Crusher leaned back in her desk chair, raked her fingers through her hair, stretched and yawned. Umm...so tired. The past few days were catching up with her, but she'd resisted Troi's suggestion to go back to her quarters and rest. She couldn't be that far away from him. Not now. He was in the next room, sleeping, but he could wake at any moment. And she would have to be there. This time I have to be there.
She felt herself beginning to tremble, and she gripped the edge of her desk. I left him there. Worf would have gone back for him. But I made us leave. I was the one who left him. She shook her head, tried to push the thoughts away. Thinking like this won't help Jean-Luc. She sighed. But there isn't much I can do to help him now. He needed me then. And I wasn't there. I wasn't there.
Her eyes fell upon the electrode on her desk. She'd removed it from Picard's chest less than an hour ago. She reached out and closed her hand around it. So small, and yet... Damn them. Damn those bastards. "Damn!" She picked up the electrode and flung it across her office just as Will Riker appeared in the doorway. The device bounced off his shoulder.
"Hey!" he gasped in surprise, then reached down and picked it up off the floor.
"Oh, Will, I'm sorry." Crusher leapt to her feet. "I wasn't thinking. One minute I... And then I..." Oh, hell.
The first officer held up his hands. "Beverly, it's all right." I know how you feel. He felt like throwing things himself. Only the things he wanted to throw were bigger, and looked like Cardassians. And oh, how he wanted them to break on impact with the ground.
She sank back into her chair, and Riker sat down across from her. He turned the electrode over in his hand, studied it curiously, thin wire tendrils pointing out in all directions. "Ugly little thing, isn't it?"
Crusher nodded in agreement. "You know, I removed almost a dozen Borg implants from Jean-Luc, but not one of them scared me half as much as that thing does."
Riker set the electrode back on her desk. "Geordi told me he looked at this, and he agrees with your assessment."
Crusher grimaced. "When programmed, it can cause excruciating pain in any area of a person's body. If used at its maximum setting for an extended length of time, it can easily cause heart failure."
Riker flashed her a question with his eyes.
Crusher smiled faintly, thankfully. "His cardiac implant is fine. They tend to hold up better than the real things."
"Small favors." Riker glanced toward the door. "Is he sleeping?"
"Yes." For now.
The first officer licked his lips and the lines across his forehead deepened. "How is he, Beverly?" he asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.
But Crusher supplied the details with a professional detachment she definitely did not feel. "Physically: bruises, contusions, a few broken ribs. There are still traces of the drugs they gave him in his system. I'm not familiar with any of them, so there's really no way of predicting whether there will be any long term effects. There is some severe nerve damage along the synaptic receptors in his brain, and..." she hesitated for a moment, her gaze lowering from Riker to the surface of her desk, professional detachment only extending so far, "and in other areas of his body that are the most...sensitive to pain."
Riker winced, automatically thinking of the most sensitive areas of his own body. Any man's body.
"The nerves should regenerate within a few days," she continued, running her hands over her face, steepling them together in front of her chin, "but I can't tell you how complete that regeneration will be." She picked up the electrode again. "Between the drugs and this, there may be some irreversible brain damage."
"Beverly..." Riker's voice was heavy with disbelief and full of unanswered questions.
Crusher sighed and slammed the electrode back down on her desk. "I just don't know. But mentally, emotionally..." Oh, Jean-Luc, dear god. "It's going to take time, Will. Even I can sense that." A long time.
He shook his head in understanding. I can sense it, too. "I was hoping to look in on him, if it's all right?"
"Of course, it's all right." Crusher got up from her chair. "I'll go with you." I've been away from him too long.
~vVv~
The sound of Picard's breathing filled the small room. Steady, reassuring. They stood together in the doorway, watching him sleep.
"They'll get away with it, won't they?" Crusher whispered.
Riker sighed. "There's not much we can do. Tension is still so high along the borders. We're just damn lucky to get him back." Damn lucky.
Crusher caught his eye. "Thanks to Jellico," she said.
He nodded, grudgingly. "Thanks to Jellico," he bit off each word, reluctant to admit that the man he held little respect for had indeed gotten their captain back.
~vVv~
Picard shifted in the bed, groaning in his sleep. They went over to him. He looked so small, vulnerable, his face ghostly pale against the blue sheets, the circles below his eyes dark and pronounced. An intravenous tube, from a bag of clear liquid hanging over him, snaked down into his left arm. Awake, he was an imposing man, his voice and manner commanding, authoritative. Asleep, he was... Just a man, Riker thought. As susceptible to danger as they all were. But I should have kept him safe. It was my job. And I failed.
"Shh," Crusher soothed, running her hand along Picard's fevered cheek. She noticed Riker eyeing the intravenous tube. "He was dehydrated. I want to get some fluids into him, build up his strength." He moved again, cried out, tears slipping from his closed eyes. Crusher brushed them away. "I can't help wonder what he's dreaming. What he's reliving." She hung her head. "We should never have left him." I should never have left him.
She felt Riker's hand touch her shoulder. "Beverly." Then his fingers gently raised her chin. His blue eyes met hers.
Odan.
The thought was there for a moment then gone.
Will.
"Don't. Don't start thinking that you and Worf did the wrong thing. You didn't." I did. I let him go.
She shook her head, and he drew his hand away from her face. "I know, Will." I know it. I just don't believe it.
Picard stirred uneasily, rubbed his hands across his chest as if pushing at bindings that were not there. "No...no," he moaned, his head tossing back and forth on the pillow. "Don't..."
Crusher leaned over him, catching one large hand in hers. "It's all right, Jean-Luc." She took a wash cloth from the basin on the bedside table, began to run it gently over his face and neck. Earlier, there had been small cuts on his cheeks, along his jawline, probably caused by some sort of razor she'd surmised. But they were gone now, smoothed away by one of her medical instruments. The miracle of modem medicine. How she wished she could so easily smooth away the lines of pain etched around his mouth and eyes, creased across his forehead.
Riker laid his hand, warm and heavy, on her back for a moment. "Take care of him, Beverly." Take care of him. And then he quietly left the room.
~vVv~
"Will." Deanna Troi stood in the open doorway of her quarters, a light blue robe draped about her shoulders. Her hair fell in gentle curls around her face.
Imzadi. Riker blinked. "Deanna. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you." I wanted to see you, needed to see you.
She reached out and placed a hand on his arm even as he retreated. "You didn't wake me, Will." Imzadi. "Come in." She drew him into the room.
"It is pretty late." He stood there, staring at the floor. Please, don't ask me to leave.
Troi crossed over to the food dispenser. "It's not that late." Never too late for you. "Can I get you something to drink? Coffee? Tea?" Riker didn't respond. "A cold beer?"
He looked up, a half smile on his face. "Alaskan brewed?"
"Well, as close as the replicator can get." She laughed. He shrugged. She took it as a positive response. "A cup of hot chocolate, and a cold beer," Troi intoned. The beverages appeared instantly. She picked them up and walked over to the sofa. Riker didn't move. "Sit down, Will," she prodded gently. And he came and sat beside her. "Here." She placed the mug of beer in his hand.
He winced slightly. "Cold."
"I seem to remember you prefer your beer that way."
He nodded absently. "Cold beer and..." His voice trailed off.
"Cold beer and warm women," Troi finished the statement. He stared at her. "Don't look so shocked. I've heard you say it before." Many times. All those times you thought I wasn't paying any attention.
He shook his head. "Guinan should cut me off before I get to that stage."
"I agree."
He set the beer on the table in front of him. "I really didn't come for a drink anyway." Why did I come? He glanced over at her. To be with you.
Troi set her cup next to the mug. "I know." I always know what you're thinking, Will Riker. He stood abruptly. "I'd better go." If I don't leave now...
"Will." Troi stood, touched his shoulder. Imzadi. He felt the warm pressure of her fingers through his uniform. "You don't have to go."
He turned and stared down into her fathomless black eyes, felt himself falling into them.
"We don't have to sit here drinking." She placed her hands against his face, caressed his beard and cheeks. "And we don't have to talk," she murmured as her lips brushed against his.
~vVv~
Crusher bathed his body carefully, his arms and legs, gently washing away the dirt that still encrusted his skin. She touched him tenderly for his chest and abdomen were covered with bruises, and his wrists were swollen from the manacles. She'd already taken care of the serious injuries; his ribs and the incision where the electrode had been implanted were fairly healed now. And as soon as she finished, she would turn back on the regenerative field he'd been lying under. But for now, she wanted him clean, as if she could wipe away the very thought of what they'd done to him by bathing away the grime.
Oh, Jean-Luc. She traced her fingers under his collar bone. The scar was still visible, light and fading, not at all the way it had been earlier, jagged and ugly. He was healing. Thank god.
He stirred, moved uneasily under her hands and groaned, pulling away as she ran a dry towel over his upper body. "Umm." His face twisted in pain, his eyes moving rapidly under closed lids. He was dreaming.
"Shh," she soothed, brushing her hand over his cheek.
He relaxed at her touch, his tension eased, but he didn't wake. She moved down to his legs, began to bathe them. Except for a sheet folded over his waist, he was unclothed so that his body would be exposed to the regenerative field. As a doctor, she was used to people's bodies, touching them, healing them. And she'd become accustomed to this man's body in particular. The hours of surgery following his encounter with the Borg, the days he'd spent in Sickbay afterwards. All the times she'd held him, rocked him through nightmares. And this was not the first time she'd given him a bath. There was a certain intimacy between them, unspoken, rarely alluded to when he was conscious. But it was there.
And he was here. And he was safe. And she wouldn't let the Cardassians touch him again.
~vVv~
Riker leaned against the viewport, watching the stars. Silent sentinels. He welcomed their protection. Just as he welcomed the company of his Imzadi. Here, standing beside him, her head resting against his shoulder, her dark eyes focused not on the stars, but on him. And he felt comfortable under her gaze. Safe. Secure. Home.
~vVv~