Returning to sickbay, Reed noted the unholiday-like atmosphere that seemed too pervade the place. He stopped to share a holiday greeting with some of the patients, but received
grim expressions from most, and urgent questioning from a presumably shell-shocked demolitions officer. Hastily he made his way toward the back, where he hoped to find Lt. Scott returned to consciousness,
and ready to talk.
Hearing voices as he drew near, he dared hope he'd presumed correctly. Unfortunately, he saw as he pulled back the curtain, the conversation was between the robotic Anda, and Doctor Egan, although the latter
did not seem to be holding up his end.
"Ahh, Commander", Egan said, greeting Reed with uncharacteristic enthusiasm, "it's very good to see you again."
Reed studied the doctor, uncomfortable with his new found demeanor. "Likewise, Doctor", he replied somewhat sarcastically, and turned to Anda, "and how are you feeling?"
"Not unwell", the android replied thoughtfully, "much like water freshly poured into a glass which hasn't yet had a chance to settle."
Though the android's terminology seemed strange to Reed, he accepted it like he did all changes in routine. Reed returned his gaze to the doctor. "And how is Lt. Scott?"
Egan shrugged nonchalantly. "He seems to be doing fine. He's been awake several times, though just for a few minutes." He regarded Anda darkly. "Which is more than I can say for
the other half of this experiment."
Reed shook his head wearily. "I'd rather you referred to your guest as patients, doctor, not 'experiments'."
Egan acknowledged his breech of etiquette with a nod. "As you say, sir."
"Could I have a moment with Number Two alone?", Reed asked, though his voice intoned a command. "Perhaps you could take Anda out for some air."
"Certainly.", Egan replied, though he knew the air which Reed spoke of was the same distilled oxygen mixture throughout the ship. Disgruntled, he assisted the android to a hover chair and began pushing
him toward the exit. "if you have need of me", he added, "don't hesitate to call."
Once alone with the young officer, Reed pulled up a chair and studied his sleeping form. He had meant to talk to Number Two about some things, but had not had the chance, or sadly, the nerve before the young
Lieutenant had had his brush with death. He took a deep breath and began to speak, looking down at his hands as his low voice cut through the silence.
"I was very close to your parents", he began, "but you were already aware of that. Your father was my wing man, and I'd been the best man at their wedding." He paused for a moment, trying
to unravel his train of thoughts from the memories that coursed through his mind. "When we were both Lieutenants, your father went down during a battle, and was not recovered for several months, but you
know that, too. He was presumed dead by the Fleet, and by your mother and I as well. We were both sick with anguish, her having lost a husband, and I, my best friend. As tends to happen, we sought
comfort in each other, mostly, I think, because we shared that common loss."
He shook his head, reliving that time of his life. "When your father was found, we were both relieved and distressed. We'd developed a relationship, but both knew that it had to end. It was only
fair. Your mother made me swear that I wouldn't tell him, but the guilt ate me up. After a time, I decided that I had to come clean and I told your father of the whole affair. If he'd have become
angry and beat me to within an inch of my life, I would have been able to accept it, but he just looked at me. He didn't say a word, just looked at me, confused."
Reed drew a shuddering breath. "That was the day of the battle of Alpha-9. Those were my last words to your father."
The pain was as keen as it had been on that fateful day. "When your mother found out that she was pregnant, I didn't know what to say, because... because I knew that I could easily be the father.
Again, she asked me to swear an oath of secrecy, and again, I did, but...", he hesitated, though aware that he'd gone too far to turn back now, "my conscience has gnawed at me these twenty-two years, and
although I have no way of knowing for sure, I believe that I am your father."
He gazed long at his hands, feeling the weight of two decades of turmoil lifting from his shoulders. He looked up to see Lt. Scott's eyes come open and look curiously at his face. As he watched, the
young officers lips began to move, silently voicing some urgent request. Reed leaned forward, placing his ear inches from Number Two's mouth. "What is it, son?", he asked quietly.
Through parched lips, came Lt. Scott's reply. "I could really go for some peanut butter."
