The night watch was proceeding smoothly as Picard entered the Bridge and proceeded directly to his Ready Room with nothing more than a nod to Data. He sat in silence and darkness for quite awhile. But this was what he wanted.
“Come,” Picard said, a little irritated, as the door chimed.
Dr. Beverly Crusher stepped through the doors, quickly noting that the lights in the Ready Room were dimmer than those on the bridge, even though the bridge was on night watch.
“I thought you might need this,” she said, pulling a hypospray out of her pocket.
“What is it?”
“A solution for that hangover you’re nursing.”
“How did you…”
“You hear things.”
“Did Wesley…”
“Guinan told me. Slipped out, you know. Why would Wesley have told me…”
“Did I say Mr. Crusher? Must be the hangover. Makes things a bit jumbled.”
“Mmm-hmm,” smiled Beverly. She pressed the hypo into his neck. Picard’s head started to clear almost immediately. The clouds started to disappear, but a few moments still clung to Picard like a child clings to its mother in a strange place. He shook his head to try and shake off the last vestiges of his stupor.
“Better?” asked Beverly, taking a seat across from him.
“Yes, thank you.” Picard turned back to the empty console on his desk. After a few minutes, he gave up. “Was there something else, Doctor?”
“Well, I thought you might want to talk about it.”
“About what?”
“Oh, come on, Jean-Luc. The Captain of the Enterprise doesn’t get drunk for no reason.”
“You may have a point.”
“So?” Her tone took on a new level of worry.
“All right, Doctor,” he relented, moving to the couch. Beverly followed suit. “I was thinking about the Crushers: you, Wesley…”
“…Jack,” she finished for him.
“The day of Jack’s…the accident, the day I showed up on your doorstep, Wesley’s accident, a few hours ago in Ten-Forward…”
“Ten-Forward? What happened in Ten-Forward?”
“Nothing, really. It’s just that…Mr. Crusher saw me there in my, shall we say, comprisable state.”
“Wesley saw you drunk? Why didn’t he tell me? He seemed kind of sullen when I stopped in our quarters for a minute, but he wouldn’t tell me why. I just thought it had something to do with the…um, the accident.”
“He’s a good boy, Beverly. He wouldn’t tattle on his captain.”
Beverly stood up, rubbing her hands over her arms. He just didn’t get it.
“You just don’t get it, do you, Jean-Luc?”
Picard looked at her curiously.
“What?”
“Wesley looks up to you; he thinks of you as a mentor-type.”
“Beverly, that’s understandable. He’s a young boy on a massive starship. Of course the captain is going to be a figure-head.”
“It’s not just that you’re the captain, Jean-Luc. There’s something more to it. He admires you greatly, tries to emulate everything you do. You were one of the first men Wesley has known to treat him as a responsible individual.”
“I would like to think I treat everyone like that.”
Beverly ran her hands through her hair. She walked over to the slim portal overlooking a vastness that could never be calculated.
“He loves you, Jean-Luc,” she said, without turning away. “He loves you as he would love Jack if he were still alive.” She turned to face him as the last words escaped her mouth.
Picard faced down her waiting gaze.
“Shouldn’t a boy love his father that way?” asked Picard, slowly rising from his seat. Beverly’s eyes grew wide in surprise, amazement, and even a bit of fear. “It’s all right, Beverly.”
“All right?” she asked, a half-laugh emanating from her throat. Her footing faltered. “What makes you think it’s all right? I find out after nearly nineteen years by some freak accident that my son isn’t Jack’s? that the one thing I thought I still had of him doesn’t exist? I… Does…does Wesley know?”
“No. I’m not a fool, Beverly. To spring something like this on him, it just wouldn’t be fair. We need to tell him, together.”
Beverly paced awhile in the room, trying to ignore Jean-Luc’s words.
“How did you figure it out?”
“Recent events have made me think, and then, after the accident…” Picard faltered. “He should know.”
Beverly remained silent.
“Beverly, he should know; he must know.”
She turned from him.
“Perhaps…perhaps it would better if…if he didn’t know.”
“You would deny him the right to know his father?”
“He knows you well enough.”
“It’s not the same, Beverly. There’s one step more tangible to a relationship with the knowledge that you are a part of someone else. He needs to know me, Beverly.”
“Jean-Luc, I just don’t think it would be for the best. Wesley has finally come to terms with the death of his father, Jack Crusher. You can’t just come barging into his life now.”
“Dammit, Beverly. You’re scared. You’re scared of an eighteen year old kid, scared of your own son.”
“That’s not it, Jean-Luc. I’m scared of what this will do to him, especially in his condition. I can’t predict what kind of effect if will have on him medically, let alone emotionally.”
Picard remained silent for a moment.
“Still, he should know.”
“Jean-Luc, he can’t, not now. Not after all these years. Leave it be; it’s in the past.”
“But it’s not. Don’t you see, Beverly? He’s my son, too.”
Beverly twirled around, the blue tails of her coat wrapping her figure. Her eyes danced in the pools of tears threatening to overflow.
“No! He’s my son. His father is dead.” And with that, she left.
^\/^\/^
A few days had passed since Deanna had talked to Wes in Ten-Forward. She had been following Guinan’s advice and trying to keep him busy with menial tasks, things to keep his mind focused on something other than his situation.
It had been a particularly tiring day today for Deanna. Her mind was tired enough for all of her. She couldn’t even begin to count the things they had done, all intelligent games, interesting enough to Wesley, but deadly boring to her. Perhaps tomorrow they would have to have a little more fun.
She went about her nightly ritual of getting ready for bed and finally, gratefully, climbed underneath the covers of her nice, soft, comfortable bed.
Keep your pity, Counselor.
The words had been spit at her by the mechanized, unfeeling air car. She had grown accustomed to its demeanor over the past few days, but it still struck a chord of anguish in her. She could even hear it in her dreams now…
…now…
…now she was awake as she realized the wave of anguish and fear being hurtled at her.
“Troi to Beverly.”
“Crusher here,” replied a sleepy-toned Beverly.
“Is Wes all right?”
“Last time I checked. He should be sleeping. Why?”
“I don’t know; I just have the feeling that something’s wrong, terribly wrong.”
And Deanna could hear the screaming of a terrified boy over the comm line.
^\/^\/^
“Wesley, Wesley, what is it?”
“Mom? Mom, is that you?”
“Yes, Wesley. I’m right here, right in front of you.” She grabbed his trembling head between her strong but tender hands, trying to calm it. “What’s wrong?”
“Mom? Mom, where are you?”
“I’m right here, Wes. Right in front of you.”
“MOM, I CAN’T SEE YOU. I CAN’T SEE ANYTHING.”
Tears overwhelmed Beverly as she heard the raw fear in her son’s voice.
“It’s okay, Wes. We’ll figure out something…Crusher to Sickbay. Prepare for E.S.A… Crusher to Transporter Room 3. Emergency Transport. Two to beam to Sickbay immediately…It’s okay, Wes. I’ll figure something out.”
And the blue shimmer enveloped the mother and son.
^\/^\/^
Beverly Crusher sat, head in hands, in her office. She had finally sedated him to keep him from hyperventilating and overloading his link. His link to the computers in Sickbay was stronger, but not invulnerable. She pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes, trying to block out the world.
“Beverly?”
She shook her head, dispelling the haze around her, and looked up.
“Jean-Luc,” she said, mustering any bit of professionalism left in her, “what can I do for you?”
“Just tell me what’s going on.”
“I wish I could, but…um, I don’t know.” The mask of anger at the evading solution slipped into place, covering the anguish for now.
“Then just tell me what’s happened.”
“Wesley has…has lost his eyesight,” she stated, forcing every word into clear, steady tones. “His concept of smell, taste, and touch have all deteriorated in the past two hours. I don’t know how long his hearing will hold out after that. When that goes, he’ll be completely alienated from our world in practically every sense. And I don’t know if he can survi…” She broke off her sentence, her voice and the mask of anger cracking simultaneously.
She turned towards the schematics on her console.
“Maybe I overlooked something when I…”
“Beverly.” Picard grasped her hands away from the console and made her face him. “Beverly, don’t do this to yourself. You won’t help him any like this. Now, I’ve already set course for Starbase 93. The Zobias system can wait, and if not, then there are plenty of other ships in Starfleet that can handle the job. In the meantime, Dr. Selar is more than qualified to takeover. I can’t have my CMO constantly running herself ragged.”
“But, Jean-Luc, he’s my son,” she said, rising from her seat.
“I realize that, Beverly,” he said, letting the memory of their argument fade away. “He’s also a member of my crew, and I don’t want to see any harm come to him any more than you do. But you’re also a member of my crew, and the same thing goes for you. If you keep going, at this pace…”
Beverly hung her head and bit down on her lip hard. She knew Jean-Luc was right. He tended to be, and it annoyed the hell out of her. Finally she shook her head.
“All right.”
Jean-Luc sighed with relief and stepped closer to her.
“Good. Now, I’m ordering you to go back to your quarters and get some rest.”
Beverly didn’t move.
“Beverly?”
Picard barely managed to catch her as she fell, her body racked with sobbing.
“Come on, Beverly. Let’s go.” He led her out of Sickbay and to his quarters, knowing the last thing she needed was more memories of Wesley.
^\/^\/^
“Shh, Beverly. It’s all right.”
They were seated on the floor, Jean-Luc cradling Beverly in his arms. He had to. It was the only way he could grab her wrists and keep her from pulling out her hair. He softly rocked the two of them back and forth, trying to soothe some of the anguish away. He fought to keep the tears from his own eyes as the woman he had grown closer to over the years practically fell apart in his arms.
But he didn’t mind.
All he cared about was making sure that another Crusher never got hurt again.
^\/^\/^
He had left Beverly after she had fallen asleep. He needed to see Wesley. He needed to see his son.
The doors to Sickbay opened before him almost reverently, as if they knew the importance of his visit. The soft thrums and mechanical sounds made by the various instruments were the only sounds to be heard, save for the background voices of the medical staff on duty. The lights were dimmed, and Picard softened his steps.
He approached Wesley carefully, not wanting to disturb him lest he be sleeping. But he wasn’t.
Eyes darted blankly to and fro, scouring the ceiling with an aimless purpose.
“Wesley,” Picard said softly, laying a gentle hand on the young man’s arm. “Wesley, it’s Captain Picard.” The eyes moved furiously and the body tensed, as if wanting to respond. “It’s okay, Wes. You don’t have to do anything.”
The eyes relaxed, and the body slowly began to ease.
“Good. Now, Mister Crusher, I want you to fight this damn disease or whatever it is that’s doing this to you. I know you,” he said, gripping his arm. “I know you can beat this. That’s an order.”
The eyes fluttered shut tightly.
“Bridge to Picard.”
“Go ahead.”
“Approaching Starbase 93, sir.”
“Acknowledged.”
“We’ll get you through this, Wes.” He departed from Sickbay before adding, “We have to.”
^\/^\/^
Captain’s Log Supplemental
Mr. Crusher has been moved directly to the medical facilities since his condition has been deemed sterile and not contagious. Various doctors and even scientists have been brought in to study Mr. Crusher’s plight. The doctors at Starbase 93 have estimated that Mr. Crusher has approximately two days at most until total synaptic degradation causes a cascade failure of his brain, and his entire body will only function reliant on computer stimulation.
Jean-Luc closed his log and paced the length of his Ready Room. He ordered a cup of Tea: Earl Grey, Hot, only to let it cool on his table. The secondary lighting of the interior of the starbase lent an almost eerie quality to his room as it played against the dim lighting inside. He had been in a captain-esque charade ever since they had docked.
Two days.
Two days for his son to live.
Two days for him to be a father.
^\/^\/^