Saving Mar

09 HURT

They were all back aboard the ship within the next thirty minutes. The Enterprise was in pursuit of the Orions – having left the slaver ship behind to be repaired so it wouldn't slow them down – but until they found them, there was time to rest. Mar was just coming around and Jon really wasn't looking forward to telling her the news.

He sat next to her bed in sick-bay, thoughts and feelings heavy, trying to wrestle with his own darkness once again. Any kind of violence on the innocent was triggering for him; being forced into it at one point during their time in space made him sick of himself for years. He was still feeling the deep shame and regret. His only comfort was knowing he had saved Earth thanks to it.

Going against the Syndicate was a risky move. His own people could pay the price for his desire to help the helpless. But what other choice did he have? To just leave the women to be sold back into slavery, back into the lives they'd worked so hard to escape?

If he could, he would erase from existence every last slaver in the known universe.

An abrupt movement made him jump a little. Mar was wide awake, panicked eyes searching her surroundings, breath short and ragged. Her gaze landed on her left arm next: it, along with half her torso, was held in place by several braces. The battle-ready fear on her face diluted with confusion.

Finally, her eyes found Jon, and he watched relief overwrite everything else. Relief... and maybe a touch of affection, unless that was just his wishful thinking.

"Ah, you're awake!" sounded cheerfully behind him and Phlox came into his field of view, leaning over Mar to check on her.

"What happened?" she asked the room raspily.

"Your clavicle is broken," the doctor informed her with a disarming smile. "There are various treatments now, but the fracture isn't exactly tidy and I need to make sure you won't be too tempted to move your arm," he pointed to her braces. "And I concluded that a cortical bone grafting wouldn't be your first choice, since it's invasive and I don't have the means to heal scars to perfection."

Mar gave him a wry smile.

"That was really considerate of you, doc, but I don't care that much about keeping my skin flawless. That's something my owner would want."

"I didn't mean it like that," Phlox shook his head animatedly. "You just weren't in a life-threatening condition and I prefer to not cut into my patients unless I absolutely have to."

"Good policy," Mar conceded. "But will anyone finally tell me what the hell happened? Where's my crew?"

Her voice wavered; the answer wasn't exactly obscure. Some of them would've been at her bed if they were still around.

"They took them," Hoshi sniffed from the bed next to hers. "They took them all, except you and Halwir. And we couldn't catch them."

Jon held his breath in anticipation of her reaction, but deep down was glad Hoshi beat him to saying it. Watching Mar's face go slack was painful regardless.

"Most unfortunate," commented Phlox, his expression awkwardly compassionate. "I'm very sorry."

Mar didn't respond, so he just gave her a hypo, removed himself to the far end of sick-bay and started feeding his various wildlife. Hoshi cast Jon a commiserating look and lay back down on her bed. That left just him and the stunned Duchess.

"I'm sorry," Jon whispered, voice cracking in response to the ache gripping his heart, feeling her pain as his own.

"I can smell your guilt, Captain," she croaked a few seconds later, her tone flat, emotionless. "No reason for you to feel that way. It's my fault. I recruited them for this job, for this..." she chuckled bitterly, "this cause. I got them into this mess."

Jon fought the urge to grab her hand and squeeze. He knew these feelings all too well. Leading dangerous missions was never without the risk of people under his command getting hurt, killed, or worse.

"I'm sure they knew the risks and followed you anyway," he dared to disagree. "They told us stories about the lives they'd lived before they met you, Mar. Whatever you asked of them, at least with you they had the freedom to choose."

"Yeah, they chose to trust me and I led them right back to those old lives, if not to even worse ones," Mar growled. "I wish we would've all just died on that freighter. It's better to be dead than in chains."

A ringing silence followed her words. Jon studied her face carefully, worried about the state of her mind. She had the free hand balled into a fist so tight she was digging holes into her flesh with her nails.

"We're in pursuit," he decided to tell her at least how they were going about fixing the issue. "Might take us a while to find them, but we will. We'll do what we can to get them back, I promise."

A wet chuckle escaped her constricted throat.

"I doubt you'll be able to stop them with one ship full of explorers, Captain," she snorted. "These guys are serious. They will rip apart this hull, pull every last one of you out of it like worms out of a can, strip you and hose you down, break you and then sell you to the highest bidder. There's nothing you can do, except get yourself fucked, too!"

Hot tears were washing over her mouth, harshly twisted both in pain and anger. Jon understood that her outburst came from the profound feeling of helplessness, so he couldn't judge her, but the lack of faith stung. Doubt creeped into his own heart and he felt his shoulders slump a little, his restless energy leaving his body exhausted upon exit.

"We'll just have to try our best then, won't we," he sighed heavily, absentmindedly patting her shin under the sick-bay sheets, and stood. "Get some rest in the meantime. The injury seems nasty."

He turned, but even before he managed to take one step, a dainty warm hand tangled in his fingers and stopped him.