Chapter Text

XXI – Scars

He could hear Deen shouting his name somewhere above him in the mine but he ignored her as he pressed on in the opposite direction, back toward danger, and more importantly back toward her.

His brain's rational part told him what he was trying to do was impossible. Getting to her in time and then getting them both out of harm’s way before Archangel would rip itself and everything around it apart.

            It wasn’t the rational part of his brain that drove him now. It was pure emotion. He would try against all odds and if everything failed, if he didn’t make it, at least he would die with the woman he loved. Perhaps that was better than surviving without her.

            He had managed less than fifty meters when a strong quake threw him off his feet to the ground. The entire mine shook and debris began to rain down on him. This could mean only one thing.

            Owens couldn’t breathe as his mind was beginning to grasp what had happened. Archangel had destroyed itself.

            He was trying to struggle back onto his feet when he saw it. It was just a spark of light at the far end of the shaft but it didn’t take him long to realize that the wall of fire was coming his way.

            He turned to look behind him. He could see the faint outline of Deen still looking back at him. And not far behind her were the survivors who must have also realized what had happened by now. He already knew that none of them were going to make it out alive

            That’s when his rational mind took over again. It was too late, of course, and all he was left with were regrets for not having been more focused on the task of getting his people to safety. He didn’t know if he could have done more but he knew he hadn’t done enough.

            Sweat pearls dropped into his eyes as the temperature had increased to unbearable levels in mere instances. He took a breath of ultra-heated air that felt like it was burning his lungs. He closed his eyes. He was certain he would have an eternity to think about his failures.

            He felt the hairs on his arms rising and a tingling sensation spread throughout his body and for a moment he thought that death felt remarkably similar to another experience he was quite familiar with.

            He opened his eyes when he felt surprisingly cool air against his skin. The fire was gone and so was the mine shaft.

            “We have them,” Chief Yang-Sen Chow said from behind the transporter control console. “Twelve survivors. Agamemnon reports they’ve got an additional nine,” he added and gave him a wide smile. “Welcome back, sir.”

            Owens did not feel like smiling. Not while he was still trying to come to terms with what had just happened. He had been prepared to die; he had come to terms with it. But now that fate had been taken from him.

            He looked around to see five other survivors on the platform with him. There was Deen, a young male Marine and three civilian researchers and all of them looked as if they had been through hell and back.

            Owens took a careful step forward but nearly stumbled over his own feet. The sudden change in his surroundings had thrown him off balance.

            Doctor Wenera stood ready with a group of medics. She quickly approached him with her medical equipment at the ready. “Captain,” she said with an obvious tone of relief.

            He looked at her as if seeing her for the first time.

            She ignored the empty look in his eyes and instead focused on his many injuries. His face was badly bruised and bleeding. He had deep cuts along his torso and back that were obvious through his torn uniform. His right hand was completely covered in blood. “Let me take you to sickbay.”

            He finally snapped out of his momentary daze. He gave the men and women beside him a quick glance over, finding them all bruised and injured. “Treat the others,” he said.

            But Wenera had already determined that Owens needed the most urgent attention. “We will but I want to look at—“

            “Treat the others!” he barked sharply and then walked past her and toward the exit.

            She was briefly stunned by his outburst but quickly regained her composure. She turned to follow him, not willing to be put off her job that easily. She stopped when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned to see Deen standing behind her. She wasn’t quite as badly wounded as the captain but the usually striking Tenarian was a mess, covered from head to toe in dirt, her usually shiny golden hair darkened by dust and in disarray.

            “Let him go,” she said.

*        *        *

She had been certain that this time she would not be able to cheat death like she had managed to do ever since stepping foot onto Ligos IV. She would not have admitted it to anyone else but she was sick of trying. She had looked into death’s ugly face more times than she cared to remember in her lifetime but never before had she felt so ready for it.

            Her last thought when she spotted the approaching shockwave was the fact that she had not been able to save the captain and the rest of the survivors. That above all else troubled her about losing her life on this distant and insignificant rock at the outer rim of the known galaxy.

            Even though she knew that their chances for survival where practically non-existent, she had continued to push and shout for the others to rush for the now seemingly unreachable exit. Then she froze and turned to see Deen and Owens further down the mine, the fiery shockwave just moments from enveloping them both.

            She had always known, even when she was a resistance fighter on Bajor, that she would face death head-on, she wouldn’t turn away from it, wouldn’t even blink.

            Death never came.

            Instead, she found herself in a transporter room on a ship that wasn’t her own but that looked and felt familiar.

            She was surrounded by Marines and civilians, most of whom seemed confused. Once the initial shock had worn off, some of the researchers couldn’t hold back their tears when they realized that they had been saved.

            Nora kept hers in check. She stepped off the platform and addressed the female Vulcan transporter operator. “The others? The captain?”

            The woman calmly placed her hands behind her back before she responded. “Eagle reports they have beamed onboard Captain Owens and additional survivors.”

            She couldn’t quite suppress a small sigh of relief.

            It was only much later when she had returned to her quarters that she allowed herself to lose control.

            She had entered intending to clean herself up, get rid of her tattered uniform, take a very long sonic shower, and perhaps even visit sickbay to finally give her body the proper medical treatment it desperately deserved. But she never even made it to her own washroom.

            She froze when she spotted the blood-red planet of Ligos IV through the windows in her quarters. She slowly stepped closer and felt her legs give way. “You broke your promise,” she whispered.

            And then without warning, she felt another emotion take over. Rage. She let out a long agonizing scream before she reached out for the closest object she could find—a flower vase—and smashed it to the ground. She didn’t stop there. She destroyed almost everything she could find, chairs, tables, plants even ripped apart the cushions on her bed.

            Within a few moments her once spotless room resembled a battlefield. But her unbridled anger had drained the last bit of energy that had remained in her battered body.

            Unable to remain on her feet, she sagged to the floor, sobbing freely now. She had wanted one thing and one thing only from Eugene Edison. She had wanted him to survive. But he had broken that promise. Worse even, she had let him break it. By now she had run through the scenario of his death a million times and she was certain, dead certain, that she could have saved him. If only she hadn’t hesitated, if only she had killed the shapeshifter when she’d had the chance if only she had stopped him trying to save her, if only so many other things.

            She remained on the floor crying while her mind punished her with a million ways she could have prevented the death of the only man she had ever loved.

*        *        *

She had found him sitting in a chair in the observation deck. He was turned toward the large panorama windows and he appeared to be looking into outer space. She couldn’t be entirely sure with his face hidden from her.

            There was a lot she wanted to say to him. But she knew that she couldn’t allow herself. Not only because she was still convinced that her feelings were inappropriate, she also understood what he had been through. Who and what he had lost down on that planet. He needed time, and so did she.

            There was more to talk about than her conflicting feelings, however. Much more. She didn’t know where to begin.

            As she moved closer, she noticed a bloodied rag on the table, he had used to wipe his face. He had not been to sickbay yet.

            “I hear Doctor Wenera is looking for me,” he said but refused to make eye contact.

            She nodded when she realized that he could see her from the reflection in the window.

            “How are the survivors?”

            “The civilians are shaken up, of course,” she said. “The Marines are mostly fine but Lou had to undergo some minor surgery for her leg. Otherwise, everyone got out without much more than cuts and bruises,” she added unconsciously touching her chin where she had been cut badly during their last encounter with the Jem’Hadar. The wound had now completely disappeared.

            “Not everyone got out.”

            Deen silently cursed herself for the slip-up. “How are you holding up?”

            “I feel dizzy,” he said and finally swiveled his chair around to face his long-time friend. His uniform was still dirty and covered with blotches of blood, not all his own. His face looked swollen and was plastered with cuts and bruises. He clearly needed much more attention than a rag could provide.

            She stepped up to him and gently pressed a hypo-spray against his neck. “We were exposed to high levels of radiation down there. This should make you feel a bit better,” she said as she emptied the content into his bloodstream.

            “Thanks.”

            She gave him a curt nod and headed back toward the doors. She stopped before she had reached them and turned to face him again. “Michael, I’m sorry for—“

            He raised his hand, cutting her off. “There is nothing you have to apologize for. You—all of us—did what we could. In the end, we managed to get some of the people out of there and more importantly, deny the Dominion a weapon that could have easily changed the course of this war.”

            For a moment she didn’t speak. She simply watched his eyes, which appeared emptier than she had ever seen them before as if all life had been forcefully drained out of them, leaving behind a soulless shell.

            “You loved her, didn’t you?”

            He turned his chair to the window again.

            She took a small step closer. “I’m sorry for the way I’ve acted over the last few days. I’m sorry I didn’t trust her the way you did.”

            “You had no reason to.”

            She shook her head. “I should’ve known that if you trusted her, it meant that she was deserving of it. The fact that you loved her means that she was a good person, I’m convinced of that now.”

            “She was always stubborn,” he said, the tone of his voice becoming softer. “She always did what she thought was right and she’d stick to her guns no matter what,” he added and uttered a short laugh. “It didn’t matter how much proof you’d show her to evidence the contrary, if she didn’t believe it, there was no way of swaying her. But she was also sensitive and passionate. When she set her mind on something, she put all her heart into it and more. And when she failed, she’d pick herself up and try again. Giving up was not in her nature.”

            “It’s not in yours either.”

            “She believed in Archangel. She truly believed that it would end this war and the suffering. You probably couldn’t see it,” he said. “Even I almost missed it but all she wanted was to stop the suffering. In the end, she knew that her only choice was to destroy it and herself along with it.”

            “What she did was very brave.”

            He stood and looked at her. “It was foolish,” he said sharply.

            She recoiled slightly at his intensity.

            “If she had been honest about it from the start, maybe we would have done things differently,” he said and she could see the anger swell up in his eyes as he spoke. “All these stupid games and pointless secrecy. And what did it get us? We lost a lot of good people down there. We lost Archangel, we lost her, we lost Gene.”

            She did not know how to reply to his outburst. She knew that he was right but she also realized that the last thing he needed was to be reaffirmed that the person he had loved and had given her life for their escape should deserve so much blame. She found it difficult to blame her for it now. It had been easy enough when she had been alive but it was impossible to argue with somebody who was not. And no matter how she had felt about her, she had never believed that Jana Tren deserved the fate that had ultimately befallen her.

            “Gene, Jana Tren, Santesh-Yardo, Monroe, and all the others who lost their lives here today should be remembered for what they died for. They all gave their lives to defend the Federation, to save those who survived. There isn’t a greater honor we could bestow upon them.”

            He smiled weakly. “I should’ve been among them,” he said and turned away.

            Deen took two angry steps toward him. “Now that is a stupid thing to say,” she said forcefully. “Without you, their sacrifice would’ve been in vain, you understand? You did what you had to do to get us out of there and if you hadn’t then you and all of us would be dead now, don’t you forget that. Somebody once told me that we have little control over who lives and who dies. That the only difference we’re really able to make is how we decide to face the inevitable. It’s easy for you to wish you had died, Michael. The real challenge is to be able to live with what has happened.”

            “We have little choice,” he said and looked at her once more. “We’re needed now more than ever. There’ll be no easy fix for us to get us out of this war. We’ll have to fight and I fear it will be a long and bitter affair and by the time it’s all over there’ll be little of us left.”

            But she refused to take part in his gloomy assessment. “We’ll get through this one. We’ll continue to fight and like Jana Tren we’ll never give up. After all, we have one thing the Dominion will never understand: An unwavering desire to remain a free people and slaves to no one.”

            His eyes were once again fixed upon the stars. He had heard every single word she had said, he had noticed her rising passion and yet she had failed to convince him. He felt as though he had lost part of himself on the planet below and he was certain it was the better one. With it, he had lost love, passion, and hope. What remained now felt empty and left a distinctly bitter taste in his mouth. His chest felt constricted and breathing had become a more laborious effort.

            There was, of course, still his duty as a starship captain and his service to Starfleet and the Federation. She was certainly right about at least one aspect. He would continue fighting for as long as he had a breath left in his body.

*        *        *

In her four years as a Starfleet nurse, Leela Adams had never encountered a more stubborn patient and she had treated numerous Vulcans and at least three different starship captains.

            She attempted to bring up the bone-knitter to the injured arm for the third time and for a third time the patient refused to cooperate.

            “I cannot attend to your wounds if you don’t remain still,” she said with surprising annoyance in her tone, considering the person she was trying to heal. Not many would have dared such a defiant tone considering the patient.

            “I do not require your assistance,” D’Karr grumbled as he pushed the hand with the medical instrument away as if it contained poison. “Just get me some blood wine,” he added with a feral grin. “That will help with the pain.”

            Adams sighed loudly. “As I told you before, we do not prescribe alcoholic beverages for medical treatments. If you just let me do my job, I assure you the pain will subside.”

            “It’s not the pain he’s truly worried about. He just wants to keep the scars,” said Leva as he approached them both. “They’ll serve as a testament to what transpired today and to prove his stories true.”

            D’Karr laughed. “Oh, they’ll believe the stories,” he said and sat up. His deep voice quickly attracted the attention of everyone in sickbay. “I’ll challenge anyone who will doubt their veracity,” he added with a threatening glance toward the medical staff, most of whom decided to avoid direct eye contact.

            Adams remained stoic. “I’ll fix your arm,” she said, eliciting a disapproving growl from D’Karr. “But I promise I’ll keep all your flesh wounds intact,” she added with some discomfort since it went against her better judgment as a medical professional.

            D’Karr reluctantly presented the broken limb and then smiled when she began to use the bone-knitter somewhat unsteadily. “Let’s see then if you are as good at medicine as you are at playing that musical device of yours. I doubt it.”

            Adams looked up with a frown, not sure if she was supposed to feel complimented or insulted. She decided to let it go and concentrated on mending the broken bones.

            “You appear to be in good spirits considering that we almost didn’t make it out of that mine alive,” Leva said as he watched him being treated.

            His eyes gleamed when he spoke again. “We are alive, are we not?”

            “Barely.”

            D’Karr nodded with seemingly aberrant pensiveness. “I could see Sto-vo-kor, I could feel it pulling me in.  We were but on the threshold of crossing over to the other realm, and truthfully, I felt as though I was ready to be welcomed by the honored souls of those who had fallen in battle. But it was not our time. Not yet.”

            Adams finished with the arm.

            He flexed his muscles and moved his joints. “Not bad, little woman.”

            She just glared at him. “If you need anything else, feel free not to call on me,” she said in an icy tone and quickly stepped away to find a more willing patient. It was going to be an easy task.

            D’Karr roared with laughter as he watched her depart.

            “I didn’t have a chance to say it but you fought well down there,” Leva said, making it sound like a throwaway remark.

            D’Karr quickly focused on the man. “You’re not going to get soft on me, are you?  I don’t need your compliments.”

            “Don’t flatter yourself, Lieutenant,” Leva said. “I’m merely giving credit where it is due. As your superior officer, it is part of my job to evaluate your performance.”

            He stood from the bio-bed. “I’m sure my superiors in the Defense Force will be exhilarated to read a performance report written by a Romulan.”

            “Half-Romulan,” he corrected and turned to leave.

            “Mister Leva.”

            He stopped. The way D’Karr had spoken his name gave him pause and he couldn’t quite explain why at first. Then it hit him. D’Karr had never called him by his name before. He turned slowly.

            “Those ears and that green blood of yours had me fooled for a while,” he said. “Your human side is nauseatingly more prominent.”

            The two men simply stared at each other as they had done so many times before. But this time there appeared to be something else in their respective eyes. It wasn’t revulsion. They had gone into battle, they had fought side-by-side, and they had faced death together. In the end, they had both come out on the other side alive. It was not the conclusion either one of them had anticipated. The respect that had grown out of this bond remained unspoken.

            Leva reached for a towel and threw it at D’Karr who easily caught it. “Do me a favor, will you?” Leva said as he turned to the exit once more. “Clean yourself up before you report to duty. I don’t want you to bleed all over the ship.”

            Leva had a tiny smile on his lips. He was determined not to show it to the Klingon as he stepped through the doors and left sickbay.