Snow Falling Softly II

The screams were unbearable. Shouts of unforgiving pain from the bedroom, shouts that only created more pain, an endless loop. How could a three year old shriek with such vehemence? "Save me! Save me!" Words formed in the screams only to collapse into agonized sobs. "Mama!"

Beverly Crusher awoke with a start, the screams echoing in her ears. She'd never heard them, only read the letters Nana had written, talked with Nana on the terminal as they sought the reason for Andrew's pain. All that could stop the pain at first was a medication that rendered Andrew temporarily deaf, a condition which frightened him slightly less than the pain. Medical expertise on Caldos wouldn't be able to diagnose Andrew's condition. Federation doctors would delve into Andrew's genetic history, into his birth, to find an answer. Beverly knew of just one Federation doctor she could trust in this matter. Her urgent communique to Dalen Quaice on Delos IV had been answered with equal urgency.

2358

The older man's time worn features held the concern Beverly had once found in her grandfather. "Beverly, what's wrong?" Quaice asked.

She frowned. "Dalen, I have to ask you a favor."

"Of course, there should be no problem with---."

She held up her hand. "Hear me out first. There's risks with this. I have to ask for your complete secrecy. I need your word."

Quaice knew that Beverly Crusher was a fine doctor with a solid if not unyielding grounding in ethics. Whatever she would ask, he knew it wouldn't break any morals he already held himself. "You have it."

Beverly let out a sigh of relief. "I need your help. There's a little boy my grandmother is taking care of. He's very ill and we don't know what's causing it. I suspect it's congenital, as he hasn't been sick in quite some time. There aren't any facilities for diagnosis, much less treatment, on Caldos. Nana will have to bring him to Delos IV. If you agree to help, I'll transmit you his medical file and those of his parents so you can search them."

The other doctor frowned. "I don't see what it is you feel has to be kept secret."

She spoke softly. "The boy you're treating...he's my son."

This time it was Quaice's turn to frown. "Wesley? I thought he was with you, not your grandmother. Are you afraid this illness would somehow hinder him in the future and you want it kept under wraps?"

Beverly shook her head, her eyes squeezing shut. When she opened them again, Quaice saw them vulnerable, something he'd only seen when she had had an emotionally wrenching case that had ended tragically. Her voice had become so soft that he had difficulty hearing what she said. "It's not Wesley." She paused. "Dalen, I have another son. He's three years old, his name is Andrew. He also has a twin sister, Allie."

His medical instincts kicked in first. "Is the girl ill as well?"

"No, just Andrew." She saw the curiosity under his concerned. "Dalen, I'll explain what I can when I reach Delos IV."

"You're coming as well?"

Her jaw set determinedly. "He's my son."

They made the arrangements.

Beverly sent Wesley to visit his grandparents, giving them an explanation of some particularly difficult research. On some levels, it was the truth. However, the slight deception pained her. She wanted to be honest. The doctor arrived at the colony before her grandmother and the twins, giving Beverly time to explain the situation to her mentor before confronted with the reality of a very ill child. She sat across from Quaice in his office. "Don't think less of me," she said.

He reached out and took her hand. "I would never. As soon as you've gone, this will all disappear from my mind. Everything will be off the record."

"Thank you," she said, wanting to say more, but knowing any more talking would set off her tears.

Quaice seemed to understand and said nothing more of the secret. Instead, he handed her a PADD.

"What's this?"

"I figured out what's wrong with him." He continued his explanation as she studied the results on the PADD he'd given her. "It's genetic. Shalaft's syndrome. All the males in his father's family have it, it's a very rare condition, it's no wonder Felisa couldn't figure it out. I've only treated one case in my lifetime. Lucky for us, it's harder to diagnose than to treat. Won't take me long to fix it and the boy will be up to mischief in no time."

"Thank you," she said again. Andrew would be okay. He wouldn't be in pain much longer. Soon he'd be able to hear his sister teasing him again.

Crusher and Quaice made all the necessary preparations as they waited for Nana to show up with the children. By the time the small group walked in, they were ready for the operation. Beverly, however, was not ready to see her son in his condition. Normally a fiercely independent little boy, he refused to leave his great-grandmother's side. One hand gripped Felisa's tightly, his gray eyes were large with fear. Instinctively, Beverly went to give him a comforting hug, reassure him that he would be okay. As she approached, Andrew hid behind his grandmother, closely observing Crusher, who had stopped, still kneeling.

Her own son didn't trust her. The doctor met her grandmother's gaze, a gaze echoing Beverly's own. "He's having a very hard time," Felisa said.

Allie approached her, placed her small hands on Beverly's shoulders. "He's really scared, Beverly," she said. "He won't even talk. He hasn't talked in days. Even when I tease him."

Immediately, Beverly replied, "You shouldn't be teasing your brother."

Allie's brow crinkled in the same manner as her father's when something annoyed him. "I'm only trying to get him to talk."

Felisa patted the girl on the head. "I'm sure you are, dear."

Crossing her arms, Allie switched her look from Beverly to her grandmother. Behind Felisa, Andrew smiled. As Allie and Felisa continued to give each other glares, Beverly held her hand out to Andrew. The boy stepped out from behind Nana and tentatively took her hand. She lifted him up and onto the biobed. Dr. Quaice scanned him with his tricorder. Beverly had to hold back a laugh when Andrew fixed Dalen with the same look his sister had just given her. I wish Jean-Luc could see them. I wish Jean-Luc could be here to comfort his son. Quaice raised his eyebrow at her at the change in her facial expression, yet didn't mention it. Instead, he said, "We're all set to fix this little problem now."

"And what is this 'little problem'?" Nana asked.

Beverly turned to her. "Shalaft's syndrome. Hold on." She stepped into Dalen's office and picked up the PADD. Handing it to her grandmother, she said, "It's all in there. Little ears--."

Felisa nodded, giving a small smile.

"Little ears what?" Allie asked. "Are you making fun of my ears?"

"Of course I am," Beverly replied, earning her another irritated look.

"You said for me not to tease."

"I said for you not to tease your brother. I said nothing about me teasing you."

"That's not fair."

"I didn't say it was."

Allie glared at her and looked up at her brother, glare disappearing. "Are you going to fix him? Nana said you were a doctor and could make him better, that's why we had to see you."

"Yes." She motioned towards the other doctor. "This is my friend Dr. Quaice. He taught me a lot about being a doctor and he's going to be the one fixing your brother."

Allie stuck out her hand. "Nice to meet you, Dr. Quaice."

Quaice bent down to the girl's height and shook her hand. "And I you. It isn't every day that you meet such a pretty young lady."

Allie blushed. "Please help my brother," she said.

"That, I will do."

Beverly sat with Nana and Allie in Quaice's office as he worked on Andrew. Allie demanded that Beverly explain how Quaice would fix her brother. Crusher explained as best she could to a near four year old. True to his word, the procedure went without any difficulty and didn't take long at all. When Dalen announced he was finished, the nurses moved Andrew to a recovery bed. Allie ran out to see him. "Will he be able to hear?" she asked Quaice.

"He should be."

"What about his screaming? Will it hurt him still?"

"It shouldn't. Do you want me to wake him up so you can see for yourself?"

"Yes."

As the two had talked, Beverly and Felisa had walked up behind Allie. Quaice pressed a hypospray to the base of Andrew's neck and the boy's eyes fluttered open. "How do you feel?" Nana asked.

The group was rewarded with a flashing grin from Andrew. "I can hear, Nana," he said. "And it doesn't hurt!" He made eye contact with Beverly. "Thank you," he said.

"Thank Dr. Quaice. The doctor standing next to you. He's the one who did the operation."

Andrew sat up and in a rare show of unbridled emotion, gave Quaice a hug. "Thank you."

Dalen returned the hug and ruffled the boy's hair. "My pleasure, young man. It wouldn't be nice of me to let your sister continue to say awful things about you when you couldn't hear them."

"Hey!" Allie said. "You can't tease me!"

"I didn't say anything about Dr. Quaice teasing you, either."

Allie frowned. Quaice bent to her level again. "How about I make it up to you. I'll take you and your brother for some ice cream to celebrate. How's that sound?"

The children looked over at Felisa. She waved her hand. "Fine by me." The two grinned and ran out ahead of Quaice.

Before he followed them, Dalen said, "I'll be back in an hour or so."

Beverly nodded and went back to his office. Felisa followed her. When Crusher fell into one of his chairs, her grandmother sat right next to her, taking her hand. "Harder than you thought?"

She'd known it would be hard. She knew taking a role away from her children, taking a role of a cousin instead of a mother, would be hard. But this incident had torn at her, seeing her son not seeking her out for comfort, almost afraid of her. And all his screaming, when the sounds tormented him, she'd missed it all. "I missed it all," she said out loud. "First words, first steps. Every dream and nightmare." Then her throat closed up, her grandmother took her into her arms, and held her as she cried.

2370

The chronometer alarm shook her from the memory. "Off," she said. Obediently, the alarm stopped. If only other things in life could be commanded that easily. In the lavatory, the face that stared back at her seemed a stranger. Red, puffy eyes, the dried tracks of tears, the haunted look. "I look awful," she said to no one. "Jean-Luc will ask questions." He'd want to know. She couldn't bring herself to lie anymore, all she could do was evade.

Once she was ready, she went to grab her labcoat and realized she'd left it in Jean-Luc's quarters. Normally, it wouldn't have been a problem, she'd just get it when she went for breakfast. But she had no intentions of eating breakfast with him this morning. With her stomach churning over the recent events, breakfast seemed entirely out of the question. In Sickbay, she buried herself in her working, needing the distraction. The Enterprise crew seemed happy to oblige and gave her a steady stream of injuries to tend. As she tended one wayward ensign who'd gotten overzealous in a racquetball game, she heard the reduction in normal din of Sickbay. A reduction that signaled the arrival of the ship's captain. Even the ever-imposing Worf didn't get that type of response. Beverly grimaced.

"Something wrong, Doc?" the ensign asked.

"No," she said.

"'Cause you got that look on your face--."

"Ensign," she said, warning. "Nothing is wrong."

He held up his free hand in surrender. "Okay, okay."

"Done. Next time, use your racquet instead of your wrist. Now get out of here and don't let me see you again."

The ensign did as he was told. Beverly steeled herself for the confrontation with the captain. "You forgot something," the captain said.

She turned and saw he had nothing in his hands. "And where is it?"

He lowered his voice. "I thought it might send the wrong message if I returned it in full view of everyone."

A smirk barely kept itself hidden, while her eyes glinted with humor. "Jean-Luc, you make it sound as if I left unmentionables in your quarters instead of a labcoat."

The tips of his ears turned red as his brow crinkled. "Doctor, I hardly think--."

"I know, I'm sorry," she said, interrupting him before he could wind himself up into a full-blown scolding. "Was there anything else?"

He asked to speak to her in her office. She acquiesced, but her heart trembled inside her chest. Instead of perching herself on her desk like normally would, she chose to sit in her desk chair to put some distance and a physical object between herself and the captain. She picked up a PADD and waited for him to speak. "You missed breakfast this morning," he said.

"Wasn't hungry," she replied, tapping at the PADD.

She heard him exhale a small breath. "Did you want to have dinner?"

"No. I've too much to do. Which reminds me," she looked up. "When will we arrive at Caldos?"

"Within the hour," he said, bewilderment on his face. He quickly composed his strong features. "Are you sure you're alright?"

"I'm fine." Back to her PADD.

After a moment, he'd reached out and placed his hand on hers. "Is it anything I've done? Is there anything I can do?"

She couldn't take his concern, listen to him attempt to give comfort. Beverly stood, removing her hand from underneath his, letting her frustration raise her voice. "Jean-Luc, everything isn't always about you."

Picard blinked, then got to his feet as well. "My apologies, Doctor," he threw back at her. Then he turned and left.

When the door shut behind him, Beverly threw the PADD across the room. Of course it was about him, but there wasn't a thing he could do. He'd given the same type of apology when she'd first come aboard the ship. His apologies at blocking her assignment to the ship to protect her in some way. He'd balked when she informed him that she'd requested the assignment. Barely an hour on board and already arguing with him. Then he yelled at her son on the bridge. Yet just before that...just before that when she told him who Wesley was, the look on the man's face as he said, "Your son," and seemed speechless. Nearly stuttering when he told the boy, "I knew your father."

In those instances, her mind had shouted to tell him, tell him other things he didn't know, about children he didn't know he had. Two times, she'd nearly gotten it out. Once, on Rutia Four, being held by the separatists. "Jean-Luc, there are some things I want to say...just in case we don't get out of this," and the lights had literally gone out as their rescuers found them once they'd shut off the power. She never finished and he had forgotten in the confusion of the action that followed. So she assumed. He'd never brought it up afterward. Then when Wesley had gotten her trapped in that damn warp bubble, she and him the only ones left on the ship, the only ones in the universe, it seemed. She'd gotten out, "For quite awhile now there's something I've been meaning to say to you. I may not get another chance. Jean-Luc, you and I --." And he'd disappeared, like every other person had. She didn't even know how she'd have finished her sentence. You and I, we'have children. You and I, we need to stop ignoring our past. You and I, we're the stupidest people in the universe. You and I, we need to get our heads out of our asses.

That, at least would get his attention, and his ire, at the same time. And then all the other times, when she'd nearly lost him entirely, and never even had a moment to tell him before he would've been gone. The Borg. Standing on the bridge, listening to the father of her children say, "I am Locutus of Borg. Resistance is futile. Your life as it has been is over. From this time forward, you will service...us." Realizing he would never know. Wanting to leap over and tackle Will so that he couldn't give the order to fire on the Borg vessel and at the same time, wanting to leap over to Tactical and fire on the ship herself, to protect her children from the Borg. Finding him on the Borg ship, close in proximity and miles away in reality, trapped in the world of the Borg. Back on the ship, watching as his humanity struggled to get through so he could help Data destroy the Borg. Yet once he was recovering, even with everything she helped him through, she'd not told him.

And it haunted her over and over. Him being lost with Wesley before Wes left for the Academy. Taken down on that planet by that Tamarian captain. Sent to Romulus on the covert mission to contact Ambassador Spock. The twenty minutes when he lay unconscious on the bridge, linked to an ancient probe. His capture on Celtris III. And the latest, when they had thought him dead, for weeks they had thought him dead. Standing with her friends at the memorial service, apologizing to him and her children that they'd never know their father, missing him desperately. He didn't owe her any apologies, it was she who owed him. And she couldn't offer them. Had to stay angry at him, to keep him at a distance, so he wouldn't pry.

Beverly left Sickbay without a word to her staff. So many things to do. Needed to get into her dress uniform, contact Andrew or Allie, pack to stay at the cottage, rehearse the eulogy. Standing in the turbolift, she ran through her mental checklist. The 'lift came to a stop. Jean-Luc Picard stepped in. Crusher masked a grimace.

He nodded towards her. "Doctor."

She gave an equally curt nod. "Captain."

The silence between them hit harder than any physical blow could. Picard broke it first. "Computer, halt." He turned to face the doctor.

Beverly crossed her arms. "Yes?"

He opened his mouth. Nothing came out. Picard frowned. "Do you still want us to accompany you to the funeral?"

"Yes, of course." Saying no would serve only to make them concerned for her well-being. While her friends were certainly her friends, when one wanted to be alone, and they were concerned, being alone was the last thing they'd let happen.

He nodded, as if that's all he wanted to ask and the answer made perfect sense. "Resume."

The wall fell between them, as palpable as one constructed of brick, and three times harder to break.