Those Missed
By Richard Keller Copyright 2002
DISCLAIMER: Star Trek is the property of Paramount Pictures. However, this story belongs to me. It took me a long time to write, edit, and review it. So, please do not use in whole or in part without permission from me. If you do, I'll really have no other choice but to hunt you down, tie you up, and let you watch non-stop airings of 'Barney & His Friends'. Trust me, you'll want to be dead after you've seen Baby Bop FIVE THOUSAND TIMES! Thanks.
CONTINUITY NOTE: This story takes place a short period of time before Star Trek:Nemesis.
On a normal day, the sickbay of the U.S.S. Enterprise was busy with the usual aches, pains and injuries that a crew of nearly 900 tend to develop on a normal basis. On an abnormal day -- say, during a battle with the Dominion -- sickbay could be stacked with wounded.
This day did not fit into either category. In fact, for the first time in the history of both the Enterprise-D and Enterprise-E combined, not one person entered sickbay (save for the medical staff, of course). Not one injury from the holodeck, not one unknown illness from another planet. In fact, no one came in for even an aspirin. On this one day everyone on the starship Enterprise was healthy . . .
. . . And Dr. Beverly Crusher, Chief Medical Officer, was downright miserable.
Not because all of the crew, and their family members, seemed to be in excellent health: if anything, that was testimony to the hard work of her medical staff. No, Beverly Crusher was miserable because today, of all days, she wanted to be as busy as possible to keep her mind off of this particular date's significance.
So, she did what she could to keep her mind, and body, busy. She and her medical staff recalibrated all of the biofunction bed monitors and tricorders, restocked the medication dispensers, and generally straightened up around the sickbay. She spent a few hours updating patients' medical records with Dr. Selar, and had an extensive discussion with Nurse Ogawa concerning the eating habits of her nine-year-old child.
Now, she sat in her office and stared at one of her old medical papers as it scrolled slowly across the terminal on her desk. However, try as she might, she couldn't concentrate on the words. She paused the scroll, pushed back from the desk, stretched, and tried to rub the bleariness out of her eyes. Keeping her eyes closed, she took a few cleansing breaths, then opened them again slowly. Involuntarily, her view landed on the desk chronometer.
She quietly hissed air through her teeth and balled her hands into fists. Beverly tried very hard today not to look at the date, even going so far as to ask the computer for the time when needed (which allowed for some quizzical glances by her staff). Now, maybe subconsciously, maybe not, she stared at the glowing red numbers that showed the stardate and its representation in months, days, and year. I'm not going to let this get to me, she mumbled to herself. It's just another day; it'll pass just like every other day. Taking another cleansing breath, and relaxing her hands, Dr. Crusher rolled back over to her desk and resumed the terminal's scroll.
She was reviewing her paper on Barclay's Protomorphosis Syndrome, looking to see if she could add anything new to the original findings. Beverly missed Lieutenant Reg Barclay. Sure, he was one of the greatest hypochondriacs of all time, but he was also very gentle and caring. She and Counselor Deanna Troi had followed Reg's career after his tour of duty on the Enterprise ended, and both were very pleased to see that he had become an integral part of the Project Pathfinder team, whose task it was to rescue the U.S.S. Voyager from the Delta Quadrant. Lieutenant Commander Barclay was now reaping the benefits of that success as an instructor at Starfleet Academy.
Thinking of the Academy also brought thoughts of Chief Miles O' Brien; she missed him, too. He and Keiko were a wonderful pair, and their daughter was just beautiful (and about ten or eleven years old by now, she believed.). Currently, he was also an instructor at the Academy and was making quite a name for himself.
She would have to visit the Academy the next time she was on Earth, she pondered to herself. She hadn't been there in a long time, ever since . . .
The terminal beeped -- Beverly had reached the end of the paper without even seeing the words.
"Damn", she swore to no one in particular, "I've got to get out of here." Logging out of her console Dr. Crusher briskly walked out of her office, almost faster than the door could open. Dr. Selar and Nurse Ogawa, startled from their duties by the sudden interruption in the quiet sickbay, looked up at their Chief Medical Officer.
"Dr. Selar, I'm signing out a little early. Can you hang around until Dr. M'Tannga comes in?"
"Certainly, Dr. Crusher," Dr. Selar answered in the stoic Vulcan manner. As Beverly turned to walk out the sickbay door, Selar added, just as stoically, "I'll try not to be too overwhelmed."
Beverly Crusher stopped and pivoted on her heel to stare at Dr. Selar. Her face was rigid as stone. From behind Selar she heard Nurse Ogawa trying to stifle a giggle. Sighing, Dr. Crusher turned and headed out into the corridor. As the doors closed Dr. Selar could have sworn she heard the Chief Medical Officer murmur something about funny Vulcans and the end of the galaxy as they knew it.
-------***-------
Beverly walked down a corridor bustling with crewmembers. Alpha watch had just ended and Beta watch was about to begin. Those jogging past her were probably heading towards their duty stations, while those casually walking may have been headed towards their quarters, a meal, the holodeck, or some other diversion. Beverly noticed their gray and black uniforms. She never really got used to the gloomy color scheme. Truth be told, Beverly missed the blue and black two-piece that she wore for nearly five years. Granted, it was always a bit snug, but at least its colors were a bit brighter than the one she currently wore.
The Doctor was so deep into that thought that she reached one of the lift stations without noticing. She pressed the call stud and waited patiently while one whisked towards her destination. For lack of nothing better to do she stared at the walls and noticed their ship-metal charcoal gray hue. She missed the color scheme of the Enterprise-D. In fact, she realized now, she missed the whole atmosphere of the Galaxy-class starship: it was built for exploration and adventure, rather than designed for battle at the drop of the hat. Of course, a lot of that feeling came from her son's . . .
She screamed internally. That's it. I've got to talk to someone about this. She thought about talking with Troi, but the Counselor was too involved with her wedding preparations and Will's soon-to-be new command. Guinan? For some reason she never established the connection with the hostess that many of the other crewmembers had. No, she growled to herself as the lift arrived, I need to talk to the one person who knows exactly how I feel.
-------***-------
"What can I do for you this evening, Doctor?", asked Jean-Luc Picard, Captain of the U.S.S. Enterprise, as he sat behind his desk.
"You can tell me how to stop thinking about someone I care for," Beverly answered as she sat on the sofa across from Picard.
"Excuse me?"
"In other words, Captain, how do you keep your mind off of someone you miss? Because, when you do think about them it hurts too much and it makes you angry at the same time."
Picard leaned back in his chair, crossed his legs, and steepled his fingers on one knee, "I'm assuming that 'you' in this case is really 'Dr. Beverly Crusher'." The Doctor smiled at Picard's response. But, it was a sad smile, and the Captain noticed. "What's wrong, Beverly?"
The Doctor took a deep breath, "Jean-Luc, do you know what today is?"
For a man who normally wasn't at a loss for words, Picard was momentarily taken aback. As far as he knew, there was nothing significant about this day. He sat up and glanced at the desk chronometer: Stardate 57751.2, 18:45 hours, it read. Something stirred in his mind. "Mmm," he began, tapping a finger on his desk to push the memory out, "About 10 years ago we had that incident on Dorvan V, the one with the Cardassians. Yes, I remember that. In fact, wasn't that the time young Wesley . . . "
The tapping stopped abruptly as the significance of the day suddenly hit him. He glanced at the chronometer once again, this time focusing on the calendar date: February 27, 2379.
"Oh," was all he could muster for a final response.
"Yep," Beverly responded in kind, "Wesley."
"Today is his birthday."
"Yes," Beverly said a bit hoarsely.
"And, how old would Mr. Crusher be?" Picard asked, although he already knew the answer.
"Thirty," Dr. Crusher answered, a tear rolling down her cheek.
There was a moment of silence as the importance of the date set in. A person's thirtieth birthday was still a momentous occasion in the 24th century, even though the average lifespan of humans was well into the mid- one hundreds these days. It was a time, for most, that their remaining child-like attitudes were shed in favor of a plunge into full-blown adulthood.
Of course, Wesley Crusher was definitely not like most, and he shed his child-like attitudes long before he even reached his twenties. Then, as he reached the ripe-old age of 21, he shed his adulthood and plunged into something entirely unknown when he met The Traveler, once again, on Dorvan V. Picard realized that Wesley had barely been heard from since that time, which, when all put together, made this day even more poignant for his mother, Dr. Beverly Crusher.
Hence, the reason she was silently crying at this moment.
Shaking himself out of his own thoughts, he went over to the replicator and order warm milk with nutmeg for the Doctor. He crossed the office and sat next to her, placing the glass on the coffee table and producing a tissue from out of nowhere. The Doctor accepted both silently as she dabbed at her tears.
"I remember my thirtieth birthday," Picard began silently, "I had been in command of the Stargazer for about two years, and the crew threw me a lavish party. They brought out this huge sheet cake with 30 candles. Blew them all out with one breath. And, as soon as I did, the Cardassians attacked us."
Beverly stared at Picard for a few seconds, trying to figure out the significance of his story.
"Of course," he said with a lopsided grin, "that's not what I wished for."
The Doctor stared at the Captain a few seconds more, realizing that there was absolutely no point to the story, then burst out laughing. The laughs combined with sobs as all of the emotions of the day washed over her.
"Thank you, Jean-Luc," she said through the last of her laughter and tears, "that's just what I needed."
"I'm glad I could help", he replied with a soft smile. "Don't hold your emotions back, Beverly. You have every right to miss him tremendously and be a bit angry with him for not contacting you. You are still his mother and have that right."
Doctor Crusher looked at him strangely. "You know, for a moment there, you sounded an awful lot like Counselor Troi."
"Well, the similarities between me and the Counselor are uncanny," the Captain said with a straight face, "and, with her imminent departure nearing, I thought I'd start brushing up on my counseling duties."
"I see. Well, thank you very much, Captain -- I mean, Counselor."
"No trouble at all. By the way," Picard stage-whispered, "I've been told that telling another person about a child's accomplishments usually makes them feel better."
"Really," Beverly replied in the same tone, "I had never heard about that. Let's see, when Wesley was about two, he wanted to grab a jar of cookies that were on top of the kitchen counter. So, he took the dog, and . . ."
-------***-------
Dr. Crusher walked towards her quarters full of warm milk and less emotional baggage. The advice Jean-Luc gave her was right on the money. She could now think freely about how much she missed Wesley without trying to occupy that part of her mind with something totally inane.
She reached her quarters, and paused briefly before pressing the button to open the door. Something felt odd. The area around the door felt warmer than the surrounding climate-controlled air, and her hand felt tingly as she reached for the release. She looked around the door's edges and, for a moment, it seemed like white light was trying to break through the airtight frame.
Beverly never left any lights on in her quarters -- especially that bright. She tapped her comm badge. "Crusher to Security . . . Possible intruder in my quarters."
"On our way," replied the watch commander. Within in a minute, three security personnel were right beside her, phasers at the ready. One of them gave the Doctor a curt nod to proceed. With a deep breath, she pressed the release.
The light coming from inside the Doctor's quarters was brilliant, but only for a moment. It began to fade very quickly around Beverly, and when it had subsided a person was revealed hiding in the shadows. Dr. Crusher took a cautious step into the room, and the doors shut quickly. She glanced behind her -- the security team was nowhere to be seen.
Heart pumping furiously in her chest she placed herself in a defensive position, awaiting a possible attack from the intruder. As her eyes began to adjust to the lower light levels she noticed that the visitor was of male persuasion. He was tall and thin, but not spindly. As more came into focus she noticed his hair: black, short, a bit spiky -- it seemed very familiar. Finally, as her eyes became fully adjusted, Beverly noticed his facial features. His face . . . His face was . . . He looked like . . .
"Oh my God," she whispered in shock.
"Hi, Mom," Wesley Crusher answered like a person away from home for a few days rather than 10 years.
"Oh my God," she whispered again, then louder, "Oh My God! Wesley!" Dr. Crusher took the few remaining steps towards her son and embraced him fiercely. "Wesley," she said, over and over, as tears streamed down her face.
"It's good to see you, Mom," Wesley responded as he returned his mother's hug. She squeezed him harder, pushing the breath out of him. "How are you?", he gasped.
"How am I?", she said, easing up on the embrace, "How am I?", she repeated, a bit louder, as she wiped the tears away, "You're gone for ten years, and all you can say is 'How are you'?"
Wesley raised his hands in surrender. "You're right, sorry. It's just that, well, in my journeys, time is really relative -- it has no meaning -- and, well . . .," he trailed off has he gave a little shrug of his shoulders.
Beverly chuckled and sniffed at the same time. "I know, I know. But, from where I'm standing you've been gone a long time."
Wesley smiled impishly at her comment. As a toddler, Beverly remembered, that smile would melt away any anger she had. Three decades later, it did the exact same thing. Returning a smile of her own, she gestured over to the couch, where they both sat down. "So, tell me," Beverly began, "how are you?"
Wesley's smile turned into a grin as his words were turned back at him. "They're fine, Mom," he said with a bit of a laugh, "I've never been happier."
"What exactly have you been doing?"
"Learning, mostly. The Traveler has been teaching me how to open my mind, to think outside the three dimensions of normal space. To use my new- found skills to open gateways across thousands of lightyears in an instant."
"It sounds, well, tiring."
"It is, a little. But, with what I've been taught, I've been able to travel to galaxies not even the oldest unmanned probes have been to. I've seen places and beings that are right out of fantasy novels. Its been," he paused, hands moving, as he tried to find a words that fit his experiences, "Its been wonderful."
Beverly nodded, then rose. She looked out into the view portals behind the couch, trying to see through Wesley's eyes what he saw of the universe. She could only think of one word: expansive. "So," she said, shaking off the immensity of Wesley's life, "what brings you back to our neighborhood?"
"Well, my studies are done for the time being and I'm on my own now", Wesley answered as he joined his Mom in looking out the view ports. "So, I'm doing my 'Backpack Tour of the Galaxy', so to speak -- visiting some new places, and some of my favorites. The Enterprise kind of falls into both of those categories. "Plus", he said, a bit slyly, "I had a feeling you'd be thinking about me today."
Dr. Crusher shot her son a surprised glance. "You remembered?"
"Just because I have the skills to manipulate the time/space stream doesn't mean I'd forget my birthday. I'm thirty! This is an auspicious occasion", he said as he placed his arm around his mother, "and I wouldn't want to spend it with anyone else but you."
Wesley smiled impishly once again, and Beverly fell into its warmth and tenderness.
-------***-------
For the next hour or so mother and son swapped stories. Wesley talked about all of the amazing places he had visited over the past decade. Beverly talked about the Dominion War, crew members and Senior Staff, and the impending marriage of Riker and Troi (which, Wesley said, he would definitely attend). It felt good to catch up.
"Wesley, can you stay for awhile?", Beverly asked during a pause in the conversation, "I'm sure that the Captain would love to see you."
"As much as I'd like to, Mom, I really need to leave. I'm on my way to the Bajoran wormhole to visit a friend."
"Oh, I see. So, even a manipulator of space and time has to keep a schedule."
Wesley laughed at her Mom's jibing, then suddenly stopped and snapped his fingers. "I almost forgot something." From out of nowhere he grabbed a brightly wrapped box and presented it to Dr. Crusher. "Here, this is for you."
"Wes," she said, a bit taken aback, "I didn't get you anything for your birthday."
"Don't worry. Just spending time with you was the best gift you could give me."
Beverly smiled and opened the package. Inside was something that resembled a large PADD. There were no buttons or stylus that could be found -- just what looked like a view screen.
"It's, um, nice, Wes", Beverly said a bit hesitantly, "Just what exactly is it?"
"Let's just say that, when you really miss me, all you need to do is look at the screen."
Beverly just looked at her son quizzically, then answered, "Well, thank you. I think." Wesley Crusher laughed, and gave his mom a big hug. "I love you, Mom."
"I love you too, Wes," Dr. Crusher responded, "I hope to see you at Deanna and Will's wedding."
"I'll be there with bells on."
"After today's visit, nothing would surprise me." She deadpanned. Then, suddenly, her eyes went wide. "Oh my gosh," she gasped, "The security team, I totally forgot about them."
"Don't worry," Wesley said as he raised his right hand and wriggled his fingers, "Remember, manipulator of space and time. While we were talking for over an hour, time is pretty much at a standstill outside. And," he said as his mother began to speak up in protest, "don't worry. It won't have any implications on the fabric of space, and it won't rupture the timeline."
"It better not," Beverly said in a mockingly threatening voice, "or I'll come looking for you." Both of them smiled warmly. "Now go, young man. I don't want you to miss your appointment."
"Yes, Ma'am," he said sarcastically. Then, in a more honest tone, "Bye, Mom." In a flash of brilliant white light, he was gone. Whew, Beverly thought to herself, that's something I'll need to get used to. Taking a few deep breaths to calm herself, Dr. Crusher turned and opened the door to the excited members of the security team.
"Doctor," the team leader said as he rushed inside, "Is everything okay?"
"Just fine now, Lieutenant," Dr. Crusher responded, "Just fine."
-------***-------
On a normal day, the sickbay of the U.S.S. Enterprise was busy with the usual aches, pains and injuries that a crew of nearly 900 tend to develop on a normal basis.
Today did not fit into that category. While the battle with a ship from the D'Baran Alliance was not huge, it did do enough damage to fill sickbay with the injured. In fact, just as a quantum torpedo knocked out the D'Baran's shields and weapons, a stray shot caused extensive hull damage on Deck 19.
For the past two hours Dr. Beverly Crusher and her staff had been taking care of the wounded: mostly walking, but some in more serious condition. There was a lull now, but it wouldn't last for long. According to Commander Riker there were a number of crew members still stuck on Deck 19 that would need medical attention once the rescue crews freed them.
In the meantime, Dr. Crusher let Dr. Selar and the rest of the staff finish up with the minor injuries while she stepped into her office for a brief rest. She leaned back in her chair, rubbing her eyes with the palms of her hands. It was tough going, but she believed that some of the more seriously injured patients would come out of this fine and be back on duty within a few weeks.
She straightened up and glanced at her desk. She noticed the PADD- like tool on the desk's edge and picked it up. The large screen showed an amazing view of a galaxy many thousands, perhaps millions, of light years from where the Enterprise was right now. It was almost star-shaped, with the bright, white sun as its center and four arms of stars stretching outward. It was an awe-inspiring, yet relaxing, picture.
And she had Wesley Crusher to thank for it. For the gift her son gave her before he left was actually a triptych of sorts; one that would show Dr. Crusher live pictures of Wes's journeys. At first, Beverly wasn't too sure what she was seeing. However, she eventually caught on that gift was to help her miss her son just a little bit less. And, as she look on as the galaxy moved and got closer, she realized it did help.
She continued to view the ever-changing picture until the sickbay doors opened. The rescue crews had broken through to the damaged area on Deck 19 and had started ferrying down the injured. Placing Wesley's gift gently on the desk, she rose, stretched, stepped out of her office and dug right in to the new patients. . .
. . . And Dr. Beverly Crusher, Chief Medical Officer, was downright happy.
By Richard Keller Copyright 2002
DISCLAIMER: Star Trek is the property of Paramount Pictures. However, this story belongs to me. It took me a long time to write, edit, and review it. So, please do not use in whole or in part without permission from me. If you do, I'll really have no other choice but to hunt you down, tie you up, and let you watch non-stop airings of 'Barney & His Friends'. Trust me, you'll want to be dead after you've seen Baby Bop FIVE THOUSAND TIMES! Thanks.
CONTINUITY NOTE: This story takes place a short period of time before Star Trek:Nemesis.
On a normal day, the sickbay of the U.S.S. Enterprise was busy with the usual aches, pains and injuries that a crew of nearly 900 tend to develop on a normal basis. On an abnormal day -- say, during a battle with the Dominion -- sickbay could be stacked with wounded.
This day did not fit into either category. In fact, for the first time in the history of both the Enterprise-D and Enterprise-E combined, not one person entered sickbay (save for the medical staff, of course). Not one injury from the holodeck, not one unknown illness from another planet. In fact, no one came in for even an aspirin. On this one day everyone on the starship Enterprise was healthy . . .
. . . And Dr. Beverly Crusher, Chief Medical Officer, was downright miserable.
Not because all of the crew, and their family members, seemed to be in excellent health: if anything, that was testimony to the hard work of her medical staff. No, Beverly Crusher was miserable because today, of all days, she wanted to be as busy as possible to keep her mind off of this particular date's significance.
So, she did what she could to keep her mind, and body, busy. She and her medical staff recalibrated all of the biofunction bed monitors and tricorders, restocked the medication dispensers, and generally straightened up around the sickbay. She spent a few hours updating patients' medical records with Dr. Selar, and had an extensive discussion with Nurse Ogawa concerning the eating habits of her nine-year-old child.
Now, she sat in her office and stared at one of her old medical papers as it scrolled slowly across the terminal on her desk. However, try as she might, she couldn't concentrate on the words. She paused the scroll, pushed back from the desk, stretched, and tried to rub the bleariness out of her eyes. Keeping her eyes closed, she took a few cleansing breaths, then opened them again slowly. Involuntarily, her view landed on the desk chronometer.
She quietly hissed air through her teeth and balled her hands into fists. Beverly tried very hard today not to look at the date, even going so far as to ask the computer for the time when needed (which allowed for some quizzical glances by her staff). Now, maybe subconsciously, maybe not, she stared at the glowing red numbers that showed the stardate and its representation in months, days, and year. I'm not going to let this get to me, she mumbled to herself. It's just another day; it'll pass just like every other day. Taking another cleansing breath, and relaxing her hands, Dr. Crusher rolled back over to her desk and resumed the terminal's scroll.
She was reviewing her paper on Barclay's Protomorphosis Syndrome, looking to see if she could add anything new to the original findings. Beverly missed Lieutenant Reg Barclay. Sure, he was one of the greatest hypochondriacs of all time, but he was also very gentle and caring. She and Counselor Deanna Troi had followed Reg's career after his tour of duty on the Enterprise ended, and both were very pleased to see that he had become an integral part of the Project Pathfinder team, whose task it was to rescue the U.S.S. Voyager from the Delta Quadrant. Lieutenant Commander Barclay was now reaping the benefits of that success as an instructor at Starfleet Academy.
Thinking of the Academy also brought thoughts of Chief Miles O' Brien; she missed him, too. He and Keiko were a wonderful pair, and their daughter was just beautiful (and about ten or eleven years old by now, she believed.). Currently, he was also an instructor at the Academy and was making quite a name for himself.
She would have to visit the Academy the next time she was on Earth, she pondered to herself. She hadn't been there in a long time, ever since . . .
The terminal beeped -- Beverly had reached the end of the paper without even seeing the words.
"Damn", she swore to no one in particular, "I've got to get out of here." Logging out of her console Dr. Crusher briskly walked out of her office, almost faster than the door could open. Dr. Selar and Nurse Ogawa, startled from their duties by the sudden interruption in the quiet sickbay, looked up at their Chief Medical Officer.
"Dr. Selar, I'm signing out a little early. Can you hang around until Dr. M'Tannga comes in?"
"Certainly, Dr. Crusher," Dr. Selar answered in the stoic Vulcan manner. As Beverly turned to walk out the sickbay door, Selar added, just as stoically, "I'll try not to be too overwhelmed."
Beverly Crusher stopped and pivoted on her heel to stare at Dr. Selar. Her face was rigid as stone. From behind Selar she heard Nurse Ogawa trying to stifle a giggle. Sighing, Dr. Crusher turned and headed out into the corridor. As the doors closed Dr. Selar could have sworn she heard the Chief Medical Officer murmur something about funny Vulcans and the end of the galaxy as they knew it.
-------***-------
Beverly walked down a corridor bustling with crewmembers. Alpha watch had just ended and Beta watch was about to begin. Those jogging past her were probably heading towards their duty stations, while those casually walking may have been headed towards their quarters, a meal, the holodeck, or some other diversion. Beverly noticed their gray and black uniforms. She never really got used to the gloomy color scheme. Truth be told, Beverly missed the blue and black two-piece that she wore for nearly five years. Granted, it was always a bit snug, but at least its colors were a bit brighter than the one she currently wore.
The Doctor was so deep into that thought that she reached one of the lift stations without noticing. She pressed the call stud and waited patiently while one whisked towards her destination. For lack of nothing better to do she stared at the walls and noticed their ship-metal charcoal gray hue. She missed the color scheme of the Enterprise-D. In fact, she realized now, she missed the whole atmosphere of the Galaxy-class starship: it was built for exploration and adventure, rather than designed for battle at the drop of the hat. Of course, a lot of that feeling came from her son's . . .
She screamed internally. That's it. I've got to talk to someone about this. She thought about talking with Troi, but the Counselor was too involved with her wedding preparations and Will's soon-to-be new command. Guinan? For some reason she never established the connection with the hostess that many of the other crewmembers had. No, she growled to herself as the lift arrived, I need to talk to the one person who knows exactly how I feel.
-------***-------
"What can I do for you this evening, Doctor?", asked Jean-Luc Picard, Captain of the U.S.S. Enterprise, as he sat behind his desk.
"You can tell me how to stop thinking about someone I care for," Beverly answered as she sat on the sofa across from Picard.
"Excuse me?"
"In other words, Captain, how do you keep your mind off of someone you miss? Because, when you do think about them it hurts too much and it makes you angry at the same time."
Picard leaned back in his chair, crossed his legs, and steepled his fingers on one knee, "I'm assuming that 'you' in this case is really 'Dr. Beverly Crusher'." The Doctor smiled at Picard's response. But, it was a sad smile, and the Captain noticed. "What's wrong, Beverly?"
The Doctor took a deep breath, "Jean-Luc, do you know what today is?"
For a man who normally wasn't at a loss for words, Picard was momentarily taken aback. As far as he knew, there was nothing significant about this day. He sat up and glanced at the desk chronometer: Stardate 57751.2, 18:45 hours, it read. Something stirred in his mind. "Mmm," he began, tapping a finger on his desk to push the memory out, "About 10 years ago we had that incident on Dorvan V, the one with the Cardassians. Yes, I remember that. In fact, wasn't that the time young Wesley . . . "
The tapping stopped abruptly as the significance of the day suddenly hit him. He glanced at the chronometer once again, this time focusing on the calendar date: February 27, 2379.
"Oh," was all he could muster for a final response.
"Yep," Beverly responded in kind, "Wesley."
"Today is his birthday."
"Yes," Beverly said a bit hoarsely.
"And, how old would Mr. Crusher be?" Picard asked, although he already knew the answer.
"Thirty," Dr. Crusher answered, a tear rolling down her cheek.
There was a moment of silence as the importance of the date set in. A person's thirtieth birthday was still a momentous occasion in the 24th century, even though the average lifespan of humans was well into the mid- one hundreds these days. It was a time, for most, that their remaining child-like attitudes were shed in favor of a plunge into full-blown adulthood.
Of course, Wesley Crusher was definitely not like most, and he shed his child-like attitudes long before he even reached his twenties. Then, as he reached the ripe-old age of 21, he shed his adulthood and plunged into something entirely unknown when he met The Traveler, once again, on Dorvan V. Picard realized that Wesley had barely been heard from since that time, which, when all put together, made this day even more poignant for his mother, Dr. Beverly Crusher.
Hence, the reason she was silently crying at this moment.
Shaking himself out of his own thoughts, he went over to the replicator and order warm milk with nutmeg for the Doctor. He crossed the office and sat next to her, placing the glass on the coffee table and producing a tissue from out of nowhere. The Doctor accepted both silently as she dabbed at her tears.
"I remember my thirtieth birthday," Picard began silently, "I had been in command of the Stargazer for about two years, and the crew threw me a lavish party. They brought out this huge sheet cake with 30 candles. Blew them all out with one breath. And, as soon as I did, the Cardassians attacked us."
Beverly stared at Picard for a few seconds, trying to figure out the significance of his story.
"Of course," he said with a lopsided grin, "that's not what I wished for."
The Doctor stared at the Captain a few seconds more, realizing that there was absolutely no point to the story, then burst out laughing. The laughs combined with sobs as all of the emotions of the day washed over her.
"Thank you, Jean-Luc," she said through the last of her laughter and tears, "that's just what I needed."
"I'm glad I could help", he replied with a soft smile. "Don't hold your emotions back, Beverly. You have every right to miss him tremendously and be a bit angry with him for not contacting you. You are still his mother and have that right."
Doctor Crusher looked at him strangely. "You know, for a moment there, you sounded an awful lot like Counselor Troi."
"Well, the similarities between me and the Counselor are uncanny," the Captain said with a straight face, "and, with her imminent departure nearing, I thought I'd start brushing up on my counseling duties."
"I see. Well, thank you very much, Captain -- I mean, Counselor."
"No trouble at all. By the way," Picard stage-whispered, "I've been told that telling another person about a child's accomplishments usually makes them feel better."
"Really," Beverly replied in the same tone, "I had never heard about that. Let's see, when Wesley was about two, he wanted to grab a jar of cookies that were on top of the kitchen counter. So, he took the dog, and . . ."
-------***-------
Dr. Crusher walked towards her quarters full of warm milk and less emotional baggage. The advice Jean-Luc gave her was right on the money. She could now think freely about how much she missed Wesley without trying to occupy that part of her mind with something totally inane.
She reached her quarters, and paused briefly before pressing the button to open the door. Something felt odd. The area around the door felt warmer than the surrounding climate-controlled air, and her hand felt tingly as she reached for the release. She looked around the door's edges and, for a moment, it seemed like white light was trying to break through the airtight frame.
Beverly never left any lights on in her quarters -- especially that bright. She tapped her comm badge. "Crusher to Security . . . Possible intruder in my quarters."
"On our way," replied the watch commander. Within in a minute, three security personnel were right beside her, phasers at the ready. One of them gave the Doctor a curt nod to proceed. With a deep breath, she pressed the release.
The light coming from inside the Doctor's quarters was brilliant, but only for a moment. It began to fade very quickly around Beverly, and when it had subsided a person was revealed hiding in the shadows. Dr. Crusher took a cautious step into the room, and the doors shut quickly. She glanced behind her -- the security team was nowhere to be seen.
Heart pumping furiously in her chest she placed herself in a defensive position, awaiting a possible attack from the intruder. As her eyes began to adjust to the lower light levels she noticed that the visitor was of male persuasion. He was tall and thin, but not spindly. As more came into focus she noticed his hair: black, short, a bit spiky -- it seemed very familiar. Finally, as her eyes became fully adjusted, Beverly noticed his facial features. His face . . . His face was . . . He looked like . . .
"Oh my God," she whispered in shock.
"Hi, Mom," Wesley Crusher answered like a person away from home for a few days rather than 10 years.
"Oh my God," she whispered again, then louder, "Oh My God! Wesley!" Dr. Crusher took the few remaining steps towards her son and embraced him fiercely. "Wesley," she said, over and over, as tears streamed down her face.
"It's good to see you, Mom," Wesley responded as he returned his mother's hug. She squeezed him harder, pushing the breath out of him. "How are you?", he gasped.
"How am I?", she said, easing up on the embrace, "How am I?", she repeated, a bit louder, as she wiped the tears away, "You're gone for ten years, and all you can say is 'How are you'?"
Wesley raised his hands in surrender. "You're right, sorry. It's just that, well, in my journeys, time is really relative -- it has no meaning -- and, well . . .," he trailed off has he gave a little shrug of his shoulders.
Beverly chuckled and sniffed at the same time. "I know, I know. But, from where I'm standing you've been gone a long time."
Wesley smiled impishly at her comment. As a toddler, Beverly remembered, that smile would melt away any anger she had. Three decades later, it did the exact same thing. Returning a smile of her own, she gestured over to the couch, where they both sat down. "So, tell me," Beverly began, "how are you?"
Wesley's smile turned into a grin as his words were turned back at him. "They're fine, Mom," he said with a bit of a laugh, "I've never been happier."
"What exactly have you been doing?"
"Learning, mostly. The Traveler has been teaching me how to open my mind, to think outside the three dimensions of normal space. To use my new- found skills to open gateways across thousands of lightyears in an instant."
"It sounds, well, tiring."
"It is, a little. But, with what I've been taught, I've been able to travel to galaxies not even the oldest unmanned probes have been to. I've seen places and beings that are right out of fantasy novels. Its been," he paused, hands moving, as he tried to find a words that fit his experiences, "Its been wonderful."
Beverly nodded, then rose. She looked out into the view portals behind the couch, trying to see through Wesley's eyes what he saw of the universe. She could only think of one word: expansive. "So," she said, shaking off the immensity of Wesley's life, "what brings you back to our neighborhood?"
"Well, my studies are done for the time being and I'm on my own now", Wesley answered as he joined his Mom in looking out the view ports. "So, I'm doing my 'Backpack Tour of the Galaxy', so to speak -- visiting some new places, and some of my favorites. The Enterprise kind of falls into both of those categories. "Plus", he said, a bit slyly, "I had a feeling you'd be thinking about me today."
Dr. Crusher shot her son a surprised glance. "You remembered?"
"Just because I have the skills to manipulate the time/space stream doesn't mean I'd forget my birthday. I'm thirty! This is an auspicious occasion", he said as he placed his arm around his mother, "and I wouldn't want to spend it with anyone else but you."
Wesley smiled impishly once again, and Beverly fell into its warmth and tenderness.
-------***-------
For the next hour or so mother and son swapped stories. Wesley talked about all of the amazing places he had visited over the past decade. Beverly talked about the Dominion War, crew members and Senior Staff, and the impending marriage of Riker and Troi (which, Wesley said, he would definitely attend). It felt good to catch up.
"Wesley, can you stay for awhile?", Beverly asked during a pause in the conversation, "I'm sure that the Captain would love to see you."
"As much as I'd like to, Mom, I really need to leave. I'm on my way to the Bajoran wormhole to visit a friend."
"Oh, I see. So, even a manipulator of space and time has to keep a schedule."
Wesley laughed at her Mom's jibing, then suddenly stopped and snapped his fingers. "I almost forgot something." From out of nowhere he grabbed a brightly wrapped box and presented it to Dr. Crusher. "Here, this is for you."
"Wes," she said, a bit taken aback, "I didn't get you anything for your birthday."
"Don't worry. Just spending time with you was the best gift you could give me."
Beverly smiled and opened the package. Inside was something that resembled a large PADD. There were no buttons or stylus that could be found -- just what looked like a view screen.
"It's, um, nice, Wes", Beverly said a bit hesitantly, "Just what exactly is it?"
"Let's just say that, when you really miss me, all you need to do is look at the screen."
Beverly just looked at her son quizzically, then answered, "Well, thank you. I think." Wesley Crusher laughed, and gave his mom a big hug. "I love you, Mom."
"I love you too, Wes," Dr. Crusher responded, "I hope to see you at Deanna and Will's wedding."
"I'll be there with bells on."
"After today's visit, nothing would surprise me." She deadpanned. Then, suddenly, her eyes went wide. "Oh my gosh," she gasped, "The security team, I totally forgot about them."
"Don't worry," Wesley said as he raised his right hand and wriggled his fingers, "Remember, manipulator of space and time. While we were talking for over an hour, time is pretty much at a standstill outside. And," he said as his mother began to speak up in protest, "don't worry. It won't have any implications on the fabric of space, and it won't rupture the timeline."
"It better not," Beverly said in a mockingly threatening voice, "or I'll come looking for you." Both of them smiled warmly. "Now go, young man. I don't want you to miss your appointment."
"Yes, Ma'am," he said sarcastically. Then, in a more honest tone, "Bye, Mom." In a flash of brilliant white light, he was gone. Whew, Beverly thought to herself, that's something I'll need to get used to. Taking a few deep breaths to calm herself, Dr. Crusher turned and opened the door to the excited members of the security team.
"Doctor," the team leader said as he rushed inside, "Is everything okay?"
"Just fine now, Lieutenant," Dr. Crusher responded, "Just fine."
-------***-------
On a normal day, the sickbay of the U.S.S. Enterprise was busy with the usual aches, pains and injuries that a crew of nearly 900 tend to develop on a normal basis.
Today did not fit into that category. While the battle with a ship from the D'Baran Alliance was not huge, it did do enough damage to fill sickbay with the injured. In fact, just as a quantum torpedo knocked out the D'Baran's shields and weapons, a stray shot caused extensive hull damage on Deck 19.
For the past two hours Dr. Beverly Crusher and her staff had been taking care of the wounded: mostly walking, but some in more serious condition. There was a lull now, but it wouldn't last for long. According to Commander Riker there were a number of crew members still stuck on Deck 19 that would need medical attention once the rescue crews freed them.
In the meantime, Dr. Crusher let Dr. Selar and the rest of the staff finish up with the minor injuries while she stepped into her office for a brief rest. She leaned back in her chair, rubbing her eyes with the palms of her hands. It was tough going, but she believed that some of the more seriously injured patients would come out of this fine and be back on duty within a few weeks.
She straightened up and glanced at her desk. She noticed the PADD- like tool on the desk's edge and picked it up. The large screen showed an amazing view of a galaxy many thousands, perhaps millions, of light years from where the Enterprise was right now. It was almost star-shaped, with the bright, white sun as its center and four arms of stars stretching outward. It was an awe-inspiring, yet relaxing, picture.
And she had Wesley Crusher to thank for it. For the gift her son gave her before he left was actually a triptych of sorts; one that would show Dr. Crusher live pictures of Wes's journeys. At first, Beverly wasn't too sure what she was seeing. However, she eventually caught on that gift was to help her miss her son just a little bit less. And, as she look on as the galaxy moved and got closer, she realized it did help.
She continued to view the ever-changing picture until the sickbay doors opened. The rescue crews had broken through to the damaged area on Deck 19 and had started ferrying down the injured. Placing Wesley's gift gently on the desk, she rose, stretched, stepped out of her office and dug right in to the new patients. . .
. . . And Dr. Beverly Crusher, Chief Medical Officer, was downright happy.