Part 3

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Beverly awakens to Picard scanning her with the the diagnostic wand of her medical tricorder. Inhaling slowly, Beverly attempts to right herself.

Picard puts out a hand to stop her, half-smiling. "Lay still. We're not going anywhere. How are you feeling?"

Grimacing, Beverly ignores his advice and tries to lift up on her elbow. "Um…alright. Little foggy. What happened?"

"We're grounded," confesses Picard ruefully, kneeling next to her left arm and appraising it comprehensively. "I've lost the warp nacelles. I haven't been able to get main power back online. I may be able to repair the deflector and reroute auxiliary power." Picard had thoroughly appraised the damage to his Type 6 shuttlecraft. While he only has life support and has yet to restore power, he is contemplating a means to use the deflector dish to power the impulse engine. That is, if he can somehow fix the deflector, which is posing extremely challenging.

"We're stranded here?" Beverly confirms incredulously.

Sighing audibly, Picard nods, staring directly into her confused eyes. "Beverly, I am so sorry. I will get us home. I promise you."

Pursing her lips, Beverly contemplates their situation. "Where are we?"

"If I had sensors I'd be able to properly answer. My best estimate given our location prior to encountering the quantum filament is that we landed on one of the planetoids or moons in the Savoll system." Picard completes his basic examination of Beverly. Thankfully she has improved. Her vital signs are stabilizing and the bleeding has stopped.

"Are we safe here?" asks Beverly slowly.

"The atmosphere and conditions can't support us," responds Picard.. "Hardly any oxygen. The surface temperature here is minus sixty degrees."

"What do we do?" asks Beverly quietly, suddenly feeling helpless.

"You lie here and rest," Picard almost laughs. "You need to recover. I need to get you to sickbay."

"Just worry about the shuttle," waves Beverly dismissively.

Shifting closer, Jean-Luc reaches for Beverly's right hand, gazing down into her eyes. "My only concern is for you."

Swallowing a lump in her throat, Beverly's eyes well with hot tears. She's so overwhelmed with pain, exhaustion. trepidation, uncertainty. "Jean-Luc…"

Smoothing her hair from her face, Jean-Luc smiles warmly. "I promise you, Beverly, we'll be just fine."

Biting down on her bottom lip, Beverly blubbers. "What if…what if I never see Wesley again? What if someone…Will…I don't know…has to tell him his mother's missing…dead? Jean-Luc, I can't leave my son an orphan."

Squeezing her hand, Jean-Luc grazes her cheek, absorbing the trail left behind by her tears. "I won't be responsible for leaving that boy an orphan. I won't rob Wesley of his mother, too, Beverly."

Lips trembling, Beverly sobs. "I just want to go home and see my son."

Wiping the wake of tears on her chin, Jean-Luc nods resolutely. "I guarantee you will, Beverly. Just relax. Tell me what I can get you, then I'm going to set to work."

Utterly spent, Beverly exhales deeply. "It's okay. I'm…I'm sorry. I shouldn't be..crying. You've been…amazing. Thank you for taking such good care of me."

Trailing his thumb along her jawline, Jean-Luc smiles softly, meeting her watery eyes. "What kind of captain would I be if I didn't look after my crew?"

Mustering a weak smile, Beverly doesn't know how to respond. She is embarrassed about her emotional outburst, aching, lethargic and torn in a million directions. "Thank you."

"Take it easy," suggest Picard, rising to his feet.

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"No luck?" Beverly inquires as Picard lowers himself onto the ground beside her.

Sighing profoundly, Picard shakes his head. "I don't know how I'm going to fix the deflector." Looking at Beverly half-lying, half propped up against the side of the chair, Picard studies her condition. She is white, slightly shaky and apparently disoriented, "What's wrong?"

Looking at him wearily, Beverly shivers under her mountain of blankets. "Just a little cold."

The cabin temperature had dropped substantially, but Picard immediately deduces that she has a fever. "You have a temperature. You've probably acquired an infection."

Frowning, Beverly leans her head back against the navigation chair. "You'll make quite the doctor, Picard."

"Excellent," deadpans Picard. "Because evidently I'm a lousy pilot."

Full of empathy, Beverly watches him rifle through the med-kit resting on the other chair. "This wasn't your fault, Jean-Luc. It was an accident."

"Irregardless. I wish I could go back in time and prevent it," remarks Jean-Luc ruefully. He scans her quickly with the tricorder, trying to decipher the readout.

"Don't blame yourself. Let's just focus on moving forward,' suggests Beverly optimistically.

Frowning, Picard grows serious. "Well, you may want to refrain from having the Academy issue that Medical Doctorate. I may not be a skilled surgeon. You've got an infection."

"There's antibiotics in the kit," Beverly informs him. "It's okay, Jean-Luc. You're a quick learner. I'm really impressed."

Jean-Luc laces his fingers through hers. "You're my first patient. I'm not going to let anything happen to you."

Smiling broadly for the first time since their shuttle had collided onto the moon, Beverly tries not to think of her condition or their predicament. They're in this together, and she knows they can weather any storm together.