Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Beverly stood there, hands on her hips.

Wesley fidgeted a little.

She let out an exasperated sigh, turning to the man standing behind her son in the doorway. “Thank you, I’ll take it from here.” She beckoned her boy in, waiting for the door to close for privacy. “Well?”

“...Sorry. I didn’t mean to get lost,” Wesley said after a couple seconds.

“I offered for you to come with me into the quad,” Beverly said. “You said you’d rather stay here.”

“I know,” the teen defended, “but I changed my mind, I wanted to stretch my legs.”

“You could have waited until I got back,” she said.

“I left a note!”

Beverly reached up to pinch between her eyes. “That’s not the point, Wes.”

“I just wanted to look around by myself for a bit...”

“I just don’t like it when you wander off,” she scolded lightly. “Especially in a place like Farpoint-- all sorts of people come and go through here-- it’s not like when we’re stationed in a closed environment.”

“What’s going to happen? I’ll get mugged?” He asked. “I don’t have anything.”

“You could still get hurt,” she said. “Not to mention that I was worried!”

Wes squirmed a little, looking down. “...Sorry.”

Beverly looked his sheepish posture up and down.

How was she supposed to stay mad?

He’d said in his note that he only meant to be gone fifteen minutes...

“You’re not in trouble,” she relented. “But I want us to stick together for the rest of the time until we board.”

“How long now?” Wes asked, looking up.

It was a question he’d been pestering her with for two weeks.

“Less than forty-eight hours.”

“How many?” He insisted.

Beverly checked the time, calculating the regional conversion in her head. “Forty-three.”

Wesley’s face began to split into a grin. “I can’t believe you got stationed on The Enterprise!”

“I didn’t have a chance to turn it down once you found out,” she sighed, turning back to her son and straightening his sweater-- she’d gotten him some brand new ones to help him adjust to a bigger ship with lower temperature adjustment. “Besides, there wasn’t much left for me back there and you were aging out of the advanced programs... we needed to upgrade.”

“What an upgrade!” Wes gushed, his scolding clearly already forgotten.

Well, at least he was excited.

She hoped some of that excitement would rub off and sooth some of her pre-transfer nerves. Not only would a large ship like that mean more patients, responsibilities, and higher workload, but there would be other changes.

There would be Jean-Luc Picard.

“Just remember,” she said, “this is an active ship but you’re a civilian, okay? It’s unlikely we’ll see much action on the residential decks.”

“I know,” Wesley murmured, though his disappointment was still palpable. “But still, I mean, you can tell me what’s going on.”

“I said maybe,” Beverly iterated tiredly. “We’re both under Capt. Picard’s command, if he says something isn’t to be shared, then I won’t be sharing it.”

“But you could tell me if something interesting happens?” Wes asked.

“Maybe,” she repeated again, a loose smile now playing on her lips. If her son was one thing it was persistent. “I’ll ask if exceptions can be made for things you might find interesting.”

That gave him a small grin. “Thanks, mom.”

“But whatever the Captain says goes; you know the rules.”

Wesley came to join her as she sat down. “What’s Capt. Picard like?”

“You’ve met him.”

“That was a long time ago,” Wesley said, “I don’t remember. All I remember is that dad talked about him a lot.”

She nodded. Jack loved Jean-Luc, and almost every work story he told his family featured him. The stabbing pain had long resided into a dull jab between the ribs, but it was still a solemn thought.

“Well, he’s a dedicated man,” she said. “He’s clever and determined... he’s a very good leader I hear.”

“What’s he like as a person?” Wesley asked.

That was even harder.

Beverly knew what he’d been like before Jack’s passing, but it had been ten years and they’d both been in grief when they’d last spoken.

“He’s not overly friendly,” she said, “but he’s kind. He does what he thinks is right and he protects his crews.”

Wesley looked down a little. “I bet he does.”

There it was: that jab under her floating ribs...

She looked up at her son, reaching up to cup his cheek. “He does. He always has. Things happen.”

“I know,” Wes said at last. “I know. I don’t blame him,” he assured. “Just... be careful.”

“I will,” Beverly promised. She smiled a little. “But I’m going to be busy, so no trouble, okay? I won’t have the time.”

Wesley scoffed. “I don’t try to get into trouble, it just happens.”

“I’m sure,” she said, pushing him away playfully. “I’m serious though, Wes. This ship is full of the best of the best, highly trained and prestigious officers—”

“What do you think of Cmdr. Riker?” Her son interrupted.

Beverly tightened her lips.

They’d met the man once in passing, and her son had fallen for his freshfaced charisma hook-line and sinker.

“He’s seems to be a qualified officer,” she said, the one real ‘compliment’ she could give the man. She just couldn’t shake the idea that he would be a bad influence on her son. “I hear there are going to be more youth aboard this ship than our last station, I want you to attend groups, clubs, anything to--”

“I know, I know-- hey! do you think I could get one of the engineering staff to review my schematics?” Wesley asked, sharply shifting off the unwanted topic. “You said you don’t like when I make unregulated stuff-- what if I get them regulated?”

Beverly couldn’t hold back the slight exhale. “We can discuss that later,” she said, standing to join him. “But our priority is to meet people, okay? I want us to have friends first before we worry about anything like that.”

Chapter Text

Her commbadge was going mad.

Beverly cursed, checking the time, and leapt out of bed in her nightgown to grab the abandoned uniform from the previous night, digging out the badge.

“Crusher here,” she croaked.

“Doctor, I wondered if you knew that your son is not in class?”

She wasn’t surprised after yesterday.

“I’m sorry the message didn’t get to you,” she said, “Wesley isn’t feeling well, you’ll have to excuse him for the day.”

She snatched up her uniform, hurrying out of her bedroom towards the washroom, and smacked her badge again to call the sick bay.

She was half-dressed by the time one of the doctors was able to reassure her that she-- and presumably the others who’d been infected-- had been given off the initial three hours of first shift to recover.

She was also informed that whatever strain had infected them had mutated since it was last documented by the Federation; it had gained certain... aphrodisiac qualities that weren’t in any reports they’d found.

Now hastily dressed, but with nowhere to be, Beverly got a white coffee and settled at the table to reflect on the past twenty-odd hours.

The hypos from last night had done their job, sucking the contaminant out of their organ linings, but it had not been pleasant; it had been an intense system cleanse and she still felt the wisps of a hangover fogging her brain.

Had she done all that?

At least she had an aphrodisiac to blame, but she couldn’t help the profound shame of it.

She’d only wanted Jean-Luc to stop being so distant. She’d only wanted to be acknowledged as more of a person than a position... and she’d acted stupid trying to get it.

She’d just wanted attention.

God, that sounded pathetic...

Beverly drowned herself in her coffee again, trying to wash the thoughts away.

She made it about halfway through her pick-me-up when the door to the second bedroom opened.

Wesley was slumped in the doorway, still in his pyjamas.

He tried to scurry to the bathroom.

“Hold on!” She stood sharply, then regretted it as her head spun, hurrying to intercept the boy. “We need to talk.”

“Do we need to?” Wesley squeaked.

Beverly dragged him to the table by the arm, sitting him down.

She’d let him off easy the previous night-- once the hypo cleanse started her son had vomited for easily twenty minutes, and required a lot of soothing and guidance to get to bed. He’d been further than three sheets to the wind-- he’d been drunk.

They both had been.

But if he was as cognoscente as she was, he was ready to start hearing about it.

“Well?” She asked. “Do you remember what you did?” He nodded a little. “What?”

“I-- I kind of took over engineering...” Wesley’s voice was slow and cautious. “Well-- Well I sort of took half of engineering, and that has controls for most of the ship...”

She stared down at him expectantly. “You faked the Captain’s voice? You claimed control of the ship?”

“I wasn’t going to do it forever!” Wesley defended.

“Oh?” Beverly leaned in closer. “Well you sure held your bluff long enough.”

“...I didn’t know.” He admitted. “Mom, I wasn’t trying to hurt anyone-- I just... the Captain won’t let me on the bridge!”

She raised her eyebrows tightly. “And what does that have to do with anything?”

“Well... y’know...” He said.

“I don’t,” Beverly said, feeling a hangover headache coming on. “Enlighten me.”

“Well-- well all he does is bark orders! I probably know ship operations better, but he won’t even let me on the bridge...” Her son pouted. “I just wanted to show that I can do it too! With less staff, less resources—”

“Wesley.” she warned, silencing him instantly. “We aren’t happy with what you did. You endangered the ship.”

“I fixed it.” Wesley murmured.

“Not without expense,” she pointed out. “And not without unnecessary danger! What if you hadn’t been able to fix it?”

“I dunno...” Wesley admitted. “I didn’t-- I couldn’t-- think that far... It seemed like a really good idea at the time...”

So had flirting with Jean-Luc Picard for an ounce of personal attention.

Beverly exhaled.

As dangerous and unwarranted as his actions yesterday had been, he had been under the influence at the time. He wasn’t fully himself.

She was, at very least, thankful that her teenage son hadn’t been affected by the libido-boosting effects.

It had been bad enough with half the Bridge Crew in emotional strife and the other half throwing their clothes on the floor...

both in her case.

Wesley was her son, she had to teach him, but she couldn’t ignore the hypocrisy of scolding him for his drunken behaviour when hers would’ve horrified him.

Wes and Jean-Luc hadn’t gotten off on the best foot. The Captain had raised his voice at him on the first day, and while the boy claimed it hadn’t scared him, he clearly didn’t like being yelled at.

Either way, both of the Crushers had dedicated their brain’s chemical unrest to harass the man.

Beverly knew why she would want her old friend to give her an ounce of attention, through any means necessary, but him?

Why hadn’t he gone to bother Cmdr. Riker or Lt. La Forge? He’d clearly found an affinity for both of them already.

“You got us in trouble, Wes,” she said firmly. “Is there anything you’d like to say to your mother?”

Wesley squirmed, looking away. “...’m sorry,” he muttered.

Well, that was a start.

Beverly stood straight. “You’re out of school for the day to sober up. I’m back to work in about ninety minutes but you, young man, will be staying in quarters until I get back,” she stressed. “No inventions, no playing with the parental access codes, just staying home and doing your schoolwork, understand?” He nodded a little, and Beverly felt herself loosen a little. She didn’t want to upset him too much. “Can you do that ...Mr. dessert for every meal?”

He huffed a little, wrinkling his nose at the teasing. “I only said that to upset him,” Wesley admitted. “Really rub it in his face that he got one-upped by a--”

She held her hand so silence him. “Alright, you’ve made your point. Now let’s get you something to eat before you’re sick again.”

Chapter Text

Both men were waiting in the Ready Room when she arrived.

Beverly wouldn’t be surprised, based solely on expression, if they’d been discussing her mere moments before.

“Captain,” she acknowledged, taking the free seat, “Commander. Thank you for making time for this.”

“Of course,” Riker said.

“It only seems right,” Jean-Luc agreed, “It is ultimately at your discretion whether your son take on the role.”

Damn right it was.

From the second Wesley had come barrelling into the medbay,  babbling at warp four, she had been hearing all about it-- nonstop.

Somehow, the idea of becoming a Starfleet Officer seemed to fuel him with even more elation than when they’d been stationed on The Enterprise-- Beverly hadn’t thought that was possible.

“I don’t question your immediate judgement,” she said, cautiously choosing her words. “Wesley has proven again and again how talented he is... I simply want to discuss exactly what that will entail.”

Jean-Luc and Riker shared a look; they must have prepared something.

“Well, I’ve drawn up a schedule format you can approve,” The latter said, spinning the office’s PADD to face her. “We’ll start him off on just a few shifts a week, if he can handle it we can increase from there.”

Beverly slid the screen over to investigate.

“In the meantime he’ll supervised for the first couple of weeks,” Her old friend assured. “Lt. Data is altering a more... thorough input monitoring feature. That should allow us to check what operations he’s been conducting and what systems or information has been accessed.”

She was almost impressed by how ahead they’d thought, eyes flickering down the monitor. “Commander, you’ll have to delay his start of shift. Wesley’s class ends at fifteen-hundred, he’ll need at least twenty minutes get changed and come up here,”

“Yes, on that topic,” Jean-Luc began. “The boy will not be wearing a ranked uniform. You’re welcome to find him a provisional uniform piece, perhaps from the archives.”

Beverly nodded. She was honestly relieved her son wouldn’t be getting a uniform.

Wesley loved everything Starfleet. When he was very young he thought it was interesting because it was what daddy did, but over the past decade Wesley’s relationship with Starfleet had gone from standard childlike curiosity to full-blown obsession with the badge. Of course, he had his own badge now; she didn’t know whether that fact would help manage his obsession or feed it.

A uniform, though, would definitely give him too many ideas.

“And what would the expectations of his position be?” Beverly asked, leaning back. She felt awfully like she was brokering.

“The same as any other Ensign-- with a few limiters for everyone’s safety,” Jean-Luc assured.

“He’ll need a senior officer’s approval to access certain things, take us above certain speeds...” The commander leaned on his chair. “I expected, as his mother, you’d have suggestions.”

Beverly had yet to make up her mind on William Riker.

Despite his rank he had a witty fresh-faced charm about him, and a charisma that was infectious. Her son had fallen under his spell due to Riker being willing to listen to him ramble about warp functions, but Beverly as far more astute in her critiques.

Riker was smart with his words, good at buttering up strangers, and ace at flirting with any pretty twenty-to-thirty something in sight. It was impressive, but Beverly was trying not to fall for it.

He wasn’t as perfect as he put on, she knew it.

“You seem to have thought ahead,” she observed. “but you’re right: I don’t want him spending every day on the bridge, it’s a lot of pressure and responsibility, and speaking as his mother I do think Wesley would appreciate some time in engineering.”

“Engineering?”

“He does excel in the field, sir,” Riker added.

Jean-Luc thought a moment. “I suppose if he can fulfill some of his shift hours off the Bridge, that might be preferable. We wouldn’t want to rob our existing officers of their hours. That being said, I’d want either Lt. La Forge or Data with him at all times.”

Beverly nodded. “I can agree with that.”

“Well,” Riker announced, standing. “I’m glad we’re all more or less in agreement,” he said, nodding at the Captain. “I admit we weren’t sure what to expect.”

So they had been discussing her before she’d arrived.

Beverly knew that obviously Jean-Luc would want to discuss this with his first officer-- especially as he’d be in charge of Wesley’s training, but she couldn’t help the slight stab of betrayal that her old friend had been talking about her with this man as though she were the outsider in an established dynamic.

“Well,” she said, “I hope that’s cleared some things up.”

“Definitely,” The Commander agreed. “And I’m sure it will exciting to work with such a prodigy.”

The flattery slipped right past her guard and she almost fell for it; that ridiculous charm he’d been flaunting.

She could see why Wesley had decided to admire the man; he was infectiously effortless.

“Well Commander, exciting will certainly be the word for it.”

“I am glad that we were able to set these preparations,” Jean-Luc said, straighteng in his seat. “It will be a relief to have the boy under some direction.”

Good luck, Beverly thought; well she did not doubt either man’s capabilities, she had spent fifteen years raising that boy.

“I’m sure the structure of the environment will do him good,” She smiled, standing. “Speaking of, I doubt he’s gone to bed-- I’d better go check he won’t be up all night.”

Riker smiled. “It’ll be my first time leading someone with a bedtime. I’m honoured to be trusted with the role.”

That actually did get a smile out of her, damn it. “Goodnight Commander,”

“Call me Will,” Riker said.

She knew it was coming inevitably.

She hoped he didn’t expect to be going around addressing her as Beverly-- then again, it was her off hours.

“Goodnight, Will. Captain.” She nodded on her way out the door. “I’ll start finding him a uniform piece.”

Chapter Text

Four of them were around a table in Ten-Forward. Data and Geordi seemed to have migrated to the bar leaving just Will, The counsellor, Worf and Yar.

Deanna saw her approaching and stood, excusing herself ‘for a few minutes’.

Beverly wouldn’t have objected to her being there, but she appreciated that Deanna-- the one person she could comfortably call more of a friend than a crew mate-- wanted to give her privacy.

“Doctor,” Will Riker called. “Are you joining us?”

She shook her head, striding quietly up to the table. “Not today thank you,” she took in a breath, hovering over the other officers. “I just wanted to thank you, formally,” she began hesitantly, “For bringing Wesley home.”

“Of course,” Will said, “and you should thank the captain.”

She had, three times at least.

“The Captain returned him to the ship,” Beverly said. “But if it hadn’t been for all of you...”

Yar looked uncomfortable, picking up on her emotion. “It’s part of the job to look out for each other.”

Lt. Yar was, from what she could tell, a young woman who was distanced and strong willed, but clearly less versed in emotion and navigating delicate situations. Much of the same could be said for Worf, and between the two of them they certainly made up a security duo to intimidate.

Riker at least caught the dropped line. “As soon as we were told, everyone was on their way,” he promised. “We weren’t going to let anything happen.”

It had been a close call though, Beverly knew that; Wesley had been quite upset last night and had told her exactly how close the toxin-tipped needle had gotten to him.

It still felt so surreal.

A single decision to let her son down onto a peaceful planet with supervision had collapsed her son into a nearly fatal end.

While the guilt of that decision would continue to haunt her, there was one thing she just couldn’t take for granted; her crew mates had leapt into action to protect him.

Jean-Luc had fought to return him.

She almost felt bad, having been cagey to Will and professionally distant from most of the others, she didn’t even consider herself friends with them yet, but they’d rallied.

Yes, she knew it was the job of Starfleet officers to protect the vulnerable for injustice, but this was different. They hadn’t waited until something happened to Wesley-- and thank god not-- if they hadn’t rushed to find him right away, Wesley might not...

Beverly realized she’d been staring, and cleared her throat. “Sorry to interrupt, it’s just...” She wasn’t sure what it was. They’d saved her family. “Thank you.” She said softly.

“Doctor,” Riker drew her back in, “how is he?”

She was relieved for the question, even though there was no way she could be fully truthful in her answer; Wesley was a little embarrassed about how scared he was.

“He’s better, thank you,” Beverly replied. “He thinks he’ll be ready to return for next shift.”

She wasn’t sure if she’d let him, but that’s what he thought.

“Good to hear,” Lt. Yar said, “It’s really too bad, but he needs to get comfortable with fear if he’s going to be working with us.”

Worf seemed to agree. “He’s not yet attended the academy.”

“Which is why it’s so impressive that he’s recovered so fast,” Will chimed in. “Of course, he is in the best of hands.”

Beverly smiled a tiny sliver. “I should get back to quarters,” she explained. “Have a good evening.”

She couldn’t help the desperate feeling as she left the table-- nodding at Geordi as she passed the bar-- and when she reached the hallway she actually exhaled in relief.

Tasha Yar put her on edge in the way that one can only feel in the presence of someone younger who has suffered more, add in Worf’s straight delivery and the situation hadn’t been prime for vulnerability, much as Will tried.

She nearly ran into Deanna as she rounded the bend in the hall.

“Doctor?” she said.

“Beverly,” she said, holding up a hand. “I’m off the clock.”

The Betazoid nodded. “How are you feeling, Beverly?”

“Don’t you know?”

She smiled, following down the hall. “I can feel other’s emotions, I can make broad guesses, but categorizing and naming feelings is highly personal. I can make an educated guess, but I like to ask.”

The doctor paused. “I suppose... I’m relieved.”

“That Wesley is home?”

She nodded. “and... that we have people who wanted to get him home.”

Deanna stepped in, aside in the hallway to let others pass, and rested a soft hand on Beverly’s arm. “You didn’t know?”

“I knew everyone would, but... it’s different seeing things play out in real time,” she said.

“They like you,” The counsellor said, “They like both of you. No one would have let Wesley be hurt.”

Beverly nodded a little. “...thank you,” she sighed. “He’s been very anxious-- we both have.”

Deanna held her arm. “I don’t like preaching to another professional, but it will take a long time for your nervous systems to calm.”

“I know,” Beverly smiled an eighth-inch. “I’m just trying to be there until he feels like himself again.”

“That’s likely the best you can do,” Deanna assured. “Tell Wesley that everyone will be glad to have him on the Bridge.”

“He’ll be happy to hear that.” Beverly laughed a little. “I’ll pass the message on.”

“And the same goes for his mother,” Her friend added. “I’m sure everyone will be relieved to see her feeling like herself again.”

That actually made her smile. “Thank you.”

Chapter Text

“I don’t like Q,” Wesley said.

There was a beat, and she heard Geordi laugh. “As if that needs saying”

It had been only about an hour since Q’s departure, and Beverly had wasted no time dragging her son (and the others) down to the sickbay.

The changes Q had inflicted on them-- through Riker-- had been profoundly physical for Wesley, Geordi and Data, and she wanted each one of them checked over closely. She needed to know things were really back to normal.

Well, normal might not be the word.

She’d heard of corrupting power, but the speed with which the commander had been taken over disgusted her. Surely a fair degree of that was Q’s influence, but as a man she’d only just started to trust her son around, he’d quickly shot back down the ranks.

The doors opened and she saw a couple officers in yellow. It had seemed too dehumanizing to send Data down to engineering for check-up, but she wasn’t an expert herself.

“Hello,” she called. “We need Lt. Data scanned for inconsistencies in his mass or construction.”

“Sorry Data, I’d check you out if I wasn’t on the wait list myself,” Geordi said.

“Wait list no longer,” Beverly summoned one of her doctors, passing off the holoscreen with the triage notes. “One of our doctors will see you now.”

Beverly rather liked Geordi, he’d visited her a few times in the first few weeks regarding his visual impairment, and had quickly taken an affinity to Wes. The two were both stilted and awkward and genius in similar ways, which secured a solid connection between them-- and even with Data.

“Thank you,” Geordi stepped up, removing his visor so they could check his pupils.

“Alright, mister,” Beverly turned, patting the biobed next to her. “Up here.”

Wesley clambered up, and there was something deeply comforting about the fact that, when he sat, his feet kicked and hung off the ground.

She took out her tricorder and began conducting some basic scans.

“Some pupil dilation,” The other doctor reported, “Can you see anything?”

“Not a thing,” Geordi confirmed, remounting his visor. “I never thought I’d be so glad about that. I mean-- it was beautiful, but... my brain just wasn’t ready to see in those frequencies. No offence-- none of you looked bad-- but it’s freaky seeing people who you thought you knew what they looked like through different eyes.”

“It didn’t feel right,” Wesley agreed softly. “Like, my brain was moved into a stranger’s body for a moment. It didn’t even feel like me.”

She was glad to hear that. It hadn’t felt like Wesley to her either.

Beverly ran her fingers down her son’s chest and stomach, through the neat tight knit of the uniform sweater she’d picked out for him.

“Wes?” She asked. “Does it hurt when I press?”

The boy shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

Then all damage accumulated on Q’s battlefield must have been explicitly temporary... still, the image of her son with a bayonet sticking out between his floating ribs would not be.

“Are you sure?” she asked softly, leaning in for privacy.

Wesley looked up, a bit doe-eyed. “Was I going to die?” He asked.

“I don’t know.” It was all she could say. It was all she knew. Q had forced Riker into a position where he had to use his powers, and that had come at her son’s expense. She didn’t want to scare him-- or herself-- by sayng yes. Beverly straightened up. “Well, everything looks mostly alright... some Motor and Autonomic nerve inconsistencies I’d like to look into though.”

“Is that worse than sensory nerve damage?” Wesley asked.

“It can be,” she said, switching the functions on her tricorder. She looked up to see her son hugging his arms. “What’s the matter?”

“Just cold.”

Beverly hummed. “Cramps? Weakness?” Her son nodded a little. “Right... my guess is that your bodies are still adjusting back to their default states,” she assured, resting a hand on his jumpy, almost-trembling shoulder. “The somatic changes will have residual effects.”

“I would not doubt that, doctor,” Data said. “My systems have been in systematic reboot.”

She noticed the android’s left hand and foot were jerking around, twisting in their sockets, presumably running mobility cycles.

“That mean we’ll be alright?” Geordi asked.

Beverly looked over the tricorder readings. “Possibly, though I’ll want to hold you another hour and schedule a couple follow-ups within the day or so to track recovery.”

“Welp,” Geordi leaned beside them on the edge of the biobed. “Looks like we’re hunkering down here for a while.”

“Yeah,” Wesley said, and his mother could feel him leaning into her touch. “Mom?”

“Yes?” She asked quickly, more than willing to pull strings to make him comfortable.

“Can I get my project? I want to show Geordi and Data while we’re stuck here.”

She rested a hand on his head fondly. Wes had taken a relatively basic school prompt and over-complicated it to entertain himself again. He’d been hinting that he might ant to show it to Geordi.

“I’ll get it,” Beverly assured. “You stay here in case something happens-- you start feeling sick or anything else.”

Wes yielded, and Beverly passed off observation duty on her way out.

She’d barely stepped out of the sickbay hen she ran chest-to-chest with someone.

Riker.

She as not in the mood.

“Doctor.”

“Commander.” She didn’t push past him for the sole purpose of blocking the door. “Can I help you?”

There as a second’s pause. “I just thought I should check on the others.” He spoke easily and clearly as always, but the charm felt distinctly dampened.

“The others are recovering,” she said, crossing her arms. “They show residual effects of the somatic changes, but we don’t have reason to believe anything will be permanent.”

Riker swayed a little on his feet. “I was wondering if I’m allowed in to see them?”

Beverly moved aside from the door. “You can go in if you’d like. I won’t stop you.”

But I’d love to, she thought. She wished she had a reason to ban that mad from being unattended with her boy.

Then again, Data and Geordi and the others were in there. She trusted them enough.

Riker picked up on it. “Doctor,” he said, stepping in and lowering his voice a little, “I understand your concern... I can promise that I’m back to myself.”

As if those words meant anything after all that. “I trust the captain to discern that, and he has.” she said. “I believe what he says.”

Will took a breath, briefly breaking eye contact as he thought over his next words. “Look,” he said. “I... I wasn’t myself. I crossed a lot of boundaries.”

That he certainly did.

“And?”

“I’m sorry,” he exhaled. “I want to check on them. I want to apologize.” he locked his bright blue eyes on her. “I’ve got trust to regain and I want to get started.”

Well, it was the most genuine thing he’d said to her, even before Q took him over.

Beverly nodded, stepping aside. “I’m just running an errand; the other’s are under observation for the time being if you’d like to visit.”

Will’s expression pulled into a solemn smile. “Thank you.”

Chapter Text

Wesley had been right.

Through all the whining and insisting and stubbornness, he’d been right.

He’d dug his heels in insisting that Data was Lore, he’d put his position down on it-- Beverly knew her son and exactly how much he valued Starfleet; he would not put his position at risk unless he really, truly, thought he needed to.

If her son was one thing it was persistent, after all.

“I’m so glad you’re back,” Wesley was saying, sat nearby on the sofa with Lt. Data, “Lore thought he could replace you-- just like that-- and nobody noticed! Only me!”

“Wesley,” Data asked. “Does that evoke difficult human emotions?”

“Why?”

“Humans often express fear of losing each other, I do not know yet if the same emotion extends to me,” Data explained. “Especially as I was responsible for bringing Lore aboard the Enterprise.”

“...yeah, I was worried,” Wes admitted. “but you’re back now, and Lore’s gone. Things are gonna be fine, right?”

Beverly smiled a little, glancing over her PADD at them. She thought perhaps her son as short selling exactly how concerned he had been.

It had taken Wesley at most seven minutes, between being sent off the Bridge and reaching the residential floors, to bother his mother into intruding in the android’s quarters with him.

It had worked, though, she’d gone to check on Lore and; low and behold, it had been Data.

There was a chime at the door.

“I’ve—”

“I’ve got it,” Wesley cut her off, vaulting off the couch. In Beverly’s peripheral, as the door opened, she saw her son take a step back. “—Sir.”

She was about to crane her neck to see who it was when they spoke up: “Wesley... is your mother in?”

Wesley nodded silently, stepping aside to let Jean-Luc see into the den.

Beverly saved her report and set the screen aside, standing. “Captain, can I help you?”

Jean-Luc had shouted at her son again. He’d told him to shut up.

At least when she’d told her son to shut up it had been for his own good-- he could be too persistent.

Jean-Luc noticed his second officer on the couch. “Lt. Data, I didn’t realize you were here.”

Coward, she thought, meet my eyes.

“Yes, sir, Wesley indicated an interest in ‘cutting loose’ following our encounter with the crystalline entity.”

Beverly kept her eyes trained on her old friend, waiting for him to glance back in her direction so she could lock in eye contact.

“Did he?” Jean-Luc looked at Wesley, who stepped back a little as if expecting his Captain to shout again. “Well, yes, you’re welcome to decompress after shift however you like.”

There!

She snapped their pupils together across the room.

Jean-Luc was looking at her imploringly. He wanted to be alone.

A part of her almost excused herself from the room, just for the pleasure of leaving him alone and uncomfortable with her son.

“Wes, why don’t you show Data what you’ve been working on in drafting?” she asked.

Hesitantly, he nodded. “Sure-- sure, come on, it’s in my room.”

Wesley skirted around to his bedroom door-- giving the captain a wide berth-- and escorted his friend inside.

The door closed, leaving the two of them alone in the den.

“I thought—”

She held up a hand, silencing Jean-Luc. She crossed the room to Wesley’s door, activating the sensor.

Sure enough, he was crouched before her on the carpet.

Beverly cleared her throat. “Eavesdropping?”

“No-- I just-- I dropped something!” Wesley stood sharply, backing into his room.

She nodded. “Data, please don’t let him do that.” she said, stepping back to let the door close again.

She turned again to face her friend.

“...I thought I should come to speak with you,” Jean-Luc began.

Beverly raised her eyebrows. “Oh?”

“Yes,” he clasped his hands in front of him, taking a step in. “I perhaps let the tension of the confrontation blind me.”

“Indeed?” She asked tightly, waiting for the shoe to drop.

“...I shouldn’t have raised my voice at Wesley,” he said at last.

Well, she thought, at least he isn’t calling him ‘the boy’ anymore.

“No,” she agreed.

“It’s unprofessional for an acting ensign to interrupt and influence their captain, but it’s no less unprofessional for a captain to raise yell at their officer-- to dismiss their concerns.”

That was a start.

“It’s also unprofessional because he’s fifteen.” she said, uncrossing her arms and padding slowly across the floor. “He’s a child, Jean-Luc. I mean he’s genius, and he’s talented, but he’s a boy.” She leaned in a little. Wesley would be upset with her for sharing this: “He gets frightened when you shout at him,” she told him, voice low and soft. “We-- as senior officers, and as adults-- hold a lot of power over him.”

There was a pause, and the expression on Jean-Luc’s face was unreadable.

Perhaps he too felt a jab between the ribs at the thought that he’d scared Jack’s son.

“I’ll bear that in mind,” he said at last.

“And…” she wasn’t sure if she should say this last part. “He looks up to his fellow officers, especially the Commander and yourself. Would you consider a parent’s earnest request to set a good example behaviour-wise?”

Jean-Luc nodded, taking it in. “Thank you, Doctor-- Beverly,” he said. “We will do our best.”

Chapter Text

“I just think it’s cute you were classed in with the six-year-olds.”

Wesley pouted, fussing around the command boards at the back. “For your information, they said they wanted me there as a leader for the kids.”

“Notice how they could have taken an adult leader for the kids,” Geordi teased. “Why you?”

It was Wes’ first shift since his return, and Beverly had asked to take her bridge hours at the same time. It was a peaceful day of coasting-- exactly what everyone needed.

She’d known that Jean-Luc wouldn’t let them leave that planet until each child was returned, but still... it had been jarring. She hadn’t signed off on another away mission, they hadn’t entered direct battle, but one second her son was safe on the ship and the next he was gone.

To have him snatched away from her without warning; she didn’t like it.

“Probably cause they’re less likely to be scared of me than an adult officer they don’t know.” Wesley murmured.

“...and not at all because you yourself are fifteen?” his friend asked, “and they were exclusively looking to abduct kids?”

Wes huffed, indignant at the implication. He complained a lot these days about ‘not being respected’ other officers: getting bossed around, or talked down to, or called ‘kiddo’.

Only a few days prior Cmdr. Riker had joked about sending him to the corner if he misbehaved... the look on his face could paralyze. If Wesley didn’t have the Ensign title motivating him to stay in line, Beverly was sure that the commander would have felt his wrath already.

“I’m not a child,” Wesley said. “I’m a teenager.”

Will made an amused sound-- which he tastefully disguised as a cough when Wesley looked over.

Things had been smoother recently with the staff, there had been no major blowups of late and Jean-Luc seemed to have really taken her words to heart; he’d been delicate with the children and tolerant with Wesley-- despite a couple mistakes.

He was certainly acting more like the Jean-Luc she remembered.

She’d been so... taken aback after boarding. Her old friend was cool and distant, he was stilted in his welcomes and absent in her daily life.

He’d certainly come around since then. They’d even had breakfast at his quarters one morning, and with just the two of them they’d had a nice time.

They made some small talk nowadays, not much but some, and he no longer treated her like an unknown threat.

They’d yet to address the vacancy in the room, though.

The reason why, all those years ago, they’d been friends who were rarely alone one-on-one.

The reason why they’d fallen out of contact to begin with.

“What are you doing?” She heard from just behind her.

“Permission to touch? ...Lieutenant?” Wesley stuttered hesitantly, hovering near the weapons control board. “I-- I’m supposed to be running—”

“He has clearance,” Will said. “He’s helping set up for a simulation drill later.”

Tasha watched Wes carefully, but conceded. “all yours... You know how to work this thing?”

“In theory,” Wesley said, quite confident.

“Lt. Yar?” Jea-Luc called.

“Yes, sir.” She stepped in with Wesley to showcase the display board.

Tasha and Worf were the only two that Wesley seemed to still be cautious of-- well, other than Jean-Luc. Not without some reason, mind; he just kept running in the halls and stretching the bounds of his clearance pass, and otherwise getting into friction with security. Being sharply told off by Tasha had to be at least as scary as being caught in the glare of a Klingon warrior.

Personally, Beverly couldn’t bring herself to be afraid of either; for one, Worf clearly had more practice with humanity and restraint than he gave himself credit for. Not to mention that she’d treated him, something Klingons view with shame, so she knew there must be at least a one-sided trust there.

Tasha was a bit harder to nail down; she was clearly a person who’d been hurt, a lot. While she never let that cloud her judgement, it was clearly a factor. She rarely relaxed, seemingly only able to unwind through violent team sports or tight knit drinking groups. In any other combination those would be a concern for Beverly, but Tasha was young, she could afford to live a little recklessly-- she’d earned it in fact. She’d come a very long way and should be proud of herself.

“...and those are the photon torpedoes?”

Beverly’s head whipped around instinctively.

Yar and her son were leaning over the weapons board. “The sequence increases by row and column, lowest is upper left—”

“—Highest lower right, and then the dial is down-to-up,” Wes finished smartly.

Beverly let out a breath, turning back around to face the main viewer.

“Something the matter Doctor?” Jean-Luc asked.

“No... just,” She chuckled, lowering her voice. “that boy’s going to put me in cardiac arrest one day.”

His lips hinted towards a smirk of agreement. “Try commanding him,” he muttered.

“I do,” she laughed quietly, “try getting him to clear his plate.”

Jean-Luc smiled a little, leaning back to break up their muttered discussion. “Mr. La Forge, status?”

“Two hours, eighteen minutes at warp three, sir.”

Beverly’s badge chirped.

“Crusher,” she answered.

“Doctor, I was wondering if you could stop by the sick bay, there are some minor weight inconsistencies in a storage unit that we’d like you to glance over.”

“On my way,” She stood, stretching. “Our scale has detected three inconsistencies in two days, but we can’t find anything the matter with it,” she said aloud to the Bridge as a whole. “I wonder if any enterprising young engineers could lend a hand?”

Wesley smiled, rolling his eyes a little. “I’ll have to head down there at some point, sir,” he explained, turning to the Captain and Commander, “to connect the medical systems for the red-alert drill.”

“Then by all means,” The Captain invited.

Wesley followed her neatly into the turbolift.

“I’m glad you’re safe,” she said.

“You keep saying that,” he said.

“I mean it,” Beverly insisted. “I was impressed you were ready to come back to work today.”

Her son shrugged. “It wasn’t that scary. I knew you would all come back for me.”

She doubted that he wasn’t scared at all-- she knew him better than that-- but he’d been incredibly smart about it despite his fear. He’d managed to not only keep moral up for the other hostages, but to unionize a group of school children into a hunger strike in record time.

Proud wasn’t the word.

“Well, if you need anything at all in the coming days, let us know,” she said, stepping out of the lift.

Us.

A mere few months ago it would have been me, but things were blossoming. They had a network.

“Actually, I’ve been meaning to ask;” Wes said, catching up, “could I get a tube of that steroid gel?”

“Sorry Wes, it’s a controlled substance-- it’s very concentrated.”

“C’mon, don’t you trust me?” He implored. "I don't want to have to him to sickbay every time!"

She wanted to make a quip about his track record but, admittedly, Wes had been very good recently. Sure he got himself into minor conflicts every now and then, and he was still a horseplay-loving teenager, but there hadn’t been any big stunts or petty jabs or misconduct at all recently.

She didn’t know what to think of that... Wesley had really been sinking into his position recently, taking on more and more hours, and he’d been very well behaved.

It worried her a little.

“I’ll think about it,” she relented. “Maybe... I can get you a small tube of hydrocortisone for your acne, if you put down your books-- you only have to do it once-- and go spend some non-school time with people your age.”

“Do I have to?” He groaned, stomping after her into the medbay.

“You don’t socialize enough, it’s not good for your development,” Beverly lead him up to the malfunctioning scale. “It’s the same issue every time, it measures exactly two micrograms over what it should be.”

“I don't see what's the matter with not talking to people," Wesley bemoaned, leaning in to investigate. "What? Cause I won’t join book club like you?” 

Beverly leaned in, adjusting the neck of her boy’s sweater. “For your information, book club has proven to be very stimulating.”

“What? You want me to read Jane Eyre?” Wes scoffed, opening the side of the scale. “That stuff’s barely legible these days!”

“You don’t have to read Jane Eyre,” she sighed. “I just want you to make friends your age.”

“I will,” He groaned. “I’m busy.”

“Then I’ll ask the captain to cut your hours back.”

“No—” Wesley cleared his throat. “No, it’s alright. I’ll-- I’ll go to study group after class tomorrow.”

“I want you to talk to at least three people.”

“What am I going to talk about with three separate people?”

“Wes,”

He sighed. “I’ll do it,” he said, grabbing two of the hypo vials that had been being measured off the counter. “Only so you get off my back.”

She smiled a little. “I know you’re excited about being Acting Ensign, but remember you’re a student and a teenager first.”

“uh huh,” Wesley said absently, flipping the vials in each hand and squinting at them closely.

“Are you listening to me?”

“I am!” Wes insisted. “I just-- I found your issue.” He straightened up. “Some of these vials have a C2108 model number, and others have C2109. The scale’s been correctly measuring the slight mass inconsistencies in the model design.”

She sighed heavily. “...I didn’t realize we had any C2108 still in circulation... well, we’ll have those isolated and removed.

“Glad to help,” Wesley straightened up and dusted himself off. “I should get started on the installation.”

“Thank you, Ensign,” Beverly called.

“Anytime, Doc!”

Chapter Text

Beverly finally set aside her notes, standing. She’d tried to give him space after dinner but she hated it when he was upset. Her son should never have to be upset.

“Wes?” She called, standing just out of the sensor-- Wesley wasn’t allowed to lock his door yet for safety reasons. “I’m coming in,” she warned, stepping closer. The door opened and she saw her son sat on his bed. Wesley’s eyes raised to look at her, wide and hurt. Beverly exhaled, coming to sit beside him. “You know it’s a testament to your intelligence that you even made it to the final round of testing?”

“Yeah.”

“And you know that we’re proud of you no matter what?” He didn’t reply. “We are,” she pressed. “Most people don’t even get pulled for entrance exams until they’re at least nineteen,” Beverly added, “You have plenty of time to still be on track.”

“...I know.” Wesley said at last.

They sat in silence a moment. Her son had already almost cried earlier that evening when his rejection came in... he’d refused to talk to most of the staff... she didn’t want him to feel so terrible. She didn’t want Wes to think he was some kind of failure for not accomplishing every single possibility awarded to him.

Yes, Beverly had acted excited for her son, but she hadn’t been sure about this from the start. Not only because she wasn’t ready to be parted from him, but because Wesley wasn’t ready for it. He was a boy still, he didn’t now how to handle the big responsibilities of living alone, let alone leaving all his supports behind. Not to mention he’d be surrounded by adults who treated the facilities as an adult-only space...

Wesley continued not to speak.

Beverly wrapped an arm around his hunched shoulders.

She was almost glad, something she couldn’t help feeling bad about, but she had reason; Wesley was clearly devastated over his rejection. What would happen if he had gotten in? What if he’d gone to the academy all alone only for something to go wrong? A failed a test or something? He would be devastated and alone...

Wesley hunched forwards, tucking his knees up.

He was rocking back and forth a little.

He hadn’t done that much since he was seven or eight-- only when he was very upset and needed to sooth himself.

“You know,” she said at last. “With another year acting as ensign, you’ll be far ahead of everyone when you try again.”

The silence consumed the family again.

Wesley rocked faster, closing his eyes with overwhelm, and for a moment Beverly was certain he was about to burst into tears.

Then he stopped altogether, as if pulling a mask down, and opened his eyes.

He slowly shifted to look up at her.

“They made me choose,” he said.

Beverly frowned. “Who did?” she asked, pulling in closer to her son protectively. “What did they make you choose?”

Wesley swallowed hard.

“The psych test.”

Beverly’s heart hit the floor.

She’d hoped-- perhaps even convinced herself-- that admin wouldn’t press unreasonably on a child.

She remembered her own psych test-- well, the emotion of it, the actual progression of events had been too frantic-- and while the joy of getting into the academy had soon shouted over the distress of the event...

“What did they make you do?” Beverly asked emptily. She turned sharply to her boy, grabbing him by the shoulders. “Wesley, what did they make you do?!”

Wesley’s lip began to twist and flicker. “They made me choose who to save,” he croaked. “Like dad. I had to leave one...”

It took a few seconds for the words to disperse and soak into her skin.

The jab of grief was being thrust into her torso, splitting her ribs apart and digging into her flesh, twisting and jamming into her.

“Oh...” She said. “Oh, Wesley...”

Instantly here arms were full of shaking teenager. “They-- they said it didn’t matter who I saved but—”

Beverly held her son close against her chest, heart beating violently. “Wes it was only a test, no one was hurt...” she said, but the words were hollow and fell on deaf ears.

She held him for some time, rocking gently forward and back, forward and back, rubbing her thumb in circles through his sweater.

It was a punch to the gut that she was recovering from just hearing about.

Wesley had lived it.

“I failed him,” she heard, muffled by her lab coat. “I let him die and I didn’t get in.”

A second spire of hurt impaled Beverly from the other side, leaving her paralyzed; skewered between grief and despair.

It was thick in the air around them.

From the first wisps of obsession to the Acting Ensign title, Wes had wanted to be in Starfleet since he was five years old.

Since his father didn’t come home.

She held him tighter.

He didn’t.

He didn’t kill anyone; he’d saved who he could in a cruel simulation.

He’d gotten to take the academy exams years ahead of schedule...

None of these came to her lips in the moment, cradling her son’s curled-up form against her own, rocking him.

“He’d be so proud of you,” Beverly said at last. Wes sniffed audibly, gripping her uniform tighter. “He would,” she repeated, finding her breath at last. “You were scared and confused but you tried to save people. You did exactly what Captain Picard did.”

“But—”

“and think of him,” she said, pulling her son back so she could look into his red, teary face. “Would daddy be upset at his friend because he was able to save someone else’ life but not his?”

It was something she’d asked Wesley many times when he’d had first started processing his grief. There had obviously been blame and anger at first-- the captain saved a nebulous ‘someone else’ but not his dad-- he’d needed reminding that Jack wouldn’t want that.

“...no.” he replied in a very small voice.

Beverly knew her late husband well enough to know that he’d have preferred Jean-Luc save another over himself, and while that fact hurt it also helped.

Jack always put others first.

Wesley was shaping up the same way.

“So we can’t blame you either,” she concluded. “You tried your best to help everyone, and even if you couldn’t do that, you still chose the path that helped someone.” Her son nodded a little, looking down and away. “I’m proud of you, Wes,” she said softly. “He would be so proud of you.”

Wesley finally pulled back a little, straightening up. “Is anyone disappointed?” He asked weakly, glancing at her.

She shook her head, a relieved smile threatening here face. “No, I think everyone’s glad you’ll be sticking around a little longer,” she said, reaching up to squeeze his shoulder. “Where would we be without our favourite acting Ensign?”

Wes smiled weakly back at her. “Thanks,” He croaked. “The captain wants me back on the Bridge.”

“Then we shouldn’t disappoint him.” she said, patting his back as she stood. “If you feel up to it.”

“I do,” Wes assured, taking a shivery breath and standing. “I’m an officer. Duty comes first.”

She beamed at him.

Her little boy was being so grown up these days.

“Alright,” she said. “You get some water, I’ll let Cmdr. Riker know you’re on your way.”

Chapter Text

Beverly let herself into his room and over to the bed, setting a hand on his shoulder.

“Wes?” she sung quietly, shaking him a little. “Wes, wake up.” His eyes cracked, and the boy sat up, rubbing his eye. “Good morning.”

He smiled tiredly, pushing his hair back. “Hi.”

“I have to leave early for shift,” Beverly said, seating herself at the foot of his bed. “I wanted to say hello before I leave.”

Wesley sleepily looked over at his calendar clock.

His lips drifted down slightly.

There it was.

Even in distant space, far from the earth’s circulation of her sun, the day came anyways.

She reached out, cupping his hand. “Happy sixteen years,” she said, standing.

The good news about starting early is that she didn’t feel quite as bad getting off thirty minutes early.

Wesley packed up quickly hurried out of the classroom when he saw her hovering at the door, gaining some curious looks from the other students. “Mom, what are you doing here?”

The two Crushers started towards the turbolift. “I wanted a chance to see you before your work hours,” Beverly said. “How was class?” Her son shrugged. “If there’s anything I can do,” she said as the lift doors shut, “to make the day easier...”

“I’ll let you know,” Wesley sighed.

They got off on their residential floor. Wes started towards quarters and she caught up. “How about a nice dinner tonight? Something comforting and homey.”

He shrugged. “I guess so, sure.”

As they twisted around the bend in the hall they saw a red-clad body leaning against the wall just outside their doors.

“Commander,” she said, hoping to shuffle her son past him quickly.

“Doctor, Wes,” he called, straightening up. “I’m given to understand it’s a special day.”

no.

no.

no.

She’s told Will-- when he came to her last week asking what Wesley wanted for his birthday-- that they kept it low-key and in the family.

She had made it clear that nothing was expected.

“Yes sir,” Wes said obediently.

She locked Riker with a firm look, quickly scooting around him towards the door, her hand on Wesley’s shoulder.

“and what day would that be?”

Wesley hesitated, and Beverly felt her heart shake. “...It’s my sixteenth birthday, sir.”

“Oh, right!” The commander said, presenting a small, folded piece of printing parchment. “From the senior bridge staff,” he grinned. “Happy birthday, Wes.”

Wesley took the page pushed into his hands. “Th-- thank you, sir?”

Beverly’s look sharpened into a glare. She released Wesley’s shoulder, patting him forwards towards the door. “Commander, a word?”

Will stepped aside with her, allowing Wesley to hurry into quarters to get changed for shift.

“I don’t see what the matter is, Doctor,” Will asked, lowering his voice. “It’s just a card and a sentiment.”

“That’s not the point,” she said, “We didn’t want to celebrate it.”

“I’m not sure I follow, doctor,” Riker frowned. “He seemed very excited to turn sixteen.”

“He is,” she agreed, “but...” a long exhale shook her lungs. “We try not to celebrate the day itself.”

“He’s only a boy,” Will said. “He deserves some fun and special treatment on his birthday-- he’s only got so many years being a kid.”

Beverly was struck with a sudden want to hit the man upside the head for assuming he knew the parenting game better than her.

“That’s not the point,” she let out finally, uncrossing her arms. “The date itself is hard for him,” she explained. “It was around this time of year that we learned that his father had been killed in action.” she took a breath. “Wesley has a hard time enjoying his birthday.”

Will exhaled a slow lung. “I’m sorry,” he said at last. “I should have listened. I didn’t realize it might upset him I just thought—”

“I know,” she sighed. Will thought she was being a killjoy and that Wes deserved fun. She couldn’t fault the motivation of wanting her son to be happy. She wanted her son to be happy too. “But he’s a bit fragile today.”

Will held up a hand. “I understand,” he said. “...I was a little younger than he was when my mother passed.”

Beverly was taken aback.

She’d never received such personal sincerity from the man before.

“I’m sorry.”

He shrugged tightly. “I’ve had more time, but I can’t imagine if I had a coinciding event day to remind me every year.”

She nodded. She’d tried at first to make the day good for him, but she’d had to settle for making it manageable. The one time she’d pushed Wesley to have a party none of the other children had shown up because he hadn’t been making friends at school. The date just seemed to be cursed for him.

“Thank you for understanding,” she said, glancing down for a second. “..I should probably check on him.”

“Of course,” Will said. “And I-- I hope that the contents of the letter make up for it-- even a little bit.”

When she entered Wes seemed to bee in his room, changing into his work jumper.

The unfolded page lay half-open on the table.

On the letter Beverly could make out typed print in stranded font, surrounded by short messages and signatures scrawled in different styles by their Bridge mates:

‘Dear Wesley, happy birthday! We hope to have you around another year -Deanna Troi’

‘Hope you’re ready to clean ad replace sixteen coolant reservoirs!
Kidding, Happy Birthday! -Geordi’

‘Happy Sweet 16^th to our favourite acting Ensign – W. Riker’

Most of the rest were just signatures, except a simple ‘Happy birthday anniversary Wesley.’ from Data.

Her eyes were drawn to the typed message

‘Crusher Residence,

With the permission of Dr. Beverly Crusher we would like to propose the expansion of Wesley Crusher’s status. Permitting the young Mr. Crusher maintains his position another three-odd months, to allow for subspace transmission times, we would like to register Wesley Crusher to receive a Communicator Badge.

Again, this is dependant on his mother’s discretion, as few measures are in place regarding underage acting officers.

Jean-Luc Picard.’

Oh, the arm Will had to twist to get this.

The door to the second bedroom opened, and she saw Wes there in his sweater.

He looked up at her, smiling a little for the first time since that morning.

“How are you feeling now?” Beverly asked.

“Okay,” he admitted, stepping out to join her.

“I’m not surprised,” she said, “It’s exciting news.”

Wesley nodded a little. “...You always said he would want me to enjoy the day.”

“He would,” she said. “He loved celebrating you.”

Wes nodded a little, looking at the paper in her hands. “Do you think he would...”

“He’d be so proud, Wes,” Beverly promised. “You’re getting your very own badge! That’s exciting!”

He smiled a little more. “Can we invite the Commander for dinner?” He asked. “It just-- he got it for me, and...”

Beverly’s heart fluttered.

They may be twice his age, but she’d take it.

“Of course,” she said. “We can have anyone you want to ask over for dinner tonight.”

Wesley looked the note over again. Beverly linked an arm around his shoulders.

“I miss him,” The boy said at last. “But I barely remember him.”

“I know,” Beverly said, rubbing his shoulder. “I know. But I can promise that from all the time I spent with him, he’d be so, so proud of you.”

Wesley pulled away eventually. “I should get to engineering,” he said, heading hesitantly for the door. “Did you see what it says on the back?”

Beverly looked back, flipping the page over in her hand only to find that there were a few words neatly printed on the back:

‘For Ens. Wesley Crusher,
Courtesy of Capt. Jean-Luc Picard’

Beverly glanced up again at her son, but he’d already left for work.

Chapter Text

Beverly drummed the fingers of her free hand on the surface of the biobed.

She was not good at recovering or at being treated, the other doctors were lucky that she’d lost so much blood she couldn’t exactly turn it down.

The other officers had been checked out and discharged quickly-- either returning to posts or going to sleep it off-- except Jean-Luc. He’d pulled his authority to stay with her longer.

Beverly couldn’t say it wasn’t welcome company. She hated receiving the patient voice from her colleagues and needed someone who she could talk to.

Well, the talking as still minimal on both ends, but his company added a lot.

“Thank goodness for your grandmother’s knowledge of medicinal herbs.”

She smiled a little. “Can you believe people at the academy made fun of me for believing in forms of traditional medicine?”

Jean-Luc smiled an ounce back. “Those who do not learn from the past...” he quoted loosely, “Having only known the Crusher side of the equation, I hadn’t realized how incredible the Howards were.”

Beverly chuckled, chest buzzing and hollow like a temple-- all of her was buzzing and hollow, actually. She’d asked for only point-o-five microlitres of concentrate for the pain management, but she’d been pretty delirious when they’d beamed aboard, they might have given her o-eight or ten given the high she was feeling. “She would be glad to hear that, she had some thoughts about Jack when she first heard about him.”

The air in the room stagnated around her, and Beverly knew she should have kept her mouth shut with that name.

Still, her jab of hurt was barely noticeable under all the medication she’d been pumped with.

“Family can be a great help and a great hindrance,” Jean-Luc said at last.

Beverly took a deep breath.

Even excluding the fact she’d already been midway through her shift, and the time down on the planet, she’d been in med bay for a while.

“Captain?” She asked. “Will you drop by our quarters and look in?” She raised her free hand to push her hair out of her face. “I haven’t seen him since he left for class.”

That had to have been at least fifteen hours ago.

Wesley knew that sometimes she worked late and wouldn’t be home by dinner, but she usually left a note and programmed something into the food slot for him.

“I’ll do so immediately,” Jean-Luc promised, and something in his voice said that the image of his best friend had yet to fade from his mind.

Beverly rested her eyes closed as her friend left.

She was exhausted, but buzzed, and as she rested her brain began flicking back through images backwards.

Grandmother.

Jean-Luc.

Jack.

Wesley.

She had been nearly dead but there was more than that; her son had been nearly an orphan.

Wesley R Crusher, whose parents were killed in the line of duty, just over ten years apart...

Beverly shook her head a little, trying to rid herself of the thought.

...both of their corpses being returned by faithful family friend Jean-Luc Picard.

They had been far too close.

She lay there some time, soaking in the surreal despair of her dampened state as she convalesced on the biobed.

She couldn’t believe she’d let herself leave without telling him where she was going.

Without saying goodbye.

Suddenly, there were running footsteps.

“Ensign!” She heard Jean-Luc shout. “Ens-- Wesley!”

Beverly’s eyes cracked open just in time to see a body barrelling towards her.

“MOM!” The lights above her blotted out as Wesley stopped, leaning over her on the biobed.

Beverly took a breath, centring herself. “Wes,” she said weakly-- weaker than she wanted.

He was dishevelled-- hair sticking up at all angles, wrapped loosely in his pyjamas and one of his cable sweaters.

Beverly’s head lolled over to check the time: o-two-twenty in the morning.

Jean-Luc came up behind the boy. “He got away from me as soon as he heard,” he said, apologetic that she be bothered in this state. He turned to Wesley. “Return to quarters, your mother needs to rest.”

She shook her head, brain still shuffling around from the painkillers. “Let him stay a moment,” she pleaded, reaching up to link hands with her son.

Wesley, gripping her hand, sat in the seat the Captain had once occupied.

Jean-Luc hovered hesitantly nearby.

“What happened?” Wesley whispered.

“I took a fall,” Beverly said simply. “I’m okay, Wesley, I promise,” she added, seeing the desperation flashing in her son’s eyes, and squeezing his hand.

“...your arm...”

“It will be better soon,” she dismissed, referring to were it lay beside her in a temporary setting frame. Wesley’s eyes began to drift down to where her trouser leg had been split open to regenerate her wound. He swallowed hard, staring at the tightly re-knit skin. “It’s okay,” she said quietly. “I promise. I’m home now.”

Home.

When she had started referring to The Enterprise as ‘home’, she didn’t remember.

It just seemed to come naturally.

Wesley’s lip trembled, and it suddenly occurred to her how brave he was being.

She wanted to tell him, but couldn’t find any words for it.

She almost wanted to cry.

Wesley finally acknowledged the Captain hovering beside him. “You brought her back?”

She could practically feel the wince of pain that shot across her friend’s face.

“Yes, I brought her back...” Jean-Luc said, almost sounding shameful as he stepped back to give them more room.

Wesley’s breath hitched.

Beverly squeezed his hand.

“it’s okay, Wesley,” she cooed. “I’m back. No one was killed,” she promised. “We figured it out.”

Wesley looked back at his mom, then at their Captain. “Why didn’t anyone tell me?” He asked frailly.

Jean-Luc looked pained. “I apologize that the news didn’t make its way to you, we departed in a hurry and the situation was dire.”

“When she was down on that planet, dying, I was just doing schoolwork because I thought she was just working late in here!” Wesley stressed, voice raising a little.

“Wes,” she said.

He whipped back. “Mom—”

“Wesley,” Beverly pleaded, “I know.” she reached out, taking his hand again. “I’m sorry. I should have left you a note. We both could have done more to keep you informed.”

Wesley took a slow breath, his brief flare of anger melting back. “...Sorry,” he mumbled.

She squeezed his palm. “I know,” she said. “They think I’ll be back on my feet in a few hours.”

“...I understand.”

She let go of his hand and reached up, cupping his cheek. He was being so brave about all this, even as shame ate away at her for leaving him.

Beverly smiled weakly. “Thank you,” she sighed, turning to Jean-Luc. “Captain, will you see he gets back to bed?”

“but—”

“I’ll be there when you wake up,” she promised. “We can have breakfast together.”

Wesley hesitated, but her promise seemed to cut through to him.

He nodded, giving her hand one last squeeze as he released it. “I love you,” he whispered before making to stand with his captain.

Jean-Luc gestured for the boy to follow, and he did, keeping his eyes on his mother all the way out of the sickbay.

Beverly let out a breath.

As turbulent as their dynamic had been, she trusted Jean-Luc with her life-- with her son. Despite everything, he wouldn’t let another Crusher fall.

She didn’t know how she felt about that-- on the drugs she was on she barely felt it at all. She stored the emotion away for anon; she didn’t need it right now.

She closed her eyes.

She just wanted a moment of peaceful rest.

Chapter Text

“Mom?” It took her a second to process the sound. “Mom?”

“Yes?” She sat up straight, pushing her mug aside.

“I’m, um, I’m going to grab the homework for the class I missed,” Wesley said. “I don’t want to fall behind.”

Beverly nodded with a forced smile.

It was a rarity that Wesley missed class, but when given the option he’d requested to attend the memorial with the others.

She waited until he was out the door before sinking her head into her hands.

Things had been quiet and full of hurt.

Nobody really felt like joking or enjoying the zest for life.

Beverly knew what everyone who’d been down on that planet was thinking: why wasn’t it me?

Whether it was relief or grief depended on the person... For her it was hard to tell.

She felt pain-- a lot of it-- not just as an officer who’d lost a crewmate, but as a doctor who’d never even had a chance of saving her patient.

She’d rushed Tasha up.

She’d done everything she could.

She might have even pushed past reasonable procedure trying to revive her.

There had been, literally, nothing she could do.

It had been completely out of her power.

Why did it have to be Tasha?

Not that she’d rather it be someone else...

Twenty years ago Beverly would have already torn herself to shreds with guilt for not being the one to die, but she’d made herself a promise when she’d first returned to active duty after maternity: she wouldn’t let her son’s mother die.

So what was she? Glad it was Tasha and not her?

No, that wasn’t right either.

There was a chime at the door.

She called for the person to enter

Deanna.

She’d offered Deanna a shoulder shortly after they’d returned, the counsellor had said she’d rather process it internally first, and Beverly had respected that.

Still, here she was.

“Counsellor,” she said, “Deanna, can I help you?”

Deanna smiled a little. “I came here to ask you the same thing.”

She shook her head a little-- Troi had been in far more distress than her-- probably far more survivor’s guilt-- plus the emotions of the rest of the crew... this wasn’t right that Deanna be checking on her.

“I’m managing,” she said. “Life must go on.”

Deanna nodded, stepping in and letting the doors close. “I know that you feel a lot of guilt, as a doctor.”

“I don’t need this,” she started, “Please, I’m managing alright as is.”

Her friend let out a breath, coming to sit with her at the table. “You’re right, we’re talking as friends, not as practitioner and patient.” Deanna crossed her legs. “I feel it too,” she said, “I know your guilt and shame are overwhelming.”

Shame... that wasn’t a name she’d thought of putting to the emotion yet, but it seemed to fit; She was ashamed that such a young and tortured crewmate should die, she was ashamed that she’d been unable to save her, she was ashamed that she was glad to be alive.

“For as much as you claim not to name emotions, you’re good at it.”

Deanna smiled a tight little smile. “It’s going to take all of us time to recover. Even people with our training and experience are not immune to the pain of loss.”

Beverly nodded hollowly. “It will never be easy to lose a patient, but she was so young... and she’d made it so far... it’s unfair that she didn’t even make it to the gurney.”

They sat in silence for some time. “I know you feel guilty,” Deanna said, “To have lived.”

“Don’t we all?”

“It’s not easy for you,” Deanna said. “You hold the same heroic instinct as any good officer, but you also have important responsibilities that make it so you can’t afford to self-sacrifice. That’s a conflict.”

The doors opened.

Wesley shuffled in. “Counsellor,” he said, a little surprised, but his voice still weighed down with melancholy.

“Good evening, Wesley,” she smiled, lightening her tone slightly.

“...hi.” He fumbled a couple hard drives, making for his room.

Once he was gone, Beverly felt the need to butt in: “He’s being brave about it,” she said. “It’s been harrowing for him.”

When she’d first broke the news to her son that they’d lost a bridgemate, his reaction had been expected: fear, confusion, anger... once she’d talked him back from his fury at the world it was like she’d flipped a switch. Wesley calmed down and promptly buried himself in schoolwork and academic reading.

She’d barely heard a peep out of him. He’d run out of homework and actually asked his teachers to jump ahead a chapter or two.

Beverly didn’t know if that was good or bad.

“Yes, he has been keeping busy I’ve noticed,” Deanna said. “Why do you think he insisted on returning to work so quickly? He obviously feels a great deal of fear.”

Beverly took a breath, running over the events again in her head. “I think... he understands that vengeance isn’t an option here,” she said at last. “I sat him down and explained that trying to hurt her killer wouldn’t do anything, and then he just jumped into his work.”

“You think he’s coping through distraction?”

“He’s coping,” Beverly said, “I don’t want to disturb that.”

Deanna nodded. “I don’t want to push either of you,” she said. “But Beverly, you will have to address it with him. This is obviously a delicate situation given your family, I don’t want the pain to stagnate.”

She took the words in, feeling her walls shoot up. She was too weak and tired to stop them.

“I understand, counsellor,” she said, standing. “I’ll be sure to address it with him.”

Deanna took the hint, standing and walking to the door. “I hope you can both take all the time you need to process,” she said. “Don’t follow your son’s lead, Doctor.”

With that she left.

Beverly’s shoulders went slack.

She felt bad for snapping, it had just hit a nerve.

She’d been trying not to think about Jack.

Beverly took a breath, pulling her hair back and stretching.

It was getting late.

She’d talk to Wes in the morning.

For now it as clear that they both needed their space.

Chapter Text

“You should eat,” she said.

“You aren’t eating,” he said.

“I’ve lost my appetite,” Beverly muttered. As one of the only cued-in senior medical officers that they knew hadn’t been compromised, she’d been sent down to HQ briefly to help revive those who had been injured in the mother parasite’s destruction.

The stench of those things melting out of people’s brain stems, the fact that Starfleet had been infiltrated-- not just the positions but the people-- and that they almost had been too late to stop it... it all put her off her dinner.

“Yeah, if it grossed you out, what do you think I’m imagining?” Wesley said, pushing his plate away. “I just can’t believe it; Starfleet is so safe-- so thorough-- and those things found their way all the way to the top!”

She shrugged. “If they could get past the bioscans and transporters undetected, it makes sense they ere able to.”

“But-- but it’s Starfleet.”

“No organization is perfect,” Beverly replied.

“It’s Starfleet.” Wesley stressed. “The Fleet is huge! The security is high! It’s not like they just took over some Federation Colony!”

Beverly finally set her unused fork down. Looking up at her son.

She’d never been so glad to have asked that Wesley have shifts in engineering. He’s been safer down there than anyone would have been if he were on the bridge...

The image of Wesley with a gill sticking out the back of his neck flashed before her mind.

“Well, maybe they weren’t too far off calling themselves ‘superior lifeforms’,” she said at last. “They did take over our biggest institution very quickly.”

“Not that superior,” Wes cut in. “We beat them.”

She couldn’t help smiling a little. “Yes. We did.”

Wesley sunk back in his seat. “I was so confused why we went to earth,” he said. “I mean, we were all following the Captain’s orders, but it was weird not to even know why we were doing any of that stuff.”

“I didn’t know either for a long time,” Beverly disclosed. “The captain was trying to protect us by telling as few people as possible.”

“He thought we might be part of the hivemind?”

She shook her head, tired but amused. “He didn’t know if the lead was true. He didn’t want to rope us into any sort of conspiracy that might get us in trouble.”

Wesley chewed this over. “I still think he should have told us. I mean, this is huge! A danger inside Starfleet... It’s unprecedented!”

Beverly thought about restating the fact that no institution is perfectly safe, but she yielded; Wesley had thought Starfleet was the best thing ever since he was five, and she couldn’t change his mind.

“Well, I’m glad we were safe.” she said. “Most of the infected officers escaped the parasite’s death with very mild injuries, though many are resigning over this.”

“Why?” Wes asked. “It’s not like they’re guilty for the things the parasites did in their bodies.”

She leaned her elbows on the table. “I suppose many of them don’t want to associate with what happened. It must back been very traumatic.”

Her son rocked in his seat a little. “Is it true Walker Keel died?”

A shift of surreal discomfort shifted inside her. “Yes.”

“Sorry,” Wesley said. “I don’t really remember him, but I know you two were friends.”

She left the nostalgia wash over her a moment. “Walker was the one who got you that model shuttlecraft for your second or third birthday-- it was more for your father than anything but you adored it,” she smiled. “Of course the next year we got you the whole set of ship designs to play with.”

“I remember those,” Wesley agreed. “The Enterprise was my favourite.”

That much was certainly true. She could remember it clear as day; Wesley in his play romper, gripping a little Enterprise-A in his chubby fingers.

“You wouldn’t eat your snack unless I addressed you as Captain Wesley,” she recalled.

Wes pulled a face, shifting. “I don’t remember that.”

“Wesley,” she teased. “are you embarrassed?”

“No,” he answered, a bit too quick.

“No?” Beverly asked, negging playfully. “You’d be cool as can be if I told Geordi and the others that you insisted on being tucked in with your model ships?”

Wesley scoffed, flushing a little. “I wouldn’t be worried.”

“No?”

“No,” He met her eyes, smiling a little. “I’d just tell the Captain that you read pulp romance in bed.”

Beverly gave him a chastising look. “I find it relaxing.”

“It’s sappy!” Wesley laughed.

“You wouldn’t appreciate the genre,” she said.

“I don’t know how you read them,” Wesley said, “they’re all the same; it’s always about this woman and this man and they’re slowly falling in love but trying not to for some reason.”

Beverly was offended to have him hit the nail so succinctly on the head.

“It’s a hobby,” she said pointedly. “Some of us like to have them.”

“I have hobbies!” her son defended.

“And how many of those inventions haven’t been taken away for your own safety?”

Wes pouted. His most recent project-- a plasma cutting stylus that could reach ranges of over five feet, cutting through targets halfway across the room, had been promptly confiscated by Cmdr. Riker and it’s inventor given a stern talking to about engineering toy-like weapons. He was still a bit fussed about being told off.

“They’re not dangerous if you know how to use them,” he muttered.

For as unjust as Wesley found it, his mother was strangely comforted; even when she wasn’t there, the other staff members were looking out for her son; they were setting rules, teaching, and putting him in the right direction.

And most importantly, they weren’t letting him play with things a boy his age shouldn’t play with.

Not that he did too much of that these days; Wesley had been very well behaved of late. He clearly took his job very seriously.

“Well, try to keep antics low for a while; the Captain’s been called to several urgent meetings, and we’ll need to keep everything online and moving.”

“I know, I know,” the table got quiet a moment before Wesley spoke up again; “Mom, I’ve been thinking, I mean, I love my sweater, but...”

“But?”

“Well, I’ve kind of been growing a little, and I was thinking, well, that maybe when we replace this one, we could look at getting me a different uniform.”

“What’s wrong with this one?” Beverly asked, finally finding enough stomach to start picking at her rapidly cooling food.

“Well, nothing’s wrong with it...” Wes started sheepishly, “...I was on my way to shift the other day and I ran into Daniel and Claire-- from class-- they sort of asked if I picked it myself, and then laughed...” His cheeks were burning a little and he was adjusting his collar.

He didn’t need to say more.

He may be a child genius, but he was sixteen first.

Beverly was, admittedly, quite annoyed at those students for being so rude to her son-- she thought his sweater was very dapper-- and she wanted to tell Wesley not to let it bother him.... but she too had once been fifteen. She herself had been peer pressured into cutting her own hair-- not that Wesley’s situation was nearly that advanced-- but she understood that at that age you were delicate.

“What kind of uniform do you want?” She asked.

“I-- I was wondering if I could pick one out?”

Ah.

Beverly chewed it over with a mouthful of rice. “I don’t see why not,” she conceded at last. “You have been very reliable of late, and you’ve been studying very hard. Let’s set a time to go through some options.”

“Thanks mom,” Wesley said with a smile, finally going for his dinner. “You’re the best.”

Chapter Text

Beverly didn’t know what to expect when she was called to the Ready Room.

Jean-Luc as waiting, an unreadable expression on his face.

“Captain,” she said, taking her seat.

“Doctor, thank you for coming,” he said, and turned off the screen before him. Silence held lease for a moment, both sitting and facing each other. “As I’m sure you’ve heard, many senior officers who were victim to the infiltration are leaving their positions.” Beverly nodded solemnly. “And cruel as it is to act so fast, Starfleet does need those positions filled by the best immediately.”

“I’m not sure I understand,” Beverly admitted.

“Doctor,” Jean-Luc said firmly. “There’s an opening for the head of Starfleet Medical. They want you for the position.”

Beverly sat, stunned, for several seconds.

“Me?”

“You were one of the first on the scene after the mother parasite fell,” Her old friend replied. “It seems the Admiral remembered your name.”

She opened and closed her mouth, trying to find the words. “How soon?”

“One month at most,” Jean-Luc said.

Beverly began shaking her head. “I-- I can’t. I’m sorry.”

“Doctor...”

“We’ve only just settled down,” she began, for while she’d had to swap positions on a dime before, there was a bigger blockade to address: “and-- and Wesley.” she said. “He loves his position, and we only just got his Individual Education Program sorted out... he’s still got more than two months left in the school year, I can’t uproot him like this.”

“Doc—” Jean-Luc sighed, “Beverly, this is not the sort of position you turn down.”

And it was true. Even now deep in her soul she felt the thrill of a new challenge taunting her.

Not that there weren’t new challenges every other week on the Enterprise...

“I can’t make him home-school the last few months,” she said. “I won’t be home enough-- he’d be teaching himself for hours in an empty room every day.” Jean-Luc thought this over for a time. “I’m sorry, I can’t do that to him.”

“Beverly,” He said at last, “If Wesley finishing the school term is the only thing stopping you from taking this...” he paused, inhaling slowly as if in disbelief of what he was about to say. “Wesley can stay aboard another month or so to finish school.”

She stared in disbelief. “Without me? I couldn’t— I mean—” she fumbled for the words. “He’s a child.”

“He’s also an officer,” The Captain said. “An enterprising one at that. I’m sure the senior staff wouldn’t mind keeping their pet project for a short time.”

Beverly started to shake her head, but couldn’t.

Head of Starfleet Medical.

What would Jack say if she’d turned it down out of fear?

Then again, what would he say if something happened to their son because she’d chased a passing fancy without him?

She set her mind straight.

“You’ll be good to him?” she asked at last, “You’ll keep him safe until we can be reunited?”

“You have my word,” Jean-Luc promised, something sincere and heavy in his voice, “On his dear father’s grave.”

That was all she needed.

Jack loved Jean-Luc. Jack trusted Jean-Luc.

Her friend wouldn’t let her son come to harm if there was anything at all he could do about it.

After a long pause, she raised her eyes. “We should tell him.”

When Wesley traipsed in he took a second to process, then, noticing that but the Captain and his mother were present, he took on a slightly nervous expression.

“Ens. Crusher,” The captain said firmly. “Sit.”

He did, glancing at Beverly a little.

“Wes, we have some important news,” she began.

“Yes,” Jean-Luc said, his whole demeanour different now that her son was here. “Wesley, your mother is being transferred to the Head of Starfleet Medical.”

Wesley stalled a little. “You mean—”

Beverly nodded. “We’re going back to Sol.”

“...Oh,” The boy said, a vacant and stunned tone in his voice.

“...Yes, well,” Jean-Luc cleared his throat. “Your mother and I have deemed that it would be unfair to remove you from your position until you’ve finished the school term.”

“So... so... ten weeks?” He asked.

“Not exactly,” Beverly said, “I’ll have to take the position by the end of the month.”

“I don’t understand,” Wesley said.

“Wesley, we were thinking that perhaps, if you were willing, you could finish the term aboard the Enterprise before joining your mother.”

Wesley’s eyes flared in shock. “I-- by myself?”

“You don’t have to,” Beverly cut it, “But we don’t want your studying to drop off, or to re-convert your IEP for a new district so quickly.”

Wesley sat there for a moment. Then, a little smile started to spread. “Really?”

“Just until the end of the school year,” The captain clarified. “And all at your mother’s discretion.”

Wesley inhaled, looked down at his hands on his lap, and then at his mother. “...Can I?”

“That’s why we’re offering it,” she said. “Do you think you can do it, Wes?”

He nodded a little, then firmer. “Yes, yes, I think I can. Thank you sir. Thanks mom. I think I can do it!”

Beverly felt a smile playing on her lips. “But you know the rules,” She said, “Parental locks stay on the replicator, and you’re going to be good for the Captain, won’t you?”

“Mom, yes!” Wesley exclaimed. “I can do it!”

She reached out, hand cupping her son’s shoulder.

He was growing up so fast she wanted to cry.

A mere eight months ago she would have never even considered something like this. But eight months was all it had taken the Enterprise’ brand new senior staff to gain her trust and confidence.

They all cared for each other, and all of them cared for Wes-- he’d become something of a little brother or cousin or nephew to her crew mates-- and Beverly didn’t take that for granted.

They wouldn’t let anything happen to him. She knew that.

Chapter Text

Beverly had done her best to unpack, but in the past four weeks she’d been so overworked and under rested that she’d yet to fully settle in.

For how busy she’d been-- there was much to do off the bat-- life had been shockingly quiet.

Home had been even quieter.

She hadn’t lived alone in almost eighteen years. She was used to background sound-- though exactly how that manifested had changed over the years, it was always a constant.

No longer.

She was all by herself.

Tonight, she was especially by herself; the other new members of her team had invited her out for drinks and she’d declined. She didn’t feel up to it.

It was silly, Beverly thought, to say she was homesick-- they’d barely been on the Enterprise a year-- but she couldn’t deny the ache in her chest.

Unwilling to go to bed this early, Beverly took to her personal computer. She could work through the evening.

After all, Starfleet’s admin were still in shambles, her position aboard the Enterprise had been filled, she couldn’t just up and leave Head of Starfleet Medical on a whim; they needed her stability to repair the headquarters to a fully functioning and thriving state.

Her eyes were drawn to a little green bar in the corner of the screen: new personal message.

Instantly her heart skipped, she hadn’t received many of those-- just informal hellos from new coworkers-- and from a glance she could see it was a subspace message.

It had to be from the Enterprise.

She opened the transmission right away, and was met with the frame for a video message.

Hesitantly, she pressed play.

Wesley was sat on a stool in the corner of main engineering, fidgeting slightly.

He looked so handsome in hs brand new jumpsuit.

“Hi mom!” He exploded. “You’re never going to believe this-- remember how--- okay, so I was talking to Capt. Picard, and remember how I didn’t want to leave the Enterprise?!”

Beverl paused, her attention held fast.

“Well, The captain said that if you agree, I can stay on the Enterprise!” He gushed. “I can keep being Acting Ensign and I can keep studying here under Lt. Cmdr. Data!”

Beverly’s hand had raised to cover her mouth, her eyes fixed on the screen which lit her dim board and quarters.

Wesley seemed to reign himself in a little. “I... I really miss you,” he said at last. “I wish I could go with you and stay here but... I just can’t leave.” He stressed, wringing his hands a little. “I can’t give up my work-- I love my work-- and everyone on the bridge-- they’re like our...”

He didn’t need to finish, she knew: everyone there was like their family.

Beverly knew exactly what he meant, albeit she hadn’t realized until she’d been in her new position for two weeks. She hadn’t realized how close she’d been with the staff of that ship until she’d been plunged into an environment full of strangers.

She missed them.

“...You know...” he trailed off. “...Uhm, Capt. Picard said I only get three minutes of video transmission-- it’s hard, I have so much to tell you.” He sighed, looking down at his hands. “I was so surprised that the Captain said yes, I didn’t know if he’d want to keep me around...”

Beverly frowned. She understood that her son’s relationship with Jean-Luc was far more authority-based than hers was, but the captain didn’t dislike Wesley at all. All things considered, he seemed fond of her boy. Not that it was easy to see through Wesley’s eyes when he was being ordered around and told off.

Wesley took a deep breath. “But he wants to,” he said. “He said if you agree, he’ll keep me on-- at least until we come by Sol again... can I? Please? I just-- I’d have to give up my work-- my friends-- the Enterprise! I can’t leave here...” He sighed. “I wish you were still here. Dr. Pulaski is fine but...” He pouted a little. “When I had to go for checkup she listed me as adolescent instead of young adult, even though I told her I’m technically old enough for it...” Her son huffed indignantly. “...I don’t know about her yet.”

Beverly wasn’t surprised; she’d met the doctor, she was a very efficient and no-nonsense woman, and she could understand why her son might be apprehensive around her. Still, Beverly hoped there was no element of antagonism given that Dr. Pulaski had taken a position Wes wishes his mother was still in.

“Also she was kinda rude to Data, and honestly, I don’t think she’s as good a Doctor as you, I mean, you’re really good—”

“Wes!”

The boy paused, sitting up to look at someone over the back of the camera. “What’s up?” He called.

“We need your vote to tip a poll in Ten Forward,” Geordi said, stepping into frame. “What are you doing? You filming a video?”

“Uh, yeah,” Wes said, a little sheepish. “What’s the poll?”

“Are Epaulettes a reasonable fashion choice?”

The teen laughed, throwing his head back. “Yeah, I can decide that,” He said, getting up. “Love you mom, I’ve got to—”

“Get going or they’ll start rolling dice over it!” Geordi told him.

“Bye!” Wesley shouted, “Get back to us as soon as you can!” he added, dodging forward and ending call.

Beverly sat, room illuminated by a stand-by screen.

Wesley away for months...

One month had been hard enough.

But looking around her, Beverly couldn’t deny; there was nothing here for Wesley. He’d have no access to anything in engineering, stuck in a bustling medical complex of places he wouldn’t be allowed to enter.

There was nothing for him here.

This environment was not as accommodating for family members; Wesley would spend a couple hours a day in a class teaching information he already knew, and the rest of the day he’d be more or less confined to quarters.

It was everything the Enterprise wasn’t.

She couldn’t blame him for wanting to stay.

As she went to close the message, Beverly noticed a small file tacked on to the transmission. She opened it.

A simple text file, a message:

Dr. Beverly Crusher,

Beverly,

Please consider Wesley’s request to stay aboard the Enterprise, for while it is ultimately your decision, it would be a shame to loose such an intelligent young officer.

If your concern is that of safety, I simply write this to promise you that I refuse to let anything happen to that boy. He will return to you safe and unharmed regarless, you have my word.

Sincerely yours,

Jean-Luc Picard

Beverly took a long breath.

She knew what she had to do.

It would hurt, but she couldn’t force Wesley to give this up.

It was the free-est and happiest he’d been in years.

He’d found a home. It would be selfish to make him give that up for her career.

Hand trembling ever so slightly, she closed the message and opened her own camera.

She hoped this would make him happy.

That’s all she wanted.

Chapter Text

Ten-Forward was bustling; it was a changeover during a shore leave, so all those who weren’t moving in or out, or visiting friends and family on Earth, had come to shoot the breeze in the lounge.

Someone, presumably Will as he’d positioned himself in the middle, had the forethought of occupying a corner for them. There were only four there so far; Will, Deanna, Worf and Geordi had all gathered, though from the way Geordi had spread out to take up two seats, she presumed Data would be there shortly.

“Beverly!” Will and Deanna shuffled out of the booth, allowing the latter to squeeze out and pad up to Beverly. The two women traded a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “It’s good to see you,” Deanna said. “Everyone was very excited to hear you’d be returning.”

“Double that, we were thrilled,” Will said, embracing her firmly from the side. “No insult to Dr. Pulaski, she’s a wonderful doctor, but I think everyone missed you.”

“Well, that’s very kind of you to say,” Beverly chuckled, bashful. “I admit it wasn’t an easy choice,” yes it was. “But I felt I’d completed my necessary duties there, and I was ready to come home-- as it were.”

They ushered her into the booth.

“While I’m up, Doc? Would you like a drink?”

“Just water for now,” she smiled, though there was hesitation in her smile. She turned to Deanna beside her. “Where’s Wesley? He wasn’t in his quarters.”

“Last time I heard he was going to stop by one of the labs after shift,” Geordi piped in. “It’s taking him a while though.”

Beverly was admittedly impatient. She had barely been able to let go of him when she’d first leapt down from the transporter pad and enveloped him in her arms.

Wes had to make it clear several times that he had to return to shift before she’d finally let him go.

He’d grown so much.

He was taller than her.

Still, his body had felt skinny and delicate in her arms.

Beverly thanked Will for the glass and took a slow sip. It always tasted different. She’d spent a good deal of time in Sol the past year, where most major bases still primarily used a reservoir water system, as it had been built into their design over a hundred-fifty years ago and protected the population from possible replicator malfunctions. The water aboard the Enterprise, which was always from a food slot, tasted and felt different in her mouth. It as smoother, the acidity was carefully balanced every single time in its very creation.

Everything was different, it was always an adjustment period working on a euclidean body verses on a ship with artificial gravity; it just felt different.

In a way all these things, the gravity, the water... they felt like stepping back into a memory.

Things had changed, but it still felt like her home.

Shortly they were joined by Data, who confirmed that Wesley had still been in the lab when he’d passed.

They’d just decided on some food for the table when the doors opened, and the seventh member of their party appeared.

“Doctor,” He greeted broadly.

“Captain!” Again there was some seat shuffling as she wormed out to greet him.

They caught in a lose embrace, holding a moment before releasing.

Jean-Luc got ahead of her: “It’s good to have you back.”

“It’s good to be back,” she smiled. For a second she saw him smiling as well. Beverly felt her face get warm. “I couldn’t stay away,” she laughed awkwardly.

It was true.

She had been waiting for a medical position to open on the Enterprise. She’d even been willing to take a subordinate position under Dr. Pulaski. She just had to come back.

Some chatter had started around the yellow corner of the booth, and Will and Deanna were returning with food.

This felt right.

Well, not quite right, but that was quickly rectified.

She hadn’t even sat down when Wesley barrelled in.

He looked harried, one of his sleeves rolled up; he must have literally just come from the lab.

“Mom,” he called.

“Wes!” She held her arms open, and he stepped into the hug. They swayed a moment, Beverly leaning her weight on him a little.

This was correct.

He, again, felt skinny in her arms, his shoulders were higher, and he sported the distinct scent of a teenage boy desperately trying not to smell like a teenage boy.

Finally, she pulled back.

Wes looked a little sheepish, glancing at the table.

Beverly, remembering that they had an audience, quickly lead him over towards the vacant seats.

“Sorry I’m a little late,” Her son said, “But I’m working on a really important project for school. I wanted to finish this portion so I could have the whole night off.”

“No worries, please,” she assured, squeezing them into the booth. With some tactful seat rearranging Beverly ended up wedged between Jean-Luc and her son. She looked up and down the table as people began to dig in. “Well, I’ve got a lot to catch up on.”

Beverly was warm and full and tired.

She hadn’t laughed that hard in months-- maybe all year-- regaled with the tales of what she missed; Will’s placement on the Klingon vessel, Worf’s anniversary of ascension (And Wesley’s nosing-around), Deanna’s mother visiting, and even their exploits revamping the Hathaway. Her son had gotten all sheepish when they got to the part about him conning the Enterprise out of Antimatter for the warp drive.

She didn’t want them to have all the fun teasing Wesley, and had cut in once or twice with stories about how he used to stomp around the living room in her lab coat, shouting orders at imaginary doctors. Everyone got a kick out of that.

But now things were getting quiet. Ten-Forward had emptied out as many turned in or returned to work, and even a few members of their party had retired; Worf and Data returning to the bridge and Geordi to engineering. Will and Deanna were still there but had been making eyes at each other for easily an hour and were clearly just waiting for a chance to slip away.

Humoured by this, she and Jean-Luc struck up their own light chatter about the chaos of their respective last years.

Wesley hadn’t left either; he was off for the night now and didn’t want to leave her side just yet.

That being said, it was becoming clear that it was about time for the Crushers to retire; Beverly’s eyelids were heavy from the labour of moving back aboard, and she could feel Wes leaning his head against her shoulder sleepily. She’d asked twice if he was needed to go to bed, and he’d said no, but his chest was heaving slowly and peacefully, and whenever she glanced over his eyes were barely slits.

“It looks as though we’ve stayed out past curfew,” Jean-Luc joked.

Wesley sat up sharply, indignantly trying to blink himself awake.

“Yes, perhaps so,” Beverly sighed. “It seems like a shame to end the celebration, but I think we’ve all had a long day.” Indeed, she could already feel Wesley slumped against her again. They stood, Beverly helping her drowsy son up, leaving the young lovers in the corner of the booth. She smiled down at them. “We’d better get going. Wes?”

“Goodnight,” he murmured, stifling a yawn.

Yes, it was definitely time to get to bed.

She walked Wes out into the hall, Jean-Luc following close behind.

“Thank you for organizing this,” She said, turning to him.

“It was our pleasure-- in fact,” The captain said, “I barely organized anything.”

He looked past her, drawing her eyes to where Wesley was stretching his shoulders.

Beverly couldn’t help smiling. “Thank you,” she said, to neither of them in particular. “It’s good to be home.”