Dr. Beverly Crusher had been confined in the brig for three days. While from time to time she wondered if she should be more anxious at her confinement, the truth was…she was simply bored out of her mind. If they had wanted her dead, they would have killed her upon capture. So they had to be waiting for something.
She hated waiting. Nothing to read, no conversation, nothing to look at other than the walls, the bed, the lavatory. Nothing at all. No interaction with another being save the silent guards who brought her food three times a day. And that food was sustainable...but just barely. She was consuming every calorie they brought her, but her body could tell that she wasn't getting the right mix of nutrients to keep her healthy over a long period of time. She was permanently cold, even with her standard uniform.
She had been on the way to rendezvous with the medical fleet on the way to Delphos V. Along the way, her roundabout had been knocked off course and thrown into another universe through some sort of anomaly. As she righted her little shuttle, an unknown battle vessel came and captured her immediately, as if they had been waiting for ships to come through the anomaly. And these creatures (humanoid, not that different from humans upon a visual inspecting) were holding her in the brig. Thankfully there had been no violence, no bodily harm. But why? What were they waiting for? Was she a bargaining chip? Was she going to be sold or handed off to someone?
She sat on the edge of the hard bunk, stretching her back and trying to ignore the stiffness in her muscles and the acidic taste in her mouth from their water. Her mind drifted back to her universe - what she had left. Her last conversation with her ship's crew had been about setting up coverage while she was on loan to the medical fleet as they fought a plague in the Beta quadrant. The night before she left, she and Jean-Luc had talked via subspace message, she from the Pasteur and he from the new Enterprise. After several moments of watching him nervously fidget on the screen, she had asked him why he was so uneasy.
"Jean-Luc, you haven't been yourself this entire conversation. Is something wrong?"
He took a deep breath, squared his jaw."Beverly, would you consider coming to the Enterprise?"
She blinked in surprise, at the unexpected question. But before she could answer, he continued.
"What I mean is to ask whether you'd consider coming to the Enterprise...so that we could be together."
Oh. Oh! And felt herself begin to blush. And smile. They had skirted around the issue in conversation for weeks, now. And here he was, asking outright.
"Yes. After this mission, once I get back to the Pasteur, let's...just, yes. Yes. Let's try."
Beverly rolled her shoulders, pushing away the memory. She needed more room to move around, and this hard bunk wasn't good for her muscles. But before she could stand up, she heard several sets of steps walking down the corridor towards her. She rose quickly, waiting to see who was coming. Anxious about the unknown, but as always putting on a neutral face.
And the commander who had assessed her upon capture with a long, lingering glance turned the corner into her line of sight…as did Jean-Luc Picard. Well, a Jean-Luc Picard, but his uniform was different - all black with the deep red as an accent, and his communicator insignia was sharper and more angled. He looked shocked for a moment when he saw her, but quickly regained his composure and ignored her to speak to the commander.
"She's one of ours; we'll take her," Picard stated blandly. And he handed the commander a padd. The commander scrolled through the data on the padd for a moment and a slight smile emerged on his face. Still reading, he nodded and tapped the panel on the wall beside the forcefield, lowering the barrier keeping her in the brig.
"Take her and get off of my ship, please," the commander replied. He sounded almost cheerful, still looking down at the padd, gesturing absentmindedly at the captain.
"Gladly. Come with me, Doctor." Picard gestured to the corridor and she obediently followed the captain, willing to hold her questions until they were safe and off of this damned vessel. He walked briskly, without looking back, as if she were simply an object he was retrieving and he fully expected her to follow him. The walk down the corridor was silent, and they were not bothered beyond a few curious glances from other crew in the corridors, but Crusher was sure that if the commander wanted to abort their departure…he could. She couldn't let her guard down until she was off this ship.
They walked into a transporter room and she followed him onto the platform, catching her breath. She had no idea where the hell they were going, but she sure as hell didn't want to stay on this ship.
In the back of her mind she noted that he was keeping her very much at arms length.
The pair materialized directly into another brig that looked like a standard Federation cell (damn it! damn it all to hell, she was so tired of brigs) but immediately Picard called for the forcefield to be lowered, then turned and stared at her fully for the first time, tension around his eyes. His jaw clenched, and she couldn't decipher his expression…fear or anger?
"Leave us." His voice was harsh and she flinched at his tone, her suppressed anxiety flooding back, but then realized he was talking to the security team standing outside of the brig. They scurried away quickly, and it was only when they were completely alone that he came and stood in front of her, inches away, and he was furious. Being trapped on an unknown ship, in a brig? That scared her. But facing the full force of Picard's anger when he was standing inches away from her face? She was terrified. Although that could be a delayed response to her capture and confinement.
His voice slid out in a threatening whisper. "You need to tell me who you are and why you are impersonating a Starfleet officer…and my dead wife." And she realized at that moment that his anger was covering for grief, for pain, for anguish, for heartbreak. She saw his eyes, and they were shimmering with tears.
She took a stuttering breath, held his haunted gaze, answered just as quietly. "I'm from another universe. I was accidentally thrown into this universe and promptly picked up by that ship. I've been in their cell for three days." She swallowed nervously.
He stared at her, flicked his gaze down and up her face, then drew in a quick breath, let it out slowly. "And your name?"
"Beverly Crusher."
He blinked in surprise. "Crusher? Is Jack…?"
"He's dead." The words slipped out, blunt and unchecked. Her filter was rapidly disintegrating.
Picard's eyes softened a bit. "It is the same in…well, here. Let's…get you to Sickbay. You need medical treatment. And a shower." The final statement was delivered with a wry smile.