Chapter Text
It didn’t surprise Beverly Crusher at all that Deanna was the first to start crying after the toast to absent friends; to family . They were all exhausted and grieving. It didn’t feel real. Nor did the fact that she had been, more or less, ejected from her own sickbay. No matter how they had braced for impact, there had been casualties. Deaths. Injuries. Her own left arm had sustained two hairline fractures because nothing could secure items well enough for direct impact.
It wasn’t that she had been in shock from pain, but that there was so much to do before relief arrived. Shields were up as the bridge crew fought to keep them alive, to keep them from even the tiniest drop of radiation. It had taken some time before the first round of medics arrived from the Valdore . And so her own staff had taken turns mending her arm in turbo lifts and while she wielded a tricorder with her good hand. Within another hour and half, the CMO from the USS Galaxy was relieving her fully of duty and ordering her to sit long enough for her own scan and a more thorough treatment.
But Deanna is pale; and even if Beverly’s not cleared for duty, it won’t stop her from being a doctor. She could see Will’s arm tightening around his wife’s shoulders, as though he could physically hold her together. If anyone could, it would be Will. But as Will shared his memory of Data, Beverly remembered that it was, what, only hours ago that Deanna was laying on a bio-bed in sickbay, eyes glassy with tears and shock. Deanna had tried so hard not to tremble during the scan. It’s been maybe a few hours, at most, since the ship’s counselor had made the only request in her life to be relieved of duty.
The wine should be rich, but it merely tasted bitter. Beverly left her glass on the nearest surface and crossed the deck that felt twice as wide as it really was until she could pull Deanna into a hug. “Will, I think she should lay down,” she murmured, tucking Deanna in close to her and growing more certain about this decision when her friend wasn’t objecting. Wasn’t even begging not to go to sickbay.
Will’s hand cupped Deanna’s face gently, and he quietly asked her something that Beverly couldn’t catch. When she nodded, he pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. “I’ll find you two in a little bit.”
It was too easy to guide the ship’s counselor out of the ready room and across the bridge. When the doors to the turbolift opened, though, she met resistance. Beverly stepped inside, but her friend was rooted to the floor outside the lift. “Deanna?” she queried softly.
“I wish we had stairs,” was the raspy answer. Dark eyes darted about, searching the corners. “He’s dead. It shouldn’t matter.”
“He was here, too,” realization dawned quickly, and Beverly tried to figure out how to get them off of the bridge because Deanna was growing paler than before and was shaking now. Shock was setting in, and Beverly fought panic because she didn’t know if Deanna was physically injured or to what extent. But given what's already happened.... Behind her, she could see a few of the bridge crew—most from Galaxy, who were filling in while Enterprise’s crew receives medical care and leave until they’re cleared—looking in their direction. “Can you join me? You can hold my hand? I’ll be right here with you.”
Deanna’s eyes were wide in terror, but she nodded and swallowed hard before crossing the threshold. Both of her hands wrapped around Beverly’s left hand like a vice. Or maybe a lifeline. People often mistook the smaller woman as weak, but in moments like this, Beverly Crusher knew that Troi was one of the bravest among them. She’d faced down horrors of the mind that the rest of them couldn’t even grasp.
“I’m going to find a way to help you,” Beverly began quietly, tone calm but firm. “I’m right here with you. You’re safe. And he’s gone forever,” she continued as the lift descended. Her free hand rubbed Deanna’s gently, trying to warm her a bit and hoping to ground her. “Are you with me?”
The dark head nodded, but a soft gasp escaped as the counselor glanced behind them. Her eyes were unusually wide, and they continued to dart around the lift.
“Deep breaths, Deanna,” Beverly replied. Her hand paused its reassuring caress long enough to tap her com badge. “This is Crusher to sickbay. Please bring a level two trauma kit to my quarters and one of the synthesized hypos in storage in theta two.” Her quarters were closer than Will and Deanna’s. And after what happened the last time Deanna was in the quarters she shared with Will, well, it wasn’t the place to be right now. Besides, they’ve all passed so many evenings and afternoons together in Beverly’s lounge. Sickbay will be overrun with the worst of the casualties, with no privacy and only more stress for Troi. “That’s it,” she encouraged as her friend took in another rasping breath. “Deeper and slower.”
Tears streaked down the Betazoid’s face, and she was shaking harder by the time the doors slid open on deck eight. Deanna rushed out so fast that she nearly tripped over her own feet.
“A little further,” Beverly encouraged, glad that most of the crew around them now were not from Enterprise. Yes, their pips gave away her rank and Deanna’s. They know Deanna is a commander. But the whole ship has major damage, and it’s understandable that any or all of the crew are in shock. An ensign met them right before they gained her doorway, and Beverly supposed her red hair and blue lab coat made her distinctive. "Set it inside by the sofa,” she directed, “I’ll manage the rest. If I need assistance, I’ll call to sickbay.” There was enough authority in voice that the ensign merely shrugged and obeyed. Sometimes officer training came in handy.
It was so much quieter and calmer in her lounge, and it steadied Beverly. “Computer, raise temperature four degrees centigrade,” she ordered, easing Deanna onto the sofa and tucking the trauma blanket around her friend. Her arm still felt achy, bones mended but tender as her body processed its healing. It was reflexive the way she pulled out the tricorder and began the standard scan.
The quiet scared her most of all. Deanna Troi has never been chatty during any medical scans, but she’s usually able to convey what she’s experienced, and typically insisting that she’s fine and can rest in her own quarters. Beverly can see the shock that has set in. Glassy eyes. Not much connection to what was happening around her on the way to this room.
“Can you tell me what you need?” She was about to know exactly what the counselor needed, at least medically, but she would feel a lot better after hearing some words.
“Will,” came the whisper as manicured fingers grasped the edge of the blanket and pulled it close.
Pressing her lips together, Beverly tapped her com badge. “Crusher to Riker.”
“Riker here, hang on a sec…” There were some muffled noises and orders, and then, “Where are you two?”
“My quarters, it was closer. She’s asking for you.”
“I’m on my way.”
The assessment from the tricorder was bad. Under any other circumstances, she would be calling medics to take Deanna to sickbay. She needed a bio-bed, but right now Beverly knew they were all in use by the very critically wounded. So she reached for a hypospray, spending a long moment trying to decide. “Deanna, I know it’s hard, but can you talk to me?”
“Tired,” came the mumbled answer, her eyes staring blankly at the chair across the room.
“I know,” Beverly soothed. She eased Deanna’s torso up slightly. “Help me out a little, my arm isn’t back to full strength, yet.” It didn’t earn her quite the cooperation she’d hoped for, but it was enough for Beverly to sit down on her couch and pull Deanna to lean against her. Her fingers gently soothed over hair that was straighter and shorter these days. “He’s on his way. I need to ask you something, and if you can’t decide I’ll ask Will to make the choice. Can you hear me?”
The nod was faint, but it was a response.
“Okay, good. Your psilosynine levels have spiked. And your body is coming down from a lot of adrenalin. You’re in shock, and I’m concerned it’s going to get worse. I want to give your body a boost but also an inhibitor to temporarily suppress your empathic abilities.”
Eyes blinking in surprise was a bit of a relief, and her brow wrinkled in thought. At least Deanna was reacting to something.
“The entire ship is in crisis, and I know you can sense it. The suppressant would give you a… a buffer. Some distance. But after what happened with the two-dimensional beings… I didn’t want to do it without your consent. Your levels are dangerously high. And if we don’t do something to ease it soon, it could lead to permanent neural damage.”
“Do it,” she whispered as the door to Beverly’s quarters slid open.
For someone so large, Will could move quickly, and he was already joining them on the sofa, crouching down and offering his wife his hand. “What, exactly, are you about to do?”
“I’m giving her an inhibitor. Will, you need to take her. We need to warm her up, and I’m going to see if we can transfer her over to one of the other ships.” It was a little easier with help. Beverly let Will lift his wife into his lap and tuck the blanket more securely around her as Deanna buried her face against his chest. It took moments to program the inhibitor, and Beverly shook her head to try to clear it as she checked the calculations one extra time before pressing the hypo to her friend’s neck.
Deanna’s breath was shaky against him, body trembling for long moments before she gave a soft sigh and went limp.
“Beverly!”
“Hang on, I’m… give me a second,” came her frustrated response. She’d expected something like this, but it didn’t make it any easier for Deanna’s husband to see– not that as her friend she found it any easier to watch. But she was trained in trauma response, and Beverly was quick to follow the first hypo with another, this one with enough stimulant that dark eyes quickly flashed open. “I’m sorry,” she murmured, as much to Deanna as to Will.
While Beverly was used to it, it was still strange at times to see how quickly Will and Deanna’s universe could shrink down to the two of them. Pushing to her feet, she moved to her replicator now, and ordered up a cup of hot chocolate and passed it over to Will, who was busy giving soft assurances to his wife. She pulled out her tricorder again and ran a new scan and frowned at the device before reaching for her padd. “Will, I’m working on getting her transferred to another ship so she can rest while being monitored. Somewhere quiet.”
“So tired,” Deanna complained softly, words muddied against the fabric of Will’s uniform.
“I know,” Beverly sighed. “It’s going to be extremely important that they stay on top of these suppressants,” she continued, more to Will, knowing he would be on top of her care more than Beverly could hope to be. Within a half day or so, she would likely be back on shifts and with other patients to tend to. “We’ve improved the formula, but the longest they seem to last is about twelve hours at most. I’ve added all the specifics to her chart, and I’m sending some hypos with her, but they’ll need to synthesize more– and I can’t stress this enough– she’s got to stay on these for now. Her paracortex needs the break, or it could cause permanent damage.”
Will nodded wearily and shifted slightly to let his wife find a more comfortable position in his arms. “You don’t have to tell me twice.”
Waiting in the medical profession was a given, but in her own tidy quarters, there was nothing to occupy the waiting. So she shifted to her medkit again and found a regenerator and some other tools. There wasn’t much else she could do for Deanna right now, other than urge her to eat and drink something more. She made a mental note to be sure Will ate something, too. But she could do what she was trained to do. “Shift her a little toward me,” Beverly instructed. “I need a better angle on those ribs.”
Icy blue eyes blinked up in confusion. “Huh?”
“If we have to wait for a clear channel to transport you two over for some rest, I can at least send you both off with a few less bruises and scrapes,” she answered succinctly. It wasn’t going to solve the biggest problem, but only rest, time, and greater training in Betazoid neurology than she had at her command would fix that. For now, she would do what she could. And Beverly didn’t want to stop to think about all the things she couldn’t fix.