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"We can't go," Gwyn said.
Then again.
And again.
And she didn't look at Dal and he was begging her to, but she was far away, limp in Dal’s arms, chanting those three words like she knew no others. And Dal was crying.
Zero didn’t move, they felt like they couldn’t, like they were frozen in the air, just watching helplessly as Dal sobbed and pulled Gwyn closer - Gwyn, Gwyn, they never meant to hurt Gwyn, not her, not her - and then the door of the holodeck opened and Rok was there and Jankom was there and Janeway was there.
They were all here. Zero wouldn't have thought they'd all still be here by the end, but they were.
They won.
They lost.
"We can't go."
They lost Gwyn, they lost her because-
"A reflection," Dal sniffled, between two sobs. When he repeated his thoughts out loud, his voice sounded broken and small. "She only saw a reflection. Maybe there's a way, if we can... we just need to figure it out! Maybe we can still save her!"
He was speaking fast now, even faster as he looked up at Zero, with hope in his eyes, hope that was so indescribably Dal.
Hope that Zero couldn’t allow to took hold of their heart.
A fool's hope.
That's what got them all out of Tars Lamora in the end. That’s what brought them back here today.
"Rok, help me get her to sickbay!" Dal said then and Rok was there in a moment, scooping up Gwyn into her arms gently. Dal pushed himself back up on his feet. "Zero, come on, we need to figure out something!"
Zero didn't move. They couldn’t. Dal and Rok and Jankom all looked at them like they were begging them to do something, to fix this-
"But I..." Zero struggled out and their voice came out thick and broken like Dal’s, like they were going to start crying too. Zero couldn’t cry. It was impossible. "It was... I was-"
"You are the smartest person I know." Dal interrupted. "Zero, please, you need to help her!"
They couldn’t fix this.
But if there really was still chance to save Gwyn-
They had to try. They had to try to fix everything, to make it right, even if that was the last thing they did on the Protostar. Gwyn needed someone to save her, and if all she could get now was Zero, then...
Then they owed her to try.
Zero moved, slow, too slow, but they willed themself to move and follow Dal and Jankom as they rushed to the sickbay after Rok. The girl had already laid Gwyn down on one of the narrow beds, and she was sleeping now, or she was unconscious, which was either a good sign or a really, really bad one. Only the diagnostics could tell. By her bedside, Janeway materialized, looking more worried than Zero had ever seen her. They couldn’t blame her for that.
“Let’s run a diagnostic and see what we can do,” she said, more gently than usual. Zero complied wordlessly, setting up the diagnostic on the small computer screen beside Gwyn’s bed. It went slowly, too slowly, as their fingers didn’t seem to want to obey them as well as before.
They needed to fix their suit. They would try, with only one hand and barely working fingers. They’d managed it before, they could do it again.
But it could wait.
It was Gwyn they needed to focus on now.
-
Zero seemed to move too slow. Dal understood, his own body had been feeling like he was wading through mud ever since he managed to scramble up to his feet in the holodeck.
But Zero was slower and Dal wasn’t entirely sure it was just them losing control of the robotic hand of their damaged suit.
Oh, right. That was another issue they needed to fix. Maybe Jankom knew how to. Dal hoped, because he didn’t. He didn’t, he had no idea, and he was the captain.
He was supposed to know.
Dal never felt less like a captain. He was just a kid. His crew were just a bunch of kids. And they all seemed to be falling apart without Gwyn.
“The full diagnostic needs several hours,” Zero announced quietly. They didn’t turn to look at Gwyn, just stared at the screen before them, and Dal didn’t know what to do.
“Rok, Jankom, we should check up on the engine,” Janeway said suddenly, sternly, and neither of them put up an argument.
“The moment you get the diagnostic results, you tell us how she is!” Rok demanded as she cast a last worried glance at Gwyn. And at Zero.
“We will,” Dal promised, trying to keep his voice even. “Don’t worry.”
The last part was as much to himself as to Rok.
“C’mon, kid, let’s go...” Jankom guided Rok out the door with a hand on the girl’s back. “They’ll be fine. Cap’n Dal’s got them.”
Dal wished he could believe him.
Silence set after they were gone. It was a heavy kind of silence, one you could never hear on Tars Lamora. No one ever spoke to each other on Tars Lamora, because everyone knew it didn’t make a difference, but the silence had still been more bearable than now.
Now it was just Dal and Zero, and neither of them spoke.
And there was Gwyn, sleeping. Gwyn, lost. Somewhere far away, where the rest of them couldn’t go.
They lost her, maybe for good.
Dal swallowed.
“It was my commbadge,” he whispered. He was apologizing, but he didn’t know if it was for Gwyn or for Zero. “She saw the reflection on my commbadge. I didn’t-”
“It wasn’t your fault,” Zero said. It was the first time they spoke in a while and Dal realized how empty everything sounded without their constant chatter. “You tried to save her. It was me who-”
“Zero, no!”
No, no, no. This wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair.
“It wasn’t your fault! You were defending us, we would have died if you hadn’t!” He was standing and he didn’t remember standing up, and he banged his fists on Gwyn’s bed because this wasn’t right and it wasn’t fair and Dal was angry. His eyes burned with the tears that had refused to fall earlier, but if he was going to start crying while shouting at Zero to just stop blaming themself, then so be it. He didn’t care who saw him cry anymore. It wasn’t very befitting of a captain, but Dal was never really one anyway.
“Dal-”
Dal stopped.
Shit, Zero sounded like they were going to cry.
They backed away a little, sinking in the air to be partially covered by Gwyn’s bed and oh, maybe shouting at them wasn’t the best way to go about this.
“If you ever dare say, or... or think this was your fault, I’ll... I’ll...” Dal finished, scrambling for words and waving a hand aimlessly. “I’ll have you demoted.”
“I don’t think you can do that, Dal,” Zero whispered, but their voice was so unlike them. It was broken. Empty. It was wrong. “We aren’t Starfleet.”
Dal slumped back into his seat.
-
The hours of waiting passed excruciatingly slowly, but Zero wanted the diagnostics to be as detailed as possible. At one point Dal fell asleep, as the adrenaline rush of the past hours left his body, leaving him exhausted. Zero didn’t have the same luxury. They were tired, yes, more tired than they ever felt possibly since escaping Tars Lamora, but they knew they couldn’t sleep even if they allowed themself to.
But even before succumbing to sleep, Dal had stopped talking to them. He hadn’t said a word to Zero after their fight, if that’s what it had been, and now he was sleeping, and in the complete silence, broken just by Dal and Gwyn’s breathing, Zero was alone with their thoughts.
Alone with their thoughts was not something Zero liked to be.
Gwyn was sleeping too, on the medical bed, so peacefully that Zero could have been fooled to think nothing was wrong. Only a slight crease on her forehead - Zero had been learning to read her expressions better, since she was the only one whose thoughts they couldn’t sense - told them her sleep was tense, as if she was having a nightmare.
Zero hesitated, then reached out, slowly.
And took Gwyn’s hand into their own.
“I am sorry, Gwyn,” they whispered and squeezed her hand as gently as they could.
Gwyn was sleeping.
Gwyn was too far away to notice.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Gwyn,” Zero kept going, even though they knew she couldn’t hear it, maybe she would never hear it. “I didn’t mean to, I didn’t, not you, Gwyn, I’m so sorry-”
They grasped Gwyn’s hand desperately, as if holding onto her tightly enough could stop her from slipping away.
There was no answer. The door of the Sickbay slid open with a woosh instead, and revealed Jankom and Rok in the corridor, carrying Jankom’s toolbox and a whole bunch of replicated metal pieces.
Zero let go of Gwyn’s hand.
“Hi Zero!” Rok whisper-shouted as she saw the sleeping Dal. She added a little wave too. “How is Gwyn?”
“Hi Rok,” Zero returned the greeting, but didn’t manage to wave back. It took more and more concentration to have their arm move even a little bit. “The diagnostics are still running, but she... she seems to be stable for now.”
Rok nodded in understanding and a little bit of her tension seemed to dissipate.
“And how are ya doing, Zee?” Jankom asked, uncharacteristically serious.
“Me? I am... Well, yes... I’m alright.”
“You’re an awful liar, Zero, you know that?” That was Dal, woken up by the arrival of Jankom and Rok, his voice still heavy with sleepiness. He stretched his arms and legs, then settled back into sitting comfortably in his seat, casting a worried glance at Gwyn.
Zero wanted to be offended at his words. They weren’t lying. They were fine, a little tired and with a suit working less than perfectly, but they were fine. And no matter how much they wished it, they weren’t the one who lay sleeping on a medical bed and might never wake up. Who might be lost for good.
“Haha, Dal’s right!” Jankom laughed and nudged them with his elbow. “Good thing Jankom’s here to get your suit fixed up!”
“And me too!” Rok added with a smile.
“Yeah, we should start with the suit,” Dal agreed. “How do I help?”
Jankom was already giving out instructions for Dal, when Zero gathered themself together enough to speak up.
“Wait,” they said and all three turned to them. “My suit... it is not that important now. It’s Gwyn who needs our help, I-I... can just fix the suit later.”
“Very funny, Zero! How are you gonna fix it, with the one arm that isn’t even working?” Jankom laughed.
“I already managed once...”
“Wait, Zero, did you really think you’d have to do it alone again?” Rok furrowed her brows in confusion and concern, and Zero stopped to consider her words. “That we wouldn’t help with the repairs?”
“I suppose I did,” Zero admitted. “I assumed that you...”
“That we what?” Dal pressed.
“That you would be afraid.”
The room erupted with voices.
“Of you???” Dal yelled, like he was personally offended by the assumption, and he jumped up from his seat, gesturing wildly.
“Zero, no, that’s silly!” Rok protested. “You’re our friend!”
“Jankom would never be scared of you!" Jankom hurried to add. "Except for that one time when I got up at night to the call of nature and didn’t notice you still being awake and you looked like some weird purple reading light!”
“Oh that was funny,” Dal stopped to grin at the memory. “He fell off the bunk bed.”
“And screamed,” Rok added with a chuckle.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Jankom glared at Dal and waved them both off with his hand, then pointed at Zero. “Point is, you could be a hundred times scarier and Jankom would still not be afraid!”
“Me neither!” Rok puffed out her chest.
“And me neither,” Dal agreed, almost solemnly. He agreed, even though he was there, he had seen - not exactly seen, thank the stars, but still - what Zero really was.
He put his hand on his hips, and flashed Zero one of his cocky grins. “I mean, look! Do you sense fear in any of us?”
Oh.
They didn’t.
Dal was right. Zero tried, and they sensed... tension and anxiety and worry, yes, but it was the same tension and anxiety and worry for Gwyn as in themself. There was no fear.
“I don’t,” they told them quietly.
“Then you’ll let us help with your suit?” Rok asked, her eyes wide and pleading.
“What about Gwyn?”
“The diagnostics are still running,” Dal pointed out. “We have plenty of time to get your suit patched up.”
“Alright,” Zero said finally. Than they added, “thank you.”
-
Dal ended up not really being able to help with Zero’s suit. Rok and Jankom were handling it, apparently, especially with Jankom’s experience of constantly fiddling with his own prosthetic arm, and soon Zero was practicing stretching both of their arms again.
Jankom had his mind set on adding some improvements, as he called it, but Zero declined them all, saying they liked the suit just as it was. But Jankom was insistent, so they arrived at a compromise of small modifications for better motoral control and a more durable outer material.
“Try not to lose this arm too,” growled Jankom with barely masked fondness as he adjusted the last settings, and Zero answered with a sound that could almost be called chuckle.
“But just come to us if you do,” Rok said seriously.
“Yeah, Jankom’ll have you patched up in no time,” he laughed and hit Zero on the back.
“I will,” they promised. They seemed to be somewhat better, though the anxious anticipation of the diagnostic results still sat heavily on all of their hearts. Still, Dal wanted to make sure they were all on the same page.
“Zero?”
They looked up, stopped testing their brand new elbow joint.
“You know it’s not your fault, right?” Dal asked, serious but as genuine as he could. He knew their last conversation about this didn’t go exactly well, but he was the captain, he needed to try again. He needed to make sure Zero knew. “You saved us. No one blames you.”
“D-Dal...”
“Stop.” Dal raised a hand to shut them up. “You know I mean it. You can read me. I mean it.”
Zero didn’t protest again. A benefit of being a telepath, Dal guessed. They could tell he was being genuine, they could probably tell that Dal was doing his best to project no one blames you. And you are important to us. And we need you to be okay. And thank you.
“Gwyn won’t blame you either. I know.”
Rok was nodding along enthusiastically and Jankom hummed in agreement.
Then the computer screen blinked once, and Gwyn’s results popped up on the screen. They were organised in neat little rows and diagrams Dal didn’t understand. Zero’s attention immediately focused on the readings, and Dal drew closer to them with the others.
“What-” he swallowed, “what does it say?”
“It’s... she’s...” Zero’s voice trailed off. “The damage isn’t permanent!”
“She’ll be okay?” Rok asked, barely hiding a growing smile in her voice.
“I... yes. She needs time... I don’t know how long it will take... or-or what the lasting effects will be, but she’ll still... still be Gwyn.” They once again sounded like they were going to cry, but if anything, their voice was heavy with relief.
Dal’s heart felt lighter and he breathed deeply for the first time since stepping into the transporter of the Rev-12.
“Yeeeees!” Rok shrieked, high and childish and happy, and she grabbed Zero’s hand and spun them around in the air, and Zero laughed.
Zero was laughing, however briefly, and Dal felt like his head was spinning.
Rok let go of Zero and Dal catched them as they went flying with the momentum of the spin. They all laughed and the weight of the past day seemed to lighten on Dal’s chest.
Gwyn was sleeping.
But she would wake up. And she would still be Gwyn.
“Good news, I take it?” Janeway said as she appeared and saw the smiles plastered on their faces.
They all nodded, and the hologram’s shoulders visibly relaxed with relief. Then she straightened up and looked straight at Zero, who shrinked back a little with the sudden attention.
“And now, especially to you, Zero,” Janeway said sternly, “time for bed.”
“B-but Gwyn-”
“I’ll watch her, don’t worry.” The answer was softer now. “But you all need rest. I doubt you slept in the last 24 hours.”
“I did!” Dal tried to protest but Janeway ignored him. Apparently one hour of crashing down from exhaustion in a seat in sickbay couldn’t exactly be counted as sleeping.
“Captain, I suggest you lead by example then. Get your crew to their quarters. Gwyn will be alright.”
In that moment, Rok yawned, kind of proving Janeway’s point. Good job, Rok.
“Maybe we really should sleep...” she mumbled, rubbing her eyes.
“C’mon guys,” Dal sighed, waving for them to follow him. “Zero?”
“Yes, I’m coming...” Zero was hesitating, hovering uncertainly by Gwyn’s side for a second more, before flying after Dal.
“Crew?” Janeway called out, just as they stepped out into the corridor, and they all turned back. “I’m proud of you. All of you.”
Dal smiled.
Then the door of sickbay closed and he set out to herd his crew back to their sleeping quarters.