It started with an abnormal perspiration in his feet, Commander Riker shuffled his legs uncomfortably in his seat on the bridge. It had been smooth sailing and the only reason the bridge crew weren't in their quarters was due to a standard route change. Riker couldn't quite place his feelings but he didn't feel right, making him increasingly uneasy. Deanna wasn't helping his unease, he could tell that she was picking up on it, making both of them more and more anxious. "Deana, are you sensing something?" The captain asked, observing her palpably uncomfortable stature.
"Yes sir, but just on the bridge, my defences are down. I will try to control myself." Deanna answered, trying to gather herself. Riker bit his cheek, a small cloud of guilt enveloping him. Deanna looked back at him. Of course she could feel that too. Deanna hugged herself tightly, trying to repress emotion.
The captain eyed her keenly, "your presence is not needed on the bridge. You may return to your quarters." His demand was concealed as suggestion.
"Yes, sir," she answered, giving Riker a final glance before leaving. The commander adjusted the collar of his shirt awkwardly.
A few well timed coughs alerted the captain's attention toward his first officer, "Dr. Crusher to the bridge," he ordered. Riker's gaze shifted toward the captain, highly alerted.
The doctor entered the bridge with her usual haste, "Dr. Crusher reporting, captain."
"Yes, doctor. Would you do me the favour of escorting Commander Riker to sick bay?"
Riker nearly jolted out of his seat, "I assure you, Captain, that is not nes-"
"Do you mean to undermine my command, number one?"
"No, sir..." Riker surrendered.
"Then you may proceed along with Dr. Crusher."
"Yes, sir." Riker hung his head slightly in defiance and followed Beverly off the bridge and into the turbo lift. Riker was unwilling to admit his unwellness to himself until he was inside the turbo lift. He fought harshly against being subdued by gravity.
The doctor exited the turbo lift quickly as Riker stumbled behind, his heavy stature working against him as he travelled.
Beverly gestured toward a bed for the Commander to sit on. He swiftly utilized the bed to lay completely down, letting out a sigh of relief as he did. Riker closed his eyes as the doctor scanned him, finishing up strangely quickly. "Just as I suspected," she observed.
"What would that be, doctor?" Riker opened his large ocean eyes and smiled in his charming way, concealing the aches he began to feel in his throat and body.
"A virus, the same one I sent Wes to his quarters for."
"Am I fit to return to duty then?" Riker asked rhetorically, getting up from the sick bay bed.
"Oh no, mister. You will do just as my son has and get some rest. I will notify the captain. Don't make me count to three." Riker grinned, holding his hands up in surrender, "Dr. Crusher to bridge, I have relieved Commander Riker to his quarters."
"Captain Picard, here. Acknowledged, doctor, thank you."
Riker sauntered out of sick bay, eager not to let his suave facade up until he was safely in his quarters. Unbeknownst to him was that his skin was beginning to grow pale, his eyes baggy, sunken and bloodshot. Nonetheless the man continued to smile and swagger down the halls back to his quarters.
Riker sunk into his bed graciously, lazily taking off his uniform and pulling his blanket over him.
Picard let his face fall into his palm, lamenting on the loss of two members of his bridge crew. No matter, once they were well on their new course, the bridge would be vacant regardless.
The first officer was roused by the opening of his chamber door. He blinked his stubborn eyes open to see the blur of the half Betazoid, Deanna. The psychologist was greeted with a look of confusion from the first officer. "I came to see how you were doing," she explained.
"You could no doubt tell how I was doing by the other side of the deck," he said.
"I always feel you, Bill. I came to help."
"I appreciate the sentiment..." he started.
"Just as I understand your reluctance. Let me."
"Well it's not as if I have any other choice," he groaned.
Deanna placed the back of her hand gently on Riker's head, brushing his moistening hair back out of his face. He let out a miniscule hum in gratitude while he closed his eyes.
Deanna watched the rise and fall of the commander's chest while he breathed, contently. After a while she noticed his chest rattle, shortly after, Riker woke to a coughing fit. His abdominal muscles protested with every straining cough, he doubled over, letting his hand fall over his torso. Deanna rubbed his back before he fell into bed again, whimpering. "You're getting worse quickly," Deanna noted.
"Hopefully that brings the promise of a speedy recovery," he joked, his voice raspy and strained.
"Sleep now," Deanna instructed, brushing the first officer's hair gently behind his ear, the sensation causing his eyelids to fall uncontrollably. The Betazoid sensed the comfort quickly overcome him and smiled.
As expected, it wasn't long before the commander was awake again. This time, crying out before rushing out of bed toward the bathroom. Riker pleaded against the inevitable as he gripped the cold porcelain, knuckles white. Deanna was almost immediately by his side, embracing him slightly. His throat contorted and protested as he retched, continually. It wasn't long before he began to shake violently, unable to bring up any stomach contents. His diaphragm strained painfully, causing his ribs to pop out of place. His stomach muscles were exhausted. After his body was done trying to dispel his organs the first officer let himself fall backward onto the cold, hard floor, being caught by his Betazoid companion. Deanna let the commander rest upon her lap while he released a multitude of coughs and whimpers. Sweat accumulated on his back, he continued to shake all the while. Troi gently cascaded her fingers against the commander's stomach, singing softly to him. Not long after, the whimpering subsided, replaced with heavy breathing. Deana could both hear and feel the rattling in his lungs.
"You cannot sleep here." The Betazoid said after Riker had started to get comfortable on her lap.
"Interfering is against the prime directive," Riker moaned stubbornly.
Deanna laughed, putting Riker's arm around her shoulders. "Come on. You belong in bed right now." Riker groaned, allowing himself to be helped up by the Betazoid. The first officer steadied himself enough to use his own strength back to the bed. He slumped into it, too exhausted to put himself into a more comfortable position.
Deanna pulled his blanket over him. "This sucks," he said, allowing his misery to manifest on his face in the form of a grimace.
"At least it's good you didn't go back to your duties," Deanna commented, trying to make light of the situation. The thought of working in his condition caused Riker to wince. His stomach started to twist, sharp pain radiating through his torso. The commander ground his teeth together, trying to suppress the pain. "Bill?" The psychologist asked, "what is it?"
The first officer whimpered, "damn stomach ache," he answered, trying to down play the severity of the pain.
"You're in serious pain. I am getting the doctor." Will nodded, unable to fully respond. "I will be as fast as possible." She kissed his forehead, he could see the tension welling in her heart plain as day across her anxious face before she absconded.
Deanna jogged into sick bay to see the doctor hovering over a bed, sensing concern and something not unlike great burden. Upon closer inspection, it became obvious that the bed was occupied by the young Wesley Crusher. "What's the matter with him?" Deanna asked, observing Wesley.
Beverly jumped slightly, not noticing the entrance of the Betazoid. She sighed heavily, "a virus as far as I knew but it's mutating quickly and irrationally, seemingly at random."
"Is this the same thing that has overcome Commander Riker? He is in much pain."
The doctor sighed again, "yes, yes, I believe so. Here," Beverly handed a hypo to Deanna, "this should subdue the pain and..." The doctor turned, searching her vicinity before picking up another hypo and handing it to the Betazoid, "and this should help with the nausea."
"Thank you, doctor." The psychologist accepted gratefully, she tried not to express rudeness by being too obvious that she was in a hurry but after she had left sick bay she sprinted back to Riker's quarters.
In the short time she was away much had changed, Riker was now sweating uncontrollably and writhing in bed. "Be still, my love." She said, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder, he tried to steady himself but still rocked slightly. Luckily he was still enough for Deanna to administer the hypos.
Riker quickly collapsed with relief, "thank you," he sighed.
Deanna started to caress the commander's face, easing him into relaxation and eventually rest.