CHAPTER NINE
"Martha, it's so good to see you," Beverly said as
she greeted the stargazer's first officer at her door.
With caring for Shannara Rozhenko, she had forgotten
about her agreement to meet with the other woman. As
the commander paged her to remind her, Beverly
knew that a diversion was exactly what she needed.
Martha Lasalle stepped inside and the two women
went to the sofa. "I hope this isn't a bad time,"
Martha said. She ran a hand through her auburn hair and
shifted as though the cushion was lumpy.
Beverly struggled for something to say, anything
to put her friend's mind at ease. It used to be so
easy for them to chat. Would either of them ever leave
regeneration behind completely?
"I know how busy you are with your coma patient,"
Martha continued.
"Actually, about all any of us can do right now is
wait. I could use the distraction. So tell me how
you've been doing. You're still seeing a therapist,
aren't you?"
Martha hesitated, and Beverly almost wished she
could take the question back. She wondered if she
could handle knowing that any of her former crew mates
had managed to leave therapy behind. The thought made
her feel inadequate, as though she would never shed her
vulnerabilities.
"On occasion," Martha finally admitted. "It hasn't
been easy. Mostly I've put up a good front. We all
want others to believe we're perfectly normal. You
know, of course, that the captain returned to duty
before anyone else."
"My Mr. Resilient," Beverly said fondly.
"Yes, on the surface it does seem that way. Our
captain is a very private man, and if I didn't know how
close you are to him, I wouldn't be talking to you
about this now."
Beverly felt dread pounding on her chest. If
Jean-Luc was having problems, why hadn't he shared them
with her? "You're with him every day on that bridge,"
Beverly said slowly. "Have you noticed anything that
should alarm us?"
"He has confided in me, and I have to tell you
that underneath that thick guise of his, our captain is
a very frightened man. I don't know if he's told you
that he stopped seeing a counselor months ago."
"No, he didn't tell me that," Beverly replied.
She wondered how much of his pain he was keeping
bottled up inside, and why hadn't he shared any of that
with her after they'd been intimate? "Do you think it
is wise of him, a captain of starship, to shoulder such
pain on his own? I mean, I've been with him for the
past couple of days. Even Mr. Resilient has
weaknesses. He shouldn't play his own counselor
anymore than his own doctor." "I agree. He
may kill me for telling you this, but. . .he's been
having nightmares. . .very serious nightmares."
That's why he refused my invitation to spend the
night together, Beverly thought.
"Maybe you could help him see reason where I could
not."
Beverly started to tell Martha she would try when
her annunciator sounded. "Come in," she called out and
the captain appeared.
"Martha, what a pleasant surprise to see you
here," he said. He didn't look like a man who was
suffering from nightmares, but Picard had always been
good at covering his pain.
Beverly stood to face him squarely. "Jean-Luc,
why didn't you tell me you were no longer seeing a
therapist?"
"Well. . . " he faltered.
"Perhaps, I should go," Martha said and made a
hasty retreat.
Picard tugged at his shirt out of habit although
he was in a two-piece civilian outfit. He sighed and averting
his eyes to Beverly's chest, said, "I'm really quite
capable of functioning in the capacity of a ship's
captain."
"Are you as good at being a lover?"
"Just because you're not ready to return to life
aboard a starship doesn't mean I cannot handle it!"
"Even despite your nightmares?"
"I wish Martha would keep her big mouth shut.
Yes, there have been a few nightmares, but I am
managing just fine despite them."
"Are you lying to me, Jean-Luc? To yourself?"
He sighed heavily. "No, they do not effect my
performance as the Stargazer's captain."
"That is not a complete answer--and you know it!"
"I'm fine, Beverly. And yes, that means I'm
prepared to handle the full responsibility of being
your lover as well."
"I'm sorry. That was uncalled for." Beverly
practically collapsed on her sofa. He joined her and
for a long moment, they sat holding hands until she
turned toward him. "Can you answer for me Jean-Luc,
did your counselor tell you that you were ready to give
up therapy or did you decide that on your own?"
"She advised that I continue biweekly sessions
although I had progressed to a point where Starfleet no
longer saw the need to require my continued therapy."
"Then they're fools!" She wrapped her arms around
his waist. "Jean-Luc, Please take care of yourself if
not for you then for me."
"How can I convince you that I'm perfectly fine?"
"I want you to share everything with me whether
you think it's important or not." She offered him a dubious
smile. "But you know I'll always worry about you. The
farther away you are, the more I'll worry."
He brought his forehead down to hers, sighing. He
kissed her as only a lover would, running his hands
across her body. "I shall always worry about you, too,
love."
She nodded toward her private room. "You want to
serve me breakfast in bed?"
* * *
When Beverly returned to the infirmary, she
learned that she had a message from Starfleet Medical.
She was anxious to hear it but first she had to check
on Shannara. The little girl's vital signs had dropped
slightly, though still presenting no immediate danger.
"Hang on, honey," Beverly coaxed as she gently
placed her hand on the clear plastic.
Walking over to her console, she brought up the
message from Admiral Harrison at Starfleet Medical. "I
know you're very anxious," he began, "so I won't keep
you in suspense. The medical board has decided
unanimously to grant your request."
Beverly's squeal of delight could be heard
throughout the infirmary and those who could, stopped
what they were doing to find out what had excited their
CMO.
"Please keep us updated regularly on Shannara
Rozhenko's prognosis," the admiral continued, "as we
would like to have any and all data on this case
readily available. I personally want to add that we
are all deeply concerned for this child and pray for
her full recovery. God speed to you! Admiral Harrison
out."
The symbol for Starfleet Medical briefly filled
her screen before switching back to the UFP symbol.
"Computer, location of Dr. Selar."
"Dr. Selar is in her quarters."
Beverly smiled broadly as she rushed out of the
infirmary to deliver the news in person. This news was
too good--even if the recipient was a Vulcan.
Several minutes later, both doctors went to
explain the procedure, in layman's terms, to the
Rozhenkos.
"But she'll still be all right," Deanna pleaded
with them. "She'll be our little girl again?"
Worf placed his arm lovingly around his wife to
reassure her, although he looked toward Beverly with
the same painful expression. "Can you keep her
memories in tact?"
"I wish I could tell you that everything will be
all better after today," Beverly replied, "but it's
going to be a long battle for your family, one requiring a lot of strength and courage."
"This is the most difficult battle for any warrior
to face," Worf admitted. "I will see my daughter
through this."
"Beverly reached out with
both hands and clutched her friends' hands. "I will be
here to help you through this. You have each other.
You have your mother. Alexander." She noticed Deanna
jump a bit at the mention of her stepson. "We will all
be here for you."
"Will she remember me?" Deanna asked. "Will she
still call me Mommy?"
"There's no way to calculate how much she will remember, if anything," Dr. Selar said.
Even those words delivered by a Vulcan made Deanna
gasp in shock.
Beverly quickly added a more sympathetic response.
"Shannara is young. The chances of her making a full
recovery are far greater than an adult's would be. I
don't want you to give up hope. You'll hear your
little girl call you Mommy again, promise."
For the first time since she'd arrived on the
station, Deanna cracked a smile.
And Beverly hoped she wasn't offering a promise in vain.
When they arrived at the infirmary, Crusher and
Selar stood back to allow the family time with Shannara
before the girl was prepped for surgery. As she
watched them, Beverly prayed it would not be their last
family reunion.
"It's time, Baby," Deanna said, running her hand
along the plastic tube to symbolically brush her little
girl's hair. "Don't be afraid. Mommy and Daddy will
be here waiting for you." Clutched in her hand, she
lifted the stuffed dog. "I brought some of your toys,
including Doggie. I'm sure you'll want to play with
them."
Deanna thought back to the day Shannara had
received the stuffed dog. It had been the night before
her second birthday, and Captain Riker had stopped by
after his duty shift. For a time, Shannara had been
afraid of the captain and Will was searching for a way
to coax her out of her fear.
"Get her a toy for her birthday," Deanna
suggested.
So Riker had chosen a toddler-safe toy from the
computer banks, wrapped it up, placed a bow on top and
went to the Rozhenko quarters. Kneeling down toward
the girl's eye level, he offered the gift to her.
Hesitantly, and with a great deal of coaxing,
Shannara went to him and snatched the package from his
hand. Before the captain could touch her or even talk
to her, she rushed for the protection of her father.
Deanna apologized profusely, though her long-time
friend insisted that he understood. They then watched
as Worf helped Shannara unwrap the present, and
marveled at her delight as she smiled and clapped her
hands when her father removed the stuffed animal from
the wrapping.
"It looks like maybe you found a way to her heart
after all, Will," Deanna had said. The two friends had
shared a warm smile, and Riker had reached out to give
Deanna's hand an affectionate squeeze.
As she thought about that day, Deanna petted the
replicated animal as though it were alive, even
scratching behind its ear occasionally. She longed to
return to a normal life on the Enterprise with the
usual anomalies and new encounters, battling to
overcome one danger after another. This, waiting for
her daughter to live or die, was far more frightening.
Worf brought a hand to his wife's shoulder. They
peered into each other's eyes, and although Deanna
could normally only sense what Worf was feeling, not
what he was thinking, she clearly heard him project we
will remain together as a family. With every ounce of
telepathy she could muster, she sent back at him,
Forever.
For little more than a nanosecond, Worf felt
shocked by the unspoken communication. Quickly, it was
replaced by pleasure, for he had never shared this type
of closeness with his wife. And yet only moments
later, he again felt a deep moroseness. His little
girl. Their little girl. Would either of them ever
feel that closeness again with Shannara?
He thought about the day of Shannara's birth.
Unsure how to nurture a newborn, he had been afraid he
would not make a good father. Raising Alexander had
been difficult enough and the boy had been of school
age by the time Worf had to parent him. A baby needed
constant attention, feeding, changing, rocking, and to
the warrior's surprise, he soon discovered that he
rather enjoyed the nurturing part of parenting. He had
never felt half as victorious at any Klingon bat'leth
tournament as he had when Shannara reached any
milestone in her development.
They had plenty more milestones to reach together.
"May your battle end victorious," he said in
Klingonese.
Without a universal translator, Lwaxana did not
understand her son-in-law's words. Yet as she watched
him and saw his determination, she thought she
understood him. She felt the same way. Shannara was a
fighter, their little warrior, and she would triumph
over this battle.
Lwaxana thought about the times she had spent with
her granddaughter. There were too few of them, she
admitted, for her life and that of her daughter's
drifted apart by nature. Neither Deanna nor Worf
wanted to give up their lives as Starfleet officers and
Lwaxana wasn't about to give up hers as an
ambassador. Still, she regretted not having time to
spend with her granddaughter, developing a stronger
bond with the child.
We will have more time together, Littlest One, the
Betazoid vowed. I have much to teach you about
abilities you're not yet aware that you possess.
She knew that Shannara's interaction with the Akodians
both before and after birth had somehow prematurely
awakened innate psychic abilities in the child.
Lwaxana also suspected that although Shannara was only
a quarter Betazoid that her abilities would eventually
be stronger, more fine tuned than her mother's. Be
well, she sent telepathically to the child. Be well
and Grandma will be there for you.
From several meters away, Beverly watched the
family. Allowing them enough time to prepare for the
difficult hours ahead, she prayed this would not be the
last time they spent with their daughter.
Her head nurse, Lieutenant Michelle Martin,
entered the room. "Are you ready, Dr. Crusher?"
"I believe so," Beverly responded as she turned
toward Dr. Selar. The Vulcan doctor had agreed to
assist in the delicate surgery. Selar nodded her
readiness.
"Let's prepare the patient for surgery," Beverly
instructed. She sighed heavily, knowing that preparing
the girl would be as precarious as the procedure
itself. She approached Shannara's family. "We're
going to take Shannara into the surgical room now. I
will have to lower the stasis field, but will
immediately administer an anesthetic that has also been
proven to possess stabilizing qualities."
"How long--? Worf began and seemed unsure of
exactly what it was he wanted to ask.
Deanna, obviously picking up on her husband's fears,
asked, "This drug isn't as stable as the stasis, is
it?"
"No, I'm afraid not, but I cannot perform the
surgery while the stasis field is raised. I need your
consent to lower the field."
"What kind of life will she have otherwise?" Worf
asked rhetorically. He turned toward his wife, who
nodded. "You have our permission."
