Medical Assistant's Perspective:
Mary worried too much, that's what her parents had said, what her friends said, hell, even she said that.
When she had been posted to the Enterprise she was ecstatic, that was, until she started fretting about every possible scenario. As it turned out, number three on her list wasn't so baseless. In fact, not two hours into Humanity's first deep space mission and BAM, the Suliban decided the Enterprise would look better in eighths.
And now this, stuck where earth was a lifeless rubble and the entire universe seemed upside-down. Well, that wasn't true exactly, but when your species was practically extinct you were entitled to some exaggeration.
A sigh escaped her lips, irritation evident to the empty room. Well, not completely empty, she glanced down at the unconscious Captain Archer, famous for getting his crew and his ship safely away against all the odds.
A saddened smirk graced her features, he couldn't get them out of this, no, not this time, not even himself.
A single tear slid down her cheek as she pressed the hypo-spray into his shoulder, they didn't deserve this, especially not Jo-, no, she couldn't, wouldn't even think his name. That was not how he was known to this crew, and it was not how they would remember him. He would find peace, not only for himself but for the entire remainder of humanity.
She watched above his bio-bed as the spikes flattened out, his heart slowing, until only a flat line remained. She let the tears fall freely, losing herself in the flow as the sobs wracked her body uncontrollably, gripping the side of the bed till her knuckles turned white.
One thought ran amuck through her mind, its calmness frightening in such vibrant turmoil, one less thing to worry about.
Phlox's Perspective:
After arranging a scan, it turned out that the Enterprise hull was insulated with Trellium-D, one of the upgrades supplied from the mysterious beings.
Had the T'khut been equipped with functional scanners, they would've noticed immediately, and no Vulcan would have stepped foot onto the human vessel, no harm would've come to T'pol.
He should have known, should've been more careful, it would have been a simple matter once they were in the decompression chamber to scan both Soval and herself. Over the course of the week there might have been multiple appointments, anything, just one would have been enough to detect something was wrong, so terribly wrong.
In a manner indicative of the humans he served with, the Denobulan's hands engulfed his face, rubbing the sore eyes that plagued his existence.
He stood there a moment, enjoying the pure blackness, anything but the sight of the Vulcan lying there, the Vulcan that had been his responsibility. Not only for this altered timeline, but for the last two years, he should've known.
And of the Captain, Captain Archer, one of the most, extraordinary men, human or not, that he had ever known, had ever had the honor of serving with.
Phlox rarely shed tears, being a Doctor, you were almost always the one to give support, to present a shoulder for leaning. One with whom the burden lied, forever wondering if you could have done more, just-, well, anything! Anything to prevent the atrocities life was forced to deal, and in this case, he was the one holding a deck.
He was the person who held power over life and death.
There was a saying he always knew to be profound, and yet it was only at times like this he would understand.
"The bullet may end a life, but a scalpel can end a soul." He murmured it softly, no doubt heard clearly by the Vulcans so near him. But those words, such, depth, the likes of which were rarely heard.
For these weapons, these tools of destruction might destroy the shell, might bring death to those in its path, but it could not kill the spirit. One that walked the fields of life, forever and always in it's seldom harmony, for that's what life was, the bad would overweigh the good, crushing its sparkle of light in the cold unforgiving grasp of darkness. The conscience you hold so dear strangling the breath from your lungs.
And like that it would remain, buried under oppression, until something changed, unless peace was made within you, and when the beat of your heart ended, the soul would live on. Not in the way religion would have it, and not even in the memories of loved ones, but in yourself, in the last seconds of life you breathe with tranquility.
This did not mean accepting your death, but rather knowing it for the curse it was. So that when the end came, those final moments would last an eternity, never ending against the flow of time.
With the scalpel, it all changed. The trust bestowed upon the bearer left their spirit defenseless, for it was not the patient to be worried about. A healer worked with the purpose of helping life, the wielder of weapons to end life, even if not by liking, it was their responsibility to utilize the destruction they were bound to inflict.
To have that purpose was not a sin, and neither was a mistake made by a doctor, it was how they lived with their actions that determined the placement.
And as of right now, Dr. Phlox could not live with either…
(Okay okay, I know this is really dark and very confusing, but I felt that something deep was necessary right around now, but I'm not very good with philosophy, so please leave your thoughts in the reviews section. Thanks for reading!)
(On another note, I am aware that I left out the fact that being forced to end a life is also a burden, I just wanted to cover two completely different perspectives, I'm sorry if this bothers anyone.)