I don't know when Deanna left. I don't know when I fell asleep, but now I wake up for the third time today and it all hits me. I turn my torso in revulsion remembering what she told me, remembering the face of that poor, scared little girl.
Sickbay's lights are dimmed for the evening. I can hear some of the night staff chatting outside my room. They're talking about what they saw on the planet. I don't want to listen – I have enough memories of it.
Not moments later, I hear the doors hiss open, "Good evening, Captain," I hear Ensign Jacobs say. It's not that I don't want to see him. I just don't want to see anyone. I feel guilty and frustrated, crippled and bitter.
"Go away, Jean Luc." I say as he enters my room. It's rude of me, I know. He's just trying to be a good friend, but right now I just want to be left alone to wallow in the remorse that I feel for taking that young woman's life.
"Beverly," he keeps his voice low as he ignores my request. My back is turned – I don't want to look at him. He continues, "Deanna, told you."
Tears come again, "yes".
He doesn't bother to comfort me like Deanna did. He doesn't trouble with meaningless platitudes or trite expressions of sympathy. He just sits here next to my bed as I cry. I'm grateful for that at least. After some time, "I know you're going to say no but I've been asked by Selar to pressure you into eating."
I turn to him, my face covered in tears, my eyes red and my face blotchy. "I'm not hungry."
He smiles, "I know. But, you have to. Doctor's orders."
"I can't move my arms too well."
"I'll help you," he replies tenderly.
"I don't want your help, Jean Luc. I don't want anyone's help."
He's not offended, "stop it, Beverly. I know it's glib to say, but it's not your fault what happened to that girl. Stop blaming yourself and grow up."
"How dare you!" Now I'm angry. How dare he come in any chastise me when I'm hurting?
"Get out, Jean Luc!"
"I'm not leaving, Beverly. You can intimidate everyone else, but you're not going to make me leave. You're not going to start shutting everyone out!" I feel his gaze on me. Our eyes are fixed a death lock. He drops his shoulders, "it's been a long day, Beverly. We all want you to get better, but you have to eat something or they're going to put the feeding tube in and I know you don't want that."
My shoulders drop in defeat and I give up, "fine". The truth is that I've had enough loss of control. Having Selar put in a feeding tube would be humiliating and I've already been catheterized.
Jean Luc leaves briefly and comes back in with a covered plate, "I've replicated one of our favourites, quiche Lorainne."
"Sounds fine." At this point I don't care, I'm only eating to appease the powers that be.
Like a practiced pro, he reaches behind my bed and puts the bed into a semi vertical position. Then he reaches and drags the bed table in front of me. Even though I'm not hungry, the quiche looks wonderful. I let out a crooked smile; it really is thoughtful of him to do this for me.
Our silence is a comfortable – like it always is. Up until recently, Jean Luc and I would sometimes have working dinners together. We'd set out a plate of bread, cold meat, and cheese and sit in his quarters or mine and go over reports. I'd record notes on my patients while he'd go over bridge reports. I think I liked doing that more than I liked having a formal dinner with him. During a working dinner I could wear my uniform or even more casual clothing like sweatpants and a T-shirt. Truthfully, I could have worn that to one of our more formal dinners - I don't think Jean Luc would have minded. But, he always made such an effort with those formal suppers that I felt that I needed to make an effort as well.
Tonight, though, it's comfortable – despite our small tiff. I watch him as he's feeding me. I've always noticed Jean Luc. I noticed him when we were at the academy. He has always been extremely attractive. He's always been bald, but the baldness suits him and adds to his character. His body is well taken care of. I can personally attest to that as his physician. His face has changed though. As he's grown older, he's gained more worry lines. Somehow his cheeks and nose have become sharper. But still, Jean Luc is a fine specimen of male anatomy. He catches me examining him and smiles, "what?"
I smile back and I can feel a blush creeping up onto my cheeks. The atmosphere in the room relaxes, "nothing." I think Jean Luc knows that I was just checking him out.
"Last bite," he says as I open my mouth to receive the last bit of the delicious quiche. I chew and swallow, "thank you, Jean Luc." And I am grateful.
"Well," he gets up, "I, eh, I should let you get some rest."
I grin at the situation. I think that sleeping has been really all that I've done today. It's all I've done for the past 4 days. Despite my earlier disposition, "Please, stay. All I've been doing is sleeping."
He gives me that crooked smile, "Gladly. Do you want to talk?"