Chapter Text
The next morning, Icheb and Neil walked back to the infirmary together. Icheb had a headache, a dull throbbing pain that he attributed to either lack of regeneration, the two-and-a-half glasses of scotch he’d consumed the night before, or both.
According to his memory files from the night before, he had sat drinking with Neil until he had become so dizzy that the older man had been forced to assist him in walking over to the sofa, where he passed out and slept for nearly six hours – almost a full regeneration cycle.
He remembered talking about Maren a lot – his plans to propose to her, the history of their relationship. Neil had shared similar stories about Caris.
It was unlike Icheb to open up to a stranger, or even most acquaintances and friends. The only people he consistently confided in were Maren, John, and sometimes Seven of Nine. But the alcohol had loosened his reserve, and he had found himself enjoying the conversation with Neil. It had been a pleasant distraction from his worries about Maren’s condition. Unfortunately, that distraction had come at a price, and he was paying it now. He rubbed at his forehead with one gloved hand and grimaced.
“They can give you something for that at the infirmary,” Neil said, with a lightly amused smirk. “Hangover special, they call it.”
Icheb nodded. “I’m aware of it. I graduated from Starfleet Academy only a year ago, remember? It was one of the most frequently replicated things in their infirmary.”
Neil chuckled. “I’ll bet.”
They reached the double doors of the medical facility and entered the lobby. There was no one at the front desk yet, but to Icheb’s surprise, Schmidt was already there waiting.
“She’s awake,” he told Icheb. “I haven’t seen her. I thought you should be the first."
“Coward,” Neil muttered, giving Schmidt a disdainful look.
“No, I appreciate it,” Icheb said sincerely. He really wanted to be first. “Have they apprised you of her condition?”
“She needs another round of breathing treatments before they’ll allow her to be transferred to San Francisco, but otherwise, she’s improving. They told me to warn you that her facial injuries were severe enough that she’ll probably need additional regenerative treatment at Starfleet Medical before she looks like her old self again.”
“Understood, sir.” Icheb nodded. He himself had needed extensive dermal regeneration after the removal of his Borg exoplating. Even so, some of his scars were still visible. He hoped that they would be able to do better for Maren – partly for selfish reasons, since he thought she was the most beautiful girl in the entire universe.
“You’re dismissed, Lieutenant,” Schmidt said. “Go on in and see her. I’ll wait here with Dr. Abbott.” Neil looked surprised and less-than-pleased by the suggestion, but Schmidt gave him an almost pleading look. “You and I need to talk,” he said. “Please, Neil.”
Icheb was intrigued by Schmidt’s overture toward Neil, but not enough to delay his departure for Maren’s room. He set off down the corridor toward the isolation ward.
****
Neil and Schmidt watched Icheb go. Neil cast Schmidt a questioning glance. “Feeling guilty?” he inquired. “You’re acting almost human toward that kid.”
Schmidt sighed. “I’m not a monster, Neil. No matter how much you want to believe that I am.”
Neil rolled his eyes and jerked a thumb back toward where Icheb had just disappeared around the corner. “That alien kid spent his formative years on a Borg cube, and I’m pretty sure he’s more human than you are,” he said. “I don’t know how you do it, Lew. Sending bright kids like that into danger, just to prove to them that the universe is a cruel place? They’ll find out soon enough. Why put them through it?”
“You know why,” Schmidt replied. “But that’s not what I came to talk about.”
“I think it’s exactly what you came to talk about,” Neil retorted. “Caris died twelve years ago last week. What was O’Connor’s test, some sort of sick re-creation? Some sort of attempt to prove to yourself you were right? Only it didn’t work, did it, because she’s just like Caris, isn’t she? Her boyfriend told me all about her last night. Smart and tenacious. Sweet but strong. You expected her to give up, and she didn’t. So what now? Does she fail? Pass? What the hell was the point of all this?”
Schmidt set his jaw, took a step toward Neil, and lowered his voice. “That girl is just like Caris,” he said. “And quite frankly, she scares the hell out of me. She’s a lethal combination of reckless youth and relentless perseverance, and there is every possibility that in a few scant years, she will be commanding the engineering department of the most dangerous mission the fleet has ever undertaken." He sighed and took a step back. "It doesn’t seem to matter how many times I tell them she isn’t ready – the people with influence over the Delta Quadrant project have been grooming her for this since the beginning," he said. "She gave them slipstream, and they think she can give them a lot more. But her complete inability to recognize a lost cause is going to get a lot of people killed someday; mark my words. At least Caris only got herself killed.”
Any amount of sense Schmidt had been making to Neil up until that point was obliterated with his last sentence. Hot tears sprang to Neil’s eyes, and his grief felt fresh all over again. “Caris didn’t kill herself, you bastard. You did!” he screamed; then finally did what he hadn’t been able to do all those years ago on the Ajax – pulled his arm back, swung at his old roommate, and punched him square in the jaw, sending him crashing to the ground, knocking over a visitor’s chair in the process, which went clattering across the polished concrete floor.
Neil stared at his own fist in mild shock. Other than during tactical training, he had never hit another human being in his life. But for the last twelve years, every time he’d heard Schmidt’s name or thought about the man, he’d daydreamed about it. Now that the moment had finally come, it was less satisfying than he had imagined.
Slowly, Schmidt picked himself back up off the floor, rubbing his jaw. He glared at Neil, but conceded, “You deserved that. I hope it made you feel better.”
Neil shook his head disgustedly. “I could kill you and it wouldn’t bring her back.”
Schmidt sighed heavily and locked eyes with him. “Neil, if it would, I’d do it myself.”