Title: Parterre Chapter Ten d – Night Terrors
Author: Psycha (psycha underscore fairy at yahoo dot co dot uk)
Series: TNG
Chapter rating: T
Codes: C, T, P, D
Chapter summary: Troi figures out the answer to their problem and ends up in sickbay for doing so. Finally it's time for bed and Beverly can dream again, but whether that's a good thing?

A/N: I know it's been a while and I sincerely apologize. I'm currently doing a fulltime internship and as it turns out I actually have a social life, leaving me with less time to write than I originally thought. I want to thank everyone for reviewing because without those reviews, this chapter might have taken even longer! There is also good news: there are two chapters left to this story and the current one is going to be the last to deal with onscreen canon.
And while I'm at it; I've found a lovely and skilled Beta who's really helped out in getting this chapter posted and in setting up coming plotlines, so do stay tuned (and send her some cookies)!

Chapter ten d: "Night Terrors"

Beverly looked up from the latest test results to see lieutenant Worf and a tired looking Betazoid enter. "I take it the plan to...," damn it, what was the plan? Something with a deflector-something… "Wasn't successful then?" Worf's sour expression was all she needed. "What happened?"

A look passed between her two crewmates, one she couldn't decipher. There was something curious about the small Betazoid leading the big Klingon into sickbay. Worf followed without growling and they were holding hands!

"Nothing, the energy released by the deflector dish wasn't enough to break us free." Deanna answered calmly as she released the Klingon's hand. "Worf isn't feeling well."

The security officer straightened to his full height and huffed, as if Troi had somehow subdued him merely by physical contact.

"Very well, let me have a look."

The tall lieutenant stepped back. A little flustered, she held her ground. Now was hardly the time to let fear take over.

Deanna remained at their sides, diligently watching over each test and result. Whatever had happened to Worf, the counselor obviously felt compelled to keep watch over him. Unfortunately, neither of them had the luxury of devoting all their time and energy to a single patient. Far too quickly for anyone's liking, Troi was called back to the Bridge by the captain. "All right big guy," Crusher said as she put her medical tricorder back in the pocket of her lab coat, "you stay here and relax. My remaining brain cells and I will go figure out what's wrong."

# # #
Unfortunately, those remaining brain cells simply weren't up to the task before them. She'd figured out the nature of the crew's symptoms, but the cause still remained a mystery. No cause meant no cure. Crusher sighed and stared at the patients scattered throughout sickbay. They needed her to help them, but she was running out of ideas and fake smiles.

"Beverly!" The call for attention jolted her fragile control, and her heart hammered in her throat, drumming in her ears. "I know what it is! I know what is happening!"

The doctor took a deep breath and slowly released it. "What?"

"My nightmare, it's not a dream, it's not a dream at all!" Why did the counselor have to speak so loudly? It wasn't helping her headache any. And since when were dreams not dreams? If only she could dream. "It's a message!"

A message? About what? A grocery list? Birthday wishes? That made no sense. Very little made sense at the moment. "We'd better talk to the captain." Hopefully he felt a little more together than she did. Deanna didn't look too good either. Perhaps the Betazoid had started to hallucinate as well?

That kind of thinking wouldn't get them anywhere, she reminded herself while following Troi through the ship. The empath did have a nice ass. She blushed. Perhaps this was an hallucination as well. Maybe it was even a dream?

Unfortunately it wasn't.

Was it? Needing some reassurance, Bev did the only sensible thing: she pinched herself.

"Ow!" That hurt! She rubbed her arm, the red left by her pinch slowly fading away.

"Are you all right?"

She nodded, not feeling well at all. Kissing Deanna would've been a much better way to figure out whether she was dreaming or not. "I'm fine."

It was clear Deanna didn't believe her, and why should she be expected to? No one felt well, except for Data. She'd seen so many crewmembers with wild, ringed eyes and shaking hands. She could hardly expect herself to be immune, but she wanted to. The loss of self-control scared her more than death did. She wouldn't mind trading places with the empath. The half-alien looked undeniably exhausted, but at least she wasn't hallucinating or shaking.

The lift smelled stuffy; perhaps the oxygen supply system had failed? There was only a skeleton crew in engineering; they could easily miss a blinking red light or two! And if the backup system failed as well... The lift was large enough to hold six people, so they had plenty of air for now.

If they became trapped however... all non-essential crew was confined to the shelter areas of the ship. No one wandered through the corridors, ready to run into a malfunctioning turbolift. The engineers could easily miss another red light! Dying in a turbolift wasn't exactly a high priority on her to-do list. Though the company could've been worse.

"Beverly?"

"Oh gods!" Deanna stood doubled over, hands clutching her throat, her beautiful face already turning a sickly blue. How did this happen so quickly? Granted they weren't in a safe area, but surely Jean-Luc would've given another warning before turning off life-support?

Deanna gagged, visibly struggling to cope with the lack of air. Betazoids had larger lungs and needed more air than humans did, but it couldn't be long before she'd start to asphyxiate as well; she had to do something quickly! She had to save Deanna!

"Computer, halt!" Her lungs too started to struggle against her ribcage, trying to suck in more precious air. She'd never felt so relieved as she did the moment the doors opened and fresh air rushed in.

She reached back to help Deanna, but found the counselor in perfect health and clearly confused. "Beverly, what's wrong?"

Timidly she glanced around the small cabin, the doors still closed and the air just fine. "Sorry." She really, really hated this. "Just a hallucination." Troi nodded, but didn't otherwise comment. "Computer, resume."

Beverly didn't dare look at the other woman. The last time she'd felt this stupid had been after her warp-bubble experience. Why did she always end up trying to save illusions?

They stood closer together now, neither of them smiling. Deanna's black eyes were compassionate without judgment or pity. She was grateful for that, all the while desperately hoping that the counselor's dreams did hold the key to their survival.

When they entered the ready room, she'd expected the entire senior staff to be there waiting for them. Instead only Data and Jean-Luc occupied the room. The absence of the others unnerved her and though she took a seat, she felt too jumpy to sit still and resorted to pacing in the background. Jean-Luc's usual composure had completely cracked, exposing an anxious and distraught old man. She'd never thought of him as old before. He tried to listen to Deanna's impassioned speech while keeping himself occupied by getting drinks from the replicator. Like her, he couldn't keep his focus long enough to understand. "REM sleep occurs at a different frequency for Betazoids than other humanoids... I believe these beings are using that frequency to communicate telepathically." Beverly figured only Data, collected, unaffected Data did. Poor Deanna.

"It is conceivable that this telepathic communication is creating an interference in the REM sleep of other species," the android's words might well be Iconian. The second she thought she might understand what he was trying to say, she'd forgotten what he said at all. "That would explain why the rest of the crew is not dreaming."

Dreaming. She wanted to dream. She really, really wanted to dream.

"Counselor... what are these -- beings -- trying to tell us?" Picard's question surprised her. Perhaps she'd misjudged his appearance after all. He did appear to be able to follow Deanna's explanation. So why couldn't she?

"They're calling for help. I think they're trapped just like we are. "Eyes in the dark"... could mean this twin star system" This time she tried even harder to listen to the counselor's words. Staring over the woman's shoulder was perhaps not the best move however, as her eyes quickly distracted the little bit of rational thought she had left. Had the neckline of Deanna's uniform always been that low?

"Your hypothesis is certainly plausible." She glanced at Data. What hypothesis? The android turned to the small monitor on the desk, trying to show them something. Already her eyes were back on Troi. Her dark curls were a mess. As if she'd just woken up after a rough night. Or an intimate one. Beverly blushed.

"It may well be that there is another ship on the other side of the fissure where we cannot detect it."

Enough talk of other ships, she just wanted to get out of this horrible world of fears and jumbled thoughts! "Is there a way we could block their signals?" Her interruption was forceful. Perhaps a little too forceful. Data and Troi stared at her as if she'd gone mad. It certainly felt like she had.

"There is no technology to block telepathic transmissions, Doctor." She hated his calm voice, reminding her too acutely of her own shortcomings.

"Maybe... communication through dreams can work both ways." Gods she hoped not! If she'd accidentally been communicating her dreams to Deanna… Beverly gulped. At least she hadn't dreamt in a while. There was the silver lining she'd been looking for. "I could try to get them to stop."

"Perhaps we can accomplish more than that. If there is another ship and we can reach then, we might be able to coordinate our efforts to free ourselves." Eying the android, she suddenly realized that this was it. Whatever Deanna had discovered, there was hope of getting free again!

"It is conceivable... when working with patients with debilitating nightmares, I have often used a therapeutic treatment known as "directed dreaming"." The focus on Jean-Luc's face almost made her laugh. He looked so intently, desperate to understand the conversation she'd already given up on. She admired that about him. He would always try, not matter how difficult the situation. She found it easier to hide behind her fears when she felt helpless. "Dreamers can learn to take control of their dreams... retain a conscious memory... even while in REM sleep. I could remember a short message and deliver it to them." Her eyes fell on the empath again. That was really what she was doing, wasn't it? Running away from her feelings because she didn't know how to act on them. If she was anything like Jean-Luc, she would at least try.

"If it were possible... what would you say... ?"

Tell her I love her, she answered the captain's question silently and the longer the silence lasted, the harder it was not to speak her thoughts out loud. Deanna looked so downtrodden, she just wanted to cheer her up, tell her things would be okay. Instead she said nothing.

"Perhaps…" Jean-Luc paused, fumbled with his collar and continued, "Data, Counselor, perhaps you can think of a, a message. Doctor, can you help the counselor get her message across?"

What message? Confused she looked at Deanna and remembered. "Yes. I can put her to sleep. Ehm, in REM sleep. I think."

"Very well, let's hope this plan will work."

With a nod Data and Deanna left the ready room, leaving her behind with Jean-Luc. Uneasy in her presence, she played with the hem of her coat. "What happened with the other plan?" She asked at least. There had been another plan, hadn't there?"

"It didn't work."

"And this one?"

He looked at her frankly, lucidly even. "It better."

# # #
Somehow, knowing that there was another ship trapped with them, Doctor Crusher felt as if she was being watched. Who knew how advanced those aliens were? On one hand they'd been able to detect the Enterprise, even make contact. On the other hand, they were still trapped, just like them. She wondered if Deanna knew anything at all about them. Surely the empath would at least have a faint impression of their neighbors?

Speaking of the devil… "We found it!"

Beverly smiled, wondering what the counselor had been looking for. "That's good."

Smile broadening, Troi suppressed a yawn. "Yes, yes it is." They stared at each other.

"What did you find?"

She could tell by the look on Deanna's face that her question was hardly a surprise. Apparently she hid her messed-up mind even worse than she'd thought. "Hydrogen."

"Water?"

There was a nod and a smile that eased her embarrassment a little. "Yes. We'll shoot it out in space and the aliens will make it explode."

"That can't be good." Explosions were never good. They destroyed, injured, killed. A hand on her arm halted her thoughts. She looked into black eyes.

"It'll be okay Beverly. We'll be free." Free was good. Did she look as terrible as Deanna? She chuckled, aware that she probably looked even worse. "The captain asked for another dose of stimulant."

The doctor shook her head. "No, he really shouldn't."

"It's his ship, Beverly. He wants to stay awake." That was understandable, though as a physician she had to note the risk of injecting Jean-Luc with more drugs still. "You should go to your quarters, your last dose must be almost ineffective now. I'll ask Selar to set me up."

What was it with this running assumption that her colleague was somehow better equipped than she was to deal with the situation? Selar may be a Vulcan, but she was the chief of medicine and more than that; Deanna was her friend – or something. "I've taken another dose, it'll tide me over."

There was a hint of reproach in Deanna's dulled eyes, but the counselor smiled with relief. "All right. Give me five minutes to prepare and I'll be with you."

Be with me? "Oh… okay." She'd thought that working as closely with Deanna as she had the last three weeks would quickly provide her with reasons not to follow her feelings for the other woman. Instead, she found her worries slowly fading away. In spite of a few questionable hallucinations and her own wandering thoughts, their cooperation had been professional, pleasant and easygoing.

She watched Troi take a seat next to the catatonic Betazoid, feeling like somewhat of a voyeur, but unable to look away. She was beautiful. Beverly sighed, too tired to worry about the conflicting emotions inside her.

She was still watching when Deanna pushed back her chair and looked in her direction. Blushing, Beverly quickly glanced away, not turning back until spoken to. "I'm ready."

With a nod, she gestured towards the nearest biobed and ignored the sexy smile playing around the empath's pale lips. Tucking back a wayward strand of hair, Beverly pulled what little concentration she had left together to explain how she would keep watch over her friend. "I can help keep you in REM sleep for a while with this cortical stimulator. It will keep the electrical activity in your brain at the proper frequencies."

Deanna lay down, and Beverly attached the electrodes to the woman's temples with trembling hands. She was about to say something, anything, to chase away the threads of fear in Dea's eyes, when a commbadge interrupted the silence. While rubbing her temples to ease the stinging headache, she tried to focus on the message.

"Counselor. You will have to communicate with the other ship within two minutes of entering REM sleep."

Deanna's eyes widened, sharing Crusher's disbelief. "Two minutes? Is that really all, Data?"

Data's disembodied voice was bereft of emotion, yet she thought she detected a hint of worry among the even tenor tones. "Unfortunately, yes. We have only enough power to emit a hydrogen stream for that period of time. They must understand that they have to detonate it immediately."

"Are you alright Beverly?"

"I'm fine," she lied. The headache could apparently no longer be appeased with the impromptu head massages. With the amount of stimulants in her body, painkillers could have severe side effects and so she was stuck trying to keep up with the goings-on around her through a haze of pain.

She could tell the counselor didn't believe her, but it hardly mattered. Either Deanna was going to be successful and get a message through to the aliens, or they would all die. The high pitch signal to announce a ship wide communiqué really didn't help either her anxiety or headache.

"This is Acting Captain Data. All personnel will report to designated shelter areas immediately. Life support systems will continue only in emergency shelter areas."

So Jean-Luc was too far-gone to hold the reigns. She knew instinctively that she wasn't far behind herself. "Here it goes," she muttered, waiting for Troi to nod her consent before activating the cortical stimulator. It took only twenty seconds for the empath to drift off to sleep. Unable to help herself, she observed her friend. The lines on her usually flawless face were hard to miss, but she nonetheless found herself enthralled by the woman, her headache fading to a low drum.

With a shake of her head she forced her thoughts back to the medical tricorder in her hands. She had to keep a close watch on Troi's readouts to make sure the counselor was entering REM sleep. Still, her eyes kept drifting back to Deanna's face. Now is not the time Howard. With difficulty she focused enough to read the tiny, dancing lines of information on her screen. To keep up with the continuous feed, she read it out loud to herself. How could it be this hard to concentrate? "PGO signals steady... visual cortex is showing increased activity... rapid eye movements commencing..."

Beneath closed lids Deanna's eyes moved quickly from side to side. She was definitely in REM sleep, but would she be able to convey the message? Somehow, Beverly doubted it. Directed dreaming was a long shot and the added stress probably didn't help Troi much. She sighed. At least they were trying something. Now if only the aliens understood…

"Damn."

Even if Deanna was successful, it wouldn't matter much if she didn't tell Data to activate the hydrogen beam. Her hand missed when she reached for her communicator, but thankfully she got it on the second attempt. "Crusher to Bridge. She's in REM sleep."

"Thank you, Doctor." She nodded to no one in particular and took a deep breath, before settling in the chair next to the biobed. She was content to watch Troi while the fate of the ship was decided. There was nothing else for her to do.

# # #
Beverly woke up suddenly and found herself laying half across Deanna's stomach. Below her, the ship trembled and lurched. It took a few seconds for her mind to catch up, but they were moving! Actually moving for the first time in almost three weeks. It meant… it must mean… what did it mean?

Glancing up at Troi's face the events of the past weeks came crashing back to her. Deanna must have succeeded in getting the message across! They were free! Quickly she disconnected the electrodes attached to Troi's temples. With bated breath she then waited for the counselor to wake up.

It had been a few minutes since she'd disengaged the cortical stimulator, and rationally speaking, it wouldn't surprise her if Troi didn't wake up for a while yet. Like the rest of them, the empath was exhausted. Still, she'd feel better if Deanna would verbally confirm she was all right. The medical scans said she was, but telepathic contact – especially with an unknown species – could be hazardous in unexpected and hard to detect ways.

Thankfully, Deanna seemed to sense her distress and those beautiful eyes slowly opened. "Hey."

She smiled with relief. "Hey. How are you?"

The answer didn't come straight away. Instead, Deanna seemed to read something invisible in a way that reminded her of Data running a self-diagnostic. "I'm fine," Deanna answered a few seconds later. "We're free, aren't we?"

"Yes." She wanted to say something else, but was interrupted by the high-pitched drawl of the communication system.

"This is Acting Captain Data. We have broken free of the Rift and are underway to Starbase 221. I recommend that all personnel return to their quarters and sleep. Data out."

"He's right," Beverly concluded. Everyone had suffered, but now it was time to start healing as quickly as possible. She ordered the remaining two nurses to bed while Deanna checked in on Hagan. It was unlikely that the catatonic Betazoid would spontaneously recover now that the aliens had left. The man had likely sustained lasting trauma and a quick recovery was highly doubtful. By the pensive look on Deanna's face, she could tell the counselor had come to the same conclusion. She offered a small smile and briefly touched her friend's shoulder in an attempt to offer support.

Troi matched her smile with an equally wan one. "Time for bed."

"Yes," Beverly agreed, "yes it is."