Hidalgo, Artemis IX, Avril Station, and more flew by her ears.
Oddly, it had only been two weeks since they left Deep Space 9, despite how much time they’d spent on that planet. She didn’t care. She stayed in sickbay or her quarters, alone. Falcão and Wetzel let her be in the former, and Corsi’s shifts kept her out of the cabin for the latter. Often, she asked the replicator for a glass of ice water and then ordered lights out. Then she’d sit in the dark and smell the wet and try conjuring visions of green forests. But imagination failed, and the water tasted sterile.
And then there was Julian. The whole time the da Vinci was on its way to rendezvous with the Defiant to drop him off, she hadn’t been able to face him. All the awful, hurtful, cutting things she’d said and wished she could take back. Once spoken, forever done: That’s what they said.
The night before they were to meet the Defiant, Bashir came to see her in sickbay. “Julian.” Her voice was barely able to say his name.
He came closer. She noticed that his scar was still there, a seam centered on his forehead. For some reason, the EMH never removed it when treating him. “I…I wanted to see how you were doing.”
“I’m fine,” she lied. She forced herself not to look away. “On the runabout, I—”
“It’s all right.”
“No, I have to say this. Apologizing doesn’t feel like enough, but it’s all I’ve got. I was wrong, Julian. Wrong to hold you responsible; wrong to hate you. Just…wrong.”
“Selden was a bad situation.”
“But the Seldens of the universe are to blame, not you. You were right, too. All the people we’ve lost on the da Vinci this year, and on the Lexington during the war. A patient I cared about that I couldn’t cure. I got mad. Probably my way of not getting depressed. But anger doesn’t change anything, and I can get pretty hard to take.”
“Yes,” he said. “Several hours in a runabout and I was ready to transport you to deep space. Except I’m insufferably polite. But I fail at many things, and I hurt,” he said, and bunched his fist over his left breast. “Right here.”
She felt like crying. “Do you think she made it?”
“Kahayn? I don’t know. I’d like to think so. She wasn’t evil, just desperate, and I think there was much more to her story than I’ll ever know. She was very sad, a little haunted. I think she struggled to make things right.”
“In the end, she chose for you. She might still be alive.” If Saad didn’t kill them all, and himself.
“Perhaps. If she isn’t, someone else will pick up her work. The Kornaks are willing to sacrifice a lot to survive. Loss of soul. Loss of self.”
“Just like the Borg.” The words were out of her mouth before she knew it. “Do you think—?”
He shrugged. “Don’t know. This alien device may have slipped us sideways into a parallel timeline. Into the past, the future, or maybe the same moment somewhere else…Who knows? For that matter, maybe we got a good look at a past that’s happened in this timeline on a planet we’ve never known. Before they were the Borg, the Borg were something else. There’s got to be a Borg homeworld somewhere. We just haven’t found it yet.”
“Or maybe we did.”
“Maybe.” He was silent. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Saad.” Saying his name hurt. Her eyes burned. “I hope he died. I don’t want to think of him, hooked up…” She cleared her throat. “I just hope he died.”
She was surprised when Julian reached out and thumbed away her tears. But she didn’t pull away, and he didn’t either. “It hurts.”
She nodded then bunched a fist over her heart. Mouthed the words because she couldn’t speak: Right here. Then she released a breath, closed her eyes. This was okay. She cupped his hand with both of hers. Yes, this was all right.
They stood like that for a long time. Then Julian said, “You know, I wonder who won the Bentman. My God, it seems ages,
Oddly, it had only been two weeks since they left Deep Space 9, despite how much time they’d spent on that planet. She didn’t care. She stayed in sickbay or her quarters, alone. Falcão and Wetzel let her be in the former, and Corsi’s shifts kept her out of the cabin for the latter. Often, she asked the replicator for a glass of ice water and then ordered lights out. Then she’d sit in the dark and smell the wet and try conjuring visions of green forests. But imagination failed, and the water tasted sterile.
And then there was Julian. The whole time the da Vinci was on its way to rendezvous with the Defiant to drop him off, she hadn’t been able to face him. All the awful, hurtful, cutting things she’d said and wished she could take back. Once spoken, forever done: That’s what they said.
The night before they were to meet the Defiant, Bashir came to see her in sickbay. “Julian.” Her voice was barely able to say his name.
He came closer. She noticed that his scar was still there, a seam centered on his forehead. For some reason, the EMH never removed it when treating him. “I…I wanted to see how you were doing.”
“I’m fine,” she lied. She forced herself not to look away. “On the runabout, I—”
“It’s all right.”
“No, I have to say this. Apologizing doesn’t feel like enough, but it’s all I’ve got. I was wrong, Julian. Wrong to hold you responsible; wrong to hate you. Just…wrong.”
“Selden was a bad situation.”
“But the Seldens of the universe are to blame, not you. You were right, too. All the people we’ve lost on the da Vinci this year, and on the Lexington during the war. A patient I cared about that I couldn’t cure. I got mad. Probably my way of not getting depressed. But anger doesn’t change anything, and I can get pretty hard to take.”
“Yes,” he said. “Several hours in a runabout and I was ready to transport you to deep space. Except I’m insufferably polite. But I fail at many things, and I hurt,” he said, and bunched his fist over his left breast. “Right here.”
She felt like crying. “Do you think she made it?”
“Kahayn? I don’t know. I’d like to think so. She wasn’t evil, just desperate, and I think there was much more to her story than I’ll ever know. She was very sad, a little haunted. I think she struggled to make things right.”
“In the end, she chose for you. She might still be alive.” If Saad didn’t kill them all, and himself.
“Perhaps. If she isn’t, someone else will pick up her work. The Kornaks are willing to sacrifice a lot to survive. Loss of soul. Loss of self.”
“Just like the Borg.” The words were out of her mouth before she knew it. “Do you think—?”
He shrugged. “Don’t know. This alien device may have slipped us sideways into a parallel timeline. Into the past, the future, or maybe the same moment somewhere else…Who knows? For that matter, maybe we got a good look at a past that’s happened in this timeline on a planet we’ve never known. Before they were the Borg, the Borg were something else. There’s got to be a Borg homeworld somewhere. We just haven’t found it yet.”
“Or maybe we did.”
“Maybe.” He was silent. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Saad.” Saying his name hurt. Her eyes burned. “I hope he died. I don’t want to think of him, hooked up…” She cleared her throat. “I just hope he died.”
She was surprised when Julian reached out and thumbed away her tears. But she didn’t pull away, and he didn’t either. “It hurts.”
She nodded then bunched a fist over her heart. Mouthed the words because she couldn’t speak: Right here. Then she released a breath, closed her eyes. This was okay. She cupped his hand with both of hers. Yes, this was all right.
They stood like that for a long time. Then Julian said, “You know, I wonder who won the Bentman. My God, it seems ages,
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