Here it is, folks! Chapter nine. Be amused. Be very amused.
***
Sickbay was quiet. Too quiet. So quiet, in fact, that the only thing you could hear, for that tiny moment in time when all was nearly silent, was Nurse Ogawa bursting into tears in the other room. Then things got noisy in Doctor Beverly Crusher's office again.
Sighing in exasperation, the CMO(1) looked at her son over her hand, which was now occupied with rubbing the bridge of her nose. Those puppy-dog eyes, which had once been cute, even heart-wrenching, in those first few years after Jack died, were now *grating* on Beverly's nerves. "Wesley, I really don't have the time for this right now," she said, the epitome of exhaustion.
"But, Mom, m-my Button, and Wanda was being so mean to me-"
"I don't want to hear it." Abruptly, Beverly stood up and walked over to her shelves to examine a tray of medicines. Wes just stuttered at her turned back.
"B-but she was mean to me, and I-I, my feelings were really, they were really hurt, and I-I-"
"Wesley," she cut him off sharply. Her voice had taken on a dangerous quality. "I don't want to hear it right now." Beverly was at the end of her rope of patience, and it was a frayed end. She had really heard enough. Reports coming in from all over the ship of depression, anxiety...it was all too much. Patients were refusing treatment, really, and now the first two officers of the ship were claiming her prescriptions were not effective! It was too much. Turning back to her for-now silenced son, she glared at him over the end of her nose, setting her jaw in that angry way that she reserved for special (and I mean *special*) occasions. "Get. Out."
"But, but Mom..." He made a final desperate plea to her, his ego seriously on the line.
The force of her gaze told him that there would be no "buts," today.
Wesley Crusher, long-time whiner, the Enterprise's biggest egomaniac, slowly withered under his mother's eyes and backed out of the door until it hissed shut. Beverly watched him go through her window, and as soon as he exited Sickbay, she collapsed into her chair, then onto her desk with a muffled thump. Anyone watching would have been waiting a while to see her move. And in the other room, Nurse Ogawa's sobbing went on.
***
Worf settled back into his bubble bath, pink bubbles floating lazily around his normally scowling face. Contrary to what he might have previously thought, he was quite enjoying this. Ha! He sure showed that Counselor Troi! The powerful Worf, son of Mogh, could stand up to *any* test that chanced to fall in his path. A very rare, toothy grin appeared on Worf's face as he breathed in the scented air that was rising from the bubbles. Hmm, pink. Not quite as feminine a color as Worf had thought. Perhaps he could-
Hissss. "Dad? What - what are you doing?"
Worf's eyes widened, and his face quickly formed into his usual angry expression. Well, maybe a little angrier this time. "Alexander," he grunted. "How many times do I have to tell you to *ring* before you enter the bathroom?"
"Are those...bubbles? What - what's this?" Alexander, incredibly suspicious, walked over to the edge of the tub and picked up the empty container of bubble bath. His jaw dropped as he read the label. "Bubble bath?!" he said incredulously.
The older Klingon scowled. "It was a challenge from Counselor-" He didn't get a chance to finish.
"You're having a *bubble* *bath*?!" Alexander's voice dripped fury. "You won't let me join the cheering squad! You won't let me play *Frederick* in our school play!! And you're taking a *BUBBLE BATH*?" He was screaming now. "I..." Pausing, he pointed one finger, shaking in rage, at his father. "I *HATE YOU*!" Then he bolted out of the room.
The remaining occupant of the bathroom was going through a great deal of inner turmoil at this point, once he recovered from his state of shock at Alexander's outburst. On the upside, the boy was finally starting to show a bit of his Klingon heritage with his anger. In fact, who knew what he was doing right now? He could be off destroying things. On the downside, he *was* taking out this anger because of Worf.
And he might have to face the truth. His son *was* showing homosexual tendencies. On any other occasion, Worf would have roared "NO! I WON'T BELIEVE IT!" to the empty room, but perhaps it was time to face the facts. His son...was...gay. He also had to face the fact that a mere *moment* before, he had actually been *enjoying* a *bubble bath,* a decidedly un- Klingon (but more importantly, un-*masculine*) thing to do. Was he gay - too? No. It couldn't be. Could it?
Worf faced all of these thoughts that were stampeding through his head, pondering with much emotion life's little mysteries...and he did this without one *twitch* of a facial muscle.
Quietly, not making the slightest ripple in the water, Worf slid underneath the bubbles and did not re-emerge for a good long while.
***
Geordi was doing his personal best not to blink excessively after Guinan made her - erm - *stunning* exit from Ten Forward, but DAMN, was it hard. Finally, he recovered enough to say: "Wow," before remembering his *reason* for being in Ten Forward, anyway. Sighing resolutely, he let his eyes scan the rest of the room before pushing his suddenly-tired body out of its seat, and heading for the one other place a person in his condition might think to go: Sickbay.
***
Meanwhile, poor little Ensign Greenwood was on the bridge - panicking. The Captain had disappeared into his ready-room several hours before, claiming he had a 'headache,' Commander Riker had called the bridge on his commbadge not long after, mumbling something about 'happy pills,' the second officer of the ship had barely been seen for two days (something about a personal project, and taking sick time to complete it), Lieutenant Worf had just gotten off his duty shift, and was apparently having domestic troubles, nobody wanted to even *tell* him why Counselor Troi was missing, the good Doctor Crusher was swamped in Sickbay, so *she* couldn't take over on the bridge, while there was no one besides *another* Ensign in charge of Engineering. Not to *mention* the way that everyone *else* on the bridge was *very* reluctant to accept Greenwood's commands, considering that he was of the same rank, and considering their incredibly downtrodden state. All in all, it was turning out to be a very bad day for Ensign Greenwood, and things didn't appear to be looking up.
Letting out a shaky breath, our pitiable Ensign sat nervously down in the command chair, looking rather miserably up at the screen. Nothing was really happening in this sector, and for that much he was grateful. Suddenly, a chunk of - something - flew through the screen's field of vision. Greenwood watched it go past almost idly, then jumped out of his seat. "Ensign," he barked, his voice cracking (hadn't he always dreamed of command? Well, ~gulp~, now was his chance). "What was that I just saw on the screen?"
"Who cares?" replied the woman at ops, practically draped over her console.
"Yeah," seconded the guy at the helm, slumped onto his as well. "Who cares?"
"Well - well, *I* care, for one, a-and I'm sure all of the-the people on this *ship* care..." Ensign Greenwood started.
"Shut up," came from the officer at tactical, behind him. "You think you're better than us? Well, you're not." This was said tiredly, not rebelliously.
Greenwood still took it to heart, not being used to command, let alone being *critiqued* about his command styles. "Well - well -"
"Yeah, you're no better than us," drolled the woman at Science Station 2. "Who are you to boss us around?"
Poor Greenwood was still trying to get his sentence out. He turned to her and continued, "Well - well, well - well -"
"Why don't you just *scram* already? We're tired of you."
"Yeah, why don't you stop bossing us around?" There were general mumbles of assent from the rest of the remaining bridge officers.
"Well - well...if-if that's how you feel about it, th-then I guess I-I'll go."
"Meh."
"Whatever." Greenwood didn't hear this as he walked, in a daze, to the Turbolift. Once inside, with the doors closed, he curled into a fetal ball and whimpered as best he could manage.
***
(1) Chief Medical Officer
Huzzah! And there you have it, folks. Utter chaos. :D This fic is making me so happy. I have great plans for it! Well, actually, it's going to be wrapping up pretty soon, but if you give me a new idea, I might do another one like it! Yeah, that'd be cool. I really appreciate the response that I've had from this story, it's really cool the way I get more reviews for this story than for any other story that I've ever written. ::tries not to cry and fails:: I love you guys!
Now, ~ahem~, write me a few more reviews and I'll consider writing another chapter. ::big goofy grin::
***
Sickbay was quiet. Too quiet. So quiet, in fact, that the only thing you could hear, for that tiny moment in time when all was nearly silent, was Nurse Ogawa bursting into tears in the other room. Then things got noisy in Doctor Beverly Crusher's office again.
Sighing in exasperation, the CMO(1) looked at her son over her hand, which was now occupied with rubbing the bridge of her nose. Those puppy-dog eyes, which had once been cute, even heart-wrenching, in those first few years after Jack died, were now *grating* on Beverly's nerves. "Wesley, I really don't have the time for this right now," she said, the epitome of exhaustion.
"But, Mom, m-my Button, and Wanda was being so mean to me-"
"I don't want to hear it." Abruptly, Beverly stood up and walked over to her shelves to examine a tray of medicines. Wes just stuttered at her turned back.
"B-but she was mean to me, and I-I, my feelings were really, they were really hurt, and I-I-"
"Wesley," she cut him off sharply. Her voice had taken on a dangerous quality. "I don't want to hear it right now." Beverly was at the end of her rope of patience, and it was a frayed end. She had really heard enough. Reports coming in from all over the ship of depression, anxiety...it was all too much. Patients were refusing treatment, really, and now the first two officers of the ship were claiming her prescriptions were not effective! It was too much. Turning back to her for-now silenced son, she glared at him over the end of her nose, setting her jaw in that angry way that she reserved for special (and I mean *special*) occasions. "Get. Out."
"But, but Mom..." He made a final desperate plea to her, his ego seriously on the line.
The force of her gaze told him that there would be no "buts," today.
Wesley Crusher, long-time whiner, the Enterprise's biggest egomaniac, slowly withered under his mother's eyes and backed out of the door until it hissed shut. Beverly watched him go through her window, and as soon as he exited Sickbay, she collapsed into her chair, then onto her desk with a muffled thump. Anyone watching would have been waiting a while to see her move. And in the other room, Nurse Ogawa's sobbing went on.
***
Worf settled back into his bubble bath, pink bubbles floating lazily around his normally scowling face. Contrary to what he might have previously thought, he was quite enjoying this. Ha! He sure showed that Counselor Troi! The powerful Worf, son of Mogh, could stand up to *any* test that chanced to fall in his path. A very rare, toothy grin appeared on Worf's face as he breathed in the scented air that was rising from the bubbles. Hmm, pink. Not quite as feminine a color as Worf had thought. Perhaps he could-
Hissss. "Dad? What - what are you doing?"
Worf's eyes widened, and his face quickly formed into his usual angry expression. Well, maybe a little angrier this time. "Alexander," he grunted. "How many times do I have to tell you to *ring* before you enter the bathroom?"
"Are those...bubbles? What - what's this?" Alexander, incredibly suspicious, walked over to the edge of the tub and picked up the empty container of bubble bath. His jaw dropped as he read the label. "Bubble bath?!" he said incredulously.
The older Klingon scowled. "It was a challenge from Counselor-" He didn't get a chance to finish.
"You're having a *bubble* *bath*?!" Alexander's voice dripped fury. "You won't let me join the cheering squad! You won't let me play *Frederick* in our school play!! And you're taking a *BUBBLE BATH*?" He was screaming now. "I..." Pausing, he pointed one finger, shaking in rage, at his father. "I *HATE YOU*!" Then he bolted out of the room.
The remaining occupant of the bathroom was going through a great deal of inner turmoil at this point, once he recovered from his state of shock at Alexander's outburst. On the upside, the boy was finally starting to show a bit of his Klingon heritage with his anger. In fact, who knew what he was doing right now? He could be off destroying things. On the downside, he *was* taking out this anger because of Worf.
And he might have to face the truth. His son *was* showing homosexual tendencies. On any other occasion, Worf would have roared "NO! I WON'T BELIEVE IT!" to the empty room, but perhaps it was time to face the facts. His son...was...gay. He also had to face the fact that a mere *moment* before, he had actually been *enjoying* a *bubble bath,* a decidedly un- Klingon (but more importantly, un-*masculine*) thing to do. Was he gay - too? No. It couldn't be. Could it?
Worf faced all of these thoughts that were stampeding through his head, pondering with much emotion life's little mysteries...and he did this without one *twitch* of a facial muscle.
Quietly, not making the slightest ripple in the water, Worf slid underneath the bubbles and did not re-emerge for a good long while.
***
Geordi was doing his personal best not to blink excessively after Guinan made her - erm - *stunning* exit from Ten Forward, but DAMN, was it hard. Finally, he recovered enough to say: "Wow," before remembering his *reason* for being in Ten Forward, anyway. Sighing resolutely, he let his eyes scan the rest of the room before pushing his suddenly-tired body out of its seat, and heading for the one other place a person in his condition might think to go: Sickbay.
***
Meanwhile, poor little Ensign Greenwood was on the bridge - panicking. The Captain had disappeared into his ready-room several hours before, claiming he had a 'headache,' Commander Riker had called the bridge on his commbadge not long after, mumbling something about 'happy pills,' the second officer of the ship had barely been seen for two days (something about a personal project, and taking sick time to complete it), Lieutenant Worf had just gotten off his duty shift, and was apparently having domestic troubles, nobody wanted to even *tell* him why Counselor Troi was missing, the good Doctor Crusher was swamped in Sickbay, so *she* couldn't take over on the bridge, while there was no one besides *another* Ensign in charge of Engineering. Not to *mention* the way that everyone *else* on the bridge was *very* reluctant to accept Greenwood's commands, considering that he was of the same rank, and considering their incredibly downtrodden state. All in all, it was turning out to be a very bad day for Ensign Greenwood, and things didn't appear to be looking up.
Letting out a shaky breath, our pitiable Ensign sat nervously down in the command chair, looking rather miserably up at the screen. Nothing was really happening in this sector, and for that much he was grateful. Suddenly, a chunk of - something - flew through the screen's field of vision. Greenwood watched it go past almost idly, then jumped out of his seat. "Ensign," he barked, his voice cracking (hadn't he always dreamed of command? Well, ~gulp~, now was his chance). "What was that I just saw on the screen?"
"Who cares?" replied the woman at ops, practically draped over her console.
"Yeah," seconded the guy at the helm, slumped onto his as well. "Who cares?"
"Well - well, *I* care, for one, a-and I'm sure all of the-the people on this *ship* care..." Ensign Greenwood started.
"Shut up," came from the officer at tactical, behind him. "You think you're better than us? Well, you're not." This was said tiredly, not rebelliously.
Greenwood still took it to heart, not being used to command, let alone being *critiqued* about his command styles. "Well - well -"
"Yeah, you're no better than us," drolled the woman at Science Station 2. "Who are you to boss us around?"
Poor Greenwood was still trying to get his sentence out. He turned to her and continued, "Well - well, well - well -"
"Why don't you just *scram* already? We're tired of you."
"Yeah, why don't you stop bossing us around?" There were general mumbles of assent from the rest of the remaining bridge officers.
"Well - well...if-if that's how you feel about it, th-then I guess I-I'll go."
"Meh."
"Whatever." Greenwood didn't hear this as he walked, in a daze, to the Turbolift. Once inside, with the doors closed, he curled into a fetal ball and whimpered as best he could manage.
***
(1) Chief Medical Officer
Huzzah! And there you have it, folks. Utter chaos. :D This fic is making me so happy. I have great plans for it! Well, actually, it's going to be wrapping up pretty soon, but if you give me a new idea, I might do another one like it! Yeah, that'd be cool. I really appreciate the response that I've had from this story, it's really cool the way I get more reviews for this story than for any other story that I've ever written. ::tries not to cry and fails:: I love you guys!
Now, ~ahem~, write me a few more reviews and I'll consider writing another chapter. ::big goofy grin::