NOTE: This is a “what if…” story. Basically what that entails is writing about the way things would have been had something been the way it is, or is implied, in the story. This one shouldn’t be that hard, although I should warn anyone looking for an overly romantic P/C story that this ain’t it.
It had started as any other normal day had. Coffee and croissant. A leisurely breakfast for two. Of course, the past few weeks had been quite hectic and so hadn’t allowed for many normal days: a mission to Frokis IV, a delegation that refused to sleep in their quarters but would sleep anywhere else, and a pretentious admiral who looked young enough to be Picard’s…well, he wasn’t that old.
“More coffee?”
Picard came back from whence he had been.
“Excuse me?”
Beverly smiled.
“Welcome back from Never-never Land, Jean-Luc. Penny?”
“Oh, just going over the past few days in my mind,” he said absently.
“Mmm-hmm,” she muttered. “And just what did you find so much more interesting about the past few days than the present?”
An alarm went off in Picard’s head, one that frequently went off when he was around Beverly. She was baiting him…
“No comment,” he replied, in turn finishing his coffee. “More coffee?”
Beverly sat there with a feigned look of hurt on her face. Picard was about to apologize, even though he didn’t know what for, because the feigned look was real to him in that instant.
“No, thanks,” she finally said, placing the empty cup she had been cradling in her hands on the table. “I should get down to Sickbay. Alyssa’s promised to help get all the injuries from the disaster at Ketlysh VIII sorted. And there’s all of the paperwork…” Beverly stretched her back.
“Yes, well, I suppose that means I’ll have to work on my report to Starfleet on the delegates arrival at Penthe IV.”
“Oh, to be captain,” sighed Beverly. “See you at lunch?”
Picard nodded.
^\/^\/^
He had been walking for almost an hour. Night shift was the pits. He wondered why the commander had moved him. The fact that his body clock was screwed up didn’t help either, telling his mind to wake up when the rest of him was ready to go to bed.
Wesley Crusher trudged through the doors as they parted before him. There were only a few other people milling around Ten-Forward, either getting ready to go to work themselves or ready to go to bed.
The corner was open.
This was Wes’ favorite spot, most of the time. Here he could meld away into the bulkhead, into the stars and ignore everything else around him.
He felt Guinan’s presence before he heard her.
“Hi, Guinan,” he said, forcing a weary smile.
“Long day?”
“You could say that. I just got my shifts changed, and my body doesn’t want to change with the time schedule.”
“Ah. Do you want anything?”
“A hot chocolate.”
Guinan nodded in acknowledgment. She was back with the hot chocolate before Wes had even noticed she had left.
“Thanks,” he said, slipping his palm around the hot cup.
“Anything else?”
“No, thanks, Guinan.”
He stared out at the stars streaking by, slowly sipping the hot sweet liquid before him.
When he finished, he placed the cup on the table near him. The warmth of the rich liquid seeped through him. He moved to a chair facing the portals and pulled his legs up in front of him, characteristic of his mother but with a little more innocence to his stature.
As he watched out the viewports, they truly became portals to another world. He felt his mind wander to a place where the equations of Engineering and the sounds of the Bridge disappeared, and his eyes closed.
Guinan made the observation that Wes was the only one in Ten-Forward besides herself. She slipped into the background, waiting for whatever was to come, as usual.
^\/^\/^
“Bridge to Captain.”
“Go ahead,” he answered.
“Incoming message from Starfleet, sir.”
“Patch it through to my quarters, Number One.”
The monitor in his room soon glowed with the insignia of the Federation. Picard steadied himself for diplomacy.
“Captain Picard.”
“Admiral Nakamura. What can I do for you?”
“We’ve had some reports on a planet just inside the Zobias system. Nothing too unusual, but enough to pique Starfleet’s interest.”
“I see.”
“Captain, the Enterprise is the closest, and best, science ship in the area.”
“Understood, Admiral.”
“Further details are encoded with this message. Report back to us as soon as your investigation is over. Nakamura out.”
The monitor flickered for a moment, flashing the insignia once more before returning to black.
“Picard to Bridge. Set course for the Zobias system, Number One. Warp two.”
“Aye, sir.”
^\/^\/^
The bed was harder than he liked. That was why he had understood why the delegates had never slept in theirs. The picture near his bedside caught his attention, as it was often prone to do, as he struggled to find a comfortable position.
A happy family. Mother, child, and father.
He had an uncanny memory of that day when the picture had been taken, despite the fact that he hadn’t even been old enough to remember what the square root of 100 was. It had been the day before Jack Crusher left on his final mission.
Wesley looked at the ceiling. His mind was ready for sleep…and the nightmarish dream that many times came with it.
It had been three days short of thirteen years and two months ago when the door chime had sounded. He had been building a model of a starship when the door had swished open to a silent greeting. He had gone into the entry to see who it was, wondering if perhaps his father had earned some extra shore leave.
Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the U.S.S. Stargazer. This was his father’s commanding officer, and his mother was just standing there. Why didn’t she let…
Something in the way his mother stood, the expression he knew was on her face for he saw it reflected by the Captain, and some other mysterious knowledge told him in one brief, cruel instant what had happened.
“Mom…” he started, never taking his eyes off of the Captain.
Beverly Howard-Crusher swung around to face the son of her dead husband. The Captain’s eyes had flashed at him, full of sorrow, grief, pain, and guilt.
Wesley had marveled at this side of the Captain. His face had remained impassive, stone and chiseled as ever. Both the Captain and Wesley turned to Beverly. Picard motioned with a tilt of his head for Wesley to leave.
He had taken one last look before leaving the room. He saw the Captain crouching beside his mother, trying to comfort the hysterical form near the bottom of the stairs.
And he shut the door quietly behind himself while sorrow and emotions raged behind the wall.
^\/^\/^
He wiped the tears from his face. He should be used to it by now, after nearly thirteen years of the same nightmarish dream.
Cold water met the warm flesh on his face. The images played at the corner of his consciousness, the last straggling pieces of his dream. He knew why it affected him, why it had always affected him. It was the only time he had seen his mother lose her resolve, lose her control, lose herself so completely.
Wesley changed into his pajamas. He had been too tired to do so before. He opened a drawer and took out the one medal his father had received, posthumously. It glimmered under the slight lighting of his bedroom. This was the only thing he had of his father besides the holomessage. Everything else of him was gone. Not even memories, memories that were important to him anyways, existed to keep Wesley company. All that was left of his father was a cold piece of metal, caged by the past.
^\/^\/^
The entrance exam for the Academy was coming up again. This time he would make it. That was if he got this project done. The lights in the lab were turned down to .0001% of normal. The blue crystals that glowed before him explained why. They were very particular rocks and only responded in this manner when exposed to a certain amount of light. He had even had to account for the reflection off his retina. He took the small amount of plasma he had been able to procure and placed it on the rocks. They glowed purple as the plasma reconstituted itself into a more stable form of matter.
“Computer, time,” he called out, still watching the rocks intently.
“2158.”
Wesley nodded in acknowledgment and looked at his next sample.
2158. Really, Wes, you shouldn’t be up so late. A moment later it hit.
“Computer, lights! End record!” he called as he rushed out the doors. The lights punished his eyes as he made his way to the bridge. He spun around as he remembered that he had forgotten to engage the identilock on the doors.
“Oh, man. I’m gonna be la…” His hand rushed up to steady his dizzy head. He felt his stomach rise up about three inches. His legs wouldn’t move, neither would his arms. Then, he felt himself falling towards the floor, and he tried to cry out…but something was wrong with his throat or vocal cords. What was wrong with him? He saw the mute-colored carpet rushing towards him, but he never felt the impact as he slipped into a state of oblivion.
^\/^\/^
It had been a long day. Much too long considering the fact that there had been nothing to do. Well, the investigation of the nebula they had passed through had been interesting…for the first hour.
Picard stifled a yawn.
“Bridge to Picard.”
“Go ahead,” he answered, stepping out of the turbolift.
“Ensign Crusher is late for duty, and he’s not answering his commbadge.”
“That doesn’t sound like Mr. Crusher.”
“No, sir, it doesn’t. His last known whereabouts were in Science Lab 5. Maybe you could pay him a visit?”
“Certainly, Number One. I’m sure a little encouragement by his captain wouldn’t hurt either.”
“Acknowledged, sir. Riker out.”
Picard walked a little slower but with a steady gait. Science Lab 5 was just around the next corner. What was he actually going to say to Wesley? Ach, he could make it up as he went; he was the captain.
Picard’s footsteps stopped and the next thing the corridor heard was a call for help.
“Picard to Sickbay.”
“Crusher here.”
“Beverly, get a team down near Science Lab 5 immediately.”
“Acknowledged.”
He pitied the Doctor her voice, still calm and ready for anything. But as he looked at the crumpled form of Wesley Crusher, he had one thought, one that too closely mirrored one he had had many years ago.
^\/^\/^
The team from Sickbay rushed down the hall. None of them had any idea what to expect, especially Beverly. Picard signaled for them where they were needed. He had thought about asking Beverly to send another doctor, but had decided against it. She was a professional; besides, better for her to face the situation, whatever it was, while the doctor mask was in place, while something else occupied her.
The team soon surrounded young Wesley Crusher. Flurries of comments and readings enshrouded Picard in a haze of confusion. A security team arrived and began sweeping the area for anomalous readings. A yellow alert was issued, waiting for the time when the cause of Wesley’s accident was found.
Picard turned from answering some questions to the sound of an anti-grav bed moving down the hallway. He could still hear Beverly issuing orders to her team. Only then did Picard worry for he detected a trembling tenor to her voice and heard it crack once, when she said:
“Let’s move! We need to get him to Sickbay now! He’s dying on us! on me…” The last words had been a mutter, too shallow for Picard to hear. But she had turned to face him in a subconscious glance backwards, and he had been able to tell what she had said, had known without the tears threatening to hinder her in her efforts to save her son. And if Beverly was thinking that, Picard couldn’t help but think: how the hell would Beverly survive if she lost her only son?
^\/^\/^