Reunion - Michael Jan Friedman [112]
Joseph bent his head again, ran his fingers through his closely cropped hair. “Then I saw the captain coming from the other direction, and I realized what I’d done. And I knew what the others would say about me-how I chickened out, how I lost my nerve. I couldn’t stand the thought of that, I couldn’t. So I just went limp, just pretended I was unconscious. It was all I could think of.
“I didn’t expect him to drag me back. I thought he’d go after Jack-comaf his friend. But I was closer, I was a sure thing. A part of me wanted to telLhim I didn’t need his help, that he should have gone after the other guy to talk some sense into him. But then he would have known I was a coward, and he would have told everyone else. So I stayed quiet.
“When the energy pocket exploded, we were sheltered from the impact. All I saw of the blast was the radiation from it, and then the nacelle, or what was left of it,
spiralling off into space. And I knew Jack was gone. The captain knew it, too; I could see him-was
Joseph’s voice broke and he had to stop. “Howling,” he whispered, shaking his head from side to side. And then a little stronger, as he drew on some inner reserve of strength: “Howling on the inside of his damned face plate, as if it was him that was dying, and not Jack. But just for a second or two. Then he pulled himself together and got me to safety.”
A muttered curse. “That’s when I told everyone the story—about how we’d blacked out from all that energy corning out of the transfer tunnel. About how we’d done our best, but it was just too much for us.” Now the sobs came, wracking him, shaking the man like a rag doll. “And they believed me,” he rasped angrily. “God help me, how they believed me.”
Crusher sat there in her chair, not sure what to feel. Should I be angry, she wondered? Bitter? Should I pity him-or should I pity me? Slowly, she got up and came around her desk. Pug wouldn’t—or couldn’t “look up at her. He was too ashamed-and not only of the tears that had to be in his eyes. He covered his face with his square, powerful hands.
How long ago was Jack killed in that accident? It seemed like forever. And Joseph had been carrying this secret—this burden-all that time. Until now he probably thought he’d be carrying it to his grave.
Tentatively, she reached out-and placed her hand on his shoulder. It was like a rock, clenched against the pain. She could feel it. “It’s all right,” she said mechanically. And then she realized—it was all right, wasn’t it? Whatever crime this man had committed, if one could call it a crime, was a
long time ago. And he had been her husband’s friend; Jack wouldn’t have wanted to see him this way, no matter what. She said the words again, with more conviction this time: “It’s all right, Pug. I forgive you.”
Joseph looked up at her, his eyes red-ringed and swollen. Taking her hand off his shoulder, he held it against his cheek. And shamelessly cried same more.
It wasn’t really Cadwallader’s fault that she was running a few minutes behind schedule. After all, they hadn’t let her see Ben Zoma until just a little while ago, and she hadn’t wanted to leave sickbay before welcom-+ her captain back to the world of the living. Hell, she’d have done that much even if he’d been only her commanding officer-and not her friend as well. Nonetheless, she hated like the devil to be late. Especially when it came to something as mysterious as the dinner experience Will Riker had created for her. Despite her protests, he’d told her nothing at all of what was in store-advising her only to wear “that dress” he’d seen the evening of their last scheduled appointment. Finally, a little out of breath, she turned the corner and