Rubbing the crease in her forehead just above her nose that seemed to have developed over the course of a long, sleepless night, Beverly frowned at the computer screen in front of her. She'd been breaking down the protein coat of the damn SuHn'Nos virus since she'd left the last briefing. Doctor V'Konna knew the station better than she did, so the CMO was handling the infected. Beverly had distanced herself as much as she could because she needed to focus. The other medical staff could handle palliative care, which was all they currently had to offer the infected. She was here to stop the virus, so that was where she'd poured her energy.

Standing up, she straightened against the crick in her back. The portable dialysis unit hummed as it worked, and with her eyes pried away from what she was doing, she noticed the sound again. It was a small, innocuous looking grey metal device, and though it weighed little, it made her feel unbalanced stuck where it was on her lower back. In twelve hours she'd move it to the other side and let it re-establish a connection with her bloodstream. It wasn't as efficient as her own kidneys, not even as much so as a more permanent synthetic replacement. Her fingers were still puffy and swollen with water retention and her complete lack of appetite was from the disease, not any focus she employed on her work.

Her eyes hurt, which was unsurprising considering how much she'd been demanding of them. What worried Beverly was that her computer terminal was steading becoming harder to read. She'd been squinting, and that was why her forehead felt stiff and crumpled. There was nothing wrong with her eyesight. She'd worked longer hours before without a problem.

Maybe she tired, or older than she'd been the last time she'd faced a crisis. Perhaps the pressure her failing kidneys were putting on her body was starting to effect her eyes. Leaving the research lab that she'd made her office since she arrived, Beverly slipped through the crowded infirmary. She had to step carefully to avoid the infected on the floor, and the staff flitting around them. The little lab with the ocular equipment was quiet, most likely because it was too small to be used as bed space. Sitting down in front of the ocular scanner, she ran a full series on herself.

With the storm past, and only the residual ionisation left to interfere with communications, main power was restored and no fight with the computer was necessary. Beverly stared into the white lights, trying not to blink as the scanning light began to blur, and her eyes teared up in protest.

"Scan complete." The computer reported, blithely unaware of the growing pit in the bottom of Beverly's stomach. Dragging herself slowly up, Beverly leaned on the wall as the three dimensional scan of her eyes appeared in front of her.

The blood vessels in her retina were healthy, and the sludgy blood flow from her kidneys that the virus was slowly turning into jelly, hadn't yet affected them. The problem was in her lenses.

"Computer, magnify grid four-D and enhance."

Her left lens blew up to fill the entire screen. What had been white scratches, like lint on the computer display, were wispy, like white clouds across her lens. The right eye was arguably worse than the left, and five hours ago, when she'd run the first pessimistic scan, both of her eyes had been unaffected.

"Compare recent cataract development to previous scan."

"Recent cataract development now covers twelve-point-one percent of the lens in the left eye, and thirteen-point-eight in the right eye. Continued worsening at this rate suggest functional blindness in twenty-six hours, fifty-one minutes."

The precision of the computer did nothing to remove the sting of its report. Beverly was going blind, and in just over a day, she would be. She'd worked briefly with the tactile interface, so she could explain it to patients, but she'd never been dependent on it. Surgery to remove them would be futile. Everything she'd tried on the cataracts of the original Klingon patients had been temporary at best. Whatever this virus did to ruin the vision of its host, it did with a mission.

Rubbing her eyes in slow, sympathetic circles, Beverly tried not to tense. "Isolate possible causes of cataract development."

"Working."

While the computer ran its study, she stared at the clouds that were obscuring her vision. It was only going to get worse. Her usefulness as a researcher would drop dramatically once her vision failed, and everyone else on the medical staff had been exposed not long after her. They'd manage to take care of their patients as well as they could, but with the number of infected racing towards the entire population of the station, resources were thin already. Once the limited amount of caregivers were all blind, what they could do for their patients would be even less.

Tapping her commbadge, Beverly reached Jellico's junior OPS officer. The young man she'd been talking to whenever she needed something was named Ensign Ullrich, and for some reason, he seemed to keep the same insane hours she did.

"How may I help you, Doctor?"

"I need guide lines set up along the promenade. They should run to the replicators, medical staff and the toilets."

"Guide lines, Doctor?"

"The second stage of the virus blinds the infected. If they're going to be able to do anything for themselves, they'll need guide lines to get around. We need to set them up now, while the engineers setting them up can still see where they're going."

"Yes Doctor." He paused while he issued the request. "An engineering crew will be right on it."

"Thank you, Ensign."

The commlink remained open and Beverly's hand was just over her badge when she heard Ensign Ullrich clear his throat.

"Doctor? Forgive me for sounding like I don't have faith in you and your staff but are we going-"

"Are we going to die, Ensign?"

Another pause, and his tone softened in embarrassment. "To be honest, I've been trying to decide if I should write my mother when I have my lunch break."

Beverly cringed, trying to shake the idea that this ensign might be younger than Wesley, and that they both were abandoning their families.

"Speaking as a mother, children can never write too much."

Her diplomatic answer calmed him a little. "She says the same thing." Another pause, and again, Beverly nearly terminated the line. "Doctor?"

She smiled wearily and asked his question for him. "Am I writing my son?"

"Forgive me-"

"When I take a break, I will write my son and my-"

She stopped herself for a second and debated her choice of description for Kathryn. They most often used partner. Will preferred girlfriend, but Will liked to make her roll her eyes. In another set of circumstances, she would marry Kathryn, Beverly was sure of it. Hell, if she got out of this one, she was marrying her. That was good enough.

"My fiance."

"Because they'd like to hear from you?"

Beverly latched on to the note of hope in his voice and clung to it as if she could fan it into a flame. "Because they always like hearing from me."

Not that they were going to die. That wasn't an option Beverly was willing to consider. There were thousands of Wesleys and Kathryns on the damn station, and if were within her abilities, none of them would die. The universe had enough death in it already.

"Thanks- Thank you, Doctor."

"Crusher out."

Beverly had a single moment of giddy abandonment. She couldn't be sure what Kathryn would say if she found out Beverly had proposed without telling her, via a third party, while dying. If she lived to see the look on her face, it would all be worth it.

"Analysis complete." The computer's calm voice dragged Beverly back to the impossible.

She caught herself toying with her sleeve and forced her hands down. "Report."

"Cataract formation is probably due to an excess of the rare prion septimiticin-G, produced by the shedding of the viral protein coat and released into the blood stream when the infected cells are destroyed and burst. This variety of septimiticin damages surface cells in the eye, leading to a membrane-like cataract that develops rapidly."

Beverly leaned against the wall, shutting her slowly failing eyes, "And is impossible to remove unless I can get the prion out of everyone's bloodstream."

"That is correct. To correct the cataracts, septimiticin-G must be removed from the bloodstream. If not, the cataracts will recur."

She said what the computer would not. "And resist treatment." Tapping her head against the wall, Beverly forced herself off of it. "Dammit."

Pacing wouldn't help, and she only made one circuit of the tiny room before she realised she didn't even have the energy for that. Twisting to check the readout on her portable emergency dialysis filter, Beverly frowned. It had dropped in efficiency by two points. Her blood was becoming too toxic for the machine to clean. Though it was usually a very helpful medical device, the free prions in her bloodstream were clogging the synthetic replacement for her kidneys as badly as they'd jammed up her real ones.

Maybe she should write Kathryn and Wesley's letters now, before the cataracts made her eyes white and while she could still see the monitor she was speaking to.

Was it admitting defeat? Did saying goodbye mean she'd never speak to either of them again? When would Wesley even receive her letter? Months from now, after her ashes were scattered across the sector?

She couldn't even think about Kathryn, partly out of self-preservation. Beverly had been the one left behind when a routine mission ended in death. Now it was her turn to rip Kathryn's heart out of her chest. Worst of all, she knew exactly what that wound felt like, and how impossible it was to heal.

Her eyes stung, and she rubbed them quickly, blaming the cataracts and the exhausted muscles trying to focus her failing eyes. She didn't have time to cry for any other reason.

"We have been infected with a deadly airborne virus. Do not under any circumstances, approach or attempt to dock. Deep Space Five is under a level four medical quarantine by order of Doctor Beverly Crusher, Starfleet Medical. I repeat, we have been infected with a deadly airborne virus. Do not, under any circumstances, approach or attempt to dock. Deep Space Five is under a level four medical quarantine by order of Doctor Beverly Crusher, Starfleet Medical. We have been infected with a deadly airborne virus. Do not, under any circumstances, approach or attempt to dock…"

"The message is on a continuous loop, Captain." Tuvok reported from the security station on the bridge of the Titan.

He knew Beverly's voice as soon as the message got past the first few words. Will shifted his weight in his chair, meeting Deanna's eyes while he buried his concern for their friend. There were thousands of people on Deep Space Five. Saving Beverly meant saving all of them.

"Can you raise them on subspace?"

"I will make the attempt." Tuvok's hands flew skilfully across his console. "The warning message is being broadcast on all available frequencies, and from several buoys surrounding the station. I will use a secure channel."

Will stared at the starlines on the viewer. "This is not how we intended to reestablish contact."

Reaching for his hand, Deanna squeezed his fingers tightly. "Could the virus really have evaded their biofilters?"

"The ion storm could have knocked them out. A level nine is one step away from armageddon in space." Maybe Deep Space Five would have been better off letting themselves be destroyed, if this virus was half of what the warnings they'd crudely translated suggested it was.

Beverly's ominous warning continued to drone until Tuvok shut down the channel and made the connection to station operations. "I have Deep Space Five."

Nodding, Will squeezed Deanna's hand again. "On screen."

Admiral Jellico's familiar weathered face appeared on screen. He began in profile, and Will stiffened as he recognised him. He'd never gotten along with Jellico, and even now he disagreed strongly with the admiral's opinions of how to run a station. They managed to be professional in public, but that was purely out of Starfleet decorum. Even Will, who nearly hated the man, had to wince when Jellico's face turned to the screen. His eyes had gone cloudy, as if they'd been smudged with flour.

"This is Admiral Jellico. If I remember right, Will Riker is the captain of the Titan. Is that you Will?"

"It's me, Sir."

"Sounded like you." The admiral sagged into his chair, shutting his eyes. "Can still see a little if I squint, but even that's starting to give me a headache. That, or the damn virus is finally starting to melt my brain."

Will was almost grateful the admiral couldn't see his expression. "What happened?"

"We transferred power during the ion storm, someone, could have been anyone, got a little overzealous and used the protected reserve. Doctor Crusher had a few of the infected patients in stasis, the fields dropped while power was low and the blasted virus moves so fast that we had five thousand infected before main power even came back online."

He shrugged and set a PADD down on his desk. "It'll all be in my report. Hopefully Starfleet won't receive it posthumously."

Will was still searching for words when Deanna spoke. "Do you have any uninfected? Anyone we can evacuate?"

"We've scanned everyone aboard, ran the biofilters on maximum; none of it works. Doctor Crusher has discovered the virus has a prion component. Biofilters can't detect prions, and they're too small to filter from the air. They could be spread in transport, therefore, nothing can be transported off of this station. No one may come aboard, not even in isolation suits. Doctor Crusher has issued a level four quarantine and I agree."

Leaning forward in his chair, Jellico put his hands on the desk, as if he were surrendering. "I don't want to see anyone go through this hell. Once you're infected, you can't eat, can't drink, can't see…but you're still in control, you know you're you right up until you're drowning in the fluid in your lungs."

He sighed. "I apologise, Captain. My promenade is full of my infected crew and our prognosis is getting as bleak as my vision. I've been composing a full report for Starfleet Command but our long range communications are still down. I don't even know if we'll have the manpower to repair them. This virus is brutal and devastatingly virulent. I can't Doctor Crusher is concerned we may be facing Case Zaire."

Will ran the old terminology through his head. Deanna looked at him, puzzled.

Tuvok nodded, often an ominous sign. "Named for the obscure exposure of a laboratory worker to a deadly virus called Ebola Zaire in the late twentieth century on Earth. Her accidental infection could have spread the virus over the densely populated North American continent. Case Zaire is a final solution to a deadly viral infection with no hope of cure and great risk of quarantine. Case Zaire was last implemented on the USS Nobel in 2308 after their exposure to the M3-lactias virus. The USS Valdemar was forced to destroy the former vessel with all hands aboard."

"Doctor Crusher brought up Case Zaire?" Will couldn't picture Beverly giving up. Not with so many lives at stake.

"An hour ago she was unwilling to consider it, but now the casualty reports are creeping towards a thousand. This thing is nasty, Will. I'e never seen anything like it, and Doctor Crusher, well, if she's at a loss there may be nothing anyone can do."

Will hated agreeing with Jellico. It stung, like a bad note in a jazz concert. Beverly was the best, and if she was at a lost, Jellico might just be right. He remembered reading about Case Zaire in the Academy command training courses. He was never going to use it. He'd been convinced then, even thought it barbaric. Now perhaps he was jaded.

"Transmit your report, we'll relay it to Starfleet Command."

Jellico's clouded eyes searched for Will and his gaze settled near Will's face. The effect was absolutely disconcerting, as if he were being looked through.

"I'll send it over." He paused, furrowing his eyebrows to catch a glimpse of Will through filmy eyes. "Don't try anything heroic. My doctor and I have been signing death certificates all morning. If Doctor Crusher calls this Case Zaire, I don't want you to hesitate."

Deanna touched Will's arm, resting her hand there. Beverly had been one of their closest friends for over a decade, losing her now was unacceptable.

"We'll be here, Admiral, if you need anything."

Jellico wouldn't stoop to admitting he was grateful, but he did smile. The gesture turned up his lips in a ghoulish expression of mirthless gratitude. "Deep Space Five, out."

Pushing off from his chair, Will retreated towards his ready room. "Tuvok, get me Starfleet Command. Then inform the science sections I'm going to need a report on that tomb in an hour."

"Aye, Captain."

He didn't have time to think about the thousand dead on the station, or whether Beverly would give the order for the Titan to murder the rest. There was still time. He had to think about that, not the awful message he had to convey back to Starfleet Command and everyone with someone they loved on the station.

"Your emotional involvement is making it difficult for you to concentrate." Seven set down her PADD and stared at Kathryn across the desk. Though it could have been an accusation, with Seven, it was simply a fact.

Kathryn was distracted. Badly distracted, if she was honest with herself. It had been days since anyone had heard from Deep Space Five, and the Titan hadn't reported back in yet. The whole station could be gone and Beverly...

Seven deserved better than Kathryn snapping.

"When you're in love, it's very difficult to force yourself to be rational when you have reason to be concerned that your loved one is in danger."

"That is most irrational. Your loved one would be better served by your attention being focused on your work."

"Emotions aren't rational."

Kathryn dropped her head to her hands and stared at the glass table. "They really aren't. Seven, I would love to be able to turn my emotions off and work. You're right it's not rational and it's not useful I just-" Taking a slow, deep breath steadied her somewhat. "I can't stop thinking about her."

"Doctor Crusher is a professional."

"Yes."

"She willingly joined Starfleet."

"Yes."

"She understood the consequences of this assignment and all other assignments she has undertaken as a Starfleet officer."

"Well, yes, Seven-"

"Would she want you to worry?"

Kathryn rolled her eyes towards the ceiling. "No, of course not."

"Why are you worrying?"

That was the million bar of latinum question, wasn't it? Kathryn stared up at the blank ceiling of her office and wondered if they should give up and head back to her apartment. With Seven there, it wouldn't be so empty and she'd been waiting to introduce Seven to the cat. They were either going to hate each other or find that they'd been waiting for each other all their lives.

"I'm worrying because I can't do anything. I'm worrying because I don't know if she's all right. I'm worrying because I miss her, because she's in danger, because I love her."

"Love is the least rational emotion."

"But it's the most fun." Kathryn dragged herself out of her chair, dropped her coffee mug in the replicator and turned back to Seven. "Dinner?"

"I am capable consuming nourishment now."

"You're hungry?"

Seven sorted the PADDs on the table and opened a case for them as she pondered the question. "I have been warned of your poor record with replicators."

"Beverly programmed this one." Kathryn sighed and shook her head. "I promise she's much better at it than I am."

"I will trust Doctor Crusher's culinary abilities and eat with you."

"Like pulling teeth…"

Kathryn was halfway to the door, almost out of her office when her console lit up with an incoming message. Almost simultaneously, Ensign Hjel appeared around the corner and Kathryn recognised the lurking form of Alynna behind her.

"Kathryn-" Alynna dismissed both Seven and Kathryn's aide with a wave of her hand. "The Titan's made contact with Deep Space Five."

The spectre of something being wrong roared up in the back of Kathryn's mind, screaming at her to run, to hide, to get the hell out of there before Alynna made it real.

"The station was moderately damaged during the ion storm. Long range communications and a number of other systems are still out. Captain Riker relayed Admiral Jellico and Doctor Crusher's preliminary reports."

Alynna was here, in person, and she held the PADD in her hand. "The virus broke quarantine."

"No." The word slipped past her control, no argument of hers could change facts.

"Doctor Crusher's report says the station is completely compromised. The virus has swept through every protective measure." No matter how gently Alynna tried to put it, each word drove a stake through Kathryn's soul.

"No, no, there must be-"

"She asked that Starfleet Command consider Case Zaire."

Standing bolt upright, Kathryn stared into Alynna's eyes and repeated the only word in her head. "No, no, Alynna that's not what she wrote."

"There is also-"

Kathryn's heart pounded in her ears, nearly drowning out what Alynna was saying.

"There's a message for you, Kathryn. A personal message."

Shaking her head, Kathryn backed away from the PADD Alynna held towards her. "No."

"Kathryn-"

"No."

"Kathryn, I'm so sorry."

"No, Alynna, no. This, this isn't happening." It couldn't be. The virus wasn't loose, Beverly wasn't infected and they were most definitely not discussing terminating everyone on the station. They didn't do that. They couldn't. Not Beverly.

"I'm sorry." Alynna's voice caught, nearly fading to inaudibility. She made every effort to meet Kathryn's eyes, but Kathryn couldn't look. She couldn't see the sympathy there and know everything was real.

Alynna set the PADD on the table. The metal smacked against the glass as if Kathryn's universe was starting to crack.

"We're holding a formal briefing in twenty minutes. Meeting room two. I'll let Seven of Nine know."

Alynna studied Kathryn, almost touching her, but respecting Kathryn's space when she pulled away. She couldn't cry. She just couldn't. Letting any of that emotion out, even acknowledging it was there would make her useless, worse than Seven had ever feared regarding Kathryn's irrationality.

Alone in her office, Kathryn stared at the PADD on her table. It was so innocuous, so small and innocent. Picking it up, her hands trembled. She made it to the third line before she cracked. What started as a shaky inhalation became a sob, then she was lost.

"Kathryn, I-" Beverly stopped, turning her head away from the computer. Kathryn couldn't see her, she'd decided to write her letter instead of recording it just so Kathryn wouldn't have her last memory of her be of Beverly's eyes white and unseeing.

Even so, Beverly was having trouble looking at the monitor.

"I want to say I'm sorry." She paused, shutting her eye and picturing Kathryn as she'd left her, coffee in hand, working on her day off. Who would stop her from working now? Who would fix the replicator?

"But I'm not. I can't be sorry for having you, for being with you and sharing what we had. I can't be anything but thrilled and completely, utterly grateful for every moment. You brought so much life to my world. Colour, and laughter and your cold feet in bed in the morning.

"I love you. I love you the headless sort of way I thought I was incapable of ever sharing again. You eclipse everything else, you're part of my existence, my soul. I will always be profoundly grateful that I had you when I did.

"And that you had me."

Beverly smiled, forgetting for the moment that her feet were going numb and the dead sensation was creeping up from her ankles towards her knees. Her mouth tasted metallic, and her lips were cracked.

"Because you did. You had every part of me, and I love you for that. You let me find myself, and you, and wrapped us up together in contentment. We worked. We clicked, we were one of the best times of my life."

"And I might be losing you. I-" She couldn't let herself falter. She had to finish. She had three lifetimes worth of work to do and only enough energy to drag herself through the next few days.

"I'm so sorry I'm leaving. I- I want to say there's still a way, but I can't lie to you. I can't not say goodbye. I- I can't even ask you to forgive me. Kathryn, I need you to know, if it could be any other way. If there was anything I could do to make it back to you, I would, and we would be blissfully happy.

"When I close my eyes, I think of that, making a world where we are happy for years and years and years. Your hair's very pretty when it goes white. Elegant even."

Pausing again, Beverly imagined Kathryn smiling at her from the bath, hair down and white like the bubbles around her.

"When you get there, and I like to think you will. Know I'm watching you, and that I think you're beautiful, because I've always thought so. And I love you. Kathryn, I love you. If you hate me for leaving, and you'd have every right to, remember I love you and maybe someday, you'll forgive me for what I've done to you."

Fumbling with the recording, Beverly managed to shut it down just before the tears came. She allowed herself a moment, shut away in the medical lab with only the computer to hear her, Beverly sobbed. Her chest rattled with everything she was letting go, all the emotion of an entire lifetime of promise she needed to release.

"Computer." Her voice was choked, hollow already, as if she'd already succumbed. "Mark message for Admiral Janeway. Deliver it with my report."