The sensation was a lightning strike.

Harold Lee who wore no wedding ring stood in nothingness and mourned quietly for the friend he didn't know if he'd ever see again.

The bag slung over his shoulder weighed on him as heavily as that fact. He would miss that Scotty desperately, as grateful as he would be to hold his own.

He opened his eyes.

Everything was gray. He'd been here before.

Where was Scotty? Either one?

A whimpered breath left his lips as the universe gave him an off-kilter answer.

A man sat on the floor, arms wrapped around nothing at all. Rumpled clothes, mussed hair. Still half asleep.

His own face.

Their eyes locked. No mistaken identities this time.

"Hi," breathed his brother, waving weakly at him with a sketchpad.

Harold tried to breathe; his gut lurched around the breath with the immediate knowledge of who sat in front of him. A thousand questions clamored for the forefront of his mind, but none of them outweighed the dread of knowing this... meant his Scotty was somewhere without him.

"Hey," he finally offered, sinking to the floor in front of the other, elder Harold.

There was no hesitation in his brother laying down that pad and taking Harold's hand in his own. The man sniffed quietly and took up a gentle fingertip examination of Harold's palm.

Something in him clicked.

"Hey," Harold repeated, his eyes going wide.

Without looking up from the gentle tracing of the lines of his palm, his twin smiled. "Remember me, I guess."

Harold didn't respond in words immediately. He slipped his free hand around to wind into his brother's hair, and brought their foreheads together. "Yeah," he huffed out, closing his eyes. "So not-Sulu."

"We are that," his brother replied, still not looking up.

Harold held onto it for a long moment, allowing what memories he could grasp to wash over him. Anger. A mistake. Guilt. Joy. Shared memories. A wall.

He couldn't find it all, but he had enough.

He released his brother's hair and sat back, leaving his hand to the touch.

"Is he okay?"

It was almost simultaneously spoken.

Both men nodded; neither surprised, really.

"Are you?" Harold spoke that one, leaning to try and catch his brother's eye.

The other Harold flicked his look up, a faint grin playing about his features. "I'll miss him."

Harold turned his hand to catch his brother's, covering it with his other. "Me too," he replied. "Miss-- yours."

He felt a squeeze before his brother slipped that hand from his. Both men sat back, regarding each other for a long moment. Taking in the differences.

It occurred to Harold that he hadn't gotten a complete answer to his question.

"But-- are you okay?"

"Yeah."

"We've got the same face, dude, I can f*cking tell when you're lying."

"I'm fine, man. How would you look if the universe made you ditch your husband for days?" The man pointed at his own face. "I'll tell you. You'd look like this. Don't worry about it."

Harold wasn't entirely convinced, but he let it go for the moment.

He didn't remember this being so awkward.

"Keeping secrets, man." Okay. So maybe he wouldn't let it go for the moment.

"Yep."

"Why?"

"Some stuff you just don't need to know."

"So you're gonna take it out on me, man? Look, I get it, you've got sh*t that ain't my business but f*ck, you're not the only one with emo sh*t going on. I've been missing my guy too--"

"--sorry." The interruption was quiet but firm. The twin shook his head, sighing out, visibly relaxing. "I'm sorry, Harold. I really-- it's-- it's not you. It's not him, either him. It's stuff I honestly can not tell you. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-- to be a d*ck about it."

Harold eyed him steadily, a measure strangely surprised at being addressed by name. "Guess it's better than a punch in the face."

The other man laughed at that, relaxing more and waving his hand. "Long as you didn't get any ideas about my husband, you don't have to worry about that."

"I didn't, man, I swear." Well. It was a little difficult to see a man near identical to your boyfriend and not see something you want, but still.

His brother chuckled, picking up his sketchbook and paging through. "I know. I'm just f*cking with you, man." He pulled free an old sheet of paper, worn at the edges, and offered it out. "Here."

Taking it, Harold turned it over to see... Scotty. He understood in an instant that it was Scotty the husband, not the boyfriend. "I can't--"

"I get to see him every day. You have to miss him. Keep it, man, and learn to draw your own guy."

A beat. "What happened to your wrist?"

The twin froze for a moment before snatching the hand back and holding his wrist to him like the scars wanted protected. "They're scratches."

Harold stared at him for a stretch, alarm written clearly across his features. "You-- did you--?"

Sighing, the other man uncovered his arm, offering it out. "No, man. They're not-- self-inflicted. Scotty... Scotty scratched me. It's-- it's not like it sounds. You know that. He was... in a lot of pain. He was hanging on."

Nodding, Harold brushed the barest touch over each streak. "Why?"

"It's... nothing you'll live, man. I did things." The twin shook his head. "No. Stuff happened to me. He knew. He didn't know, though. When he found out... it damn near killed him."

Harold hesitated, swallowing. Dread and panic fired off inside him and he... God, he didn't want to ask. He had to know. "Captain--"

"--how do you know about that?" It was snapped, the duplicate's look instantly wary and defensive as he took his hand back again.

"I-- I'm sorry-- I- He didn't-- tell me. Anything. I- put it together. He tried to-- warn me off of the guy, I guess-- I figured out--" Harold shut his eyes, breathing as the guilt washed over. "What happened?"

"Whatever you think you know..." The twin shook his head. "You're wrong. It's nothing you ever f*cking need to know, ever."

"I'm sorry."

"It's fine."

They both knew it wasn't.

Whatever it was didn't matter, in the grand scheme. It was enough to leave scratches on that arm. Harold crawled over, and without waiting for permission, wrapped arms around his twin.

After a frozen moment, arms that bore a wedding ring and streaked scars wound around Harold in turn.

Silently, they held each other for a time.

Breathing.

After a time, they let go.

"It's fine," the twin breathed out, more sure this time.

Harold nodded slowly. He had so many questions. None of them seemed right to ask, now.

"Just--" The other man paused, gesturing with fingers splayed out in the air. "Don't ever forget. You're-- worthwhile. Don't-- don't ever think you're nothing. Don't ever want to be nothing. Okay?"

There was nothing Harold could even begin to say to that, he thought. "O- Okay."

The twin leveled a gaze on him that might have bore right into Harold's soul.

"I promise."

"Good."

Harold swallowed. "This shouldn't be this hard."

"Nah, man. I guess not. I'm sorry." The man scrubbed a hand through his hair, sighing out. He seemed to muster a faint smile. "Your boyfriend's as sweet as I remember my guy being. He was really good to me. I'm glad I got to meet him."

"Your husband's f*cking amazing. He's funny and f*cking cute and he wants kids."

Chuckling, the other Harold dropped his hands in front of him. "Yeah. You caught the kid-crazy from him, huh? He does that. Just makes you want to breed." A gesture, one hand turned in the air. "Weird, getting to-- have the good friend and the husband at the same time."

"Yeah. I like it."

They smiled at each other across a short, gray space.

"Gonna miss you, too."

"You only met me once."

"Twice now. Still gonna miss you. Besides, you're a part of me."

"I won't be gone."

"Yeah, yeah. Over here. Not-thanking, beautiful, crazy, square one, waves, the universe tends to unfold as it should." The other Harold smirked as he spun the wedding ring on his finger.

They could feel the tug beginning; this one was light. They had a few moments. One hand found another, one gold band between them. They laced fingers through.

"Find us, man. When you can?"

"Do my best, dude. Take care of him. Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

Harold felt his stomach drop; it was like a slow-moving elevator.

Their hands slipped away.