ten_fwd | so wake me up when it's all over ( open )

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so wake me up when it's all over ( open )

Arrival

The last week was very literal hell for everyone in Zelien. Between the Eldritch horror, the rain of COMPASS monsters, and the cultists, survival was difficult for seven days. Well, survival in Zelien was always difficult, but it seemed much more so now. The days passed by so quickly and yet so slowly, to the point where each hour bled into the next, each day bled forward and Beverly fully lost all track of time. Nothing was safe and after living even a short time like that, even the most stalwart of people couldn't take it forever. So when the frantic man with white hair came through the mess advertising a serum that would take them through to COMPASS' realm where they could, theoretically, defeat the organization and get everyone to safety, if not home... to say she had jumped at the chance would be an understatement. At least, after she had ascertained that the serum wouldn't do any damage to anyone. While she couldn't be absolutely certain, she was sure enough and it would be better than their current options. With the serum in her system, she had followed the frantic man.

One side of the portal was Zelien. On the other, she found herself being tossed a good few feet and then dropped, landing on her back with a whoosh of air. With the breath knocked out of her, she takes a few seconds to recover and in that time, security is called to Ten Forward. Her phaser rifle sure does stand out. The altercation when she tries to stand is short, her surprise and a touch of fear being the largest reasons she resists so hard at first. Eventually, she relinquishes the weapon, snapping, "Okay, okay! Take it!" They like that better, leaving her to get reacquainted with the middle of Ten Forward and the stares of whoever happened to witness the scene.

Later

Once she's gotten the idea of what's going on, has dealt with something else, and has managed to accept the idea that this might not be a hallucination from the serum or COMPASS using one of her most important memories against her, she heads for the replicator and a cup of Earl Grey tea. She hasn't honestly had anything that wasn't canned pears, coffee, or creamed corn in so long. This might be overdoing it, but at this point, she's given up caring. After a moment's thought, she replicates a croissant to go with it. Both she'll take up to a table in the corner where she can, hopefully, sit in peace and get her head on straight. Looks like she can finally have a cup of coffee and a croissant tomorrow. For the first time in weeks.

For anyone who might want to approach, she doesn't look entirely unapproachable. She is tense, though, extremely so and she's noticeably facing towards the room at large with her back to the wall, watching people with the gaze of someone who has learned not to let her guard down too much. It'll pass and in time she'll be back to herself. Right now, she's just on the edge of a breakdown. Good thing she has that medical training to separate her emotions from a situation, right?

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After getting more food and drink in her than she usually gets in a day in Zelien, she finally takes a deep breath and decides to go ahead with something that needs doing. This... will be difficult, but she needs to do it. For both of their sakes.

"Crusher to Picard." Pause. "Do you have a minute, Jean-Luc?"

She uses his first name in her request to show that she's coming to him not as his Chief Medical Officer, but as his friend, as a friend who needs him. Because she does. If there's anything in this universe that she needs right now, it's as many friendly faces and people as she can gather, people she can be sure of. That and she does have a lot to tell him.

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It isn't unusual for he and Beverly to speak to each other multiple times during a day. Certainly, as she is his chief medical officer and the ship's complement is in a state of perpetual flux, their meetings mean a great deal to him; however, there is more to it than that. She is, and always has been, more than just his CMO.

The communique surprises him nonetheless, and that has a good deal to do with the fact that she addresses him by his given name. He pauses before he answers, letting the weight of that settle on him in full. He knows that, while what she might have to say may have nothing to do with the ship's operations, for her to make the request at all bears his full attention. He taps his combadge at last.

"I have two, if you act quickly," he says. "Can you meet me in my ready room?"

"On my way," Beverly responds. Despite her best effort, her voice shakes. Just slightly, not enough for anyone who doesn't know her to pick out, but for someone who knows her the way he does, even in this timeline and missing most of what she remembers, he'll pick it out. For better or for worse.

She keeps her head held high as she steps off the turbolift and passes through the bridge on her way to the ready room, ignoring everyone else except to give a nod in greeting. She can practically feel the stares from the crew, knowing that they are all wondering about her. Why is she here now? Why did Q bring her? A part of her expects that Jean-Luc already knows about her, that she isn't his CMO, not really, and she shouldn't be here any more than the other people who just winked into existence on board. If not, he's in for a huge shock.

Reaching the ready room, she presses the chime to let him know she's there, waiting until he bids her enter to actually go inside. Two minutes. He must be busy. Well, she won't take up much of his time. Taking a deep breath, she steps inside when given leave to, standing upright, as though expecting for him to give her the same reaction everyone else has. What he'll certainly notice are the changes in her body language. Her entire body is tense and there's a haunted look to her eyes. It's faded since she first arrived, but for someone who knows her, it's still there, tainting her blue eyes alongside a wariness that only drops when the doors slide shut behind her. Despite all the talks she's had, despite seeing people like Fatima again and talking through a few things with Troi, the tension has yet to fully leave her. A lot hinges on this meeting and she's expecting to be declared unfit for duty for now. She wouldn't blame him. Personally, given everything that's happened to her in the last few weeks alone, never mind today, she doesn't particularly feel she's fit for duty right away, either. She'd like to be. Someday. Right now, though, what she needs is time.

She takes a deep breath. "I think you and I both know I'm not supposed to be here," she states, her tone even and calm with that separation of emotion from situation that she's been relying so heavily on lately. For now, she lets those words hang between them, waiting to see which reaction she'll get and what he'll say.

He does hear the tremor in her voice, of course. As subtle as it may be, it is enough to give him pause and wonder if he should instead come to her. She is already on her way however, and here they will at least be allowed more privacy than in sickbay or her office.

It takes some effort to return to his work, but by the time she arrives he is engrossed enough to grant her entrance without immediately looking up. It isn't until she speaks that he raises his eyes, double-takes, and stares after her, speechless for a few generous seconds. He gets to his feet almost immediately after that, her name coming breathless off his tongue.

"Beverly."

She is changed, that much is obvious. It isn't solely the color of her hair, no (though the gold is surprising and confusing in its own right, for reasons beyond his understanding at present). Her uniform, the creases around her deep eyes, telltale worry lines he'd like to think he knows by heart now deeper and in some places multiplied; however, it is her cadence, and her presence, that tells him the most. The words replay in his mind, and for a moment he can feel his stomach twist.

It is quiet.

"From when are you from?" he asks at last, his voice more level than he honestly expected.

Well... that certainly answers that question. Beverly steels herself a little as he stands, both wanting the closeness provided by her best friend's presence and being a little unnerved by it and worried by how she might react to it. Yes, she does need a friendly face and she does need to tell him a few things, one being the timeline answer, but now that she's here, she's beginning to think perhaps this was a very bad idea.

Turning a little more towards him, she takes a deep breath, lets it out, and then takes another. Since she arrived, it's been more and more difficult to hold herself together and now that she's here, it's even more so. But she reminds herself of her training and hangs on. She can make it through this. It's just another day. Just another report. Just another check-in with one captain or the other.

"I... wish I could tell you that," she says haltingly, her voice cracking ever so slightly with the weight of the last few weeks crushing every shred of resolve she has left. "It's a little complicated. From what I've gathered, I'm from an alternate universe. The future of an alternate universe, distant future. I'm not supposed to be here any more than the rest of these people Q has winked into place..." Her voice trails off and she chews the inside of her lip for a half second. "But the Enterprise isn't the last thing I remember. That explanation is a little too difficult to bear right now. Suffice it to say that I'm a future version of the woman who should be here. As I told Troi, I know you have questions and I'll answer what I can, but... I'd rather avoid another conversation with Temporal Investigations right now."

Another, she says, like she's had one before this. Or is expecting one when she returns. Either way, she gives him a tiny, apologetic smile as she stands there, some of the tension draining again and being replaced by exhaustion. Pure, bone-wearied exhaustion. Whatever she just went through, it was clearly hell on her.

Edited 2015-05-21 05:20 (UTC)

Even as he asks the question he is aware of how difficult it may be for her to answer. Also as difficult is the realization that, even if she were to answer, he might not be allowed as a Starfleet officer to hear the explanation. It should be a relief when she answers as she does.

It is not.

Her explanation raises more questions than it answers; more, perhaps, than he would have were it any other member of his crew. Certainly, when Lt. Worf had endured a similar experience he hadn't felt the need to know every detail of what he had been through in his years since leaving the Enterprise. In this instance, it seems all too important.

He can see she is fatigued however, and it is enough to pull him from his thoughts. He straightens, and without hesitation moves to her side. Placing his hands on her shoulders, he lowers his voice half an octave and manages a bare, but sincere, smile.

"Sit," he says. "You are quite right, but any questions I may have can wait."

Whatever Q's reasons for bringing her here, whatever years she has suffered since the timeline he knows, she is still Beverly Crusher. As such, she is still a member of his crew, and a friend he will not see faint from exhaustion. "It's all right."

Beverly manages to hold herself together and has for longer than she expected. It's been a trying few weeks, especially the last one. At this point she's going on at least 24 hours awake and she honestly can't even remember the last time she slept. Really slept. Was it before Zelien? Did she ever get meaningful sleep there? Has she been running on reserves since then?

His hands on her shoulders send a crack through her defenses and she ducks her head a little so he won't see the tears bubbling up in her eyes. She has missed him so much, his counsel, his wisdom, his friendship, and now that he's here in front of her, he's breaking down all of her walls, all of the protections she has up around herself. He's destroying them in ways not even Troi did and perhaps that's partially due to her feelings for him, feelings she can never tell him about. Not here.

It isn't until after she's shaken her head at his direction to sit, a silent response telling him that if she sits, she really will break. It isn't until his final words that it happens. Beverly Crusher does something she never does. In fact, she could count all the times she's done it on one hand.

She breaks, shatters like glass. One second, she's shaking her head at him and the next, her shoulders begin to shake; her breathing comes in sharp, ragged motions; and tears begin to first slide and then stream down her cheeks as she gives up all hope of holding back the flood. Because for the first time in weeks, she feels safe. Truly safe. And that's what frightens her most of all.

It'll be a while before she's cried herself out, finally unleashing everything she's been holding inside her since long before she arrived here.

An officer's first duty is to the truth, whether it's scientific truth or historical truth or personal truth. A truth, even unspoken; a duty to a friend, a compatriot, an officer. There are, of course, several things on Picard's mind. That he should contact sickbay on the whereabouts of the Beverly Crusher who belongs in this time; that he should alert the chief officers, and seek out Counselor Troi for her knowledge of events; that, in a dozen different ways, the ship will feel the ripples of Beverly's change, and those ripples will need to be silenced, stilled. It is his obligation as captain of this vessel to see to each of these things, to uphold the vows he made upon his graduation. But it is his duty, to both Beverly and to his own heart, to do nothing more in this moment than take that half step into her space and gather her into his arms, one hand gentle at the back of her head.

Of all the officers he's served with, Doctor Beverly Crusher is by far one of the brightest, most compassionate, most stubborn and strong-willed he has had the pleasure to know. Her strength has been tested by fire, her resolve unshaken. He would and has on occasion trusted her with his very life, and he can count the number of times he has seen her cry. The last time he did this for her might have been on Starbase 32.

And when he brought home Jack, he still remembers the way she looked. He remembers every detail of that moment.

He does not press her, or shush her, or murmur platitudes. He simply holds her with each ounce of will he possesses, each ounce of solidity, and he does not let her go.

Beverly lost track of time somewhere at the beginning of the last week. By the time the eldritch horror had popped up, she really couldn't remember what had happened when or how much time had passed. Now is much the same, as she is utterly incapable of figuring out how much time passes while she stands there and weeps like a cadet. She can forgive herself; she's been through hell.

At first, she tenses, unsure of their reality or her own willingness to be held. It isn't long at all before she relaxes, practically collapsing against him, and rests her head against his shoulder. Her arms take a little longer, but then they wrap tightly around him, as though she has traded one lifeline for another, Troi's hand and comforting presence for Jean-Luc's embrace.

Eventually, she pulls back, just enough to wipe her eyes, but not enough to pull out of his embrace. At his quiet urging, she lets him guide her to the couch, where she curls up in as small a space as she can manage on one side, legs tucked up under her, while reaching hesitantly for one of his hands as soon as he is settled. She needs touch, needs to feel that this is real.

"I'm sorry... As I told Troi, I'm... still having a difficult time convincing myself that this is real, that it isn't a hallucination. I guess... just now was the first time I really believed it." She'd believed it in spurts with Troi, more than she had just about any other time, not counting Fatima. Her Zelien friend made her feel as though everything was real in a frightening way or as though she no longer cared what was real or what wasn't as long as she had Fatima. But here... right here is different. "I guess... it was also the first time I've felt truly... safe... in weeks."

She's talking about it in pieces, mostly for her own presence of mind and ability to cope, but also because she doesn't want to overburden Jean-Luc. He doesn't need to bear the burden of her horrors.

It would seem the true gravity of the situation does not fall on Picard until the moment she embraces him, and he can feel every tensed muscle, every quiver that passes through her. This isn't simply a Beverly who has come from an alternate universe, not even a future one, oh no. But rather a Beverly who has gone through a true ordeal. She had said that her last memories were not of the Enterprise but of somewhere else, and he imagines the look on her face as she said this will also stick with him for many years to come.

He finds the decorum to ease from her when she calms, to support her as they move to the corner of his ready room, and particularly to sit an appropriate distance from her though her need to be held is still evident in her body language. He not only takes her hand, but he embraces it with both of his.

"I assure you, this is all quite real," he nods, smiling softly. "Though what comfort that may be to you will doubtless hinge on what Q has in store for us."

He pauses, lost in thought, considering not only her words but what he imagines she isn't saying. He refocuses after a moment and squeezes her hand, forcing a little more warmth into his smile. "And likewise, I promise that you are safe. As long as you are in these halls, you will always be safe."

She should know by now that bearing the burdens of his crew is not only an obligation that he takes seriously; it is also a personal desire. He will always want to be there for her. "What can you tell me of what you've been through? You'll have to forgive me the impertinence of the question, but — do you need to be seen by a doctor?"

In some respects, she's glad that he keeps such a respectful distance from her. That is normal; that is natural. It's how their relationship has always been. They're close, but there are feelings they don't talk about, especially in this time period. She's well aware of his feelings towards her, but now the tables have turned and she is the one silently vowing never to tell him about her feelings. The intention to tell him that she knows about his feelings for her is there, mostly so she can be sure their friendship will move forward, but she will never speak of hers. He isn't ready and may never be.

With her hand held closely between both of his, she begins to breathe easier. Maybe this really is all right, as all right as it's going to be. For the moment, she just holds on, letting the firmness and solidity of their joined hands hold her together through the remnants of her tears. Her face is flushed bright red from crying, tear stains painted across her cheeks, but somehow she looks better for it. Somehow she looks less tired, less worried, less haunted than before. Between Troi and Jean-Luc, Beverly is beginning to truly believe that this is real and that she may be stuck here for some time.

She's well aware that he will want to be there for her, but the burden of her last few weeks is not one she places lightly. Talking about it at all with Troi had been difficult enough; she isn't sure how to go about it with Jean-Luc. And that doesn't even begin to go into her guilt over her other self's whereabouts. A heavy sigh escapes her and she shakes her head slowly.

"I'm as physically fine as I can be," she answers just as slowly. "The real problem isn't so easy to dismiss. I... have a hard time talking about it because it was so horrific." So horrific that she had thought this ship and these people weren't real, that it was all a design of COMPASS or that man's to make things even worse for all of them. She's grateful for his reassurance and that's echoed in her small smile and a gentle squeeze of her hand, but some things won't just flow forth. Some things really will take time.

She opens her mouth to make an analogy, stops herself, and then decides to just go for it. She'll have to explain more anyway. If she can. "Let's just say they make the Cardassians look like a peaceful people."

There are certain things he never intends for her to find out. That he fought so hard to keep her from assignment to the Enterprise is one; the reason why is another. Theirs is the most enduring relationship on this ship. They have been friends for many long years, through many ordeals, and he truly believes that lasting quality of companionship is the sole product of never, ever allowing her to know the deeply inappropriate way he feels for her — and has felt for her, long before Jack's death.

Were he to find out that is no longer secret between them might rival in severity the upset he would feel knowing that she in turn would try to hide her true thoughts from him.

"They?" he repeats. It is the only question; everything else pales in comparison, though not for lack of importance. There are other words he keys in on—'the real problem' ... 'horrific' ... 'I have a hard time' ... 'as physically fine as I can be'—and those he silently tucks away and remembers as she speaks, moves, breathes. But they are not the words to be brought to the fore, for reasons as obvious as the pink in her eyes.

He, of course, does not believe her. Once she is calmer and the situation is more unveiled he will see to it that she is given proper care and seen to in Sickbay, but he can ignore that for now, and simply let her speak as she can.

Beverly doesn't want to make his life more difficult in any way. She wants to make things simpler between them and she thinks that letting him be open about his feelings for her will help him. Telling him about her own feelings would only make things more difficult, drive another wedge between them because of his inability to cope with his guilt. There is far too much between them even now to bring more to the table.

For now, she ignores other thoughts and focuses on that one simple word, a question she had expected from the moment she thought of the analogy, but one she had hoped he would ignore.

She absolutely should have known better.

Of course, the answer isn't easy. COMPASS isn't something she talks about easily, mostly because of how sick they make her feel. Not because of anything they have done in the way of poison or physically affecting her, but because of what they have done to all of the captives of Zelien. The entire population suffered multiple, multiple times at their hands. She can just see the haunted look on the other captain's face, the way McCoy and Chekov had to fight their way up, how she held Chekov and let him cry on her shoulder. Among many other things. Nothing had gone well there.

It's those memories that lodge themselves in her mind as he asks and she finds herself unable to offer anything other than a shake of her head. Two. Maybe three, even. She can't answer that. Not yet. So she instead answers in a roundabout way.

"They were in charge of us, a rather large group of people who were trapped together. They..." Her voice trails off again as she considers what she remembers of her introduction to Zelien. How much can she say to give Jean-Luc a proper answer without giving him cause to worry even more about her? Honestly, she would have preferred a Cardassian labor camp, but she can't exactly say that. Unable to come up with anything better, she finally offers, "They weren't pleasant. I think they designed the place to hold us and... gather information on how we reacted to different things."

Different things she doesn't want to go into if the fact that she is pointedly not looking at him says anything at all.

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