Part 2

"I'm really sorry, sir," mutters Wesley in embarrassment from his biobed, a blue blanket over top of the blue Sickbay gown.

Lowering himself into a chair next to the bed (likely placed there by Beverly earlier), Picard waves him off. "That's alright. The important thing is that you get better. Your mother is running tests?"

Eyes heavy and blood-shot, Wesley grimaces. "Yeah. But, this gash on my forehead won't close. She healed it with the dermal regenerator and it split open."

Leaning forward, Picard examines the laceration on Wesley's forward covered by a surgical bandage. He can tell the bleeding has subsided, but the wound had not closed, and there is bruising around the laceration, which he presumes Beverly would have healed already. "Does it hurt?"

"No, sir. But, I'm a little…drowsy and my head hurts a bit," confesses Wesley, wishing he could close his eyes and ignore the captain. He is in no condition to socialize and make pleasantries.

"Well, whatever's ailing you, I'm confident your mother will get to the bottom of it soon," says Picard optimistically. "I have to return to the Bridge. Let me know if there's anything we can do."

"Thank you, sir," replies Wesley wearily.

Standing off of the chair, Picard offers an awkward smile. "I'll drop in later and see how you're feeling. Take care."

"Bye, Captain," whispers Wesley to Picard's retreating form, relaxing into his pillow.

Jean-Luc reenters Sickbay late that evening, the emergency ward empty save for a nurse packing away some instruments. He finds Beverly at the end of the row of biobeds, hovering over Wesley's pale form in the last bed in the row. He crosses the room to join them, curious and slightly concerned that Wesley still does seem to have recuperated or made any progress in the intervening hours. Doctor Crusher's shift would have expired long ago, so he assumes she is staying in order to tend to her son.

"Wesley, you have to drink," insists Beverly in agitation, trying to shove a glass into Wesley's hands.

Grimacing, Wesley pushes the proffered glass away. "I'm not thirsty. Leave me alone. I'm not five years-old."

Huffing, Beverly blows out a long breath, obviously annoyed.

"Is this ensign not following your orders, Doctor?" Picard interjects with a teasing lilt, wanting to be unambiguous that he is not upset with Wesley as he had indicated to Beverly earlier in the day after Wesley had collapsed on the Bridge.

Rolling her eyes, Beverly turns to Picard. "Sorry, Captain. He's just fevered. He has no appetite. However, it's important that he has drinks lots of fluids."

Raising a brow to Wesley, Picard tilts his head in Beverly's direction. "Listen to your mother, Wesley."

Cheeks tinged red in embarrassment, Wesley bows his head. "Yes, sir."

Picard watches as Wesley accepts the drink, the boy appearing fatigued and withdrawn. "Doctor, do you have a moment?"

"Sir, I promise I'll listen to Mom. You don't have to…" begins Wesley, his head spinning. He had not meant to aggravate the captain, he just has no motivation to eat or drink in his current state. However, he does not want to give Captain Picard the impression that he will not follow his mother's instructions.

Putting a hand up, Picard cannot help but smile. "That's alright, Wesley. I just wanted to chat with your mother, if you don't mind."

"We'll be in my office. Call Nurse Ogawa if you need anything," Beverly says to him, squeezing her son's hand.

Picard leads them through Sickbay to the Chief Medical Officer's office, where he pauses in the doorway to allow Beverly to enter first. Beverly walks through the room and circumnavigates her desk.

"Is everything okay?" Beverly inquires, gesturing for Picard to sit in the visitor chair in front of the desk.

"That's what I was going to ask you, " announces Picard with a small smile, lowering himself into the chair. "Wesley doesn't look well."

Sliding into her chair, Beverly's expression becomes dark. "He's not. He's quite ill. I ran multiple blood tests and biopsies. He has neoplasms in his bone would be akin to the cancer we used to see all the time before a cure was found to many of the strains. His bone marrow isn't producing healthy cells. There's a massive increase in white blood cells."

"It's a…blood disease?" confirms Picard.

"Yes," confirms Beverly stoically. "I can't believe how quickly his symptoms manifested."

"The fever, fatigue?" Picard surmises.

"Yes," sighs Beverly wearily. " I can't control his temperature. He's not healing from the cut on his forehead."

"How do you treat it?" wonders Picard, getting straight to the point.

"I spoke with an old colleague at Medical," begins Beverly, resting her arms on the desk. "It's quite rare and they don't see much of this. But, the few cases he's encountered he's seen success with radiation treatment to destroy the malignant cells."

"Can you use this radiation treatment on Wesley?" asks Picard anxiously.

"I'm going to try in the morning," nods Beverly. "I'm just reviewing some of the research my colleague has sent over. It's a lot to absorb."

"Beverly…" Jean-Luc sighs lightly, concerned for his friend. He can see the pain etched behind her eyes, the blatant anxiety over her child permeating her features.

Smiling dismissively, Beverly waves him off. "Just need to get a plan in place."

"This isn't a patient, Beverly. This is your son," Jean-Luc reminds her unnecessarily.

Mustering a watery smile, Beverly stumbles to her feet. "Right now I have to be clinical."

Jean-Luc circles the desk to put a comforting hand on Beverly's shoulder. "He needs a doctor, but he also needs his mother. Get some rest. Give yourself some time to process this."

Swallowing a lump in her throat, Beverly struggles to meet his eyes. "Yeah. I just want to make him better."

Squeezing her shoulder, Jean-Luc bobs his head sympathetically. "Whatever I can do, let me know."

"Thank you," replies Beverly, fighting through exhaustion and palpable concern.

"How's his attitude?" Jean-Luc asks gently, letting his hand slide down her arm.

Shrugging, Beverly exhales audibly. "He's sleeping off and on, he's quite out of it. I told him what I found, but I didn't want to alarm him. I don't want to incite panic."

Taking her hand, Jean-Luc nods his approval. "Whatever you need, don't hesitate to ask."

Smiling graciously, Beverly squeezes his hand in response. "Thanks. I'm going to go back out there. I'm just going to take it one day at a time."