Beverly Crusher was in her private quarters when the message came through for her. It was from Earth, from Starfleet Academy. But the face that appeared on the screen surprised her; it was not her son Wesley, as she'd expected. "Katherine!" she exclaimed. "How nice to see you."
Katherine Pulaski's expression was not friendly, nor was it unfriendly; Crusher had a difficult time interpreting it. "Beverly, I'm afraid this isn't a social call," the other doctor began. "I have some bad news..."
No! Crusher screamed in her mind. Not two such messages in less than six months! It isn't fair! But while her mind was panicking, her voice remained steady. "What's wrong?" she asked. "It's Wes, isn't it."
Pulaski nodded grimly, although her expression remained carefully neutral. That was it, Crusher suddenly, irrelevantly, realized. The other doctor looked totally neutral. "He's in the Academy Sickbay, under observation. He's in stable condition, and I really have no reason to keep him there now," Pulaski continued reassuringly. "We're just running a few tests." A pause. "I'd really rather discuss this with you in person; I think it's imperative that you return to Earth as quickly as possible."
Return to Earth? Crusher brushed that aside, concentrating instead on the Starfleet Academy CMO's other words. "Can't you at least tell me what's wrong?" she demanded. "Has there been another accident?" She could feel her heart skipping in her chest.
"Nothing like that," Pulaski hastened to assure her. "Wesley collapsed in his Xenobotany class yesterday and was taken to Sickbay. He appears to be fine today, but as I said, we're still running a few tests to determine the cause of the collapse. I'd like to tell you it's due to stress," she added, "but somehow I don't think it's that simple. How soon can you arrive?"
Crusher frowned distractedly. "I'm not really sure, I have to speak to Captain Picard, make my arrangements-can I contact you in a bit with my ETA?"
Dr. Pulaski nodded understandingly. "Certainly. Pulaski out." Her image vanished abruptly from the screen as Crusher headed for the door to her quarters. Jean-Luc was off-duty, she knew; a check with the computer confirmed that he was in his quarters. It was a good thing they were near Starbase 11; she could arrange transport back to Earth with no problem. Keeping her mind focused on the travel arrangements she would have to make, Crusher rushed out of her quarters and down the hall.
Wesley Crusher was bored. Bored and frustrated. He tried arguing with Dr. Pulaski one more time. "Look," he said in his most reasonable tone, "you've already told me I'm all right. Why can't I go back to my classes?"
"In the first place, I did not say you were 'all right'," she corrected him. "I merely said you appeared to be in good shape. For now," she added sharply as he opened his mouth to protest once again. "Until we finish the testing and your mother arrives-"
"Mom's coming here? Why?" Wesley interrupted angrily. He sat up straighter on the diagnostic bed to glare at Dr. Pulaski. "It was probably stress, you said so yourself! Why get Mom involved?"
"That was before we ran some more tests; now, I'm not so certain it was only stress," the doctor replied in a level tone. "In spite of the fact that you are a prime candidate for stress-related illness due to...certain recent events in your life, you simply don't have the right temperament for it." Her voice softened. "Wesley Crusher is not a quitter; he's a fighter. I know that, even if you don't. You might push yourself too hard, but quite frankly, you're showing no other signs of stress-related illness. Besides," she concluded with a smile to soften the harshness of her words, "I am the doctor, and you are the patient. I have not decided that you are fit to return to your classes, and you will therefore remain here until I say otherwise. Is that understood?" She waited for his reluctant nod before rising from her seat beside his bed. "Good. Now behave, cooperate with the nurses, and I might get you out of here in a few days. Deal?
Wesley nodded once again, still reluctantly, then leaned back against the headboard. "But I don't have to like it," he mumbled as she turned to leave. The doctor paused on the threshold, glanced back at him with a raised eyebrow, then left without saying anything.
Wesley blew an exasperated sigh as the door finally shut behind Dr. Pulaski, then slammed a fist into the bed. It wasn't fair; he had already lost a year through his own stupidity, and now this collapse was holding him back even more. Although he could monitor his courses from Sickbay and keep up on his homework, it was impossible to take the labs and flight training he needed from this stupid bed.
Mom being called back to Earth was the last straw. There was no reason for her to come here, at least until the tests were completed. What if Dr. Pulaski was wrong, what if it was just stress? She'd just told him it wasn't impossible. Then Mom would have left the Enterprise and rushed to Earth for nothing. It was bad enough that she'd had to come last time-her and Captain Picard.
At least the captain wasn't coming this time. Wesley was still somewhat mad at him. Not as mad as he had been, but not completely over it. Not yet, anyway. Maybe he'd never be over it. He sighed again, sliding even lower on his bed, until the pillow was under his head instead of his back. He stared at the ceiling. Then again, he decided reluctantly, he couldn't blame the captain for the rest of his life. After all, that whole mess was really his own fault. He, Wesley Crusher, was accountable for his own actions. Not Captain Picard, not his mother, not his friends. Just Wesley Crusher. If nothing else, that entire incident-and, much as he hated to admit it, Captain Picard-taught him that much. It had just taken him a while to figure it all out.
Wesley glanced over at the monitor they'd set up by his bed. Time to hit the screen once again. If he kept up with everything else, he could still make up the labs during the summer hiatus.
Dr. Pulaski looked up in annoyance from the report she was laboring over. Someone was knocking on her door. "Who is it?" she demanded irritably.
The door opened, and her assistant stuck her head in timidly. "Sir, there's someone here to see you-"
"Who?" Pulaski demanded in some exasperation. Elisa Buckley had only been her assistant for two weeks, and the half-Andorian girl's whispery voice and timid personality were about to drive the older woman insane.
The door opened wider, and Elisa's pale blue face and wispy blonde hair were replaced by the familiar form of Dr. Beverly Crusher. "My shuttle arrived a little ahead of schedule; I know our appointment was for tomorrow morning," the tall redhead offered apologetically, "but I really felt that I should see you as soon as possible."
Pulaski rose to her feet and reached forward to shake Crusher's hand as her colleague continued into the room. With her other hand, she waved an irritable dismissal at Elisa, who was hovering anxiously by the door. A relieved expression flickered across the young woman's face, and she shut the door behind her with alacrity. "I'm pleased you were able to arrive early," Pulaski told Crusher. She indicated one of the seats in front of her desk, and the two sat down. "Beverly, I'll get right to the point. We ran a complete genetic scan on your son after his collapse, and we've discovered that Wesley has Ilar's Syndrome. Are you familiar with it?"
"Ilar's Syndrome is a genetic disorder that attacks the central nervous system," Crusher replied with an uneasy frown. "Initial symptoms include headaches, dizziness and occasional nausea. All of which are easily mistaken for symptoms of stress as well as other, lesser illness," she finished automatically, as if quoting from a textbook.
Pulaski nodded. "Which is why it wasn't diagnosed right away. It wasn't until the beginning of the second stage and Wesley's blackout that we began to suspect there was something more to it than simple stress. I'm sure you also know that it's passed exclusively from the male line and has a tendency to skip generations." She paused. "Beverly, there is no record of Jack Crusher's family having this disease, and he is the father of record; I looked. Would you care to explain that to me?"
Crusher stared down at her tightly clenched fists while her mind tried numbly to deal with the information Pulaski had just given her-and the question she had just asked. "Does it have any bearing on Wesley's treatment?" she finally asked in guarded tones, knowing while she asked what the answer would be.
Pulaski raised an eyebrow. "That all depends," she responded sarcastically, "on whether you want the boy to recover or not. In case you don't remember, this particular disease can only be cured by transfusion and cellular replacement, and the blood and cells must be from a genetically related donor from the side of the family that carries the disease. Preferably the father," she added pointedly.
The Enterprise's CMO sighed deeply. What Pulaski was asking for was a secret buried so long in Beverly's heart that she'd almost forgotten it. A secret known by no one else, and one she'd vowed never to reveal. But her son's life was at stake; she would simply have to face the repercussions as they arose. "All right," she said numbly, "To confirm what you obviously already suspect, Jack Crusher was not Wesley's natural father." Pulaski nodded encouragement as Crusher swallowed painfully. Now came the hard part..."Look up Jean-Luc Picard's genetic files." She stopped there, gnawing her lower lip nervously, waiting for some kind of reaction from the other woman.
It wasn't long in coming. "Want to tell me about it?" was all Dr. Pulaski asked in a carefully neutral voice.
Crusher sighed again. It all seemed so long ago; the fight with Jack and the one night spent deliberately getting Jean-Luc-the only other man she'd felt something more than friendship for-drunk enough to proposition her-and herself drunk enough to accept. He hadn't even known the identity of the woman he'd spent those few, passionate hours with, a fact which she'd been grateful for at the time but regretted now. It would make all of this that much more of a shock.
She'd slipped away before he woke up, almost physically ill with her shame at betraying Jack and using Jean-Luc as part of that betrayal, no matter that she'd applied for a temporary separation, no matter that she was angry enough with him to force him into that agreement. Jean-Luc had never said anything to her, although she caught him looking at her once or twice with a puzzled expression in his eyes, as if he were trying to remember something...
She'd never told Jack about that night, even after they reconciled, too ashamed of herself and her behavior...especially once she discovered her pregnancy. Frantic nights spent worrying while both men were off in deep space on a mission did nothing for her health; when she collapsed during a final exam at medical school, the truth finally came out. Or at least, the part of the truth she was willing to give; that she was pregnant.
Once that news was out, she could no longer avoid telling Jack. He'd been ecstatic, and Crusher found herself compounding one lie-or at least, the withholding of the truth-with another. She knew darn well it was just as likely to be Picard's child as it was to be her husband's, had even contemplated aborting the pregnancy and not telling Jack about it. But her little stunt during finals precluded that possibility; either she had the abortion and told Jack exactly why, or she kept the baby and never told him of her fears.
As the story came tumbling out, Crusher felt something akin to relief at finally telling someone the truth. She refused to think beyond the moment, although in the back of her mind she knew that more people than Katherine Pulaski would have to be told-at least two more people.
"You never checked to confirm the identity of Wesley's father?" Pulaski asked disbelievingly when the other doctor finally fell silent.
Crusher shook her head, a shamed expression haunting her eyes. "I was afraid to," she confessed. "I didn't want anyone else to know that I had doubts, so I never had any tests performed. I couldn't perform them myself, not without letting someone know why I needed access to the equipment. Besides, I would have had to tell the two of them and I just couldn't bring myself to do it. The odds were in my favor-"
Pulaski threw her hands up in an exasperated gesture. "I cannot believe I'm hearing this," she said sharply. "In this day and age-no wonder there wasn't a full genetic work-up on Wesley! I assumed it was merely lost in the shuffle, from moving around so much. Lord knows, it's happened before. But you never had one performed, did you?" she asked accusatively.
Crusher hunched miserably in her chair, feeling like an errant child being punished by the headmistress. "No," she responded in a small voice. She stood up and walked to the far wall in an abrupt, angry movement. "I'm not saying it was the smartest thing I've ever done, Doctor." Guilt and self-loathing colored her words. "I made a huge mistake, and now Wesley is paying for it. Don't you think I realize that?" She turned to look at the other woman, her eyes flashing as she hugged herself defensively. "Don't you think I realize that?" she repeated brokenly. She turned away again, but not before Dr. Pulaski saw the tears streaming down the other woman's cheeks. Crusher's shoulders shook as she gave in to the agonizing sobs that racked her body.
Pulaski stood up and walked from behind her desk. She'd been accused of having a poor bedside manner in the past, and apparently it hadn't improved. But dammit, she had to be sure that Crusher realized the danger in which she'd placed her son by not getting him a complete genetic work-up. Well, apparently she did realize it. Time to calm her down.
"Beverly, I'm sorry," Pulaski said gently, taking the other woman by the arm and steering her back to the chair she'd just vacated. She handed her a tissue. Crusher's sobs were subsiding somewhat, but tears were still falling from her eyes. "I didn't call you all the way back to Earth just to throw accusations in your face." She smiled wryly. "They don't usually let me be the one to give people bad news; I guess my sympathy gene is just the tiniest bit recessive." There, that won a small smile. "We've caught this early enough that it should respond to treatment with no problems. The only hitch I foresee," she continued, taking her seat once more, "is breaking the news to the two of them. I always recommend family counseling when an illness this serious strikes, but I think in this case I may make it mandatory."
Another small smile. "That might be a good idea," Crusher conceded. She wiped her eyes once again and discreetly blew her nose. When she was finished, she squared her shoulders and looked back at the other doctor. "Who do you recommend I tell first?"
"Picard," Pulaski replied promptly. "He has to get over here as quickly as possible so we can begin treatment. I'll send the request out right away. Whether you tell Wesley together or separately, I'll leave up to you. I think you'd be the best judge of how well-or poorly-he'll take it." She rose to her feet and moved toward the door, bringing Crusher along with her. "Why don't I take care of the administrative details, and you go get settled. I haven't told Wesley that you've arrived yet, and I won't tell him until you've had a chance to talk to Jean-Luc. All right?"
Crusher nodded gratefully, thankful that Pulaski was willing to take charge for the moment. Later, she knew, she'd be better able to handle things, but for now, she felt completely drained. A good night's sleep was definitely called for.
If she could manage it.
"I'm here, Doctor, although I must admit I'm puzzled as to why you felt my presence was necessary," Picard said to Pulaski as they stepped into her office the next afternoon. Getting him to come to Earth had been difficult, especially without a good explanation, but she'd managed to bully him into it. "Would you care to give me a few more details now?"
Pulaski shook her head. "No, I would not. But Dr. Crusher would. I'm allowing you two the use of my office as neutral territory." She continued before he could comment on that intriguing-and somewhat alarming-statement. "I know you've just arrived, but I feel this matter really can't wait-and so does Beverly." She touched a button on her desk. "Pulaski to Crusher. He's here, and he's all yours." She smiled, a secretive smile, and walked toward the door, gesturing at one of the chairs facing her desk. "Have a seat, Captain; she'll be here in a moment. If you'll excuse me, I have a few patients to see." She left the room.
Picard looked around with a bemused expression. This entire situation was damned peculiar. At least this time it was purely a medical matter-or so Katherine had assured him when she asked him to come to the Academy. What exactly that medical matter was, he still had no idea. Hopefully Beverly could clear things up for him, whenever she arrived...ah, the door was opening. He rose to his feet. "Dr. Crusher. Would you care to explain what the devil is going on here?" he demanded as soon as the door closed behind her.
She hesitated on the threshold, biting her lower lip in an uncharacteristically nervous gesture. Still gnawing on the lip, she moved away from the door, nodding slightly in response to his question. "There's no easy way to tell you," she finally replied, moving to sit in the empty chair next to his. He sat as well, giving her his full attention. She looked down at her tightly clasped hands, then back up at him. Taking a deep breath, she plunged in. "Wesley has Ilar's Syndrome."
Picard frowned. "It's a fairly uncommon genetic disorder, but hardly fatal nowadays," he said cautiously. "I can certainly understand why you had to come to Earth, but why am I here?" Then, as something occurred to him: "I know there are no surviving members of Jack's immediate family on Earth, but weren't there cousins? Do you need help in locating them for the transfusions?"
Crusher closed her eyes and sighed softly, bringing the fingers of one hand up to massage her temple. The hand moved to brush a wayward strand of hair out of her eyes, then returned to its original position on her lap. She bit her lip again, then opened her eyes and looked at Picard, her gaze not quite meeting his. He found that slightly disturbing. "No one in Jack's family has Ilar's Syndrome," she stated softly, dropping her gaze to her hands as she waited for his reaction.
His eyebrows arched toward his non-existent hairline. "Beverly," he said cautiously, "what are you trying to tell me?"
"That Jack was not Wesley's biological father," she replied. It wasn't any easier saying those words the second time, but evasiveness was out of the question; she'd tried that once too often in the past, and look where it had landed her.
"I see." Picard leaned back slowly in his chair, looking down at his hands. They'd clenched themselves into fists, he noticed dimly, deliberately loosening them before looking back over at the woman next to him. "Do you require assistance in locating Wesley's father?" he asked, his voice stiff and formal and trying hard not to sound disapproving.
Crusher shook her head, an abrupt, negative motion. "Jean-Luc," she said quietly, "do you remember the Halloween party Pat Fitzgerald gave before the Stargazer went on that mission to Eridani XII?"
A smile tugged briefly at Picard's lips at the memory. "Barely. I don't recall when I've had so much to drink-and no synthehol, then." He frowned. "If I'm not mistaken, that was when you and Jack had separated," he said slowly, suspiciously.
Crusher nodded. "We reconciled a few days later. About nine months after that, Wes was born."
Picard nodded again, although he wore an abstracted expression. "You and Jack weren't at that party," he said. "Everyone knew you were having problems, so we assumed that was why you weren't there." He frowned again. All of this was leading up to something, and he had a feeling he didn't really want to know what it was. Something about that party and the few too many drinks he'd had, a sort of heady feeling of giddy irresponsibility...
Crusher crossed her arms defensively. "Oh, I was there all right. You just didn't recognize me." She raised an eyebrow. "Remember the `mysterious black-haired woman' you took home that night?"
Picard's eyes widened incredulously. "Beverly, are you saying that we-that you and I-?" He couldn't finish, but she was nodding confirmation of that impossibility, running agitated fingers through her hair before rising to pace along the length of the office.
"I've tried twice to tell you about it," she admitted painfully. "Once when we were held hostage-do you remember, I said I had something to tell you?" He nodded, still unable to speak. "The second time was when I was stuck in that warp bubble Wesley accidentally created, when I thought everyone around me was simply vanishing and I was the only person who remembered them. You and I were the last two left. I tried to tell you about it then, but you disappeared before I could say anything."
"But why? Why did it happen?" Picard asked in bewilderment. "And why me? Why didn't you tell me?"
"I don't think you realize how angry I was with Jack," Crusher confessed. "All I could think was that I'd made the biggest mistake of my life when I married him. I wanted to hurt him, the way he'd hurt me-" Oops. She'd given away more than she meant to with that sentence, more than enough for Picard to come up with some conclusions. Better to tell him the entire story, than leave him wondering. "Jack said it was all a misunderstanding," she began wearily...
A/N: Here is my first and so far only take on two subjects: What if Picard was Wesley's father, and what in the world was Beverly always about to tell Picard before they were interrupted? Yes, it's not very logical and I can drive a space ship through the plot holes, but what the heck. It's old, I was young, put your own excuse here. There are two more parts coming up before the story's all told. R&R if you like!