Evan Meier was an idiot.

So Marlena maintained, to herself, when she walked out on him, six weeks pregnant and scared out of her wits. She took with her her wages for the week and what she deemed a reasonable severance bonus, plus all her physical possessions, and ran.

Essence of protopyreth was nothing Marlena had ever heard of during her time in Starfleet. She couldn't identify it by any scientific means; it wasn't hard to figure out that the coarse white powder was mystical in nature. It was a big seller in Meier's Apothecary, for good reason. When she'd first entered into this strange arrangement with Evan, she'd asked him about protection, and he'd explained. Protopyreth caused temporary sterility in human males; he took it regularly, dissolved in his tea.

Acetylsalicylic acid is also a coarse white powder that sold well. It is not mystical in nature, and does not cause temporary sterility in human males. It alleviates pain and, when taken regularly, reduces the risk of heart attack.

Confusing protopyreth with powdered aspirin was a rookie apothecary's mistake. Doing so for a long enough time for the effects of the protopyreth to wear off was a monumentally stupid, not to mention life-changing, rookie mistake.

It was bad enough that Evan had let slip the L word about a month before. When Marlena told him she was pregnant, he went very quiet at first.

"Who's the father, then?" he'd asked. The coldness in his voice stung. She'd stared at him, hurt, until he abruptly got up and went to check the storeroom. He came back, white-faced, and apologized. The facts emerged, painfully.

After the facts came the plans, and those were more than painful. Marlena watched it dawn on Evan that the woman he loved was pregnant with his child. He began to talk about buying a bigger house, outside the city, a place where they could raise their child. Marlena had an image of herself, fat and complacent, hanging laundry on a line outside a house with a white picket fence as cherubic children clung to her skirts, and something in her snapped.

That wasn't her. That could never be her. She belonged in Starfleet, serving aboard the finest ship in the Empire. Not in some cute suburban cottage, being a good housewife. She smiled, kissed Evan on the cheek, and left him.

She went back to the inn. She had enough to pay for a room, from her savings; the price was reasonable enough, and she could afford it. She got a job with the inn, cleaning rooms, to supplement her savings.

Marlena knew enough biochemistry to know that being pregnant changed her nutritional needs. She needed vitamins, which was awkward, to say the least. She put it off for as long as she could, but the tiny organism growing within her weighed far more heavily on her awareness than on her body. Reluctantly, she returned to the apothecary shop with a shopping list of prenatal supplements.

Evan's face was unreadable when she came in; he didn't speak. Silently she handed him the list; he read it, then set about gathering the items she needed. He knew perfectly well that she knew where in the store each of them could be found, but she let him do it. After she paid, he didn't wait for her to leave the shop before heading to the back room and slamming the door.

When she'd first realized her condition, Marlena had thought briefly--very briefly--about abortion, but her mind shied away from the idea as though it stung. It wasn't that she placed any sort of inherent value in the lump of tissue and stem cells growing in her womb, in and of itself. It wasn't that she doubted the safety of that type of medical procedure in an environment such as Rhy'din. It wasn't even the doubt that lurked in the back of her mind, hinting that she might one day regret the choice not to keep the child, if indeed that was the course she took. It was something else, something bigger, that horrified her at the thought that this tiny embryo might not survive to play whatever role was destined for it.

She was careful. She ate right, she stopped drinking, she even refrained from her occasional herbal indulgence shared with Harold, though she didn't exactly get a chance to tell him why. She was vigilant about the vitamins, and her boss was very accommodating, making sure Marlena didn't overwork herself, didn't come into too much contact with strong cleaning chemicals. She even stopped visiting the beach--she wasn't sure what effect portal-hopping might have on an unborn fetus, but she had a bad feeling that a child conceived in a realm of reality might not fare so well in a place like Crackchat Beach.

She kept up on the prenatal vitamins. The next time she went to Evan's shop, she was greeted by someone she didn't recognize--"Amadeo," the new apprentice introduced himself, "Amadeo Grimani." Evan looked at the young man with a distant sort of affection; Marlena found herself staring, slightly confused by the youth's apparent femininity. Surely the boy was a girl? Why was he pretending? She shrugged it off, though, as he gave her her purchases and took her money. If he had reasons for keeping his gender a secret, she certainly wasn't going to out him.

It was about two months into the pregnancy when it happened. A familiar feeling, yet one that sent a chill through her. She began to feel detached, not like she had when the soulstone had protected her, but as though if she really wanted to she could walk through solid objects. The world was losing cohesion, its reality becoming less certain of itself.

"No," she breathed, horror dawning. "No!" She gasped, sucking air that suddenly seemed less substantial, and tried desperately to cling to the present as the Nexus took her.

She wasn't sure how long she was gone. All she knew was that she was in her room at the inn, there was a sharp pain in her abdomen, and she collapsed, stunned.

The physical pain was nothing in comparison to the ice forming in her heart as she realized, as the blood trickled from between her legs, what had happened. Marlena screamed, a wordless cry of anguish, of loss, of potential snuffed out, of blind cruel senselessness.

Her child. She knew, in that moment, when it was too late and no longer mattered, that she would have kept it. She would have been a mother. She would have created life from her own body, been responsible for someone other than herself, had the opportunity to raise another human being and shape a new whole person. Her child, lost.

She didn't work the next day. In the evening, her boss knocked on Marlena's door; she explained, quietly, what had happened; her boss expressed condolences and said that Marlena was to take as much time off as she needed. Marlena offered her thanks and locked the door again.

It was several days before she saw Harold. She'd only emerged from her room a few times, for only the most necessary things. Somehow, she hadn't even told Harold about the pregnancy. She'd meant to, really, but the opportunity had never presented itself.

Now, with her eyes red-rimmed and puffy, he could hardly miss the fact that something was wrong. She told him, haltingly, what had happened, and he held her and petted her hair as she sobbed into his shoulder. She could tell he hurt for her, and wished she could save him from that even as she was grateful. Harold was, without a doubt, her closest friend. She would have made him the child's godfather, him and Scotty, if only she'd had the chance...

((Written in tandem with The Doctor's mun, who may be contacted at AOL s/n DWFifthDoc.))

It was in the afternoon, on a hot day, when the man walked into Mai's shop. And despite it being a hot day, he was still wearing a pullover and a frock coat. All in tans and creams with a dash of red or black, and with a fine mess of floppy blond hair, the young man looked... well, frankly, he didn't look so out of place in Rhy'Din. Even with a piece of celery pinned to his lapel. Sure, there was something sort of strange about using a vegetable as a clothing accessory, but probably no stranger than sharing a realm with dragons, dwarves and elves.

"Hullo?" he asked, his eyebrows up as he peered around the room, his hat held in front if him by two hands.

Harold Lee was reasonably on edge, honestly, since the longshot message landed results. He probably jumped a little when the man entered, and he laid down his pen, eyebrows up expectantly.

Damn. Jamie had given a cursory description of the Doctor, and this clearly was not him. Harold stood to offer the man service, anyway, hiding his weird mix of trepidation and disappointment. He'd gotten pretty good at the whole customer service thing since Mai had taken a bit of a backseat at the shop, even if he didn't particularly enjoy it.

"Uh, hi. Can I help you with anything?"

"I'm looking for Jamie McCrimmon," the man answered, with a pleasant sort of smile. He looked at Harold curiously for a moment, his head moving forward a fraction as he asked, "Have you seen him?"

Harold narrowed his eyes in confusion, not entirely sure he should be giving Jamie's whereabouts to a stranger, but he shook it off. "Ah, yeah-- well. No. But he's supposed to come by today. Usually does. You, uh-- a friend?" He gestured vaguely.

"He may have mentioned me." The man broke into a much brighter smile, offering his hand out and holding his hat in the other. "I'm the Doctor."

"Oh." Harold blinked, his smile wavering as it grew. His first thought was really convincing dye job. Well, that, and he was slowly realizing that the flash of green on the lapel was not, indeed, a flower. He gestured back at the desk where his PADD lay. "So-- so-- yeah." Nice job. He tried again, looking down for a second. "Uh, sorry. He's-- yeah, he's mentioned you. Half of Rhy'din probably knows he's looking for you, and that's only 'cause he hasn't pinned down the other half to listen. I'm-- I'm Harold." He extended a hand.

The Doctor shook it, with a nod. "It's been a long time, since I've seen him." A vague look of unease crossed his face for a moment, like a cloud over the sun, and then he shook it off. "And a pleasure, Harold. Should I wait here, or is he staying somewhere in particular?"

Harold blinked a moment at that expression, but said nothing about it. He dropped his hand, opening it toward the couch by way of invitation. "He stays everywhere. Anywhere work is, keeping the word out for that box of yours. But he's due over here before I'm off so I can push some food on him." He laughed a little at that, entirely affectionately. "Not long, anyway. Have a seat if you feel like it, man, I can get you something to drink or something. I, uh-- sorry." Harold gestured at his face. "I never figured he'd actually find you, you know? Kinda-- sad. Happy for him, but sad, you know?"

"Why?" The Doctor looked patently confused, though he did make his way to the couch to have a seat. "Has he been in trouble of late?"

"--no." Harold wandered over to the coffee maker, putting together a mug of tea. It was kind of second nature by now, for all the people he knew who drank it. "Well. There was Montgomery, but, uh. That wasn't trouble. Just kinda awkward ending." Harold chuckled and shook his head, setting off the kettle. "He-- he landed on our beach kinda by surprise." Uh. Wait. "--Weren't you confused when he disappeared on you, man? He's never stopped being freaked out by the fact he was just gone. Well. He doesn't really freak out, but you get what I mean, maybe. Or maybe he's from a different universe? I never know, around here. Do you still have your Jamie? I'm rambling, it's just nervousness or something. Sorry, dude."

There was a long moment where the Doctor sat quietly, patiently listening, and a longer moment still where he considered the words. His own tone, when he spoke, was not quite so confident as he probably meant it to be. "I had thought... no. I was near certain that--" A pause. "My memory isn't quite what it once was, I'm afraid. I... thought he must have asked to go home."

Harold stopped, looking at the man for a beat or two. Slowly, he shook his head, eyebrows going up. He wasn't sure whether to be annoyed in a protective way or concerned that the Nexus had fucked with this man's head in some fashion. He was leaning toward the latter, as the man certainly didn't seem to have forgotten carelessly. "Not... not this guy, anyway. He-- I've known him for months. About seven, I think? He's never stopped roaming for you, looking. He stops, he works, he'll do us favors or whatever, but he doesn't stay in one place. That's-- that's why I'm sad, you know? I figure he wants to go with you."

"Well, I would certainly take him, if he so wished it." The Doctor's face fell some, as he turned his hat in his hands. Then he looked up again, as if in a willful attempt to shake it off. "A lucky thing, to have caught your message. The TARDIS only caught it for the barest of moments while I was in the Time Vortex."

Yeah, Harold was falling on the side of concern, but he honestly wasn't sure how he could help. Neither did he feel very good about having made a request of Jamie that would inevitably fall to the Doctor; asking for favors of someone who was already handling issues of their own wasn't something Harold did as a matter of course.

He nodded politely, pouring the tea once the kettle had clicked. He set it on the table in front of the Doctor before taking a seat opposite.

He gestured with both hands open. "I, uh. Never figured you'd pick it up. Time-traveling box gives you lots of whens and wheres, I figured the likelihood of hitting this one was pretty low. Thanks-- thanks for answering. I think it'll mean a lot to him. Even if I'd kinda like to keep my brother." It was an affectionate sort of smile, even so. Harold checked his watch. "He probably won't be long."

"I understand." The Doctor set his hat on the coffee table and picked up the tea. "Though, strange coincidences seem to follow me about, so I suppose I'm not too surprised that a one in a million chance became one in one, in this particular case."

"I know that feeling. Bizarre stuff follows me." Harold bit down a grin. There was a weird feeling like he was meeting a friend's parents for the first time that he tried to shove off. He swallowed, plucking up the courage to at least speak up on one thing. "Listen, I guess it's not my business and tell me to get bent if you want, but, uh. You seem a little-- I dunno. Upset, or kinda unsettled or something. Can I help?"

"Oh, I'm quite fine. Nothing a cup of tea and a chance to speak with Jamie won't cure." The Doctor seemed to get over his brief melancholy, and saluted to Harold with the tea cup before taking a little sip of it. "So, you're... adopted family of a sort, then?"

Harold squinted, grinning in that confused way of his. "All... right." He huffed a soft laugh, not entirely sure, but hell. Like he said; not his business. The man was utterly disarming, on top of it. "I guess so. Dunno if he'd say that, but I do. He slept on our couch, was my husband's best man, babysits our crabs. Standard stuff." It was half-joking, even though it really was standard for them. "Yeah. Yeah, he's family. Gotta get him to say goodbye to my husband before he goes, too."

"If he goes." The Doctor took another sip of tea, then gently set the cup back on the table. "I wouldn't assume he necessarily will, particularly since I am... not quite the same as I was when last we traveled together."

Eyebrows up. "Yeah?" Harold waved a hand. "Can't think an encounter with some bleach would put him off."

"Bleach?" The Doctor looked patently confused.

Harold gestured vaguely at his own head, and then at the Doctor's. "Uh. He said you had-- dark hair. Don't blame you for ditching the bow tie, though." He looked a bit abashed. "I, uh. Asked him what to keep an eye out for, you know?" The description hadn't been desperately detailed - 'look for a blue box' was the big thing - but he'd gotten a brief one.

"Oh." The Doctor looked up, briefly, at his own somewhat hat-mussed hair, then back at Harold. "I was... a different man back then. You could say."

"A different---" Ah. Harold looked up as the door went. A spike of anxiety coursed through him along a bit of relief; he was concerned today would be one when Jamie got held up with a job. Harold stood to greet him. "--Hey, man."

Jamie McCrimmon, for his part, probably looked entirely dingy. Dirt smudged his cheek and marred his hands and arms, he was sweaty and slightly out of breath. Clearing land on a day like this kind of sucked, not that he'd complain the first bit about it. "'llo," he said a bit huffily, looking curiously to guest on the couch.

The Doctor stood automatically, tipping his head to the side and regarding Jamie with an expression that wandered between wonder and concern and reminiscence too old to be recent. "Jamie. You look well." His eyebrows drew together briefly. "Are you all right?"

Harold was busy grinning like a little boy having brought his mother a bashed flower.

Jamie looked to Harold in confusion, and back to the man. He wiped his cheek with his hand to no avail at all, just smudging the dirt into a more blurred mess. "...aye, I'm fine. Never any harm in hard work." He tipped his head slightly to the side, stepping closer. "Thank ye for asking, sir. Have we met?" Jamie McCrimmon met a wide variety of people in his search, he didn't always remember a face.

Harold had it in mind to give them a bit of space, anyhow, and stepped over for the moment to dig Jamie out a bottle of water.

"Ah, quite right." As if just realizing something for the first time all over again, the Doctor nodded and took a breath. "You didn't see it, then. I'm the Doctor." Apparently, he was used to explaining this, and held up his hand in a 'wait one moment' manner. "My people regenerate -- when our bodies become fatally wounded, or when age would kill them, we regenerate into a new form. This is my fifth incarnation; you were my companion in my second."

Well, the best way to interpret Jamie McCrimmon's mind on that was 'does not compute'. Eyebrows drawn, he frowned, once again looking between Harold and the man. He probably looked slightly hurt, as if feeling the butt of a cruel sort of joke. "Ye're-- the Doctor. Yer-- people?"

"Time Lords." There was quite a clear little empathic wince on the Doctor's face, when he gestured helplessly. "I'm the same man, in many ways; my life, my memories, at least insofar as they remain intact. I'm a different man, in many ways; a new body, different traits coming to the fore. But I am still the Doctor, yes. And you're still Jamie McCrimmon, my friend and companion."

Harold came up behind Jamie at some point, holding the bottle of water. He patted his friend on the shoulder. Another man would have jumped, but Jamie just glanced behind him once. He shut his eyes for a moment, rubbing his forehead. He shook it off. He'd seen a number of fantastic things in his life, but many of them had been deceptions of one sort or another.

Jamie stepped closer, Harold's hand sliding off his shoulder. His accent schooled without thinking, though it had been since the man had begun talking to him. It tended to, with Englishmen, though this man was claiming to be something else entirely. "Time--" He shook his head again. He pointed at the man, a gesture stolen unconsciously from Harold Lee. He could be viral. His tone was one of confusion, but he was trying to grasp ideas. "The land of fiction... Ye changed my face, but I was still... me."

"Ah, that." The Doctor winced again, more apologetically. "I'm still not entirely sure how I got that wrong. Regardless, it's... a similar principle, yes. I'm the same man, in the ways that matter most."

Jamie tried to latch on to that as a concept, suspicion turning to dawning hope. Still, he was wary. Suddenly very aware of his state, Jamie attempted to wipe more of the dirt away. "Will ye... turn back?"

"No. I can't turn back, only go forward." The Doctor watched Jamie trying to right himself, and the corner of his mouth crept up in a smile. "Still your friend, however, regardless of which face I wear. Harold mentioned that you had been... looking for me?" A pause, and he continued, "A good deal has happened since we last saw one another, and some of it has had a rather unfortunate effect on my memory. I'm... not certain as to how or when we parted company, Jamie. I was hoping you would help me find the pieces, though of course, after you've told me how you've been."

It was likely Jamie wouldn't be entirely at ease until he saw the TARDIS, but his guard was lowering slowly. The earlier statement of 'friend and companion' did finally filter through, along with those words. He stepped closer still.

He frowned in concern, somewhere probably hurting a little that something had made the Doctor forget. Anger flared somewhere that someone could've taken something so basic as memory from his friend. Theirs had always been a hands-on sort of friendship, and it didn't occur to Jamie that a man with a different face might be any different.

"Aye. I've never stopped. I'm..." He closed the distance, forgetting about his unfortunate state, and moved to grip the Doctor in a hug.

The Doctor seemed, all at once, utterly surprised and utterly unsurprised, as though it was something he couldn't quite fathom even as he brought his arms around Jamie in a motion that was familiar and friendly and comfortable. But after a moment where that strange dichotomy worked itself out, he chuckled quietly. "Well, here I am. And I do believe I might have an easier time keeping up with you now, no less."

Jamie laughed, a half-broken little sound that was thick with emotion. "Fastest runnin' old codger I ever met, so ye are." A beat. "...were." Oh, this was confusing.

Harold had retreated to the background, allowing them their moment. He felt decidedly the third wheel at this point, though he was still grinning to himself. He found a seat at his desk, leaving the water nearby.

"The TARDIS-- is she--?" Jamie pulled back some, looking up, though still in the embrace. "A'right. How we... 'parted company,' aye. I disappeared a couple of times. Ye couldne-- couldn't suss out how, ye were..." He looked down and off, remembering. "Scramblin' about, tryin' t' get the TARDIS t' tell ye what was happenin'. And then I didn't come back. I was... just on that bloody beach. Been after ye ever since. I followed them here, when they found a way out o' that place, an' kept looking." He glanced toward Harold, at that.

"The TARDIS is fine; I daresay the old girl will be happy to see you." The Doctor frowned in puzzlement, even as he gestured towards the back of the shop; presumably, he parked her in the alleyway. "Beach?"

Harold piped up at that one, putting one finger up and offering an explanation from the back. "Uh-- I wouldn't-- you don't want to know." He scrunched up his face in a kind of 'eurgh' expression, shaking his head.

Jamie was busy following the Doctor's gesture with his eyes, looking to the back. He slipped from the half-hug, wandering a few steps in that direction. "Can we...?"