Chapter Text
The Noonien-Singh Institute is filled with medical professionals of every kind. Doctors to help with genetics, mental health, animal science—there were specialists in every field one could imagine.
The Institute even has interns, one of whom cannot officially be called doctor yet but is there anyway. Faheem grumbles about how he knows more than half his medical school professors, but they disrespect him because of his background. The years as a youth using first aid to help their local healer in Sudan served him well for knowledge, but not respect…yet. That lack of respect is what brought him to tonight, working the graveyard shift instead of first or second shift. He doesn’t mind truly, but the lack of patient interaction bothers him. What he wouldn’t give to do some real medical work rather than just check on sleeping patients and logging quirks in their vitals! With a deep sigh, he resigns himself to another boring night of quiet.
He comes around the corner and notices a figure on the ground and the door to the institute shutting suspiciously. Every sense goes into high alert, and he quickly walks closer, keeping his head on a swivel as he did in his youth. Once he is closer, and considers the surroundings safe, he recognizes that there is a man on the ground. An injured man who’s lost a lot of blood and won’t last much longer without a miracle. “Buddy, you don’t belong here. What’s going on?” Faheem unzipped the guy’s hoodie and pushed up his shirt to look at the wound, which he recognized as a gunshot. He had seen too many of those before and lost too many. Faheem was determined to be that miracle and not lose this one. “You’re not dying today, buddy. Hold on, just hold on. I got you. You couldn’t have picked a better place to get shot.”
He quickly pulled off his button-down shirt and used it to staunch the blood, pushing it directly into the wound. It was a sign of how far gone the guy was that he didn’t even moan at what had to feel like excruciating pain. “Hey Google, call BossMan” he directs his phone to call the ER head down the street and gets through immediately, despite the hour. A privilege of working at the prestigious institute, no matter the shift, is that the ER head answers when he calls.
“Faheem, someone have a tummy ache again? Or is it aliens like last week’s patient?” The amusement laces Dr. Cain’s voice, but Faheem ignores it.
“No time for jokes, Dr. Cain. I need someone here asap with blood transfusion capability; we have a gunshot victim who needs you now.” Faheem heard the doctor order people behind him and prayed that there would be no further questions.
“You’re in luck, we have an ambulance on its way back empty. It should be stopping at your locating now and help will be there shortly.” The older doctor on the other end took a slurp of something, probably coffee, and came back with a steadier voice, “keep him alive one more minute Faheem, we’ll be right there.”
Faheem heard sirens and the front door opened, the real professionals stepping in.
----
Despite never expecting to wake up again, James found himself waking up in the hospital with sharp antiseptic smells assaulting his nostrils and a sharp ache in his stomach muscles. With darkness outside his window, he has no idea how much time has passed. It could be a day; it could be two hours. More likely, feeling the aches throughout his body and feeling the growth on his face, it has been far longer.
Where’s La’an? Sera? What’s going on here? James Kirk slowly tries to move his limbs one by one. A smooth buzz in his brain takes some of the pain away, but his body still protests the effort. Worth it though, as James realizes all his extremities can feel and move. Working through the fog in his mind would take longer, but sleep pulled at him and he faded into unconsciousness again.
When James awoke again, there was a young man flipping through the clipboard and papers attached to the end of his bed. Odd, there was no medical apparel on the man, but he didn’t strike Kirk as a Romulan or bad actor. His voice hoarse from lack of use and water, he probably sounded worse than he was, “I normally like to know a person’s name before I let them look through my medical files.” The croak and cough at the end didn’t help James sound intimidating at all.
In shock, the clipboard dropped to hit against the end of the hospital bed as the man looked up and into James’ eyes for the first time. “You’re awake! I told Dr. Cain you looked too stubborn to die right from the start.” He shuffled his feet at that and hmm’ed nervously before picking up the forms again. “I’m Faheem. We’ve met before as I’m the one who found you and stopped the bleeding.”
James softened his voice realizing he owed this man his life. “Thank you. I appreciate your efforts. I’m James.” Faheem looked up from the forms and a look passed between them. James doing his best to show and mentally send every thank you possible to the man at the end of his bed.
“James, it’s nice to meet you. Nice to put a name to the face that I’ve been visiting the last 10 days. And you’re welcome. Always nice to have patients survive.”
Kirk raised his eyebrow with minimal pain, “Nice to survive.” James cleared his throat again and prepared to ask difficult questions. “Faheem, I was with my friend, and we were attacked by a woman with a gun. She shot me and took my friend away at gunpoint. Any chance, any chance, any -” He couldn’t finish his question. Luckily Faheem took pity on him and answered the unasked question.
“No one else was found in the Institute, only you. Some odd alarms and a child with strange stories of two alien visitors, but no one else brought in injured or otherwise. The police might have more answers though. They haven’t been by in a few days what with your injuries.” Faheem’s answer brought both relief and an edge of nervousness. The police, he’d forgotten there’d be questions. Although, forgot was a strong word for it. He’d thought he and La’an would be long gone before there was another encounter with the local police. “You couldn’t have picked a better place to get shot if you had to, though. A few hundred medical professionals work in that square kilometer. Help was quick.”
James closed his eyes in acknowledgement of Faheem’s statement. He was fortunate to be alive, but he still wanted to know: where was La’an? What happened to her and Sera? What was he supposed to do in the mid twenty-first century? “Thank you again, Faheem. You saved me, I’m forever indebted to you.”
Faheem shook his head, “You owe me nothing, James. It gives me peace to know you are going to be okay. That was not always the case when I was younger in Sudan.” Pain filled the young man’s face and eyes. James, coming from a time where war raged non-stop, could appreciate his sentiment.
With a small tilt of his head, James acknowledged the shared pain. “You have my thanks all the same. I’ll never forget your kindness.”
Faheem blushed and backed away towards the door. “I have to head to work. Good luck, James.”
The next day, the police stopped by and James used the opportunity to ask again about La’an with no success. He also took the chance to say his identification and wallet was stolen, giving a chance for building a life short term if needed. When he was released a week later with strict orders about aftercare for his wound and health, he also had identification papers. Also, thanks to Faheem’s continued visits, James got a better understanding of the time he’d landed in and developed a plan to survive moving forward.
It's slow at first, taking a job at a YMCA with room and board included. He enjoys meeting people from every walk of humanity. He reads everything the local library has to offer on history, aviation, electronics, and time travel. He does this for nearly six months while he works on building a backstory and questioning what his future holds simultaneously. He enjoys many sunsets and wonders if La’an survived. On less selfish days, he wonders if Khan survived and about Sera’s whereabouts.
Next, he gets a job at a Water Treatment facility in maintenance, third shift. Spending his days hustling chess, researching the current times, and looking for any sign of La’an or the Romulans. He uses DuckDuckGo and locates Kirks in Iowa whom he thinks are his ancestors. However, never goes, afraid to screw up the timeline in some way.
He improves the water treatment center exponentially, gets promoted to head of maintenance after only two years there. He makes some friends and resigns himself to a life in the 21st century. Has a short relationship with a woman or two but cannot get close to anyone because they do not know who he really is.
Nearly three years after he starts working at the water treatment facility, he has his monthly dinner with Faheem, soon to be entering his fourth year of residency. His oldest friend tells him it’s time to move on from “the love of his life” from that night. James has no idea what happened to her, she might be dead or maybe she thinks he is dead. It’s a common topic on their dinner nights, and normally James laughs it off and switches the subject. That night, something feels different. There’s something in the air that makes James think he might want to settle down with one of those women and build a family in this time. He hugs his friend goodbye, promising to think more about his advice.
And then, La’an reappears in his life, and his world metaphorically blows up.