Coming Out of the Dark

Author's Note: This story was originally published in 1991 in the fanzine Involution 1.

Disclaimer: The crew of the Enterprise doesn't belong to me.

He lifted the veil from Bethany's face. She smiled at him, her blue eyes glistening. She was so beautiful. Jean-Luc reached to touch her cheek - and darkness surrounded him. He froze. His hands, which only moments before had held the smooth satin of the veil, held nothing now.

He'd passed out; that was it. The excitement, the crowd of people, his head injury from that morning. But if he were unconscious, why was he moving, thinking. Suddenly a door opened in the blackness, and there was light pouring in. The shadow around him lifted, and the impenetrable night brightened into a grey twilight.

There was something there, surrounding him. A rhythm that was familiar, like breathing. The sound and the feel washed over him. He squinted at the open door. There were three figures slowly approaching. He could just barely make out their features. One was a tall bearded man, broad shouldered, wearing a costume similar to the man's he'd seen earlier. Beside him was a woman with long dark hair. But the figure that drew his gaze, took his eyes and held them, was the other woman. Her costume was blue, and over that she wore some sort of loose fitting coat.

He knew her. Had known her for a long time. Her hair, like Bethany's, was red. But she was not Bethany. Her name came to him, was there in his mind, and he began to tremble with the realization.

"Beverly?" he whispered.

She quickened her step and came to him, knelt down. She placed her hands on his shoulders. "Yes, Jean-Luc, it's me. You're going to be all right now."

His eyes searched hers, and he reached up hesitantly to touch her face. "Beverly." His voice broke, and tears spilled over, wetting his cheeks. She pulled him close and held him, cradling his body next to hers. Gently she rocked him, her hand smoothing the hair at the back of his neck. He rested his head on her shoulder, lost in the knowledge and fear of who and where he was.

Riker and Troi kept their distance, affording Crusher and Picard what little privacy they could. The first officer had already instructed Security to clear all corridors between the holodeck and Sickbay.

After several minutes, Crusher felt the shaking in Picard's shoulders subside. Slowly, she helped him to his feet. He leaned heavily against her, not so much for physical support, but for the emotional bond he felt with this woman. The corners of his memory were still hazy, as if he were caught between two dreams and could not distinguish which was real and which was not. His fingers closed tightly around the doctor's forearm - flesh and bone. And yet, Bethany had also felt real. Oh, so real when he'd held and kissed her.

As they walked through the corridors, Riker and Troi close behind them, Picard kept his eyes fastened on Crusher's face. She was talking to him, reassuring him, her voice gentle and soothing.

"After a few days' rest, and a good, long talk with Deanna, you'll be just fine. There's nothing to worry about."

But he was worried. He knew who he was, but the details of his life seemed far away, out of reach. He shook his head, as if to clear away the cobwebs.

"You're tired right now," Crusher continued. "It'll all seem clearer in the morning."

Perhaps she was right. He was so very tired. His head felt heavy and again he laid it on her soft shoulder. He felt her hand on his cheek.

"We're almost there."

Moments later, they reached Sickbay, and by the time the medics had him undressed and eased into bed, he was half asleep. Still he was aware of her, hovering over him, treating the cut on his forehead. He winced when she pulled the old bandage away.

"Oh, this isn't too bad," she whispered, dabbing at it with a wet cloth. "Tomorrow you won't even know it was there."

She turned away to pick up an instrument on the cart behind her.

"No," he said hoarsely, grabbing her arm, thinking she was leaving. "Don't go."

"Jean-Luc, it's all right. I'm not going anywhere." She pried his fingers loose and laid his hand on the bed. "But you need to sleep."

She reached behind her, picked up a hypo-spray, and pressed it to his neck. "Good night, Captain."

Captain. Yes. That sounded right. Familiar, real, he thought as he drifted off to sleep. Captain.

~vVv~

When he opened his eyes, Crusher was there, smiling down at him, red hair framing her face.

"Where am I?" he demanded, startled by the lights.

"You're in Sickbay," she answered. "You're all right." She gave him a moment to adjust to his surroundings, then asked, "What do you remember?"

Remember. What did he remember? "I was on the holodeck," he answered hesitantly, looking to her for confirmation.

"That's right," she affirmed. "What else?"

He ran his fingers over his forehead. There was nothing there except for a tenderness over his left eye. "I fell."

Crusher nodded. "Go on."

"I..." Images darted through his mind. People he knew, and yet...didn't. A large white house with columns, a shaded lawn, filtered sunlight through moss laden trees. His head began to pound. He squinted from the pain.

"It's all right." Crusher touched his shoulder. "Relax."

"I...I don't remember," he sighed.

"You will. Deanna's going to come and talk with you."

He frowned. "Beverly." Fear was creeping into his voice. "What happened to me?" He suddenly remembered walking with her from the holodeck to Sickbay, leaning on her, cradling his head against her shoulder. Crying. His hands gripped the blankets. "What happened?"

"We're not sure." She massaged his shoulder, hoping to ease the tension. "You're going to have to remember. And you will."

He swallowed and looked away from her. "I was frightened." He paused, realizing that this was the only person he could tell this to. He never had to tell Troi, she always sensed it. But he wanted to tell Beverly Crusher. He turned his eyes back to her. "I'm still frightened."

Her hand traveled down his arm, touched his fingers, squeezed them. "It's all right. We all get frightened sometimes."

"But I'm the captain."

"Oh. So that automatically makes you immune?"

"No, but..." His cheeks were flushed.

She knew what he was thinking. "Yesterday, you were hurt, confused. You had every right to be frightened. Jean, despite what you may think, captains are not perfect. Although, you come pretty damned close." She grinned.

Her remark elicited a faint smile. "Are you saying that I'm perfect?"

"I said close." She gazed at him, and felt her concern begin to ease. He would be all right; deep down, he had a strength that would sustain him. "You'll feel better after you talk to Deanna. Trust her with those fears. She's good at her job."

"I know," he agreed.

She let go of his hand. "I'll look in on you later." She turned to go.

"Beverly?"

The doctor looked back at him.

"You're pretty good at your job, too."

She smiled. "Thanks. I do my best."

~vVv~

Picard was sitting up, drinking a cup of tea, when Deanna Troi arrived. "You're looking well," she commented as she sat down in the chair next to his bed.

"Looks can be deceiving."

Troi smiled. "Beverly says that physically you're doing just fine."

Picard raised an eyebrow. "And what did Beverly say about me emotionally?"

"She's leaving that up to you and me to decide."

"Smart woman."

"Very."

Picard leaned over and placed his cup on the bedside table. "So, Counselor, where do we begin?"

"Why don't we begin with the last thing you remember clearly," she suggested.

He frowned slightly, his eyes squinted, forehead wrinkled. "I guess being on the bridge..."

"It may get a little bumpy, Captain. But it's strictly routine, and I can assure you I have everything under control." The chief engineer's disembodied voice wafted across the bridge.

"No assurances necessary, Mister LaForge. I have no doubts whatsoever of your capability. Proceed when you're ready.

"Yes, sir."

Picard settled back in his command chair, and rubbed a hand across his forehead. He sighed deeply.

Sensing his captain's weariness, Will Riker leaned toward him. "Sir, since these tests on the warp drive engines are simply routine, perhaps..." His voice trailed off.

Picard raised an eyebrow at him. "Perhaps what, Number One?"

"Well, sir," Riker continued quietly, "you have been on the bridge now for an awfully long time, and..."

"Are you suggesting that I've over-stayed my welcome?" He stared at his first officer inquiringly.

"If Will's not suggesting it, sir, then I am." The voice was soft, yet firm.

Picard turned his head, his eyes meeting Deanna Troi's. "Are you?'

"Yes, sir."

"I see." He glanced back at Riker. "In that case, Number One, you have the bridge." He stood and looked down at Troi. "And you, Counselor, may have it with him."

"Aye, aye, Captain," she murmured, a smile playing across her lips.

Picard strode to the forward turbo-lift and, without so much as a last glance at the bridge, disappeared inside of it. Riker and Troi stared at each other, both with a "that was too easy" look on their faces.

Riker grinned as he moved into the captain's chair. "What do you make of that?" His eyes darted toward the closed doors of the turbo-lift.

"Perhaps there's some place else he'd rather be," Troi commented.

"Some place other than the bridge?" Riker glanced at her, doubtfully.

"Apparently so."

~vVv~