30x300 by –yannik–
DAY TWENTY EIGHT
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"Cadet Paris, compose yourself! You're going to be a Starfleet officer!"
"Please…"
"Tom" the Admiral lowered his voce, not to be overheard by the others, " you're the heir of a long line of brave, strong Starfleet officers. You're son of an Admiral. Don't shame the Paris' name! You're rescued, you're safe now."
"I am?"
"Yes."
"And Bruno? Odile? Charlie?"
"I'm sorry…" he stared, and then looked at Tom carefully. "But they must have been killed in the crash, they wouldn't… You must have known that."
"I talked to Bruno. I killed him."
"Nonsense!"
"He was alive! But he was breathing, and there wasn't enough air, so I had to… I… I don't know… I can't remember."
"You're confused. It was extremely stressing situation, I'll point it out to the investigating officers. You need psych evaluation, before they talk to you. Look at me Tom" the Admiral took his son's face in both his hands, and stared deep into his eyes. "You didn't kill anyone. Remember that. You didn't kill anyone."
"Yes, sir."
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But I did. I did, and we both know that now.
Not like this, not with my bare hands, but with my false heroics. Stupid daring. I killed them, and now I'm paying. Will every punishment always be about that? Maybe that's how it should be, maybe I should live this through over and over again. Maybe every cell I get locked in should remind me about this closed space inside the shuttle, that became my friends' coffin? That's the way it's been ever since, and that's how it must be. I must bear with this. I must be strong to honor them, because they never got out.
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t.b.c.