"So how is Counselor Troi doing these days, Commander?"
Geordi is bouncing on the balls of his feet, watching as a crew that is not his own begins to gut his beautiful relay systems; he is trying very hard to distract himself from the desire to intervene.
"Uh, yeah, she's doing okay, glad to be home for a few days I guess, Betazed is beautiful this time of year,"
Will responds distractedly, still thinking of Deanna, still worrying about being so far from her; the Captain had told him that he might make a visit himself, as well as Beverly, if they happened to get the free time.
Data, who is standing curiously at Laforge's side, turns his amber eyes on the Commander.
"It is my understanding, Commander Riker, that Betazed is exceptionally visually pleasing at every point of it's calender cycle?"
He asks, only a semi-question, looking for another reference to add to his database, the next time somebody mentions this particular planet. Geordi just laughs at his friend.
"Correct as always Mr Data, it's a very unique place to be, those that attempt to compare it to Earth are only deluding themselves,"
Will says, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back against an unused wall panel.
"I heard the whole place was silent, seems a little too creepy if you ask me,"
Geordi adds, scratching at his nose beneath the visor and turning away from where a group of engineers have given in to impatience and have just begun pulling at the dead cables with their bare hands.
"This is also true, Geordi, however your determination of the phenomenon as 'creepy' confuses me. How can an abstract concept such as creepiness apply to a situation which is defined only by its lack of abstract applications?"
Data queries once more, altering his vocal output to compensate for the sudden sound of drilling behind him.
Riker and Laforge exchange confused glances, a little bewildered even, and Will smiles, confounded, motions that he will be the one to answer.
"That might be a question better answered by Deanna herself, Data, I'm not sure either Geordi or I are the people to ask,"
He nods placidly, his eyes replicating a movement of memory, when really the android is simply sorting this piece of information away in his databanks for a later date, as he seems to have been doing a lot lately.
"I will ask the Counselor when I visit her home tomorrow, perhaps I will be able to observe this creepiness myself when I am there,"
Will nods along, then does a double take, as does Geordi, who seems to be a step ahead of himself and is already opening his mouth in question, one hand raised in a kind of halt.
"Wait a minute Data, you're going to Betazed, tomorrow, to Deanna's house?"
He questions slowly, as if talking with a child, and Data simply inclines his head to the left side, mimicking a motion of confusion he had picked up from the engineer himself.
"Of course - when I requested permission to access the planetary data banks I was informed that the wealth of historical data had not been converted from the original written works, and that the Fifth House was the keeper of this Library,"
Data pauses when he notices the looks he is receiving from the other two officers, and he tries for a few moments to identify them before giving in, and continuing.
"As the current occupant, I requested permission from Counselor Troi to study the books in her family's possession, in order to learn more of classical Betazoid history, and she extended an invitation for me to spend the afternoon with her at her home, claiming she would 'enjoy the company'."
He finishes by accenting the direct quote and flitting his gaze between Riker and Geordi, confused as to why they are speechless still, his explanation making a terrible amount of sense.
"Well...it's good to hear she'll be with…a friend,"
Will starts, scratching where he is still failing to grow a beard on the point of his chin, as he glances over at Laforge, looking for a change of topic.
"I do worry about her being alone, so far away from Beverly,"
He finishes, and Data nods, satisfied, but it seems that Geordi has thought of something more to discuss, his eyebrows wiggling his suggestion.
"Oh yeah, that's right Commander, you and Troi have been unusually close lately, it must be strange to be apart for so long?"
Immediately, Will puts on a mock defensive, one of his hands laying flat over his chest in shock.
"I'm sure I have no idea what you're talking about, lieutenant,"
"Yeah!?"
Geordi scoffs in disbelief, turns to Data in hopes of getting some kind of statistic to back up his theory, but the android remains suspiciously silent.
"Well I think you two are good for eachother, and it's great to see that she's got you lookin' out for her, what with the pregnancy and all,"
He says hopelessly, decidedly not going to be getting any gossip out of either of them, and so instead he just settles on the sentiment, sure in himself, at least, that his conspiracy is entirely correct
Will smiles genuinely, and pats Laforge on the shoulder in thanks, a certain twinkle of something in his eyes, a gentle rise of temperature in the skin of his cheeks.
Geordi smiles back - oh yeah, entirely correct.
Beverly's arrival is clumsy, obtrusive and loud, her mind appearing on the planet's surface like a beacon, a great beacon of anxiety that splits the harmony clean in half. And though the whole population is not a collective mind, not some kind of balanced utopia as some may think, her appearance is enough to disturb the continent, if only for a second.
Deanna senses her immediately, and she opens her eyes to watch as the woman turns to face the house, and squints through the low sun as she walks towards it, impressed and intimidated at the same time.
As she gets closer it is possible to see that the woman carries with her a shoulder bag, long handled and slung over one side of her body, dipping where something heavy sits in the middle; she is not wearing her uniform, but rather a linen shirt tucked into the high waistband of a pair of khaki pants.
The door chimes, and as she stands Deanna instructs Merea to remain where she is, dozing curled up on the floor where it is warmest above a heating pipe.
She pulls on the gilded door handle and opens one half of the double doors, watches as Beverly's expression changes to one of joy upon seeing her, and she motions for her to step inside, out of the drizzle.
"This house is beautiful Deanna, the two of you go together well,"
She comments, her voice genuine and soft, glancing Deanna up and down as she takes in the sight of her, small and dressed in a relaxed gown which flows down to her feet, all the grandeur of the Fifth House encompassed with simplicity in its charming daughter.
"Thank you Beverly, I was not sure I'd be seeing you today?"
The two women walk through to the front room, Deanna leading them as she speaks, and instead of climbing back onto the couch, she offers the space to Beverly and sits herself in the tall backed armchair, this time facing away from the bayed windows.
Beverly sits, drops her bag to the floor at her feet and regards the place with awe, looking up and around herself at the books all over the walls.
"Uh, yeah,"
She starts after a long pause, distracted, then shakes her head and tries to focus on Deanna's face.
"Captain Picard offered me the afternoon off, I thought I'd come and share a late lunch with you, maybe take a walk?"
Beverly plays the handle of the bag between her fingers, sitting on the very edge of the sofa and appearing to be a little nervous - even if she wasn't an empath, Deanna would know she is lying.
"He asked you to come and check on me, didn't he?"
Suspicion in her voice, her eyes narrowed, she is not even really asking a question, and she feels immediately a certain sense of shame within the doctor, but it is not enough that she is indignant, and that really is a good thing - she's had enough of raised voices in this house.
"You caught me,"
Beverly says apologetically, dropping the strap and holding her hands up, guilty. She smiles, inclines her head, relaxing a little into the cushions.
Deanna is completely at ease.
"So what's in the bag?"
Her slender fingers motion to the black mass on the floor, and again there is a spike of some feeling Deanna cannot accurately identify, it disappears so quickly, and Beverly raises one guilty eyebrow as she speaks.
"My...med kit…"
"I see,"
Deanna nods pensively, untucks her legs and moves to sit also on the edge of her seat; she glances one hand past the swell of her stomach, still small and hidden behind the flowing fabric of her dress. Crusher takes the signal, bends down to unzip the bag and pull out her tricorder, as well as a case of hypo sprays, all pre-filled in shades of amber and gold.
She is scanned briefly, as Beverly moves to kneel before her, and then administer further supplements than the one she received this morning, before having it explained to her exactly why that is necessary.
Deanna is only half listening.
From there they move to the kitchen, and she feels Crushers expression fall at the thought of having to cook, and she laughs before directing her to the replicator, where she creates something native to Betazed, hoping it will make Deanna more likely to eat it.
They trade conversation over plates of food, sitting on the stools at the kitchen island, Beverly occasionally prompting Deanna to continue to eat, even when she insists she would rather not.
If the concern were not so palpable, it might be that she would not comply - but she does.
"So what where you hoping to see?"
Deanna queries over a forkful of red leaves and dressing, hoping to distract her attention. It is a question Beverly is unprepared for.
"I hadn't really thought about it, I guess - whatever you think I should?"
There is a moment of thought, until the answer comes to Deanna like a glorious light bulb, something which she had wanted to do alone anyway, and now thinks she can share her delight of.
"I think I may have the perfect idea,"
The water is shining the reflection of a disappearing sun, and all the trees surrounding them are lit up by small, glowing insects that flitter through the canopy, the whole scene like something from a Shakespearean dream.
The sky is beginning to burn up in shades of pink all around the edges, and in the middle where she can barely see it, the stars are starting to appear against a stark purple backdrop - she could explain it using science, but maybe magic will suffice.
Deanna is just a head and shoulders in amongst a deep stream of dark crystal water, not transparent but stark and clean. She calls out to her.
"Beverly, the water is warm, just come in,"
Despite having had it explained to her that the river runs down from hot springs, and all the rocks in the streams above have baked long enough in the low sun that the water is essentially perfect, there is that ever present human fear of the cold that continues to pull Beverly back.
That and the fact that Deanna is naked.
"Fine! I'm coming, I'm coming,"
Beverly responds, exasperated, her own body covered up in a black swimsuit she had replicated, respecting the traditions of the Betazoid people, but not sharing in the comfort of it. She had even raised a few medical objections on Deanna's behalf, but she couldn't refute the purity of the water when tested by her equipment, and so she fast found herself watching as the younger woman simply stepped out of her dress, and left it at the shoreline. That, and Deanna did make an excellent argument on the basis of her pregnancy, though she did not linger in it, only suggested that the growing pressure on her back would be alleviated by the water - and at that, Beverly had given in.
The water is warm, and thick feeling, but not heavy, and it takes her a few moments to wade out to where Deanna is, dipping her head down beneath the surface and then appearing again just a moment before she is pulled out.
"I wish you would quit doing that!"
Beverly complains, taking a hold of one of the Counselors shoulders as she reaches her, and she does a double take, trying not to linger too long over the feel of the bones jutting there.
Deanna's face is shining, clean of makeup and dripping water from her chin, her nose, the ends of her eyelashes; she reflects so much of the light around her, breathing open mouthed and smiling softly - she is home.
"I have been coming down here since I was very young, whenever my Father was on leave, he made sure I was a very strong swimmer,"
Deanna dips back beneath again, languidly, coming back up with hair plastered against her face before pushing it back and putting her own hand on Beverly's shoulder.
"You need to stop worrying for a little while,"
And in one moment, Beverly is underwater too, the girls hands with surprising strength pulling her down, and it is almost like being in outer space, floating untethered when she is let go.
All the matter around her is liquid and flowing, but doing so gently, and calmly enough that she could be flying in space, all the water dark and flecked with white creatures like those in the canopy, tiny and glowing like stars.
They resurface in a rush of air, and Beverly blinks away the water from eyes, though it does not sting, turns with amazement to where Deanna rises with her. She is smiling goofily, 20 years younger than she really is, not even really a person anymore, not a mother or a Doctor, she is just a child delighted by this hidden world she has discovered.
Taking a deep breath, she turns her gaze upon Deanna, and demands.
"Again,"
She is in space - only not.
And she's really inside her own mind, except her eyes are open.
Beneath the water, she is wherever she needs to be.
So for the moment, she is in space, floating without herself.
She has no body, no hands that she can see out in front of her, there is not hair in her eyes nor breath in her lungs - she is free. The Enterprise hangs like a pendulum before her, and she is moving without thought towards it, hoping for something that she may not find.
Somebody else's intentions are raging in all the blood she doesn't have.
Suddenly, she is inside the ship, moving so quickly through the sleeping rooms that she cannot concentrate on the faces she sees, frantic, until she sees her own. There is a decision to who she has possessed, and then, the thought is gone.
Her own body sucks in a breath, and lapses once again beneath the water.
There are federation credits scattered across a blue opulent rug, thick and made simply from a plastic that means nothing much at all. A bowl of gold-pressed latinum chips is upturned beneath the table. Her own voice, garbled by water and memory, shrieking a calmness she forgets.
"At least I was worth -"
The sky is much darker than before - she takes another breath.
Grass fills her nostrils, the smell so pungent, so littered by flecks of ocean spray, that she can be nowhere but the shoreline of Earth, of San Francisco. Her body is much stronger than she remembers, and she has not yet known what a man can choose to do to hurt her. Her uniform is too tight, and a boy whistles behind her, saying something that is garbled, but speaks of puppy love, and a relationship that will end the moment she boards a ship. She turns from the ocean and pecks him on the cheek, his name and face unimportant, but for the taste of a love that is skinny.
Beverly ceases to exist at her side; she breathes less deeply than before.
Will's quarters on the Enterprise, only a week before she became pregnant, and the smell of rose perfume and sex that lingers in all the air. He looks at her from the bedroom, but he has no eyes, and there are spiders crawling across his whole body - naked. She has no idea what she's there for, and from behind him, a woman croons. Fingers close around his shoulder, but the woman has no face.
Hands are covering her own shoulders, but she is beneath the water again before even a breath can enter her.
"We never made it official,"
A man's voice fills her ears, and she does not need to see him to know it is Will. She's in space, asleep, feeling something she wants to have forgotten. He is speaking, but not to her, and she can feel him because she is terrified of the thought of being alone. Maybe if he were not alone himself, but there is a woman with him. Ecstasy that is not her own takes possession of her.
A final breath, shallow and painful, before she is floating again in outer space.
And this time, she is nowhere but where they want her to be, in seconds that draw themselves out into years. A baby kicks, and then grows fast into a young child, an adult, a gravestone with Will at its side. The man laughs, his voice garbled mania.
"At least now I am free of you,"
A figure is hanging off his arm, tall and lithe and faceless - she reeks of rose perfume.
A whole host of fabricated images become of her, the moments of domesticity they shared condensed into a timeline, each second image one of him and this woman, her shape always changing.
The phantom of him says he loves her, but the water shows her what he wants more truly than a life doomed with her. She hears her voice, imploring him - we are the stuff of legends - but she still is not enough for him.
She feels that she is sinking into the creatures, and the danger of them overcomes her; her mind sucked into a maelstrom of the things she cannot admit, secret even to herself.
Arms that are less real than anything she now knows, reach to pull her from the depths.
If Beverly wasn't so enchanted by the whole experience, then maybe she would have noticed sooner how Deanna has begun to fade. She is slowly beginning to take longer to resurface, and at first it was as though she just wanted to spend longer amongst the wonder found beneath, but soon it is evident that something is wrong.
And it is not violent, or scary, or really anything dramatic at all when Beverly finally sees, only as quiet as the whispering continents, the ocean as it drifts into land.
"Deanna?"
The girls arms are no longer pushing in circles around her, holding herself up, and so Beverly loops her own beneath her shoulder blades and guides her upwards gently, observing the fluttering of Deanna's dripping eyelashes.
"I think it's time to go back inside now,"
Beverly affirms, turning upwards to see how the sky is no longer on fire, and all the stars that were once beneath the water are now scattered above them, like a handful of glitter thrown over a deep indigo canvas - like magic.
She pulls Deanna with her towards the edge of the pool of water, wading backwards until there are smooth pebbles once again beneath their feet, and she is capable of standing on her own. Beverly leaves her in the shallows, reaches for a towel on the banks of the blue grass then walks back over to where she is, holding the towel up so that she can step straight into, wrapping it around her smaller body with care.
They walk arm in arm back up along the banks, and Beverly is immensely glad they are not far from the house, not sure exactly how long Deanna's legs will be able to hold her up.
But of course, this is not normal.
And the world around them has just begun to pick up with life, as the evening takes a hold, and all the wildlife desires to be heard at last, desires to hear each other and all the separate sounds of the night.
Inside the house it is quiet, as they reach it from the end of a winding dirt path, the way lit up by rocks which have become luminescent in the radiation of the sun - a whole other planet entirely.
Deanna's breathing is shallow and fast, but she does not shiver the slight chill in the air, instead she allows herself to be steered into the back room, drops down heavily on one of the more worn sofas, plush and the colour of soft slate.
The Doctor scarcely knows what to do, and she herself is shivering slightly, a fact not unnoticed by Deanna, who moves, bends around to push a button on the underside of the coffee table, and the fireplace in front of them ignites in one sudden roar of flames; green and yellow, burning away at the log of a native tree.
The woman moves, disappears into the kitchen where she had left her bag slung over one of the stools, and then appears once more, pulling out a fresh change of clothes for herself. The walk had almost completely dried her, and the swimsuit fabric is engineered to dry quickly anyway, so she just steps into a looser pair of pants, and then pulls a plain t-shirt over her head, trying not to fuss too much over herself.
"I'll get you some water,"
Beverly offers, and only then does she notice how they two had been silent, until her voice breaks it clean in half, and she moves into the kitchen once more, searching through the cupboards with as little tact as she has, for a glass, a mug, anything resembling something she might recognise.
There are short, tumbler-like rounds of blown glass, embossed with a certain kind of seel, and stained in 100 different shades of red, and Beverly stops looking when she finds them, fills one with fresh water from the running tap beside the oven, and returns to Deanna's side.
Another thought occurs to her - the replicator - but it is too late now.
She leaves the glass on the low table, fumbles to retrieve the tricorder from her bag, but for the first moment, Deanna's voice rises to stop her.
"Please - don't...I'm fine, really,"
Beverly does not want to listen, she is finally slipping into the assured role of a doctor, and Deanna is trying so desperately to pull her back.
"I am just tired,"
She motions Beverly to sit beside her on the sofa, the rest of her body still and frozen, the towel tucked up beneath her arms and making her look so much larger than she is, asides from the two exposed bony shoulders that rise harshly with her shallow breathing.
"This has happened before then?"
Beverly states, and Deanna is not an easy woman to read, but she thinks maybe now she is coming close to seeing how she hides, moving a hand to rest atop the girls thigh and meeting her eyes in the fireglow.
She nods, and Beverly is sure now of all the things that are being kept from her, kept out of her power, of her control, and maybe that's a good thing, maybe there's nothing she could do to change any of it, maybe she is being saved from herself.
But doesn't she have the right to make that decision too?
"You should have told me,"
Deanna turns completely towards her, eyes brimming up with sleepy tears, and the sting of holding them open for too long above the water - she dips her head to one side.
"What could you have done?"
She starts, sighing the voice she wishes to not have, wanting the delight of her home in it's silence all to herself - and that ought not be too much to ask.
"You could have turned all my blood artificial, and it would not have altered a single thing,"
Deanna finishes sadly, though there is very little inflection to her voice: she is, at once, filled up with emotions, and full of nothing at all.
There is a frank honesty Beverly had not prepared for.
"You could have at least given me the benefit of trying,"
She sighs, knowing anyway that Deanna is right, and there really is no point arguing much further.
The situation has brought them both to this point, powerless to stop something they can't understand - powerless to even slow it down.
Crusher shakes her head, shakes away all the thoughts she can't control, shakes the wet hair from around her eyes so that she can really start to see, and not be lost still in amongst the world of stars at the bottom of the garden.
"Let me get you a change of clothes,"
She offers, and as quickly as she had sat herself down she is standing again, taking her hand away from Deanna and endeavouring to navigate back through the house towards the front door, the place where she had passed two other bags on the way in. The first is Will's, and upset stops her from raising her eyebrows at the fact he has brought so much along, so she simply moves over to Deanna's, filled instead with none of the luxury she has come to expect.
There are sweatshirts that aren't hers, and track pants that she has never run in, perhaps all the things she cannot find in her own wardrobe in the House she grew up in, all the things that may as well just make this another of Will's bags.
Beverly returns with just a set of starfleet academy sweats, understanding too well that she needn't bother even bringing any underwear, and if the sun weren't setting so early in the evening, then perhaps the clothes themselves wouldn't be necessary either.
Betazoids.
"I can help you get dressed if you want?"
She offers, returning to the back room, but before she can say much more, or move much further, she is stopped in her tracks by Deanna, standing on two unsteady legs in front of the fireplace, the towel at her feet in a pool of swimming fabric.
"Oh,"
The sound escapes Beverly's mouth before she can even really stop it, because even though she is a doctor, there are some sights that would stun saints into silence, there is always something more than one has seen before.
Deanna's body is not skeletal, but it is close, and as she faces into the flames it is possible to see all the bumps along her spine, the ribs that flank it on either side, and the blades of her shoulders where they slice out from her skin.
"Thank you Beverly,"
She whispers, turning around to warm her back, revealing herself completely, in a way that is not clinical, nor sexual, and Beverly might finally be beginning to understanding the comfort of Betazoids.
She unfreezes her body and steps closer to the girl, tries not to think medically about the condition of her body, or the way the skin at her stomach is stretched tightly already, and a calm rash is beginning to spread from one side to the other, still much smaller than it will get.
Deanna holds her arms up over her head, placidly, when she is motioned to do so, and like a mother Beverly rolls the jumper up and pulls it gently over her head, then down and round her body, doing her best not to linger at the hot skin of her belly.
Then, as she sways, Deanna rests her hands on the Doctors shoulders, where she kneels slightly to offer the rolled legs of the pants to her. She steps in one leg at a time, awkwardly, pushing down on Beverly's shoulders, trying desperately to maintain some kind of balance, and failing.
As she pulls the waistband up over the girls hips, Deanna begins to sway so dramatically that she tips forwards, and has to be caught by Beverly who rises fluidly to grab her beneath the arms.
"Come on, Dee, come and sit,"
Beverly ushers her to the sofa once again, lowers her down with care, ignores the itching in her hands for the tricorder, and reluctantly sits down beside her, taking the cushion from her own back and offering it to her.
"I'm sorry,"
Deanna offers meekly, and Beverly takes her hand in one of her own larger ones, rubs the back of it softly, a motion her grandmother had done for her, to make her feel safe.
"Don't be, we've had fun haven't we?"
Deanna just snorts a half laugh, some sort of derision hidden within it, but perhaps too far removed to mean anything at all, and she is just tired.
"You can sleep if you want to, I'll stay here until Will is off duty,"
Beverly's offer is met by two watery black orbs, large and dilated, hiding behind two drifting eyelids. Their owner just smiles softly, drained, and takes a hold of the pillow she was offered then tucks it in behind her head, sliding down into the sofa cushions with her legs tucked up beneath her.
Deanna needs no further invitation, no further prompting, and this in and of itself is indicative of a problem - that she would not resist the notion of her incapacity, her incapability - is enough to show anyone that she is not okay.
