Warnings: mentions of mass casualty situations, suicide
The badly damaged Enterprise was receiving some much needed repairs, sending everyone from the crew down to headquarters until repairs could be completed. Freddey was stationed at Starfleet chaplains' headquarters, the Hall of Reflection, an immense, cathedral-like building sprawling over part of Starfleet campus and towering into the sky. Stained glass windows shone brightly in the San Francisco sun, sending myriad colored patterns across the floors, each window a story from a different religion.
Some of the windows had been blown out when Khan's ship had crashed, the broken glass glittering like jewels on the floor. There had been too much to do for the chaplains' corps to perform any cleanup yet. The chaplains were now not only tending to the spiritual and emotional needs of Starfleet personnel but also San Francisco rescue personnel, rescuers who had come from all over the nation and world, and civilians who had never known tragedy on a such a scale on Earth before. They barely had time to sleep and eat, so cleaning really just hadn't been an option. Freddey liked to think of it as a reminder, something to make sure they wouldn't forget what happened. Forgetting was unlikely, though, what with thousands of people dead.
The people of San Francisco had lost many that day, had lost mothers and fathers and grandparents and children and siblings and aunts and uncles. Low estimates placed the body count at three thousand. High estimates were up around ten thousand or more. Starfleet had lost plenty of her own people, too, starting with the bombing of the Kelvin Memorial Archive in London, with Khan's attack on Daystrom (and Pike's death), and many others. Freddey almost hadn't believed it when Jim told her Pike was dead. Christopher Pike could not be dead. He had survived too much to be killed by something so petty.
Freddey had been on the bridge when ADM Marcus admitted to plotting the whole thing, to recruiting 'Harrison', to creating a Starfleet paramilitary force, to killing Pike. Her blood boiled, rage filling her veins until she felt nothing else. She remained on the bridge when Jim and Khan left to spacejump to the Vengeance, and so she was also there when Khan crushed Marcus's skull with his bare hands, heard Carol scream, saw Jim get beaten bloody, flinched perhaps more than she should have when Scotty was knocked out cold. She hadn't seen Jim again until he was dead.
A few weeks had passed since the Enterprise was put in spacedock for repairs, her crew all planetside. Freddey sat in her office at the Hall of Reflection when she heard a knock at her door. The woman she bid enter was young and pretty, with short blonde hair and lovely blue eyes. She walked with a cane.
"Dr. Marcus," Freddey greeted her warmly, "What brings you here?"
"Dr. McCoy said you were the best person to talk to," Carol said sheepishly.
"About what?"
"May I sit?"
"Absolutely, doctor. We don't wanna strain your leg. Len would kill me."
"Oh, please, call me Carol."
Freddey inclined her head, giving Carol time to sit and sitting herself. Carol chewed her lip and avoided Freddey's eyes for nearly a minute before she finally muttered, "McCoy said you were the best person to talk to about… about being betrayed by your parents."
Heat crept into Freddey's face and neck.
"Well, he's certainly right about that," she replied, averting her eyes.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have-"
"No, it's alright. Like I said, McCoy was right. I know more about it than most. Did he tell you how I know?"
"No, he only told me I should ask you myself."
Carol's eyes were bright and wet and a bit curious. Freddey liked her. She was smart and fierce and brave.
"You talk first. Why don't you tell me what's bothering you, Carol?"
"Didn't I already?"
Carol's father was ADM Marcus, who'd recently betrayed all of Starfleet and gotten his head crushed for his troubles. At the time, Freddey had rather felt he'd gotten his comeuppance. Now, though… Carol certainly doesn't deserve any of this. She didn't deserve to watch him die like that. Freddey repressed a shudder as she remembered Carol's scream. She must have paused for a long enough time, as Carol continued, "It just doesn't seem fair."
"Things like this usually aren't."
"No one knows what my father did. I mean, the crew of the Enterprise does, and Starfleet admiralty, but everyone else is somehow treating him like a hero. I can't get away from people who come up to me to tell me how brave and wonderful he was, and I have to keep pretending that I'm proud of him, that I'm not ashamed to be his daughter. I don't know if I can keep it up much longer. He just-… He changed, and I don't know when or why or what made him think that war and death and genocide were the best answers for the Federation's problems."
A tear rolled down her cheek. One of her hands absently kneaded at her injured thigh. Carol had been through so much, and the truth must have been eating her up inside.
"I'm afraid my experience was the opposite," Freddey told her, "Plenty of people knew what my parents were and what they had done and kept trying to fix me."
"What did your parents do?" Carol asked softly.
"They handed me over to the government of Tarsus IV to be killed in the massacre," she replied simply, "I was eleven, their youngest child, their only daughter, and they just handed me over when the police came for me, sold me for their own lives."
"Oh, god… that's awful."
Freddey shrugged, saying, "It's what happened. I ratted them out when Pike rescued us. They were arrested and sent to prison for… oh, there were several charges against them. My grandmother forced me and my brothers to go see them after they were convicted, wanted us to forgive them, but we wouldn't do it. Honestly, I still haven't."
"Are they still in prison? I would assume they were sentenced to life."
"They were, but they committed suicide not long after our visit. Her mother tried to blame us for them killing themselves, said we should've forgiven them for what they did and maybe they'd be alive. I told her they'd be in prison no matter what and maybe she should be more concerned about what they did to me. She almost hit me, and I thought Grandma was gonna deck her."
Carol giggled at that, cheering slightly. Freddey smiled at her, said, "I know it's hard to know your parents weren't as great as you always thought, but it seemed to me your father really did love you. That's more than I ever got from my parents. Somewhere along the way he just got misguided and did some bad things… but he loved you and he didn't want you hurt. He may have died poorly, but at least you had that."
"Why do you think he did it?" Carol asked quietly.
"Honestly, I think he thought he was doing the right thing. I don't think it was right, and I don't think we should condone his actions, but I believe he convinced himself he was right."
"But what do I do when people come to me with condolences and kind words about my father? I can't tell them he was horrible."
"I wish I had better advice, but all I can say is smile and tell them thank you, since the truth is so confidential none of us should even know it. Maybe one day we can tell the truth, but not for a long time. Until then, we smile and nod and say 'Thank you for your kind words.' That's all we can do."
Carol nodded and briefly fell silent before asking, "Lieutenant-"
"Please, it's Freddey."
"Freddey… if I may ask… why didn't you forgive your parents?"
"Have you forgiven your father?"
"I-… I think so."
"Why did you forgive him?"
Carol seemed taken aback by the question. She mouthed like a fish for a few moments, struggling for words. All she was able to get out was a stammered, "Well, he-he loved me… and I loved him."
"There you have it, then."
"What?"
"Your father loved you. My parents never gave a damn," Freddey explained, keeping her voice level, "They tried to get me to lie on the stand, to say they begged for my life, that they were shattered by my Choosing. They weren't. They offered me up like a sacrificial lamb just to save their own skins. Kodos ordered my execution personally, ordered my parents to hand me over so they could live. Your father was at least under the delusion that he could save other people. My parents were only concerned with their own lives," Freddey sighed and scrubbed at her face, "Nothing about Tarsus IV was forgivable or redeemable."
Carol spoke up, "There's you."
The laugh that escaped Freddey's lips was humorless as she replied, "Yeah… Yeah, there's me."
"Well, to me, that ordeal didn't break you. I think it made you stronger, like steel tempered by fire, strong enough to deal with anything that comes your way."
"Funny, I was gonna say the same thing about you, Carol."
It was good to see Carol smile again, however briefly, for she quickly frowned again, asking, "Freddey, how's Kirk doing? I haven't heard anything."
Freddey averted her eyes, swallowing hard. She replied simply, "I'm praying for him."
The other woman fell silent. It had been nearly two weeks, and Jim had shown no signs of waking up anytime soon. Leonard said they couldn't be sure when he would wake, since his body had to rebuild all its cells. It could be a year or it could be tomorrow. There was just no way of knowing. Freddey knew that for Len and Spock, not knowing was the worst of it.
"He's a good man, Captain Kirk," Carol said at last, "I… I'm sorry this happened to him."
"Nothing happened to Jim. He did this to himself knowing damn well what would happen. You're right about one thing, though."
"About what?"
"He is a good man."
"You're close to him."
It was not a question.
"I know Jim Kirk better than anyone else now Pike is dead," Freddey replied, "He did what he did because he was sure he could save the crew and ship. He thought of nothing else."
"He is alive, though, isn't he?"
"Well… he's breathing. He's got a heartbeat. There's even brain function. He just hasn't woken up yet… and Len isn't sure when he will. It's the waiting game."
"I hope he wakes soon."
"Me, too."
A comfortable silence fell over them. Freddey liked Carol. She was smart and kind and loyal. Those were Freddey's favorite traits in a person when honesty was added. Maybe Carol could hone her honesty a bit, but overall she was a good person.
"I must be going," Carol stated after a long moment, rising from her seat, "I've got a meeting in thirty minutes across campus, and I'm not moving so quickly as of late. Thank you for speaking with me today, Freddey. It did help a great deal."
"Come see me anytime. Door's always open, Carol."
The weapons engineer offered her a smile and left the office, holding the door for a hulking security officer who quickly broke down sobbing over the loss of his best friend who'd been sucked into space and that he didn't know what to tell the dead man's mother; she sat with him for an hour. When he left, still upset but soothed, Freddey decided she needed a bit of a break and stepped out to take a walk.
The sun shone bright over the Starfleet Academy grounds, glinting off glass and steel and water. A soft wind blew, picking up the scents of fresh grass and smoking metal. She looked toward the part of the city that was charred and smoking and twisted and suddenly felt very selfish for only praying for Jim over the last few weeks. She'd almost forgotten the rest of the city. The sun warmed her as she meandered around campus, waving at a friendly face every now and again.
"Freddey! Freddey!" a familiar voice called.
She turned to find Chekov sprinting to her. He could've come from anywhere but didn't look particularly winded.
"Pavel, what is it? What happened?"
"It's the keptin!" he told her excitedly.
Her stomach rolled.
"He's awake!" he continued, "Dr. McCoy told me to come find you!"
Before she had time to react, he grabbed her hand and led her to Starfleet Medical. Len and Spock were both hovering over Jim protectively as Freddey stepped into the room. She got a grin from Len, a slight incline of the head from Spock, a tired smile from Jim. She rushed to Jim and pressed herself into his arms, willing herself not to cry. Jim hugged her tight, his face buried in her hair.
"Hey, watch it, Fred. Don't squeeze ol' Jimbo here too hard," Len told her.
"Yeah, I know, he's so fragile," she teased.
"Okay, just keep makin' fun of the convalescent," Jim whined playfully.
"James Tiberius Kirk, you put me through hell. I think I'm entitled to make fun of you if I want."
"Yeah, alright, I guess you are."
"Good, now shut up and hug me again, you idiot."
Freddey pressed close once more, never happier to see her best friend in a hospital bed.
Forgiving is love's toughest work, and love's biggest risk. If you twist it into something it was never meant to be, it can make you a doormat or an insufferable manipulator. Forgiving seems almost unnatural. Our sense of fairness tells us people should pay for the wrong they do. But forgiving is love's power to break nature's rule. ~Lewis B. Smedes
