Captain Beverly Crusher opened her eyes to the grey-blue ceiling of Sickbay, an arc of pain shooting around her left side, down her arm and into her wrist. She sucked in a breath and made a sound in her throat - good god, my ribs are broken - and suddenly there were two doctors kneeling beside her, starting to treat her.
"Lie still, Captain," one of them instructed. Not a problem, Beverly thought.
As an analgesic began to take hold, she was able to loosen her clenched jaw, suck in a careful breath to try to calm the nausea from the sudden trauma. She looked up at the two doctors. She didn't recognize either of them. A moment ago she was the bridge of the Pasteur, and now she was flat on her back in a Sickbay that didn't look anything like the Pasteur's, with medical staff she didn't recognize. A flutter of worry bloomed in her stomach.
Someone walked up beside them and drew in a sharp breath. She carefully turned her head to look up - and locked eyes with Jean-Luc Picard. The last I heard his ship was a quadrant away...where the hell am I? She looked more closely at him - he looked…weary. And anxious. Slightly horrified, even.
"Take her to a private room," he ordered hoarsely. After a moment, the doctors stopped treating her and helped her up to her feet. Before she could say a word they guided her into a small examination cove. And with a quiet order from Picard they both left, the door sliding shut behind them. She watched them leave, realizing that her treatment had been rushed - and that she could use some more pain relief.
Picard and Crusher were alone in the small examination room. Picard walked over and stood in front of her, infuriated, jaw clenched. "Who are you?" he demanded. She actually drew back slightly at his outburst, unnerved by his intensity, confined within such a small space...and then she was irritated as hell. Why is he treating me like this? And my ribs still hurt, damn it.
"Who are you?" she retaliated. "I was on my ship, sitting on my bridge, when suddenly I find myself on the floor of your Sickbay with three broken ribs and a sprained wrist. Where am I?" She felt her eye twitch in anger, tried to cross her arms but it hurt too much.
"This is the Enterprise, and I am the captain of this ship. Now, I'm going to ask again: who are you?" His voice dropped to a threatening whisper as he leaned forward, centimeters away from her face.
She matched his steely gaze. "My name is Beverly Crusher-" she watched him flinch at her introduction - "and I am the captain of the Pasteur. Where the hell is my ship, Jean-Luc?"
He leaned back slightly, paused for a long moment, and when he spoke again, it was surprisingly, unexpectedly much quieter, weary. "There is no Pasteur in the Federation fleet. And there is no Beverly Crusher in this universe. I think you're a bit out of place."
And with that subdued statement, Picard simply turned and left the room, waved the doctors back in and Beverly sat on the biobed as they continued her the treatment. She remained silent, not sure what to do next. I'm in the wrong damn universe.
Finally, finally the doctors left, leaving her alone with her thoughts. She debated whether to try to leave the room - but really, where would I go? This isn't my ship. She got down from the bed, went over to the screen and pulled up the ship specs and command roster. This was indeed an Enterprise; the ship was new – just a few years old. I don't recognize a single name on the command roster, though.
She turned around as the door opened and Picard walked in again. She crossed her arms (this time without pain) and raised a brow. He stopped, tugged his uniform, began to speak quietly.
"Beverly, we've determined the problem - you came through an anomaly into our universe. We're outfitting a shuttle that will take you back into the anomaly - and back to your ship, in your universe."
She nodded cautiously. "Thank you."
He shifted nervously, then sighed and leaned against the wall, and it was as if his command persona slid off of him, and suddenly she was looking at a very different man. There was longing, apology, in his open gaze. She blinked in surprise.
"I...I have to apologize, Beverly. In my universe, your counterpart was killed three years ago. She was my wife. Meeting you is...unsettling."
Beverly stopped breathing. It all fell into place - his brisk reaction upon seeing her on the floor of his Sickbay, the insistent demand for an introduction, the infuriation at her very presence on his ship…he wasn't angry. He was heartbroken, and here she was, appearing out of nowhere, making him…remember. She swallowed, astonished at his revelation - and the churning emotions that had now surfaced within her.
The comm chimed. "Captain Picard, the shuttle is ready,"
"Thank you. Picard out." He looked at Beverly, and there was a softness, a sadness around his eyes. "Let's get you home," he murmured.
xxxxxxx
Their walk to the shuttle bay was short and silent. They didn't speak, and she kept her eyes forward, even in the lift. But out of the corner of her eye, she watched him gaze at her.
When they arrived in the shuttle bay, she went straight into the single roundabout and he followed close behind. The engineering crew gave her instructions, then stepped out, leaving the two of them alone in the middle of the vessel.
She met his gaze for the first time since Sickbay. "Thank you for the shuttle, Jean-Luc."
He responded with a slight, sad smile. "You're quite welcome, Beverly. Be safe." He stood in front of her, seemingly reluctant to leave.
Her heart ached. This wasn't her Jean-Luc, but it was a Jean-Luc and he looked as though he was losing the woman he loved all over again. Without letting herself overthink it, she stepped forward and took him in her arms.
"Oh, Jean-Luc," she whispered. "I'm so sorry." She was sorry - sorry for his loss, sorry about causing him pain, about misinterpreting his anger, about leaving. She didn't belong in this universe…but she cared about him, just the same.
He sagged a bit into her arms, and she heard a quiet gasp that could very well have been a strangled sob. His fingers tangled in her hair and he pressed his cheek against hers. Finally, after a long moment, he drew back, used his fingers to gently, reverently push her hair back from her face. The tenderness in the gesture, in his eyes, it startled her and made her breath hitch in her throat.
He tried to speak, failed, then whispered to her, holding her gaze. "May I kiss you?"
Her eyes widened in surprise, but she found herself nodding without thinking, because really he sounded so vulnerable, and hopeful, and how could she not say yes? And he simply leaned forward and kissed her.
She felt the warmth of his skin, his mouth firm and sure against hers - it was comfortable, familiar, because she had kissed the other Jean-Luc, her Jean-Luc, a handful of times over the years - but this was better. So much better. It was good. It felt right, and also bittersweet, all at the same time.
He pulled back first, leaving her breathless and disoriented, opening her eyes to see his kind, sad eyes. "Go home to him, Beverly. He can't help but love you." And with a sad, wistful smile, he reluctantly drew back, turned and left the shuttle.
In a daze, she went to the front, sat down and began running through the pilot sequences automatically. With a concerted effort, she pushed aside her swirling emotions, promising herself that she would examine them once she got home.
xxxxxxx
With a carefully calculated jump to warp and an odd, shifting hum, the shuttle slid through the anomaly and Beverly felt...right again. She was home.
And there it was - her ship displayed on the viewscreen. Beverly sighed in relief.
xxxxxxx
Back on the Pasteur, she spent the next hours with the senior crew; nearly half of the ship's crew had disappeared just like she had. The anomaly sent them into universes similar to what she encountered - alternate realities with divergent pathways from different life choices. Amazingly enough, all had been returned within hours, and no one had any truly life threatening injuries.
As she walked back to her quarters, she realized that the ship's counselors were going to be quite busy over the coming days; there were going to be a lot of people who needed to talk about paths not taken. And the engineering crew was going to have a field day, with no fewer than three hundred new shuttles to explore, docked in the bays or orbiting the ship, coming from a vast array of different universes.
Finally, finally she walked into her quarters. Now that she knew that her ship was safe and her crew was restored, she wanted nothing more than a shower, something to eat and to crawl into bed. As she crossed the room to go to the bedroom, she saw the indicator light on the terminal. "Computer, list notifications,"
"One recorded subspace message from Captain Jean-Luc Picard."
She stopped abruptly in the middle of the room. Memories flooded back - the other Jean-Luc's expression in Sickbay, the revelation about his marriage, the feel of his mouth against hers, the gentle touch of his fingers against her skin... "Computer, play message."
The viewscreen on the desk lit up, revealing her Jean-Luc's familiar face.
"Beverly, I miss you. Something...interesting has happened. I would like to see you. Perhaps we should try to spend some time together soon, just you and I..."