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This Much, I Can Give
Hope
Sickbay was in chaos, full of despondent people seeking various physical means to expiate the pain. Slipping in and through the crowd, she was able to find ointment, bandages and a sink almost unnoticed.
Almost. A pair of hands wrapped around hers as she gingerly dried them. Tom Zarek went still when he saw the angry red skin on her palms, the blisters on her fingertips. "Who did this to you?"
Laura pulled her hands free. "Nobody." She hadn't realized it until she was done. When burning the Pythian prophecies, she'd burned herself.
Her answer didn't satisfy him. "You did this to yourself?"
"It wasn't intentional." Not looking up, she picked up the ointment, but avoiding the use of her fingertips made it difficult. The tube clattered into the sink and she reached for it again.
He beat her to it. "Let me." Quickly and efficiently, he dressed the burns and wrapped them in the bandages. "That's going to hurt for a while."
"I know." Her voice was dull and lifeless, echoing the way she'd felt since her first view of Earth.
Above her, she heard him sigh. "The people will survive this. They've survived a lot worse already. Dreams don't die this easily."
"Dreams." She laughed, but there was no humor.
He touched her shoulder the way he might have touched her hands. "They don't. That's what keeps a people fighting on, even when they think they're defeated."
She slowly raised her eyes to meet his. "I suppose a former…insurgent…would know?"
He accepted her description gracefully. "Give it a few weeks. You'll see."
"I might not be here in a few weeks."
He looked her up and down, appraising. "No. Your hope isn't completely gone. You'll be here to see this."