Will Riker stared at the door to the captain's ready room. Open. Please open.
Troi had left over an hour ago, giving the first officer a shadowed smile as she walked up the ramp to the aft turbo-lift. The look on her face seemed to say, 'give him time.' And so, Riker had. But now he was growing nervous. It was nearing shift change, and he didn't want to leave him there, alone. Besides, Picard needed his rest.
Riker sighed, a half grin forming on his lips, the tension in his shoulders easing a bit. When did I grow so paternal? And he answered himself. When you found a family on this ship. It was a theory he'd been wrestling with for a couple of years now, his reluctance to leave the Enterprise, to accept command of another starship. What exactly were his reasons? For the past few months, the word 'family' had kept jostling around in his mind. More than crew mates, more than friends. It was an idea he was fast coming to accept, but with the acceptance came a much higher level of emotional commitment. And a commitment to relationships of any kind was not something he made frequently. At least, not where feelings were concerned. And love.
He stretched his long legs out in front of him and stood up, headed towards the ready room. Data was sitting at Ops, and he paused long enough to place a hand on the android's shoulder. "I'll be in with the captain. Take care of things."
Data looked up at him, his expression ever quizzical. But he nodded and replied, 'Yes, sir. Things will be taken care of."
Riker smiled, knowing that they would. He had complete confidence in Data to take care of the entire ship single-handedly if it were necessary.
He stepped over to the ready room door, touched his fingers -to the door chime, and stood there, waiting to hear the captain's familiar one word permission to enter. All he heard, after the faint sound of the chime, was silence. He touched the button again, the high pitched note, and then nothing. Not wanting to alarm the rest of the bridge crew, although he felt sure that Data had noticed the slight delay, and deciding that Picard was probably so wrapped up in a myriad of reports that he hadn't heard the chime, Riker activated the door and went in. He immediately noted that the captain wasn't sitting behind his desk, nor was he seated on the sofa next to the wall.
"Captain?" The only response was the whisper soft swish of the door closing behind him.
The room seemed cold, although Riker knew it should be the same regulated temperature as the bridge, and the turbo-lifts, and the corridors throughout the ship. Of course, individual rooms could be adjusted to any degree of warmth or coldness, but he'd never known the captain to change the temperature in his ready room, preferring that there be no difference between his office and the bridge.
Riker stepped further into the room, his eyes glancing toward the door that led to the food dispenser and on to the bathroom. He half expected to see Picard, a cup of Earl Grey tea in hand. But he wasn't there.
"Captain Picard?" He strode over to the door on the left wall. If he's sick, in the bathroom...unable to hear me, or answer... Various scenarios instantly ran through his mind, and Riker already had his hand on his communicator, prepared to call Sickbay if necessary. And that's when he saw him, from the corner of his eye, a blur of dark red and black uniform seated on the floor near the desk, in front of the viewport, his head leaning forward against the glass. He wasn't moving.
"Captain?" Riker said firmly, raising his voice to make sure he heard. The man's shoulders didn't even flinch in surprise. Please, god. He went over to Picard and knelt down on one knee beside him. He was breathing. Riker could hear the slightly labored sound of it, could now see the almost imperceptible movement of his back. His eyes were closed, but he wasn't sleeping.
"Sir?" Riker touched his arm, but received no acknowledgment of his presence. "Jean-Luc?" He reached up, pressing his fingers against Picard's neck, checking his pulse rate. Rapid. "Jean-Luc?" he said again, moving his hand to his captain's cheek. Cold, like ice. Piker's other hand activated his communicator. "Doctor Crusher." His voice opened a channel to Sickbay.
"Crusher here."
"Beverly, the cap-" He stopped himself, slowed down his thinking, realizing the need to be discreet. He had no way of knowing who was in proximity to the chief medical officer, who might overhear their conversation. And this was definitely a 'need-to-know' situation.
"Will?" Jean-Luc?
"Doctor, I need you to report to the ready room... And bring a med-kit." And hurry. Please, hurry.
Crusher caught the underlying concern in the first officer's tone, the urgency he was trying to conceal. She didn't ask any questions, and was half-way out of Sickbay with her kit as she replied, "I'm on my way."
~vVv~
Riker waited, for what seemed like an eternity, his eyes never leaving Picard's face. He kept one hand securely on the older man's shoulder, hoping that his touch would help pull him back from wherever he was, or at least keep him from slipping further. Picard never moved, never opened his eyes, even though Riker kept talking to him, kept reassuring him that everything would be all right, that Beverly would be there soon.
Please, Beverly, be here soon.
As if in answer to Poker's silent plea, the door hissed open and closed behind him, and he glanced back, sighing with relief at the sight of the doctor.
"Will, what is-" She stopped when she saw the two of them, her eyes focusing on Picard. Jean-Luc. No. Somehow, instinctively, she knew he wasn't injured, knew that it was something else. Something worse. She moved over to the two men slowly. "How long has he been like this?"
Riker shook his head. "I'm not sure. Deanna left him about an hour ago. I thought he needed some time alone. That's why I waited to come in here." He looked back at the captain's huddled form. "I shouldn't have," he murmured, remorse and guilt edging his voice. / shouldn't have let him go.
"It's not your fault, Will," Crusher said, stepping closer to them. "I spoke to Deanna in Sickbay after her session with him. She didn't sense this approaching. And there's no way you could have predicted it. But I should have."
Riker cut his eyes back up at her. 'You act like you know what's wrong."
She nodded. "I might. Let me get in there next to him."
Due to the angle of Picard's body in front of the viewport, it was easier to sit to the left of him, and so Riker moved back, releasing his hold on the man's shoulder. Crusher took his place, setting her medical kit on the floor beside her.
"Jean-Luc?" she whispered, her hand softly touching the back of his neck.
He didn't move.
She took a tricorder from her coat pocket, ran it over him and studied the results. She frowned slightly, then put the instrument away.
"Jean-Luc, it's Beverly." She took her other hand and cupped it under his chin. 'You're all right. You're safe." Carefully, she pushed his head away from the window, and then wedged half her body in front of his, so that she was sitting between him and the viewport. She placed her hands on his cheeks, held his face steady, her fingers reaching up, massaging his temples. "Open your eyes, Jean-Luc." She felt the facial muscles beneath her palms spasm and his lower lip trembled. She knew he was terrified, too afraid to let anything else into his mind right now. What you can't see can't hurt you. She lowered his head back to her shoulder, her hand gently stroking his hair.
Picard still didn't open his eyes, but Riker thought he saw him move, thought he saw tight, tense muscles relax, the captain's body melting into Crusher's, sagging against her. The doctor wrapped an arm around his back and held him.
"Beverly?" Riker was still kneeling on the floor, just a few feet from them. "What's wrong with
him?"
Crusher drew in a deep breath and stared at the first officer over Picard's shoulder. "After the Borg, during his recovery, he experienced several instances of post traumatic shock. Moments, sometimes hours, when he would cut himself off mentally from the world around him, retreat into his mind, find a...safer place for him to be. During those times, he was virtually unresponsive. He was awake, and yet he wasn't. Of course, when he did sleep, there were still the nightmares." Always nightmares.
Riker hesitated for a moment and stared at the man in Crusher's arms. He shook his head in confusion. "Beverly, I read all of your reports about the captain's injuries sustained during his ordeal with the Borg, both physical and mental. Why didn't I know about this...post traumatic shock?"
Crusher closed her eyes for a moment, strengthened her hold on Picard, then looked back at Riker. "Will, I didn't include everything in those reports."
Beverly-"
"It's in his personal medical files. It's not like I tried to conceal anything about his condition during that time, I just didn't include everything in the reports that were sent to the Starfleet Review Board." She sighed. 'There was no need to detail every minute of his recovery. The important thing is that he did recover. And he will this time." He will.
Riker sat back on his heels, steepled his hands in front of his face and ran them down over his beard as he exhaled deeply. "If this is post traumatic shock. Isn't there the possibility that it could be something else? Something to do with the drugs and the nerve damage you spoke of earlier?"
Crusher nodded. "It could be. Unfortunately, there's really no way of knowing for sure in a case like this. There are tests that I can run, but the results are often inconclusive. Mental and emotional shock, of any kind, regardless of the cause, affects each person differently. My only concern is that..." Her voice trailed off, and she lowered her eyes, resting her cheek against the top of Picard's head.
"What?" Riker leaned toward her. Tell me.
"The nerve damage could intensify the shock. This time it could take him longer to overcome it."
"And what if he doesn't?"
He will.
"Beverly-"
She looked up at Riker, blue eyes keen and sharp with a mixture of anger and fear. "He'll be all right, Will. Just trust me." He has to be.
He reached out and touched her hand which rested on Picard's neck. "I trust you, Beverly." And then he stood up. "I'll go out to the bridge and activate an intra-ship transport from here to Sickbay."
"No." She shook her head. "Not Sickbay. His cabin." "Didn't you say there were tests that needed to be run?"
'Yes. But I don't have to be in Sickbay to do them." She fixed a steady gaze on Riker. "Please, Will, the fewer people who know about this, the better. When it's all over, I don't want Starfleet demanding that he go through competency testing, do you? Not again." Unconsciously, she began to rock Picard gently in her arms. "Never again." Never.
Riker nodded and turned to leave the room. "I'll transport you directly to his quarters."
'Thank you," Crusher said, her voice suddenly quiet, having lost some of the hard determination. 'Tell Deanna to meet us there."
~vVv~
They materialized on the floor at the foot of Picard's bed, and as he solidified in her arms she felt his hands reach out and take hold of her waist, squeezing tightly in fear at the unexpected sensation of the transporter beam. She could feel his heart beating rapidly against her chest, almost in tandem with her own. She placed her cheek next to his and whispered into his ear. "Shh. It's all right, Jean-Luc." She began the rocking motion again, hoping the rhythm would calm him. 'You can open your eyes."
The room around them was bathed in gray shadows, and Crusher didn't call for the lights. Soft, muted tones were what he needed now, nothing bright or harsh. Her cheek felt the slight movement of his face as his eyelids fluttered open. 'That's it, Jean-Luc. You're in your own bedroom now." She drew away from him slightly, just enough to look at him without letting go.
Vacant, green eyes stared back at her.
"Hey there," she said quietly. "I knew you were listening to me." She touched her hand to his forehead, then his cheek. His face held no expression. "How do you feel?" she asked, even though she knew he wouldn't answer. And he didn't. "Let's get up off the floor, all right?" She started to pull away from him in order to stand, but desperately his arms enfolded her, and he buried his head against her shoulder.
She breathed deeply and held him for several long moments; she could feel the wet warmth of tears on her neck. She rocked him tenderly for a while longer, and then tried to stand up again. This time, he stood with her, but he didn't let go.
She pulled away from him gently and took one of his hands in hers. "I'm not going anywhere. Jean-Luc. I promise. You don't have to hold on so tight." She led him over to the side of the bed, and he followed like a sleepy child. "Now, you sit down, and I'll get you some pajamas. You'll feel better once you're in bed." Reluctantly, he sat, though his hand still grasped hers firmly. Crusher sighed. She wasn't going to get much done if he wouldn't let go of her.
Just then, she heard the sound of the door opening, and she glanced over her shoulder. She saw Deanna Troi stop in the bedroom doorway at the same time she felt Picard tighten his grip around her hand.
"Beverly, what can I do?" Troi asked, realizing that Picard's immediate needs had to be taken care of before she and Crusher could discuss the best possible treatment for him.
"I'm going to try and get him in bed; see if I can get him to sleep for a little while. Could you find his pajamas while I undress him?"
"Of course," Troi answered, crossing over to the chest of drawers on the opposite side of the bedroom.
Crusher smiled down at Picard. He was staring up at her, his eyes fastened to her face. "It's all right," she assured him as she pried his fingers from her hand. "Let's get you out of this shirt." She reached around and unzipped the back of it, drew it carefully off his shoulders and pulled his arms from the sleeves. She then removed the black T-shirt he wore underneath his uniform. And she winced at the sight of his chest and stomach, still covered with black and blue bruises, dulling in some spots to green and brown.
She'd treated the serious injuries while he'd been in Sickbay, but he'd been in such a hurry to return to duty that she'd released him before giving enough specific attention to less severe problems. They're just bruises, Beverly, not broken bones. They'll heal. His words echoed through her mind. Why did I listen to you? If I'd kept you in Sickbay a little longer, this may not have happened.
"Here." Troi stood at the end of the bed, holding a gray pajama shirt out to her.
Crusher took it, slid Picard's arms into the sleeves and fastened it across his chest. He didn't protest, and she suspected that as long as she was near him, touching him, he would do whatever she asked. She knelt down, slid his boots off his feet, then his socks. She unhooked his trousers and with a little effort, was able to get them pulled down around his hips to his thighs, and then over his knees and off. There were bruises on his legs as well, and they seemed darker in his shadowed bedroom than they had under the bright lights of Sickbay.
Troi handed her the matching pair of pajama shorts, and Crusher quickly finished dressing him, tying the shorts securely around his thin waist. "There, all done." She touched his chin and raised his face so that he was looking at her. "Now, you need a little sleep." She turned down the covers and helped him into bed. His hand had found hers again, his grip so tight that her fingers were growing numb from the pressure. But she didn't pull away. She sat on the edge of the bed next to him, her other hand stroking his cheek.
'Thanks. Deanna," she smiled up at the woman standing beside her. "I'll sit with him until he falls asleep. I don't want to sedate him right now."
Troi returned the smile, reaching out and squeezing Crusher's shoulder comfortingly. "I'll be in the other room," she said and quietly left.
Crusher watched her go, then turned her gaze back to Picard. He was lying still under the blankets, staring up at her, eyes wide. Gently, she brushed her fingers up over his forehead, rubbing his face softly. "Everything's all right, Jean-Luc. You're going to be fine. You just need a little rest." She didn't know if he understood her words, but at least he knew she was there with him.
His hand tightened even more around hers. "I'm here. I'm not going anywhere." Picard took a deep shuddering breath, and Crusher wiped the tears from around his eyes. "I'm right here, Jean-Luc. Right here."
She sat with him until he fell asleep, on the edge of the bed beside him, her hand holding his as his fingers relaxed, and his breathing slowed and steadied, growing deeper. His other hand rubbed up over his chest, over his heart, over the place where the electrode had been. He groaned.
"Shh," Crusher soothed, pulling her hand from his limp fingers.
He shifted in his sleep, one hand resting on his chest, the other curled against his neck. Crusher leaned over and kissed his cheek, then carefully got up from the bed. He stirred again, but didn't wake. With a sigh of relief, she quietly left the room.
~vVv~