Beverly finished the padd she was reading and set it down on her desk with a sigh. Only four more reports to review. If only I could concentrate on them… She began to reach for another and stopped abruptly. Her hands were shaking and a lightheaded feeling washed over her, leaving a slightly wobbly sensation in its wake.
Lacing her fingers together she released a long, unsteady sigh and sat back in her chair, forcing herself to take one deep and calming breath, then another, and another. The reaction was setting in now – both physical and emotional. She didn't usually feel so traumatized even after handling the most difficult and demanding of medical crises, but this had been no ordinary calamity.
He's fine, she reminded herself for the umpteenth time. He's perfectly fine.
He's fine.
Twenty minutes ago Jean-Luc hadn't been fine. He'd been laying on a biobed dying – dead – the bioregulator for his mechanical heart irreparably fused after having taken a direct blast with a terrion beam during a routine diplomatic mission to Lenaria. What sort of security did they have down there, anyway? she wondered irritably. And what had Worf been doing? He was supposed to protect the captain at all times. So much for having a Klingon warrior by your side.
She glanced up, scowling, as the sickbay door slid open to reveal the shapely figure of Deanna Troi. Beverly bit her lip and looked away. The empath was the last person on the ship she wanted to see right now.
"Hello, Beverly," her friend greeted her informally, a sure sign the Betazoid wanted to talk about what had just transpired. Or rather, her feelings about what had just transpired.
I'm not ready. Not yet.
She quickly slid her still trembling hands onto her lap, out of Deanna's line of sight as the counselor settled into one of the chairs facing the desk.
"I heard about what happened. Is the captain all right?"
Beverly lifted her gaze to Deanna's and nodded politely. "Yes." He is now. "He's been treated and released back to general duty."
One of Deanna's shapely eyebrows rose. "Released?" She frowned. "I thought he had been shot at point blank range."
"He had." Beverly felt the color drain from her face as she recalled staring down at the vivid scorch mark on his chest, her tricorder readings showing no respiration and no pulse as she and her team fought to stabilize his condition – a desperate, losing effort that couldn't have lasted more than a few moments but had felt like years. He's fine, she sternly reminded herself. "But Q fixed it all."
"So I understand. Still, it must have been a harrowing experience for you."
Harrowing. Yes, that was exactly what it had been. And Deanna obviously knew it.
Beverly clenched her jaw, annoyed at herself for not keeping her thoughts under better control. Normally she was better at concealing her emotions than this. She shrugged, hoping it looked natural. "Unfortunately, it wouldn't have been the first time I lost a patient." Or the first time I lost someone I – care about.
For this hadn't been just any patient. This had been Jean-Luc. He'd nearly died under her hands and only the whim of a capricious child with god-like powers had brought him back.
She hoped that Q never discovered how grateful she was feeling towards him right now.
Because she knew if she had lost Jean-Luc like that – on her biobed, in her sickbay – although she would have done her best to carry on, honoring his memory by continuing her work as he would want her to do, practicing medicine would never again have brought her any joy.
She shuddered, her eyes slipping closed as she tried to banish the thought.
"Beverly?" she heard Deanna say in a voice colored with concern.
She forced her eyes open, forced her mind to focus on the here and now. He's fine.
"Doctor Crusher?" Nurse Ogawa poked her head around the door. She glanced apologetically at Troi and said to Beverly, "You asked me to let you know when Ensign Slovich regained consciousness. He's just starting to come around now."
Saved by Ensign Slovich, Beverly thought, unable to disguise her relief. "Thanks, Alyssa," she replied. "I'll be right there." She quickly rose and rounded her desk.
Deanna rose as well, disappointment written clearly on her face.
"I'm sorry, Deanna," Beverly said as the two women exited her office together. She dipped her hand into the pocket of her lab coat for her tricorder. "I have to get back to work. Not all of my patients from the Lenaria mission were as lucky as Jean-Luc."
The counselor nodded reluctantly. "Very well. But I'll see you later, all right?"
Beverly nodded absently, her mind already turning to her patient as Deanna departed. But as she crossed the room she couldn't help glancing towards the biobed in the center, now standing empty and unused. There was no sign of the frantic activity that had taken place around it such a short time ago. The medical team had moved on. Life has moved on.
It was a soothing thought.
The reaction she had experienced in her office was fading now, she was feeling stronger, more composed. More alive, even.
Beverly squared her shoulders and strode to Ensign Slovich's bedside, ready to begin her scans. Deanna didn't need to worry about her. He had survived – they had survived. Jean-Luc was fine.
And as long as he was fine, so was she.
#
