Drew had decided to let the 1.30 train go. Not through choice, however. On his way to the train, an unexpected and overwhelming sensation almost made him pass out on the steps down into Waverley Station.

Unable to gauge the time it took, but assuming it was mere seconds, he'd felt as though something had passed straight through him. Or to be more accurate - invaded him. He'd had no warning, no visual confirmation of anything coming at him, but he most definitely felt it. 

His body was subjected to a series of involuntary spasms. His vision blurred and his viewpoint changed entirely.

Music: Divine Ancestry composed by Adrian von Ziegler

https://youtu.be/X2cfMWIkQpA

He seemed to be rushing past an alien looking forest; tendrils, globules, floating viscous matter all wavering in front of him. He thought he was about to collide with some of the weird foliage and he mentally swerved to avoid it. He approached a dark mass, obscured by some hazy film which rippled and billowed. Nearing it, he noticed it was a pulsing, throbbing, glistening object with tubular connections running from it, joining up with some of the wavering tendrils. 

For a few seconds he floated in front of the strange mass until with a sharp jerk, he found himself hurtling down, thundering through a moving sea of fluorescent spheres, tubes, fern-like objects. He veered to the right as an off-white ledge protruded in his path. He glanced back. Was that - was that bone?

He was sent spinning, tumbling uncontrollably, shifting more to the right then down - still down. A feeling of claustrophobia started to build as the edges around him narrowed. Edges of...what exactly? Walls? No. 

He focused hard to try and determine the substance. It had a soft appearance, almost like... tissue. Flesh.

His vision cleared and he spun round, staring at all the suspended, swirling matter. This was no alien forest. These were not mysterious flora or foliage. They were cells. Arteries. Veins and capillaries. No. This was impossible! Dear god, I'm inside my body! His mind screamed.

Projected violently upwards he was forced through filaments, fibres, streams of multi-faceted utricles and antibodies. He was bounced and buffeted off muscle, sinew and spongey organs at an alarming velocity.

Then once more his trajectory slowed. In disbelief, he recognised the inner workings of a body. His body, he was sure. Kidneys, liver, intestines, lungs, the heart. But, disturbingly most were damaged, torn, mutilated as if he had undergone a horrific accident or attack. The sight alarmed him. He grimaced, as he then witnessed them knitting back together, becoming whole.

Upwards again, the speed slowly increasing. Light in the distance, growing rapidly brighter. Ribs, like the ladders to the outside, shot past as the distance to the looming glare lessened.

Then...dazzling, blinding brightness hit him. It felt like he had been ejected from his own body. His knees buckled and the experience had left him almost hyperventilating. Whoa! he thought, truly shocked to his core, eyes bulging. What the fuck was that and where the hell did it come from?

People witnessed him clutching his stomach then grabbing his legs as they gave way, unable to support his weight any more. One hand reached frantically to the iron railing beside him. Finally, his fingers clutched on. His other hand grabbed his face then moved to the front of his shirt. He looked like he was having a seizure - yet, people gave him a wide berth. Avoided him.

His trauma had been akin to an indescribable force penetrating, exploring, familiarising itself with its ... host. He could get no fix on what it was, nor whether it was friendly or hostile, for the sensation simply vanished as suddenly as it had manifested. But he sensed there was something. Deep. 

His skin tingled, as it did in the aftermath of paresthesia, pins and needles, but it covered all of him, not just appendages. His face felt particularly strange for a moment as if part of it was shredded, exposed. Just as he had experienced internally the sensation of it mending was defined by a persistent tingle. 

It had been a truly unnerving event, unlike anything he had succumbed to before - and hoped he never would again. He quickly scanned himself. Everything seemed intact.

Keeping his head down, glancing through strands of his hair, he noticed the questionable looks of wary passers-by. They no doubt thought him drunk or high, or both. Last night he was yes, but that was not the cause of his leaning against the wall, clinging to the cold iron railing for support now. It had been a terrifying, invisible violation of his body. But he also felt utterly ridiculous being incapacitated in such a public setting.

With one hand on his chest, wringing the fabric of his shirt through clenched fingers, the other remained clamped to the railing. He gulped air and tried to steady his breathing by counting slowly to ten over and over. He had not the slightest clue what had just happened, yet he was distantly aware something had changed. But what?

A couple of women shoppers stopped, cautiously, to his left. His eyes flicked nervously towards them, then he resumed staring back down the stairs.

"Hey! You –you okay?" the one nearest enquired as she pulled her shopping bag closer to her body. The woman expressed concern, though wary of him. She had a kindly face, with her bobbed blonde hair rippling in the through-draught that blew up from the station platforms. She combed wayward strands over her ear as she looked at him. Casually, but smartly dressed, the cut of her clothes suggested she was probably from the cream of earners. Her friend, younger and similarly dressed but sterner looking, stayed further back, obviously suspicious of the young man with wild eyes looking out from under shoulder length hair.

He made a conscious effort to regain some composure. Again he swallowed and his tongue quickly coated his dry lips. He was at a loss. The women inched back as he tried to straighten. "I'm – I'm – Yes! Thank you." He stammered. "I – I get major panic attacks now and again, that's all." 

They didn't look completely convinced. "Station," he said pointing towards the entrance of Waverley as he still gasped. "Going down there sets me off too. I'm trying to overcome this irrational fear."

The woman noticeably relaxed. She stepped closer and tentatively raising a hand, she touched his arm. "Can we get you anything? A coffee, or tea?"

He smiled fleetingly. He hated himself for lying to them but he may as well be convincing about it. "Thank you, but I think it was coffee that started me off in the first place. Too much and too strong."

"Ah, of course. Can we call anyone for you?"

"No. I'll be fine in a few minutes. But - thank you. I think most people assumed I was under the influence of something stronger than caffeine." He barked a laugh, still exhausted from the invasion. "I'm sorry if I frightened you."

His acting skills proved Oscar-winning and the woman smiled and nodded sympathetically. After ensuring he was going to be alright, the well-to-do women went on their way. He watched them as they ascended the stairs towards Princes Street.

He looked at his watch. Almost 1.30. By the time he'd manage to stagger down the remaining steps, get his ticket and wobble to the platform he would miss the train anyhow.

Somehow, and he knew not why, that bizarre, alarming and embarrassing episode denoted an imminent return to Azeroth. This being the case, he considered that he should perhaps make certain purchases. The big event no doubt would be soon if not already passed. Though, he had not the slightest idea what to get. What the hell did he know about buying baby things?

A tingling sensation started against his chest. At first, a flare of panic seized him as he thought the strange affliction was starting again, but as his hand went to his chest pocket, he was relieved to find it was only his phone, on vibrate. He fished it out of his inside pocket, nearly dropping it and stared at the screen. He didn't recognise the number. Probably some annoying sales call. He considered dismissing it. Just as he was about to hit "ignore" his thumb pressed "answer" instead. Reluctantly, he raised it to his ear. "Hi."

"Drew?" A woman's voice sounded.

It was vaguely familiar. It took him a moment. "Bernie?"

"Yeah! I'm impressed you remembered." A small laugh came next.

He wasn't quite sure how he felt, hearing from her so soon. Hearing from her at all, to be honest. Yet he was strangely glad he did, too.

"Erm, so – how are you?" he was struggling to think what to say. A flash of guilt. She had certainly interested him last night, he should at least make an effort not to sound so...indifferent.

"Tired." She said, a little giggle still in her voice. "You on your way home yet?"

He pondered on telling his second lie of the day but decided against it. "No. Actually, I was considering doing a bit shopping, but the truth is..." he felt dumb now. "I don't know what to buy."

Bernie gasped at the end of the phone. "Well, what are you needing?"

He looked up as the two women who had stopped to offer help came back down the stairs towards him, more bags in hand. He nodded and raised his hand in greeting, feeling very sheepish at the same time. The bobbed woman smiled and nodded back while the stern one still looked like she was sucking a sherbert lemon.

"Erm, baby clothes. Or maybe toys, I don't know." He watched the women as they disappeared along the raised platform towards the next set of stairs leading down to the trains.

Silence at the end of the phone. Then, "You have kids?" There was a distinct bitter tone in her question.

"No! It's for my friend. Her baby will be due soon - if she has not already had it, that is." He cringed. How dumb did that sound?

There was an audible sigh at the other end. "You need a hand?"

He was about to answer No when he caught his breath. That actually sounded not a bad idea. A woman would have a better idea than he did certainly. But, was it fair to her? He didn't want her to think...

"No strings," she said as if reading his mind. "I'm just at a loose end too."

He smiled. "Sure. Okay then."

"Where are you?"

"Waverley entrance on Princes Street."

"I'll be about twenty minutes."

"Okay. Thanks."

"Bye."

"Bye." He hit End.

Sighing deeply, he wondered if he'd done the right thing accepting her help. And when did he give her his number? He didn't usually do that. He normally collected their numbers, yet as far as he knew he hadn't even done that with Bernie. He had been high though and pissed, so remembering everything was impossible.

He glanced up, then down, and back up the stairs again. At least that weird moment of utter immobilisation seemed to have passed completely. He put his phone back in his inside pocket, checking that the other item inside was still safe. It was. He never went anywhere without it now.

He crested the stairs to the buzz of Princes Street. The never-ending stream of traffic wound its way around the one-way system pausing only when the traffic lights ordered a halt. Bodies poured out over the crossings, hurriedly trying to reach their next destination.

Hundreds of voices merged into an unintelligible thrum drowned only by the engines of passing traffic and a whirr on steel as the trams trundled along the central section. Horns of impatient drivers blasted sometimes causing a pedestrian to jump.

From the rainbow coloured and weird combos of youth to the sedate neutral or darker shades of clothing worn by those of a certain age, pedestrians pushed and sidled for supremacy on the pavements. Pristine 'suits' with starched collars strolled or strutted by. 

The dangerous ones, however, were those who pushed buggies or trundled by on mobility scooters. Those were the ones you watched out for, or your toes and shins often suffered the wrath of metal wheel frames and carriages.

In the distance, the reedy trill of a lone bagpipe played in the gardens – not everyone's idea of a musical interlude. Tourists, of course, hungered for it. There would most likely be a gathering around the piper in the gardens, with cameras excitedly clicking and some idiot trying to do the Highland Fling even though the melody was a lament. Adults would be standing about with great big grins on their faces, pointing at the tartan debating which clan it represented, as no doubt the piper would be in full regalia, while their brats would be running along the paths terrorising the ducks and squirrels. The poor squirrels will probably be glad to get away from the droning sound of the pipes though, Drew thought with a smirk.

The sun was out, making it a pleasant spring day and the air carried the unmistakable smell of hops, which some people oddly likened to the smell of baked potatoes. Those in the know, however, knew it was the brewers in the city who added the fragrance and there were few places, centrally anyhow, where you could escape it.

A bench at the top of the steps with a lone pigeon pecking around its feet, offered a seat for Drew to wait for Bernie. He shooed the bird away. The last thing he needed was bird shit on his clothing. The action only attracted another two. He sighed and decided as long as they just dibbed about the ground his clothing should remain free of any avian deposits.

Music: The Fire performed by Rag 'n' Bone Man

https://youtu.be/G8Mlem4tN_U

Twenty minutes could seem like hours when you were waiting for someone in the throng of a busy city, but he was pleasantly surprised to see sixteen of those minutes had already passed. When he looked back up, he caught a flash of bright red hair coming towards him, swimming against the tide of pedestrians. The hair was silky and gorgeously long.

He pushed himself up from the bench. His recollection up until then had only been the red hair, various facial piercings and ring encrusted fingers, but he had forgotten how striking she really was. From the mass of bustling bodies she appeared a few feet from him, wearing a white vest top, trendy slashed skinny jeans on legs that stretched all the way to her neck, leather ankle boots, a broad studded belt and a bag slung over her opposite shoulder so the strap of it lay between her very lovely breasts.

Drew caught himself exhaling at length. Déjà vu washed over him, yet he couldn't pinpoint the moment. This woman was hot. Something in the back of his head questioned that he should even be thinking this way because... because what, exactly? A memory seemed lost. Yet hundreds more in a murky pool remained to be awakened. He shook his head as if to rid himself of confusing thoughts.

Inwardly, he also prayed his brain would remain in his skull and not slip down to his groin again. The one-eyed monster still had a bad habit of waking up at inopportune moments. Bernie's smile, warmly familiar, was threatening to make the beast stir. He groaned and tried to think of something really dull. Baby clothes! There, problem solved.

"Hi!" she said, her cherry lips curled into a broad and friendly smile. Those lips! So familiar.

"Hi," he replied. "So, you're going to offer me your expertise in choosing things for a baby?"

"Sure. Boy or girl?"

He hadn't thought about that. He laughed at his absurdity. "I have no idea. To be honest I don't know whether she has had it yet." That didn't sound any better this time round neither, he inwardly cringed.

Bernie hitched her pierced eyebrow and bit her lip, gently catching the small stud that adorned it. "Call her. Find out."

And this was where he knew it had been a bad idea to let her come along. And, he found another lie spilling from his mouth. "I tried, but either her phone is dead or she's possibly in labour as we speak so..." He shrugged. That was ridiculously easy, he thought.

"What about her other half then?"

"Likewise – as in unavailable I mean. Probably due to hospital rules?"

There was something about the way she looked at him that suggested she wasn't buying it, but it melted away as she linked her arm with his, and pulled him towards the crossing. "Then neutral colours it is," she said, smiling up at him.

He smirked. Stirrings were threatening again. Telling lies via one's mouth was easy, but trying to lie from other parts of your anatomy was trickier. Nappies and rattles, he told himself. Problem solved yet again.

She took him to GAP. She gave him the basket to carry while she piled in two each of romper suits, baby grows, hats, packs of socks and bibs, cardigans, hoodies, booties and a teddy.

Drew looked at the contents once Bernie seemed satisfied that was all. It was considerably more than he had planned, but he couldn't help but smile. The items she had chosen were cute and practical. Miles better than any effort he would have made by himself. They went to the checkout where the sales assistant happily put everything through the till. She made polite conversation while they waited for the bagged up goodies.

"Oh, this is so sweet," the assistant said holding up one of the romper suits. Drew noted her name tag, Fiona. "I bet yous are real excited." She said.

Drew's eyes snapped quickly to Bernie who was grinning and nodding, then glanced across at Fiona. "Oh! You think that these are..."

"Yes! I am anyway!" Bernie injected, giving Drew a sideways smirk. Then she jerked her head at Drew and mouthed secretly to Fiona "He's not though." She stood, rubbing her ridiculously flat belly. How the saleswoman even thought Bernie was the expectant mother Drew had no idea. He shook his head.

Fiona's eyes flitted between the two. A look of understanding crossed her face. She scowled at Drew.

Fiona finished putting through the last item. "That will be £198.95 then. Please," she announced. Her heavily kohled eyes held his gaze. He swallowed, stunned at the cost. The sales assistant, however, made it perfectly clear she was waiting for him to pay up without any protest whatsoever.

He removed his wallet and handed over his debit card. She told him to slot it in the pay point machine and wait for the instruction to type in his pin. He looked at Bernie to his left. She was standing struggling to suppress laughter, still rubbing her belly and pretending to have an aching back.

Fiona told Drew to remove his card. She handed the bagged items to Bernie while wearing a sympathetic smile on her face. "At least he's done this much I suppose," she said in a low voice to the red-head, before offering a black glare at Drew again. 

Bernie turned to leave moving quickly from the counter. Drew started after her but then had an afterthought. At the last moment, he turned and leaned over the counter to Fiona. "Don't know why you're giving me the dirty looks, it's not even mine! I'm the Prince Charming here, taking on someone else's - mistake."

He watched as her face suddenly changed colour and her mouth fell open. He fought the urge to grin in satisfaction and instead patted the counter relishing the moment. "But, it's quite alright, you weren't to know ..." he made a point of letting her see him checking out her name tag. "Fiona." The critical sales assistant looked duly chastised and Drew, quite cockily, left the shop. He hated people passing judgement on those they didn't know from Adam.

Back out on the street, he found Bernie openly laughing. Her free hand held her belly as she doubled over from her mirth. Drew walked up to her. "Where the hell do they get off with that kind of shit? And some customer service, that one!" he said pointing back into the shop. His eyes met that of Fiona's. "I ought to report you to your superior!" He shouted in. Fiona quickly disappeared to the side where she hid behind one of the displays.

"Oh come on, it was funny," Bernie said.

Drew snapped his head round at her. "Was it hell! Why did you even make her think like that anyway? Hell, I'm not that kind of guy. I would stand by a woman if I got her pregnant."

Bernie's laughter gradually subsided and she regained her composure. "That's good to know then. Especially after last night." She watched his face. He stood there, lips parted and utterly at a loss for what to say. 

Her laughter erupted again. "Oh for god's sake Drew! Lighten up. I was wired years ago." She turned away, exasperated at how serious he was and started walking away, carrying his purchases. He started after her.

"God, you're feisty," he said, catching up with her. She looked at him, a glint in her eyes.

"And you're gullible," she said.

"I am not."

"Yes you are."

"Not."

"Well, then you can buy me lunch." She veered off up a side street.

"Can't. I'm skint now, thanks to you." He pointed to the bags of baby items.

"No you're not, you have a credit card I saw it."

"Debit card actually, so yes, I am skint."

She stopped and looked at him, trying to make out if he was telling the truth. No humour in those brown eyes, she deduced. "Oh! Well then, it's on me, I guess." She started off again, Drew close behind. He was laughing beside her. She glanced sideways. "What!"

"Who's gullible now," he grinned.