hello from the other side ( open )

[ethnobotany]

New Orleans Open

Nothing has really been good for Beverly in months. She's had patches of wonderful, good things, but overall, since the day she left sickbay on the Enterprise-E to the Borg, nothing has gone well. Not overall.

And now, just when she thought she was managing her flashbacks and nightmares again, she woke up one morning to find Fatima gone. So the guilt has set in. And the worry. And everything else. Fatima was like a daughter to her and Beverly misses her with every fiber of her being. A part of her is so angry with Q, beyond angry, Beyond something simple. She has never liked him. Not even once.

But right now? Beverly Cheryl Howard Crusher is 1000% done with Q. If he leaves them alone today, it would still be too late.

So, here she is in the holodeck today. Most people will come across her sitting by a trashcan of fire in the middle of a back alley. She's instructed the holodeck to make the fire big, so it's pretty much a bonfire. A contained bonfire, but a bonfire nonetheless.

Fire is calming to her. She loves the flickering lights, the way it smells.

Fire helps her cope.

Fire is real. Even when it isn't.

Orient Express Open

If New Orleans isn't the destination of choice, a visitor might open the holodeck doors to find themselves on a train. Right now, it's empty, but that might change. Beverly herself is on the train, with her back facing the front of it.

That may or may not be intentionally symbolic.

Whatever the case, she's curled up on one of the seats, her legs tucked up and her head resting against the window as she watches the world go by. On the seat between her and the wall is a PADD, the one she's been trying to use since Deanna made her suggestion. For now, it's enough to watch and think. Maybe she'll turn the actual story on sometime.

Five more minutes.

Five more minutes to mourn, to watch the back of the train, her life.

Five more minutes to feel guilt that she isn't there with Fatima, that she knows what Fatima will go back to but she isn't there to help.

Five more minutes to wonder about the version of Beverly Crusher who should be in this timeline and to feel guilt about that, too.

Five more minutes to feel numb.

Comments

[ethnobotany]

Another kind of guilt springs up at times, when Beverly is around Jean-Luc. Well, several, actually. She would never change their friendship, likely couldn't even if she wanted to, but she will always feel at least marginally guilty at points just for the simple fact that she is not the woman who should be here. Jean-Luc should be getting to know her, learning her as she learns him. Instead, he was thrust into a role, a friendship, that he may or may not want. Yes, Beverly will always be his Chief Medical Officer and she will never shirk that duty for anything. But at the same time... she worries for their friendship, for how she might be affecting him. And she worries about certain emotions she knows they both carry.

For right now, though, as she glances over at his very formal silhouette in the firelight, all she wants is a friend. She knows him, knows how he was at this stage of his life, knows well how much gentle nudging and outright pulling she'll have to do in order to get him to start relaxing. Better to start now.

"It was a leftover," she admits. "Fatima created the program for our... memorial, I guess. I decided I wanted to use it one last time in memory of her."

It is likely unsurprising that she is here now, if he pays any attention to the Displaced, which she has no doubt that he does. He also listens to her and she has told him before of Fatima. Perhaps not of what they have been through or that the young woman was like a daughter to her, but at least that they were close.

Eyeing the straight and somber way he holds himself, she half expects him to freeze that way. Instead of letting him, she opts to pat a space on the street right next to her. Dangerously close, yes, but that is the way of their relationship. Dangerously close.

"You don't have to stay standing the entire time, you know, Jean-Luc," she adds on, slipping the informal name in rather than a title. This is a time among best friends, not for a captain and his CMO. "I know you like firelight as much as I do."

[tea_earlgrey_hot]

He is perhaps not the man she knows now, as time and experience have a way of changing everyone. He would like to think he could still be, however. That, at the very least, there are shades of the friend and fellow officer she perhaps is truly longing for in him as he is now, and that with more time—however much time she may need—they can re-learn how to be more than simply tenuous friends.

He purses his lips, nodding slowly.

"She has truly gone, then?" he asks, though Beverly is not mistaken in his attention to these details. He knows very well that Ms. Merali's name did not come up in the last census, and that was well before the ship made port. No, the question is instead intended the way most of their conversations are — dutifully polite, but compassionate underneath. She won't have imagined the sympathy in his voice, or the slight furrow in his brow that betrays his concern.

He had the pleasure of making Fatima's acquaintance, but briefly. As choice members of his command crew will point out, most of his interactions with the Displaced are brief, and not appropriately so. He's aware that Beverly was particularly fond of Fatima, and the tightness in her shoulders and around her mouth tells him that she is not only sorry to see the girl go, but angry about it. He can only imagine why.

He looks surprised, momentarily, by the invitation, but there is little hesitation before he steps up to her, straightening his uniform. He smiles a little tightly as he takes a seat.

"I had not intended to," he fusses, though she may have caught him out. His eyes drift to the trashcan, a flame of a different color than the one seated beside him, something in his expression relaxing into a distant, wistful look. "Yes, I am fond of a decent fire. There is a strange sense of satisfaction to be had in building a fire with one's own hands, using it to light one's way, to warm our bodies, to cook our meals."

A simple way. He does not say it aloud, but a simple life. There is romance in that.

He rests his forearm against one bent knee, leaning back upon the palm of his right hand. He looks down, though his focus is unmistakably on Beverly. "You may be the only one between us who is trained in the medical field, Doctor, but I'd like to think I can diagnose when something is wrong."

It isn't just Fatima, he knows that much. He had hoped that after some time here she would start to feel at home again, but it is becoming more clear to him every day just how very much has gone wrong in the years they've been apart.

[ethnobotany]

They are not exact copies of the people once known to the other, that is true. They are, however, very close in most respects, close enough to still be themselves, to have the same likes and dislikes, to enjoy the same things and find comfort in firelight. To still be friends and enjoy each other's company.

Beverly's problem, and her duty, is that she knows she needs to let Jean-Luc get to know her as she is now, rather than assume he already does or push him away because a part of her is still afraid of getting too close. A part of her, buried deep inside and locked away with a mathematical algorithm that she never wants to try to crack (but could be cracked with the right words and circumstance), wants to get too close. It's an inward war that Jean-Luc may not be accustomed to within this timeline, especially not in relation to Beverly.

A soft sigh escapes her as she nods, tension flowing from her like a river that just burst its dam. Jean-Luc has always been one of a very few select people who can get her to relax when she's all worked up and so worried about her surroundings that she forgets about herself. Jean-Luc reminds her to take time for herself, in a way that Deanna does, but also in a way that she cannot. Deanna encourages Beverly; Jean-Luc acts like an anchor, whether he is aware of it or not.

"I'm as sure as I can be without asking Q myself," Beverly replies, and he will not have imagined the soft, but sharp bite to her voice as she brings up Q. As Jean-Luc slides into place next to her, she watches him, her eyes softening, the anger sliding slowly into gratitude that her friend is the one here with her right at this moment rather than some stranger.

"We could always go out back and make our own fire," she suggests lightly, almost teasingly. "Or I could suggest shore leave." That is only partially a joke. Shore leave might be good for both of them and she might insist on it for him if she thinks she needs to.

Beverly may or may not be trying to avoid thinking about the implications of his statement. A simple life. There is romance in that and, knowing what she does of their feelings for each other, she sees right to it. Her head ducks this time, perhaps giving away that her mind is on what he said in a larger capacity than what the words gave her. Even if she couldn't immediately recall their night on Kesprytt, where they had finally had their romantic talk and given voice and air to things they had not ever wanted to show, she knows him well enough by this point to read something into what he isn't saying. She can pick a diagnosis up from the symptoms that aren't spoken.

Just as Jean-Luc has done to her. She keeps her head tilted downwards, though her eyes stray towards him. Admittedly, she has tried to keep to herself, perhaps too much, since she arrived here. Maybe the fault lies in her fears, in her desire to keep herself away so she doesn't say too much or hurt anyone. Or be hurt herself. But nearly a year has passed. At this point, she may be stuck here for a while. Years? Who knows. What she does know is that she hasn't given Jean-Luc the friend he deserves. Of course there are things she can tell him and as their lives progress on this Enterprise, that doorway becomes larger and larger. Perhaps one day she won't have to weigh what can fit through that door and what can't.

"I'm tired of being someone's toy," she says finally, lifting her gaze back to the firelight in front of them. "Being here is different from being in Zelien. I appreciate-- no, I'm grateful to have you here, you and Counselor Troi and Nurse Ogawa and so many people I was afraid I wouldn't see again. And even though Q hasn't done anything outwardly malicious while I've been here, he is still holding us all captive. Not just me, but you and the entire ship and crew as well. Frankly, I'm sick of it. Did you know he turned me into a dog once?"

Maybe she shouldn't have offered that, but it's a tiny detail and she can mold the situation if he asks questions. It isn't, and won't be, a lie.

[tea_earlgrey_hot]

The one thing he never thought would truly bother him would be Beverly distancing herself from him. It had been, for many years in fact, his greatest wish. That her assignment to the Enterprise had been reversed; that she had remained head of Starfleet Medical; that the vastness of space could alleviate the irreversible pull towards her that he feels even now, and the guilt he harbors in his heart because of it. No matter how he fought, or how inconvenient he made everything to flourish and grow, her indomitable spirit refused to be cowed by either himself or the whole of Starfleet. And that is what truly bothers him, isn't it? That for all the years he has kept her at a distance, now she has turned the tables on him, and however reasonable her desire to do so it feels as wrong to him as her presence in this timeline feels to her.

"Ah," he chuckles, shaking his head in resignation. "Why is it whenever our journeys take us to a planet such as this one, everyone begins threatening me with shore leave?"

However, he must admit that the idea of building a real fire is appealing, and it wouldn't be such a bad thing to get Beverly off of the ship and into the fresh air for a short time. Some time away from the Enterprise may do her wonders. "Do you think you will be joining Keiko O'Brien on her excursions, while we are here?"

He observes her cautiously and respectfully as she speaks, never letting his focus linger so long that it would make her uncomfortable. In this setting there are far less crutches to lean upon, as he holds himself open to her, to her attention, to her needs. He momentarily misses the comfort of his chair, but even at his most unsure Beverly is as much an anchor to him as he is to her. Her presence is calming, even when her words are dipped in anger. "I couldn't agree more. Never has he given us such prolonged attention. I would have expected him to either grow bored by now, or tried and punished those who have not submitted willingly to his games. I am grateful that things have not been worse than they have been, but I — he what?"

He visibly prickles at the notion of Q turning his chief medical officer into a dog, face drawn in equal parts shock, anger, and concern. She is here now, which means the spell had not been lasting, but regardless.

[ethnobotany]

The whole situation is strange. The more she feels that tug between the two of them, the more she wants to push back. Is she ready for that? Is he? Could he ever be ready for those feelings and what might come of them? Could he deal with her, the woman she is now, in that capacity? Too many questions swirl around whenever her mind lands on that, which is quite often given how her nightmares have centered around losing him lately. The oddest and most unsettling, perhaps, is the idea that has wormed its way into her mind.

What if she's stuck here? No, stuck isn't the right word. Stuck implies that she isn't happy. She is. A part of her is anyway. Being here is preferable to being in Zelien and despite everything her mind has conjured up due to Zelien and Q's influence, she doesn't fully mind it here. She gets to see people she didn't think she would be able to and while they aren't from her timeline, they are still those people. They are her friends, her crew, and she has missed them desperately.

Her lips tilt upwards into the smallest of amused smirks as she glances over at Jean-Luc. "That might be because you seem to be allergic to shore leave," she teases, resisting the urge to bump her shoulder into his. "I was hoping to, at least for a short time. I've... missed having botany projects. I have the ones here, certainly, but it's always nice to have a chance to see things off the ship as well."

Perhaps they could both have a little time away. Beverly watches him sideways for a few moments, wondering if his mind jumped to that same thing, if he would agree to take shore leave if she agreed to take on a botany project on the planet. And then take shore leave.

A laugh escapes her when her words finally sink into his mind, soft but bright and warm, a laugh that speaks of easier times, of a friendship so strong she had known he would react like that. This was partially why she had mentioned it. His reaction has helped more of the tension seep out of her, the laugh easing her mind and her soul.

"He turned me into a dog. It didn't last more than a second or two and it isn't an experience I would ever like to repeat, but it happened. He's gotten up to antics before, but never on this scale. I would prefer that he leaves us alone... even if that means being stranded here."

This is an admittance she wouldn't give just anyone. Deanna and Jean-Luc are most likely the only two left whom she would offer this to. No one else. Both of them would know what it means for her to come close to saying that she would not mind being left here for a while longer, perhaps even forever. At this point, she's beginning to wonder if she isn't stuck here forever anyway.

There are worse fates. At least here, she has her friends, her crew. Jean-Luc. People she loves. For Beverly, home isn't a where or even a when. It's a with whom. The people make a place a home to her and there are certainly the right people here.