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Title: Alternate Thinking
Author: Sasscat
Bu-to-y
Rating: PG
Codes: Fraser/Thatcher, Kowalski/Thatcher, Alternate Universes
Parts 18-20
Teaser: Meg finds herself in situations she could never have predicted...
Disclaimer: Alliance owns all.
Alternate Thinking
(c) Sasscat Bu-to-y 1999-2000
"...any ID? None? Damn..."
"...the hell would someone be doing in a tree at two am?"
"...esponse to sound, temp ninety-three point ni..."
"...get her out of here..."
--
Her head hurt. She felt odd, heavy. Sore ribs, sore arms, sore back, sore legs. She groaned, feeling the sound grate across her dry throat. Where...?
"Was that you?"
She opened her eyes at the voice, then hissed at the brightness of the lights.
"Too bright?"
She grunted in acknowledgement. A moment later the red of her eyelids was significantly dimmer, and she risked another look. A blond man in a white uniform was standing over her, studying her in concern. "Do you know your name?"
Of course, it-- ohh. Her head was throbbing painfully, blocking her attempts to think. Dammit, why couldn't she remember her name? "I-- I don't--" She could feel frustrated tears filling her eyes, and blinked them away angrily.
"It's okay," he assured her. "You know where you are?"
She looked around, moving her head only slightly, and for the first time noticed the tube running into her right arm. A... drip. And the heaviness on her other arm was-- She slowly twisted her head to look. White plaster, a cast. So... "Hospital." Her voice was slow and oddly distant in her ears.
"Good. You know which city?"
"T'ronto."
He glanced away for a moment, then back at her. "Not quite. You're from Canada, then?"
"Mm-hmm." She blinked again. "My head hurts."
"Yeah, you get that when you land on it," he smiled. "Just a couple more questions. Can you tell me who the pres-- wait, Canada. Can you tell me who the prime minister is?"
If he wanted to know, why didn't he just look it up? She made an irritated sound, willing her head to stop throbbing. Prime minister's name... prime minister... name... There was something she was missing. Something... She growled in frustration and shook her head a fraction. "I don't know. I don't know anything. I was just..." Just what? There was... She had a flash, an almost-memory, of weightlessness. "I... fell?"
"Uh..." The nurse flipped some pages on the clipboard he was holding. "Paramedics found you at the bottom of a tree in Daley Park. You remember anything about that?"
"I fell," she repeated, more sure of herself now. "I fell... into the tree."
"Out of the tree, you mean," he corrected absently.
"No. Into the tree." She couldn't remember much, but she definitely remembered that. Or remembered that that was how it had happened; she was a little sketchy on the details.
"Humm," the nurse said with a slight frown, and wrote something on his clipboard. "Oh-kay... I'm just going to find a doctor, and he can give you something for that head of yours. The name's Ray, by the way."
"Ray?" she said in surprise.
He stopped with a hand on the doorframe. "You know a Ray?"
"I think... I don't..." She shook her head in frustration. "I don't *remember*!"
"Okay. It's okay. I'll go get that doctor for you."
She sighed, closing her eyes in weariness and defeat. Maybe... maybe if her head didn't hurt so much, she could remember something. When the doctor got here... But all that thinking had exhausted her, and within moments she was asleep once more.
--
"...up. Hey, Sleeping Beauty." Someone was gently prodding her shoulder, a voice that was half-familiar. "Wake up... C'mon, I know you can do it, you were awake before."
"Mmmmmh." She blinked herself awake and looked into blue-grey eyes that provoked a strong sense of deja vu. She knew him? Of course... the nurse with the spiky blond hair. "Hi..."
"Hi, Canada," he smiled. "Brought you a doctor. Sorry it took so long, but I guess you didn't notice, right?"
"Mm-hmm," she agreed groggily. She looked at the white-coated man she supposed was the doctor; an overly-jowled, balding man with deep-set eyes. He looked something like an aged Frankenstein's monster. Charming.
The doctor mumured something she couldn't catch. The blond nurse nodded, and asked her, "Do you know who you are?"
That... question sounded familiar. She narrowed her eyes slightly. "Did you ask me that before?"
"Yeah. But I gotta ask again, or I get in trouble with Doctor Bill over here." The nurse grinned appealingly. "So, you think you can tell me who you are?"
Almost... she shook her head tiredly. "I don't know."
"Okay. That's okay, that's... that's fine." He cocked his head slightly. "Do you remember *my* name?"
She took a breath, knowing she should. Dammit. It was just, her head hurt so much, and it was so hard to *think*... Ay, ae, rae, frae... "Fraser?" The name sounded familiar.
He looked at her, blinked once, and shook his head. "Ray."
She nodded, recognising *that* name. "I'm sorry."
"No problem," he said in surprise. "It's not your fault. Uh, couple more questions. You know what day of the week it is?"
She sighed and closed her eyes. "I have absolutely no idea." She tried and failed to suppress a yawn. God, she was tired.
"Okay, it's, uh-- what day *is* it?"
"Friday," Doctor Frankenstein supplied.
"Friday, right. Okay. And do you know where you are?"
"Hospital." She blinked wearily and yawned again. "Um... Somewhere... somewhere in America?"
"Good, that's much better." Ray smiled encouragingly. "You know who's prime minister of Canada at the moment?"
God, how many questions was he going to *ask* her? She closed her eyes tightly and tried to think. Dammit-- "No, I don't. My head hurts." She opened her eyes again and glared at him pointedly.
Ray looked at the doctor, who looked at her and asked, "Are you experiencing any other pain?"
Was she ever. "My left arm, my right ankle, my ribs, my head, my left arm, my stomach, and I feel bruised all over," she recited. "And I've got a big needle stuck in my other arm." She scowled at the drip.
Doc Frankenstein nodded. "Your arm is broken, and several of your ribs are cracked. Tell me about your stomach."
She thought about it, fighting the urge to yawn a third time. "It's not really my stomach, it's more... it's on the right, just below my ribs. It hurts."
"What sort of hurts?" Ray asked softly.
"Um..." God, her head hurt. She could do this, she could think of the words. "It's... it's a sharp pain, like a... burning, stabbing kind of feeling?"
The doctor looked at Ray, who obediently pulled a curtain around her bed. She yawned. Doctor Frankenstein pushed her covers down to her waist, revealing a pale green hospital gown. He gently touched a spot on her abdomen, and she hissed in pain. "There?"
"Yes," she snapped. Why else would she have hissed? Moron.
He nodded and kept prodding, listening to her grunts and hisses. "Possible hepatital contusion," he told Ray over his shoulder, pulling the covers back up. "You can do an ultrasound if you want, but it should be fine. I'll prescribe something for pain and you can continue the assessment phase - I'd say two hourly for now, then have the next shift review her and maybe take it back to three hourly when they come in."
"Right," Ray said. He drew back the curtain as the doctor wrote on a clipboard. "Hear that, Canada? You can have some painkillers now. You don't remember if you have any allergies, do you?"
"Zantac," she said promptly, with another yawn. "I took it once for stomach inflammation and threw up all weekend."
He blinked at her and mouthed 'oh-kay' to himself. "You remember *that*, and you don't remember your name?"
"Nurse," the doctor said quietly.
"Okay, okay, I know, I'm sorry." Ray took the clipboard he was handed and pulled a face as the doctor left. "Well, since Zantac's not a painkiller, you'll be fine. I'll go get some for you - painkillers, I mean, not Zantac. You wanna bet you'll be asleep when I get back?"
"Do I have any money?" she asked wryly.
"Don't look at me, I'm just the nurse - even if I am a rakishly good-looking one." He winked at her, then headed out the door.
--
"...anada. Hey, Canada, wake up." Something was touching her shoulder, shaking it gently. She got the feeling it wasn't the first time she'd been called.
"Mmmh?"
"Hey, you're awake. You know what day it is?"
She blinked several times, blearily focusing on the blue-grey eyes looking deep into hers. She recognised him...? "Hi."
"Good afternoon, Canada. Do you know what day it is?"
She searched her foggy memory and came up with... nothing. "No."
"Friday. Know where you are?"
"Hospital." Oh god... her head hurt so much. Not to mention the rest of her body.
The nurse smiled patiently. "Very good, Canada, now can you tell me what city?"
"Um..." It hurt, it hurt so much. She blinked hard, wishing her eyes weren't so damn watery. She could handle pain; she was a-- was-- "I'm an officer of the law," she realised aloud.
The nurse looked interested. "From Canada? What, like a Mountie or something? What's a Mountie doing down here?"
A phrase floated into her mind, and she recited it without thinking. "I first came to Chicago on the trail of the killers of my father, and for reasons that don't need exploring at this juncture have remained, attached as liaison to the Canadian Consulate." She turned wondering eyes on the nurse. "I'm in Chicago."
"You remember!" he exulted. "That's great, that is.. greatness. What's your name?"
She opened her mouth, then closed it again unhappily. "I don't know."
"Don't worry, it'll come to you." He narrowed his eyes slightly. "You remember my name?"
Oh dear. She grimaced, trying to think through the pain in her head. He looked so familiar... "Ray?"
"The one and only," he said cheerfully. "Tell me about what you said before. You work at the Canadian Consulate?"
She hesitated. "I think... I think so. It seemed like the right thing to say."
"Okay." He sniffed thoughtfully. "Well, we can look into that. Maybe someone there can come down and see you; y'nno, familiar face might trigger something."
Familiar-- "I know you," she said suddenly.
Ray blinked. "Yeah, I'm your nurse."
"No." She shook her head in frustration. Damn, it hurt. "I *know* you. I'm sure I do."
He bit his lip and perched himself on the edge of her bed. "I don't think so, Canada. Listen, you whacked yourself pretty hard on the head. What happens is, your brain gets a bruise, okay? And it swells up a little, and pushes against the inside of your skull, and it doesn't work quite how it's meant to for a while. Now, this can happen lots of ways. Maybe you get really grouchy for a couple of weeks, or you act a lot weirder than you used to, or maybe you think a lot of things happen that never did. You understand that?"
She wasn't sure; her head hurt. But he seemed to be saying she only *thought* she knew him. And yet... he was so familiar... "I could have sworn... Ray... --Ray Vecchio."
He shook his head. "Not even close. Sorry, Canada. Look, I'll get onto that Consulate of yours, maybe we can find a friend who'll tell us a bit more about you, okay? But first, let's get these painkillers into you."
--
"...got a visitor, Canada. C'mon, rise and shine. I know you can wake up, you've been doing it all day."
That voice was getting really annoying. She opened her eyes enough to glare at the blond nurse who kept waking her up to check her blood pressure and other medical-type things - he was good-looking, though. She let herself entertain a couple of impure thoughts before he started asking her questions again.
The questions weren't long in coming. "You know where you are?"
"Hospital. In--" She knew she remembered the city, she could have sworn she'd got it right before. America somewhere. New York, LA, Boston, Washington...? None of them sounded right. "I don't know."
The nurse - Ray - looked thoughtful and shone a torch in each of her eyes. "One of these: San Francisco, Vegas, Chicago, Phila--"
"Chicago." She yawned and grimaced at the throbbing in her head as Ray took her blood pressure and pulse. She needed more painkillers, which was ridiculous, because she'd already had two lots. "And I don't know who the prime minister is, but it's Friday and my name's..." She grimaced again. "I have no idea."
"Inspector Meg Thatcher, RCMP," spoke up another voice. One that she was *sure* she recognised. She turned her head to look at the man by the door.
He was tall, about the nurse's height, with dark hair and a bright red uniform. He was... "Fraser?" she said uncertainly, making a face as the nurse stuck an electronic thermometer in her ear.
Fraser smiled. "Yes, sir. I came as soon as I heard."
Okay, that was lovely, but she wished she could remember more about him. As in, *anything*. "I'm... Meg."
"Yes, sir."
She stared at him for several seconds, trying to remember... something, anything. An image came to mind of him sitting at a desk with his hand in a candle flame. She seemed to remember being afraid of him.
"I'll let you guys have some time--" Ray started.
She - Meg - interrupted quickly, "No, don't." /Don't leave me alone with him.../ She felt Fraser's eyes on her, and added, "I might... I might remember something."
"Well..." He looked between the two of them, narrowed his eyes slightly then glanced at his watch. "Okay. For a little while."
Fraser found himself a chair by her bed. "What do you remember, sir?"
Good question. Her head was hurting... She tried to think. She had a vague, unsettled feeling about all of this. "I don't... I don't think I belong here."
"Well, you were supposed to be on holiday in Bermuda," Fraser said. Ray looked at his hands.
The information didn't strike anything within her. Bermuda? She couldn't remember anything about planning a holiday there. Only falling, and branches, and pain, and... "I let go."
"What?"
"Nothing." She closed her eyes wearily. She wanted to go home. That was another definite feeling she had. She didn't belong, and she wanted to go home.
"...eg. Hey, Canada!"
"What?" she said groggily.
"Falling asleep on us there," Ray said. "You want a break?"
She hesitated, then nodded.
"Yeah, figured. Constable Fraser can stop by later and see you. Right now, I have to have a little talk with him about medical insurance, and *you* have to rest. Okay?"
"Understood," she mumbled. Her eyes were already closing again, and in just a few seconds she was asleep.
--
The voice woke her up again some time later. "Come on, Canada. You'll be giving us a bad impression of your country. You Canadians don't really spend all day sleeping, do you?"
"Don't remember," she mumbled, and was rewarded by the nurse's dazzling smile. "Now you're going to ask me a lot of stupid questions."
"That's right, Canada." He took her temperature and 'hmm'ed subvocally. "You remember your name?"
She closed her eyes for a moment and took a breath. She *knew* this, she knew... God, her head hurt. Her name... "Meg..."
"Yes!" Ray said triumphantly. "See, you're not that bad. You know where you are?" He wrapped the blood pressure thing around her arm and started pumping it up.
"Hospital. Chicago."
"Mm-hmm." He jotted something down and finished her blood pressure and pulse. "You know what day it is?"
She stared up at the drab ceiling, feeling groggy. "Monday..."
"Not-- quite. It's, um, Friday. What about the year?" He flashed his torch in each of her eyes as she thought.
Chicago... She got transferred to Chicago. "Ninety... ninety-five."
"Uh, ninety-seven. Month?"
Had she really been in Chicago two years? In *America*? Perhaps it was better that she didn't remember, Meg thought with a smile. "December."
Ray grinned. "See, I knew if I asked the right question you'd get it right. Good news, though; Doc's taken a look at the results of your catscan and it doesn't look like we've gotta operate."
She blinked, trying to cope with the sudden change in track. "C-- catscan?"
"Uh, you were asleep."
"Oh," she said absently, still trying to parse everything he'd said. Catscan... good. No need to operate. All right. "So... that's good."
"Yep. Are you hungry? It doesn't look like you've had breakfast or lunch." Ray flipped between the pages on the clipboard to be sure.
"Not really." She yawned, and stated the obvious: "Sleepy."
"Okay. I probably won't be here next time you get woken up, but the night shift nurses are great, you'll be fine." He flipped the clipboard pages back down and looked at her seriously. "You want me to tell them anything about that other Mountie?"
What-- other Mountie... She blinked in confusion, trying to think. "Who..."
"Constable Fraser. Tall, dark hair, got all the women nurses panting after him like dogs in heat..." He glanced out the door to make sure no one had heard that last part.
Fraser? *Oh*, Fraser. He-- /and I watched her, as she froze to death.../ Meg shivered, violently enough to disturb the IV needle in her arm. Ow. "He's-- he's been here...?"
"Seven times, half of 'em just watching you sleep. You don't remember," Ray said, and watched her shake her head. "Probably a good thing. You seemed kinda... tense."
Tense. Yeah. She didn't remember much, but she definitely remembered being afraid of him. "I-- I think... That is, I've been getting very tired..."
"And visitors, they just have a way of wearing you out," Ray said, in a tone that meant he understood what she *really* meant. "I'll pass it on. If he comes back, you're resting."
"Thank you." She yawned, and blinked hard to stay awake. "Do I know you from somewhere?"
He shook his head. "We've been through this, remember, Canada? You've got a nasty concussion, that means--"
"My brain's not working right," she finished. She *did* remember, now that he'd reminded her. But she still couldn't shake the feeling... "What's your last name?"
"Kowalski. Ray Kowalski." He smiled sympathetically. "Just forget about it. It'll pass."
Kowalski... But then, if he knew her, he'd have no reason not to say so. It was just so... He was so *familiar*! She felt tears of frustration filling her eyes, and blamed them on the headache. "I'm tired," she said, and yawned to prove it.
"Yeah, I'll let you sleep. See you tomorrow."
--
She drowsed through the night, vaguely aware of being woken frequently for blood pressure, temperature, and a whole lot of stupid questions. At some point somebody might have brought her food, but she wasn't sure. The details slipped from her mind like water from a sieve, but other details were slowly solidifying.
She didn't belong here. She knew the attractive blond nurse, from somewhere. And if it was the last thing she did, she was going to get back to wherever she did belong.
"Rise and shine, Canada," the nurse said, and when she opened her eyes she was faced with daylight instead of darkness. She was waking easier now, which someone had mentioned was a good thing.
"Morning," she said sleepily. "My head hurts."
"I know, I got you some more drugs." He brought over a small cup and helped her sit enough to swallow the tablets. A wave of dizziness and pain accompanied the motion, and she was only too happy to lie down again. "How's that drip?" he asked.
"It's annoying. I can't move my arm with it in." Every time she did the needle jabbed into her.
"Yeah, well, I've got good news; we can take it out today." He produced a cotton ball and, carefully untaping and drawing out the needle, taped the cotton ball over the small hole in her skin. "How's that?"
"Much better." She watched him dismantling the drip, putting the parts on his trolley. "How am I doing?"
"That's, uh... that's a good question, and you know, I've got one for you." He ignored her groan. "Do you remember your name?"
"Meg. Meg... Thatcher?" She put her hand to her head - now that she *could*, now that it was free of the drip. "I don't... I'm not..."
"No, you got it right. My name?" He poked his thermometer into her ear for a second.
"Ray..."
"Either of the night nurses?"
Meg tried to remember, but drew a complete blank. She couldn't even remember if they'd been male or female. "I'm sorry..."
"It's okay, you've got a head wound. It's weird, though," he added, more to himself. He wrapped a pressure cuff around her right arm and started inflating it. "Me, and not them... Uh, d'you know where you are?"
"Hospital..." Come on, she knew this... "Chi-- Chicago."
"That's great!" Ray let the cuff release and watched her blood pressure and pulse display themselves on a screen. "Day and year?"
She didn't really remember so much as remember what she'd been told. "Friday, 1997."
"Mm, only it's Saturday now. Pretty good." He pulled out the last of his equipment, the torch, and flashed it in each of her eyes. "Not bad, Canada. You're doing your country proud."
Yippee. She was beginning to really hate those questions. "Have you ever thought of entering law enforcement?" she said sourly. "Your interrogation technique is flawless."
"I did think about being a cop, once," Ray admitted, pocketing his torch and leaning back against his trolley. "But the same thing that made me think about it was the same thing that made me go into medicine."
The image of him as a police officer seemed right, somehow. Plain clothes detective, maybe. She was curious as to what had inspired him to take up medicine instead. "Which was?"
"Uh, when I was a kid..." He glanced at the floor. "There was this girl."
"Isn't there always," Meg commented wryly.
He laughed. "Yeah, something like that. Anyway, one day we were in this bank... we were just kids. And then, uh, this guy comes in, and, uh... he's got a gun. So we... I mean, I hit the floor; I'm a dweeb, but I'm not stupid. But Stella, she's just standing there, frozen in place."
He was hardly speaking to her anymore; just remembering aloud, reliving it. She watched his eyes, focused on something very far away.
"This guy, he's huge. Beefcake. And he's standing there with his gun, telling her to go over to where he is, wanting to use her as a hostage or something. And she's terrified. She makes a run for the doors. And she--" He slowly came back to himself, something dimming in his eyes. "You could hear the thud when she hit the ground when he shot her," he said quietly.
Meg held her breath, not knowing what to say. Not knowing if she should say anything. She couldn't imagine what it must have been like, for someone so young to experience something so...
"They-- they let me ride in the ambulance," Ray continued. "'Cause I was being so quiet, they didn't think I'd be a bother. All the way I was thinking, if I was a cop, I could take that guy down. And then I thought, if I was a doctor I could save Stella. It all came down to that, whether I was gonna spend my life looking for revenge, or looking to do some good."
"They saved her?" Meg asked. She thought... Ray and Stella, they'd been married... But that couldn't be a memory, because she didn't know Ray; he'd said so.
"Uh... no. She, uh... she died." He fidgeted with his hands for a moment, then pushed himself off the trolley. "Well, I gotta lot of patients to see--"
"Ray," she interrupted. It was ridiculous, he'd already said they didn't... But she had to ask. "Was she... was she blonde?"
He stood still for a moment, just looking at her, then nodded. "A lot of people are blonde, Canada. Believe me, if I knew you, I would remember. You're one of them, uh, unforgettable personalities, y'nno?"
"Is that a compliment?" she teased.
He smiled, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "It could be, Canada. It just could be."
Meg grinned and shamelessly admired the view as he turned to wheel his trolley out of the room.
--
Sometime later Fraser came to visit. She stirred, stretched slightly and opened her eyes in time to catch a fleeting expression of enchantment on his face. He covered it quickly, clearing his throat and glancing at the floor.
"I, ah... I wasn't sure if I should wake you..."
"No, it's all right." She'd forgotten completely about yesterday's unease. "I'm glad you're here."
"You are?" He smiled, looking for all the world like a child who'd been given a bag of candy. "Do-- do you remember...?"
She was getting really sick of that question. "A little. Maybe you can help. Is there something...? I don't know, something we've shared...?"
For some reason the question seemed to amuse him. "Eggs," he said, without hesitation.
"Eggs," she repeated. That was hardly informative. Oh well, she did ask... With a slight sigh, she tried to think.
Eggs. Small... smooth... round... brown... She imagined one in her hand, saw herself throwing it at-- something? "We were..." She grimaced slightly. She could do this. "We were in an incubator? You were electrocuted."
"Well, I," Fraser stammered, looking slightly embarrassed; "that is, more or less..."
"More or less?" She blinked, waiting for him to explain.
Instead he glanced briefly at the floor. "I, uh... Do you remember... we..." He lifted a hand to wave it vaguely in the air.
"Fraser?"
"You were... and I..." He seemed to be having a great deal of trouble getting the words out.
She sighed in mild irritation. "You what, Fraser?"
He took a deep breath and edged closer to her bed. "Well, I... did this..." And with that he kissed her.
Uhmm, that felt good. She let out a soft breath of reluctance as he moved away.
"Did that... do you...?" He looked even more nervous than before, if that were possible.
For a moment she took the question seriously. "I'm not sure..." And then she grinned, and said lasciviously, "Why don't you try it again? Perhaps you'll... jog something."
He laughed, and leaned back down to obey. It was a long time before either of them came up for air.
--
End part twenty
Continue with Alternate Thinking