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Up from Canaan
Four
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Dumbfounded, she pulled out a small cube. It rested in her palm. It seemed to shine from within – almost to glow with a soft white light.
She closed her hand in a fist and whirled around as a voice spoke from behind her. A dark woman in a large hat and a strange dress stood, hands folded at her stomach. "You can make this right, Beverly."
"What.... Who....," she stammered as she turned back to Picard, who now stood behind her.
"Doctor?" He reached out to take her arm, his face a mask of concern. She started back, alarmed. More than anything his concern was disconcerting to her. It rippled through her body and to her soul. Concern. Concern was only something seen in love. Love – it was not just worry in his eyes – there was love there too.
The small object in her hand was now very cold, and glowing very brightly. The love in his eyes affected her physically. She was almost sick with joy, but she did not know why. She was here on an errand for Jack, her husband. Jack. She tried to focus on him, but his image was..... dim. It glimmered like a mirage, just beyond the firm grasp of her memory.
There was a humming in her head, growing louder by the second. It was extremely hard to concentrate. She shook her head, red hair flying about her shoulders. It hung in disarray about her face as she stared dumbly at Picard. "No." She reached into her left pocket and pulled out the phaser she'd brought. Its weight in her hand was a comfort. She aimed it steadily at Picard's chest.
Immediately Worf bounded over the aft rail and drew his own phaser. "Drop your weapon now Doctor." His tone was menacing.
Picard stood unfazed and waved the anxious Klingon off. "Stand down Mr. Worf." As he spoke he did not break eye contact with Crusher. "Beverly, can I ask what you mean to do with that?"
"I." Doctor Crusher clenched her hands tightly around the phaser and the ice cold cube. As she trained it on Picard her hand began to shake. The humming was growing louder in her head, and her right hand ever colder. And Picard was staring at her in the most intent way.
Jean-Luc now stood very close to her. His hand held tightly to her arm. "Doctor Crusher, are you quite alright?" His hazel eyes moved back and forth over hers, searching for an answer to explain her vacant expression.
She looked back over her shoulder toward where the woman had stood. Who was she? Why was she here on the bridge of the Enterprise? But when she looked back the dark figure was gone. Only a field of stars and a soft pulsar met her gaze through the forward viewer.
"Hey. Beverly." He took her other arm and brought her about to face him fully.
She clutched the rapidly cooling cube in her hand tightly. It shone now through her fingers with the brilliance of a star. She brought it up to eye level and stared at her glowing fist in numb awe. As she did so her left arm came to rest at her side.
She dropped the phaser and touched his face gently, an innocent wonder shining in her eyes. "I. Yes. I think it's OK now, Jean-Luc."
A searing light erupted in front of her, and she looked around as her vision slowly cleared.
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Beverly stood in the Captain's darkened quarters as he lay sleeping in front of her. In one hand she held a phaser, and in the other the small cube Guinan had given her over a year ago. She began to register more of her surroundings, and as she did, she immediately dropped both objects in her hands.
The phaser was red hot, and had severely burned her hand. The cube was ice cold, and had burned the other just as badly. "Aahh." She raised her hands in front of her in awe.
Had she not been staring at them so intently, she might have noticed as a slender woman shimmered out of sight in the corner of the bedroom. But she never noticed.
Beverly stalked out of the bedroom and into the living room, headed toward the console to summon sickbay, directly past a very unhappy Anna Young. Again she had failed. The chain of events she had linked together had snapped, and could not be corrected. It was time for her to leave. She was deeply disappointed, but not angry. Such was her work. Since she could never take direct action, she was relegated to simply manipulating people and events as their paths spun out before them – pushing a choice here, altering a decision there. The game was always fair. She forced nothing on anyone, and gave everyone opportunity to escape, to alter the outcome. All players must be afforded free will. In such a game one was bound to lose on occasion – though she seldom did.
Anna crossed her hands over her chest and withdrew fully from that particular plane of existence. She had not done what she had set out to do with Beverly Crusher this time, but she was leaving with much more. Sometimes even she was surprised by a turn of events, and the child was just such a thing. What role would it play? Time would tell.
A smile flitted across her lips as she departed. Behind her, the sounds of the Ave Maria began to fill the cabin of Captain Jean-Luc Picard.
Up from Canaan
Epilogue
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Beverly sat in her cabin, tracing lazy circles on the reflective obsidian surface of her tabletop with her delicate fingers.
She had returned to the Enterprise to exorcise her demons, but had instead unleashed one even more powerful than memory. It was beyond her imagination that someone as seemingly powerful as the being Anna Young would have a vendetta against her. She had wracked her brain to think of what she might have done, how she might have crossed this woman's path. She was at a complete loss.
The fact remained that "Anna" had made two distinct attempts to kill both her and Jean-Luc. The fact also remained that they were seemingly powerless to stop her, to even know when she was about to strike. Even Guinan had been unable to offer any explanation as to the nature of this person, this mysterious being that haunted them.
So Beverly had made a decision. Her love for Jean-Luc seemed so removed now, so faded. It was the love one would feel for an estranged parent, or a long lost brother. It no longer inspired her, no longer made her feel proud, or passionate or strong. It simply made her tired, worried, and scared.
Tears began to stream down her face as she thought of her impending departure. She had lost so much in such a short time. A little more than a year ago Beverly had everything she'd wanted in the palm of her hand – a brilliant career, the love of her life, and a baby on the way. Each has disappeared before her eyes. She smiled ironically - at least she could lose nothing more. She would throw herself into her work on the Titan, seek to rebuild a purpose in her life. Arveda, Jack, Jean-Luc, Anna. How many times could she start over?
"At least one more time." Her voice was shaky. Sighing deeply she stood and walked to the view port. The dim starlight illuminated the tracks of the tears as they coursed down her pale face.
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"I remember nothing. It was as though I awoke from a long dream." Jean-Luc ran a hand over his smooth head as he paced Deanna's office. "I've lost a year of my life, two children, and the woman I love." He sank into a nearby chair and clasped his hands before him, his head down. It was Katan all over. Except this time what he lost was much more than a few minutes, and much more tangible.
Beverly had barely spoken to him since her return to the Enterprise and the strange events in his cabin. She was due to leave for Caldos again within the week, where she would regroup before taking a new assignment with Will Riker on the Titan. Anna and the child had disappeared without a trace. But she had not left quietly. He had awoken that evening to a lone cello mournfully bellowing the Ave Maria. It took him a moment, but not much longer, to recognize the last time he had heard the hymn.
Beverly recognized it as well, and had wailed in agony as she turned toward him. "NO. No. No." She sank to her knees on the thin carpet, her palms open in supplication as she did so, angry red burns marring the white skin. It was all too real to her – the last year of her life spent in mourning, and the horrifying realization that it had all been a manipulation. A manipulation and a mystery, it seemed, that would not rest.
He had seen the fear in her since that night. Fear of him, and fear of their unknown stalker. The enemy had a face now – perhaps. It was impossible to tell whether the form Anna had chosen was her true being. She had proven powerful, elusive, and persistent. Twice now she had struck, and both attempts had been very nearly fatal for both Beverly and Jean-Luc. (They did not now that these two instances were not isolated, nor the only time Anna had intervened in their lives. If they had, Picard might have given more credence to Beverly's fears).
"Does she even love me anymore?" His delivery was straightforward and stern, but the agony in his eyes belied the torture of his soul to the Counselor. Her black eyes revealed nothing but a reflection of his plight. Cruelly, Picard knew nothing of his actions on their wedding day, or the year after. He was aghast at learning of the events that had transpired and his part in them. And the awful truth was that when he had awoken that night with Beverly standing over him, he had felt just as he had when he woke the morning of his wedding, before Anna had intervened – thinking of nothing but his undying and overwhelming love for Beverly Crusher.
The once proud Doctor was now hollow, a husk of the formerly vibrant officer he had come to know and adore. The love and friendship, the life they had spent decades building had vanished, spirited away in the night and as unreachable now as the woman who haunted them.
"She will not even let me apologize." Jean-Luc had been by to see Beverly a number of times, but she would not speak to him. What Deanna could not bring herself to tell Picard was that Beverly was terribly afraid of him. She was convinced that someone, something, was fixated on him, bound to murder him by her hand.
"Captain." Deanna stood and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. He was incredibly tense, even for Jean-Luc Picard. "Give it some time." Troi had no idea if Beverly and Jean-Luc would find their way back to each other – but if they could it would not be a quick process. Beverly had been hurt, deeply, whether Picard had done it consciously or not. "Right now Beverly is lost, confused, and in a great deal of pain. She needs time to heal."
Picard turned, his features greatly aged by the shadows in his eyes. "I desire only to be the one to help her do so."
"I know." Deanna took his hands in hers. "Be patient. And have faith in her. It took a lot of courage for her to come back here and face you. There is a part of Beverly that loves you very much. Try to remember that." Her dark eyes fired with compassion.
Picard nodded, his own eyes bright with unshed tears. When he spoke his voice was thick with emotion. "Thank you Counselor - Deanna." He paused and cleared his throat. "I think I would like to be alone now."
She released his hands and smiled in reassurance before turning and quietly leaving. She did not have to imagine the despair in the heart of this great man – its presence in her mind was almost overpowering.
As the doors to the cabin closed, Picard stopped his pacing and stared out of the view port. His life lay in ruin about him, his future as seemingly empty as the expanse of space. Silently, he placed his head in his hands and began to sob.
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End
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"The very center of our union is caving in. I can't endure. I am the archive of our failure."
Sarah McLachlan – Black and White – Surfacing – www. sarahmclachlan .com
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A/N: Indeed, this is a sequel to Morning of the Magicians. Plotline clearly not resolved, so I'll let you know when the muse strikes again.
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