Summary: The story of "Chain of Command" as told from Dr. Crusher's POV.
Disclaimer: Paramount owns it, I have fun with it. I promise I won't make any money off of it!
Author's Note: Hey all. Thanks to everyone who's reading, and especially to my reviewers, NekoMiko625 and "It's me" for the words of encouragement/advice. As per request, I tried to add some Alyssa Ogawa into this chapter and the next. She IS an important part of Bev's work and I don't know why I forgot about her...
anyways, without any more rambling...
From the Inside, Out
Chapter Ten
We are beamed into the transporter room. I'm breathing deeply...but not loudly enough for anyone to hear the change. Trying to calm myself. I'm ready for this. I'm a doctor. I'm the doctor of this ship and my captain needs me and I can do this. Calm. Professional now. It's my fault he's like this, I need to fix it.
We step off the transporter pad, Jean-Luc still trying to seem strong. Chest out, head up. He looks sturdier than me right now. But I know what's inside, Jean. I see the fatigue in his eyes...there at the very corners where they droop ever so slightly. What have they done to you?
In the room: a medical team standing inthe corner. I know that they want to come help, standing on their toes, ready to burst into action. Young and eager...young...but Alyssa, at the front of the group is silently shaking her head, no. Thank goodness for you, Alyssa. In spite of my harsh demeanor this past week, she's been wonderfully supportive. She still knows exactly what I need, which, right now, is to help Jean on my own.
Breifly, I make eye contact with her, giving her a tired smileto express my gratitude. She just nods her head, solemn, straight-faced.Aside from Dee, Alyssahas been the greatest witness of my pain and guilt over the past week.She's never blamed me for whathappened, even when I blamed myself...
The medical team stands ready with a hover bed...in case...in case...but oh, I know Jean-Luc Picard would never use it. Too much pride. Can't show weakness...all that crap. All the crap that never allows me to treat him properly...or hold him in sickbay for longer than a day. Ha, Captains make the worst patients. Jean-Luc, you certainly prove that one to be true.
Holding Jean's arm we walk together towards the door. I think he would shake me off if he didn't need me...I think. Or would he? Am I being annoying? Am I hovering? Oh hell. I'm a doctor. He needs help and damn his pride. Shut up Bev. You're the professional and he's your patient. You are in charge...whether he likes it or not.
How is his breathing? Not as laboured as I would have expected. He's hiding the physical strain very well. But I can feel his skin, moist with effort. Discretely, I touch his wrist with my free hand...his pulse is very accelerated...just from walking. Oh Jean-Luc.
As we are exiting, I look back into the transporter room and catch a flash of yellow. Worf...his security team was standing by. I wonder...what does he think of me now? Have I redeemed myself? I'm good at my Job. Jean-Luc is in my arms; Mr. Worf can think whatever he damn well-
Oh.
Jean stumbles. Grabs my shoulder with his free hand. His muscles are strained. He's overwhelmed. He's malnourished. He's sleep-deprived. He can't do this. "Jean-Luc" I say softly "We can transport to sickbay if you want."
I see him looking forward, almost ignoring me. I follow his gaze. Two ensigns from engineering have seen him stumble. Now see him as fragile. Jean will never stand for this. Damn your childish pride, Picard.
Has he heard a word I've said to him? "Jean-Luc," I repeat, "Do you want-"
"-Yes" he whispers, cutting me off. He seems aggravated, but I know it's not with me. He hates his weakness.
"Crusher to transporter room, two to beam directly to the captain's room in sickbay."