Note: Here it will start becoming evident that this is quite a departure from Sub Rosa. There are similarities of course, but much is altered. Also, for anyone fearing this may lean too supernatural, I hope you'll stick around and give it a chance. It is very much still sci-fi, with a sprinkling of supernatural, rather than the other way around.

As Deanna beamed back to the Enterprise, she tried to wave off the perplexing experiences of the afternoon. The two women had slowly made their way back to Felisa Howard's - now Beverly's- cottage. Try as she might, Troi couldn't entirely explain the wave of - well, whatever that had been - she'd been hit with in the cemetery. It simply wasn't possible that it had come from Beverly. Therefore, she reasoned, it had to have emanated from another source. The question, then, was who? Who - or what - could possibly radiate that amount of tangible, albeit invisible, energy?

Beverly had asked her if she'd noticed the handsome man with the longish hair and the camellia. She had not, nor did she think it entirely strange that a mourner would leave a beloved flower atop a casket. Especially in a decidedly ancient style of funeral. But Beverly had seemed bothered by his presence, and so, in turn, Deanna was bothered. The Doctor may not be empathic, but there was no one's intuition she trusted more, except perhaps Guinan's. Over the course of their 7 years serving together aboard the Enterprise, there'd been a scattering of moments. Moments in which something had indeed, been very wrong, and Beverly had been the first, or only, crew member to be affected, or to sense that something, whether it be time or reality or the emotional energy of the ship, had been altered.

And then there'd been the strange issue of Kesprytt. The Doctor and Captain had been implanted with thought-scanning devices, with the intent that their minds would easily give up Federation plans. They'd proved difficult to safely remove. Despite the medical team working endlessly, they weren't able to fully formulate a safe plan for surgery. Will, without the Captain or CMO's knowledge or permission, had consulted with the Prytt, insisting that, should they desire to remain free from outside influence, they would assist in the implant removal. The surgeon responsible for the initial surgery successfully collaborated with Dr. Selar, and within hours, both senior staff members were resting, comfortably sedated, and free of mind-altering devices. Before beaming the Prytt neurosurgeon back to his home, he'd stopped for a moment, seeming to search for words. Deanna had asked if there was something he needed, or wanted, to say.

It's nothing. He'd said, turning and stepping onto the transporter platform. Only….you're Betazoid, yes?

I am. My father was human, but, yes.

He'd narrowed his eyes. Those implants were supposed to align themselves to their psi-wave patterns, transmitting their thoughts directly to our computers.

Yes, Dr. Crusher explained as much.

He shook his head. But they never did. We never received any information even though the implants were shown to be functioning properly.

And? Deanna had begun to feel irritation.

Your people, instead, experienced a telepathic link.

Yes, I sensed as much in Sickbay.

No, but that isn't possible. The devices don't allow for person to person transmission, and even if they did, it would be merely words, not entire thoughts, emotions, imagery. He stopped in thought again, looking at the floor and then he'd looked back up to Troi. The Doctor….you'd have told me before the surgery if she was Betazoid too. It would have been necessary knowledge because of the different brain chemistry.

Dr. Crusher is not Betazoid, I can assure you.

He'd sighed. He hadn't believed her. And at the time she'd dismissed it as inferior medical knowledge compared to their own. Yes, they'd developed the technology and were the ones who knew how to safely remove it, but that did not mean they had fully explored it or knew every facet of how it might work - especially when human brains were not identical to Kesprytt brains.

But now that conversation had highlighted itself in her memories.

She'd sat with Beverly for an hour or so at the cottage, listening to stories about her friend's grandmother and the woman who'd raised her. She'd learned Beverly remembered her mother better than she'd guessed; that the Howards were somewhat of an anomaly in Earth culture, as a matriarchal line stretching back a millennia; that she and her Nana had been two of only a handful of survivors of the Arvada Disaster.

When a chill swept through the room and the sky outside began to darken, she'd learned her friend was quite capable of starting a fire the old-fashioned way.

But Deanna Troi had not learned what was going on or indeed if something even was. Nor did she have enough clarity on the situation to fully make heads or tails of it. And she certainly didn't have anything to discuss with anyone else.

She did know, however, that something was off. She just didn't know what it was.

Or where it was coming from.

Beverly hadn't wanted to be left alone, but then again, she had. Grief was funny that way. Everything is wrong and nothing is right. One moment you almost forget, the next you're incapacitated with the pain.

She stoked the fire with the poker even though it didn't need it. It seemed to be burning just fine. Raging along with her feelings, she supposed. Grabbing the afghan from the back of her grandmother's chair she took a moment to bring the rough wool to her face. It was itchy and rough, but she inhaled the scent of the only family she'd had left. The tears threatened to flow again, but she managed to halt them for the time being.

She didn't know how much longer she'd be staying here on Caldos, and she refused to allow the haven her grandmother had created here to be tarnished with nothing but grief being flung about. So she sighed, picked up a stack of journals and trudged up the narrow staircase.

Beverly-

The voice was muffled, but she'd definitely heard her name.

At first she thought she was on Arvada, but the denseness of the trees told her otherwise. Looking around her in every direction, she was unable to find any orientation. Nevertheless, her bare feet took her onward, toward the voice.

She continued on for what felt to be an eternity before seeing a figure ahead of her.

It was her Nana. She gasped and willed her feet to carry her faster. When she had closed the distance between them, she threw herself into her grandmother's arms.

'Nana! But I thought that, they told me you were gone.'

"I am Little One.'

'I-I don't understand.'

'Listen, Beverly, we haven't much time-'

'Much time for what, Nana?'

Felisa looked behind her as if she was expecting them to be interrupted at any moment. But it was only the two of them in the forest.

'It's time to remember Beverly.'

'Remember what?'

'You forgot and I allowed it. I allowed it because you were hurting so. You hated yourself so.'

'Arvada?'

Felisa shook her head.

'More than Arvada, Child.'

She froze suddenly, looking over her granddaughter's shoulder. Her eyes widened as footsteps sounded through the trees.

'We have to go now. He's coming for you Beverly.'

She gripped Beverly's chin so firmly it brought pain.

'Now Remember.'

Gasping for breath she couldn't find, Beverly sat straight up in bed, her hands flying to her chest in relief as air poured into her lungs. Momentarily disoriented, she thought she was in her quarters on the Enterprise, but the dimly lit room reminded her she'd fallen asleep on her grandmother's bed when the sun had still been high in the sky.

She wondered if she needed to go back to the ship. Perhaps all the solitude was only encouraging a sort of isolated grief. Grief. That was a valid explanation for her dreams of late. Dreaming of a recently deceased loved one is entirely normal, she reminded herself. It was also completely within parameters for them to deliver cryptic messages in the form of a warning, she added internally. 'Yes, entirely fine." She said aloud.

Collecting the scattered journals along with herself, she stood, stretching her limbs out, and sighed.

"Remember what, Nana?"

Frowning, she grabbed the afghan from the bed, draping it over her free arm, the other picking up the journals.

"Pull yourself together, Bev. They're only dreams."

She left the room, leaving the light on, when something caught her attention.

She felt it, before she heard it -

A knock at the door.

Reviews are most welcome and they really do keep me going!