "The Serene Ambassador tracked cow shit into Admiral Crusher's Sick Bay."
"Mm-hmm."
"Did you really pull a calf that day?"
"We have transporter technology. No one's had to pull a calf in two hundred years."
Shaw chuckled. Then he rolled onto his back and laughed out loud.
"I did make sure to step in a fresh cow pie on my way, though."
He laughed even harder. "Oh, I'm glad you're on my side."
"Always. How do you feel?"
"Much better. What did Julian say?"
"That your blood sugar crashed because your brain was using it all. And that you're going to eat and sleep again for a while."
"We guessed that."
"He'll be out in the morning. I did another scan while you were sleeping and it was a lot more green. He's a little startled that all your memories came back at once. Said I should call you if I'm concerned, and that I should feel free to sedate you if you get unruly."
"Me? Unruly? I'm not the one who tracked cow shit into Starfleet Medical."
"He thinks that was accidental. The Serene Ambassador would never."
"Ah, the value of reputation."
"Mmm-hmm. Are you hungry?"
"I am."
"What can I get you?"
Shaw sat up. "I'll go. Donuts and cider?"
"Sure."
He tested his legs, decided they were functional again, and stood. "We missed the Soak, didn't we? I'm sorry, you could have gone without me."
"It was still storming."
"Oh. Good."
He took a piss, washed his hands and splashed water on his face, changed into his sleep pants. Then he went to the kitchen. "Crullers, two," he told the replicator.
"I love crullers," Becca said, "but the replicator makes crappy ones, and they're a pain in the ass to make by hand."
"Let's see if we can fix that," he answered.
Shaw remembered it clearly. It had been storming that day, too, and they'd spend the morning replicating, tasting, critiquing, discarding, refining the programming. In the end they had significantly better crullers. Not perfect, but much better.
That, he realized, was the turning point. When Becca shifted from saying I'm bored, let's take a walk to asking him, can you fix this? He had fixed so many things over the year. The memories crowded in – snowskimmerspowerconduitdesalinataioncabinroofbigsoakdrainmedicaltransporterpadfoodserviceconveyor. He took a deep breath. There were hundreds of things he'd repaired. Every day he forgot; every day there was something new. Except the damn conveyor belt in the mess hall – that had happened many times. Becca and Matt hadn't had to break anything to give him something to do. The camp always had things that needed maintenance.
At least he hadn't been completely useless.
He ordered up two mugs of hot cider and four cake donuts, took a big bite of one, and carried all the rest back to the bedroom.