The BLTS Archive - Fearful Dreams by Kerri Bush (Blondiee17@aol.com) --- Disclaimer: Paramount owns the Universe, the characters, and all the money associated with them. I did this soley for the enjoyment and the feedback. (Hint, hint). Author's Note: This one is a long time in coming. Thanks to Nancy, who keeps me on my toes with *my* whip (don't play like you don't know, Nancy); Lys and the rest of the BonClettes who threatened me with bodily harm if I didn't hurry up and finish the story. The double ** denotes italics. --- Jean-Luc Picard lay awake in his quarters. He glanced at the chronometer by his bedside. 02:50 hours. *Almost time.* He was tired. He hadn't gotten much sleep for the past several nights. This was becoming a nightly ritual. He was worried. He stared at the clock again. 02:52. *Any minute now.* This had to stop. It needed to stop. It wasn't healthy. But he kept letting it go, night after night, every morning swearing he would get help, but failing to do so. He just couldn't do that. Not now. Not yet. Once again he looked at the chronometer. 02:54. *Past time. What's wrong?* He was about to go investigate when he heard the telltale cheep of the lock of the door to his quarters. He quickly snapped his eyes shut and turned over, feigning sleep. He heard the soft patter of bare feet cross his cabin floor. He felt the bed shift as a figure climbed in beside him. He felt the soft tickle of fingertips brush against his arm. He heard the one sound he dreaded hearing every night. He heard the quiet, uncontrollable sobs. --- Every night, Beverly Crusher put off sleep as long as she could. The reports from the day were completed before she even thought about showering. She lingered in the bathroom, brushing her hair, rearranging her bottles of cosmetics and perfumes, wasting time, until she could stall no longer. She reluctantly climbed into her bed, promising herself that no matter how bad it was, she would not leave her room tonight. She drifted off into a light sleep, filled with pictures from the past she did not care to relive. As usual, it was bad, and as usual, she left her room. She had no idea why the visions of Arveda tortured her now, forty years after the disaster. She did know that they frightened her, and they were not stopping. She needed to feel safe, and there was only one person alive that could give it to her. So she went religiously every night to his room, and lay beside him as she slept, and let his presence give her comfort. It would be different if he knew. Beverly knew he didn't; he was never awake when she came or left. If he knew, she couldn't go to him. He would ask her what was wrong, want her to talk about it. Talk about it was the one thing she didn't want to do. Once again, Beverly found her way to Jean-Luc's quarters, tapped in the access code she knew by heart, and quietly made her way to his bedroom. She made sure he was asleep, and took her place beside him. Only then did she allow the tears to fall. --- Jean-Luc set the table for two, even though he was sure if his breakfast partner wouldn't be in attendance this morning. He imagined she was sleeping in. He hoped she was sleeping in. This nightly ritual had been continuing for weeks. He grew increasingly worried with each passing night. He knew he needed to confront Beverly, needed to find out what was hurting her so bad, yet he hesitated. He wanted her to come to him. He wanted her to know that she could always come to him. As the weeks had gone on, Beverly had started skipping breakfast with him. He assumed she was catching up on the sleep she'd been missing. Then she had started being later than normal for staff meetings. That bothered him, but he let it go, joking with the senior staff that Beverly would be 15 minutes late to her own funeral. Then she had been late for her shift on a regular basis. He let that one slide as well. But when she completely skipped the staff meetings and was late for her shift by more than an hour... He'd been forced to place her on report. Just the day before, he had called her to his office to notify her that the repeated tardiness would not be tolerated. He had called her there with the intentions of being stern, but after taking one look at her, he quickly changed his mind. Beverly had the appearance of a woman that had been beaten in a previous relationship, as if she were expecting the blows. Her hair had lost its shine, her eyes had lost their sparkle, and her skin had lost its glow. Her face was drawn taunt, the lines around her eyes more defined, and the circles under her eyes dark and ugly. He'd given her the short version of the lecture, then asked her if anything was wrong. She'd denied troubles, but it was plainly obvious she was lying. He'd started to press deeper into the conversation, but an untimely call from an admiral had cut the discussion short. Now he awaited her arrival, knowing all too well she would not come, would not be present for the staff meeting, would be late for her shift, and he would be forced to report her again. "Computer, locate Dr. Crusher." "Dr. Crusher is in her quarters." He knew better. He'd gone to her room to check the first time she'd missed their breakfast, fearing she was sick or injured. She hadn't been there, only her communicator was present in the room. He didn't know where she went during this time, but he was frightened to the very core that Beverly was severely depressed enough to do something she would regret. --- Beverly sat, quietly perched in a hidden spot on Deck 23. This little nook was supposedly a storage unit, but it was empty, and very few ventured here. She used this seclusion to think. She had no perception of time. When it occurred to her to go to work, she would go. More often than not she was late. Just yesterday Jean-Luc had notified her she'd been placed on report. She'd acknowledged this, denied any problems and had left. She returned to sickbay, where she hid in her office all day until someone told her she could leave. Then, after returning to her quarters to change, she came to her little spot, and thought. Mostly she thought about the dreams, how they were slowly driving her mad. She thought about her career, which she was carelessly throwing away. She thought about Jean-Luc, whom she was desperately trying to push away. She wanted nothing but to run into his arms and sob, to tell him the whole story, so someone would understand how she hurt. But if she did that, he would insist that she go to therapy. She'd been to therapy. It hadn't helped. Beverly felt herself begin to fall asleep. She resisted, not because she was already an hour and a half late for her shift, but because she didn't want to relive the dreams. But resistance is, after all, futile. --- Shift was over. Jean-Luc Picard stared at the last report, the one from sickbay. In the last line, written so straightforwardly, was the one thing he'd hoped he wouldn't see. 'Dr. Crusher failed to report for her shift.' He was at wit's end. He didn't know what to do. Rather, he knew what he had to do, what protocol forced him to do. He didn't know how to help her, as her friend. But protocol was protocol, and it must be followed. "Picard to Counselor Troi." --- The blood was everywhere. The planet was afire. Everything in sight was burning with bright flame from the attack. The ship was still in orbit, the one that had fired upon the simple little farming colony. A farming colony with no way to defend itself, with no affiliations with any organization to call for help. They were doomed. The blood was everywhere. A man lay dead in the street with two small boys beside him, also dead. Their clothes were soaked with their red blood that had been literally sucked out of their bodies. The blood was everywhere It had been a mistake to settle so close to the Cardassian border and make no connections with them or with the Federation. They would pay for that mistake with their lives. The blood was everywhere. A ten year old girl was curled into a small ball in the corner of her family's home, trying to stay out of the vision of the Cardassian soldiers invading it. As long as they didn't know she was there, she would be alive. The blood was everywhere. The girl watched the Cardassian take a dull knife to her mother's throat, saw him cut into the soft flesh, heard the blood curdling scream of fear and pain and death. Saw the bright red blood spurt out of the wound onto the floor. Watched her mother die a slow and painful death. The blood was everywhere. The Cardassian man had seen her. He came over to her, said something in the Cardassian language, vile, no doubt. He grabbed her arm and threw her to his buddies, who stripped her of her clothes and violated her in the most horrid way and left her to die, lying in her mother's blood. The blood was everywhere. --- Beverly awoke from the memory, terrified and disoriented. The visions hadn't ceased with her sleep, as they had in the past. She could feel the last shred of sanity leave her, could feel her control slip. With her last ounce of strength, she reached the only place on the ship were she could possibly regain her frame of mind. It didn't help. --- He'd had the entire ship searched, looking for her. After summoning the counselor, they had gone to her quarters to talk to her, but she hadn't been there. He'd ordered security to do a deck by deck search. She had yet to be found. As he walked to his quarters, he assured himself that she was safe, that she had merely missed the security officers in her aimless wandering of the ship. He entered his cabin and was shocked at the sight. In the center of his living room floor was Beverly Crusher, staring out into space. "Beverly," he whispered. She made no movements. For a split second Jean-Luc feared she was dead. He then saw her chest move as the air entered and left her lungs. "Beverly," he tried again. No answer. He closed the space between them and knelt beside her. She made no attempt to run away. She didn't move. She didn't flinch when he touched her face. She made no reaction when he turned her head to face him. "Beverly, talk to me. Please." She said nothing, did nothing. He slid a finger under her chin and pulled her gaze to meet his own. What he saw made scared him worse than if she had been on a biobed in sickbay. Nothing was present in her eyes. No intelligence, no soul, no recognition. They were blank. He swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat, and called to the sky. "Picard to Troi." "Troi here. We haven't located Beverly-" "Counselor, come to my quarters, please." Her voice hesitated only a second. "On my way. Troi out." Picard carefully drew Beverly into his arms, as he should have done when she came to him in the night. He prayed she would cry, scream, hit him, say something, do something. Anything. His prayers were not answered. End "Fearful Dreams" Part 1/5. Feedback is welcome. --- Jean-Luc Picard sat in the observation lounge. He felt that was a fitting place for him to be, as that was all he was doing at the present: observing. Deanna Troi had come to his quarters and had nearly fallen to pieces when she saw Beverly lying so broken in his arms. Her professional training had kicked in, however, and she began a quick workup of Beverly's psychological condition. A waste of time. Anyone could plainly see Beverly's psychological condition was not good. Deanna had taken Beverly to sickbay for a full workup. He had followed, but had quickly been dismissed. They said there was nothing he could do, and they would call him when they completed their scans. That had been four hours ago. Picard has spent most of the time thinking. Just exactly when did she start coming to him when she thought he was sleeping? What had caused this? Why didn't he realize how seriously she was in trouble? Why didn't he get her some help? The answer to the last was plain and simple: she had always taken care of herself before. Beverly had never needed him, had never needed anybody. She was more than capable of handling her own affairs, her own problems. Jean-Luc believed this was also the reason she didn't ask for his help directly. She wanted to be independent. "Troi to Picard." His eyes snapped up. "Yes, Counselor?" "Please come to sickbay." Inwardly, any hope that he'd had of Beverly being fine was crushed. Deanna would have told him immediately if she were okay, then asked him to come to sickbay. "On my way." Picard walked the all too familiar corridors of his ship. When was the last time he and Beverly had gone for a midnight stroll? He couldn't remember. When was the last time they had shared dinner together? His mind drew a blank. When had he ever told her that he would always be there for her, to help her through her problems? Never. He'd always assumed she knew. He entered sickbay, nodding to the new intern who's name he couldn't recall, and strode back to the private area. Sitting on the biobed was his precious Beverly, surrounded by Troi and Dr. Selar. Beverly made no movements as he approached. Her eyes were opened wide, yet they saw nothing. It hurt him so to see her like this. So lost, so rejected. Picard looked at Troi. "Report." "In the CMO's office, please, captain." He nodded his approval, and knew the prognosis was not good. Deanna had said CMO's, not Beverly's, office. Deanna dove right in. "She's completely retreated into her mind. I can't reach her." The words hit him with the sharpness of icewater. *Can't reach her.* "What about a full telepath?" Deanna shook her head slowly. "Her mind is closed. I taught her Betazoid mental barriers, and she is utilizing them." Picard caught the strain in Deanna's voice; this was hurting her almost as much as it was hurting him. The dread slowly settled on his heart. *Can't reach her.* "Options?" Dr. Selar's voice was as calm as a Vulcan's voice should be. "It is logical to suspect a mild meld could bring Dr. Crusher out of her retreat." Picard nodded. "Schedule it." *I'll do whatever it takes, Beverly. Anything at all.* --- The mood was somber in the observation lounge. Though they were all sure the meeting had been called because of Dr. Crusher, none of them knew the exact reason. Deanna Troi walked into the lounge. Her eyes were puffy and red. Will Riker looked at her with concern. "Deanna, what's wrong?" Deanna shook her head and took her place at the table. Her appearance worried Will, it assured him something was horribly wrong with Beverly. Before he could press deeper into the matter, Picard entered. He nodded at Riker, then took his seat. Picard inhaled deeply, and plunged forward. "I'm sure all of you are aware that Dr. Crusher had not been well." Muffled answers in the affirmative circled around the table, punctuated by a sniff from Deanna. "Dr. Crusher has been placed on medical leave. She will not return to duty until she has completely recovered from her condition." "Captain," broke in Riker, "just what exactly is Beverly's condition?" "Dr. Crusher has retreated into her mind. She is in a state of catatonia and is not responsive to any treatments. Dr. Selar is performing a mind meld this afternoon." Picard sounded so professional, but his closest friends knew what this was doing to him. He was being torn apart from the inside. The meeting quickly came to a close, with few questions, and no answers. --- Four people were in the small examination room. Three were alert, one was motionless. Counselor Troi and Captain Picard stood a short distance away. A medical team hovered in the doorway, just in case something were to go wrong. Dr. Selar stood next to her patient, completing the necessary tests before beginning the procedure. Though she was beyond emotions, Selar knew that she would be feeling distress at this moment. Beverly was not only her superior, but her friend. Her retreat from reality had shaken the sickbay staff badly, as well as the command crew of the Enterprise. Satisfied that Beverly would suffer no ill effects from the mind meld, Selar put her tricorder down and nodded at the two other officers in the room. Firmly, she pressed her hand into the expressionless face of the soulless eyes. "My mind, to your mind. My thoughts, to your thoughts..." --- A wall. There was a wall. She couldn't get through. Nothing was going in, and nothing was coming out. She couldn't get through. There was a wall. A wall. --- Deanna panicked. Never, in all of her years of Starfleet, had she ever seen a Vulcan pass out. But that was precisely what Selar did. The doctor had barely finished uttering the melding phrases when her body began to violently shake. Seconds later, she had lost consciousness. The medics ran in to render aid, and she and the captain had been ushered out. Deanna sat on an empty biobed and pondered. *What did she see in Beverly's mind?* --- Jean-Luc Picard paced in his quarters, rather disturbed. He'd been abruptly thrown out of sickbay following Selar's loss of consciousness. This concerned him greatly. *What did she see in Beverly's mind?* Picard tried to call out to Beverly with his own mind. He knew he possessed no telepathic powers, but he thought that he and Beverly's bond may be strong enough for her to hear him. *Beverly. Come back to me. I need you.* The silence in his mind almost matched that in his heart. --- Selar had recovered enough to speak with them. What she had to say did nothing to lift Picard's mood. "I am unable to reach her. It is beyond all logic she will come out of her current state." He heard little else of Selar's speech. Selar suggested Beverly be taken to Earth, to a hospital specially designed for those with her problem. Picard nodded at the doctor, thanked her, turned, and walked out the door. --- The arboretum was one of his and Beverly's favorite places to come for their midnight walks. They would stroll by the brook and talk for hours. He now strolled alone. She was alone as well. He wondered who was more lonely. Selar had said a hospital, but Picard knew to what she was referring. An asylum. She wanted him to institutionalize her. But how could he? This was his fault. If he'd only made her talk to him... --- Sickbay was quiet. There was no abundance of medical emergencies this night shift. Picard silently crossed the room to the private area where his destination lay. She wasn't sleeping. She was still sitting up on the bed, her eyes fixed, staring straight ahead, unseeing. "Beverly," he whispered. "You don't have to do this around me. Talk to me." Nothing. Jean-Luc drew up a chair and sat next to her. It would be a long night. --- He had agonized over his decision for days. He didn't want to send her away, yet he knew there was nothing to be done for her here. He had even taken personal leave, something that hadn't happened in over a year. He felt the need to be near her, as if he could apologize for causing her this pain. Jean-Luc Picard sat in his chair, next to her unmoving figure. Her skin was pale, her face thin. He tapped a code into the PADD he held. He'd made his decision. "I'll never leave you, my love," he whispered through his tears. "I'll always be with you." His only answer was silence and a visionless stare. --- The hallway was dimly lit. A lone figure tread a well worn path, a path he had followed every day for the past five years. Admiral Jean-Luc Picard nodded at a nurse. The nurse's slightly worried expression dropped when she saw him. She smiled gaily at him and continued her work. He was late. Admiral Necheyev had kept him longer than usual. The peace talks with the Cardassians had been pushed back, again. He was beginning to wonder if the alliance would ever become reality. Picard gently knocked on Room 387's door, even though he knew that would be no answer. He shifted the small object he held in his hands and opened the door. "Hello Beverly. How are you today?" As usual, she made no reaction to his arrival, or to his words. Her eyes remained fixed to the ceiling. Jean-Luc had learned long ago to ignore this. If he didn't, the result was upsetting to him, and he knew that if he was upset, Beverly would become even more withdrawn, if that was even possible. He gently sat on the bed and smoothed the hair on her forehead. "I brought you something." He presented her with the object he had been carrying, a stuffed green frog. Tied around the creature's neck was a white rose. "Happy Valentine's Day, Beverly. I love you." Beverly didn't move as he untied the ribbon that held the rose. She didn't react when he placed the rose in the small vase that sat on the nightstand beside her bed. Her eyes never moved from their position as he carefully positioned the frog under her arm. He began telling her about his day, as he always did. He told her about the letter he'd just received from Will and Deanna, newlyweds with their first child on the way. He told her he missed her and wanted her to get better. The nurse quietly entered the room, and Jean-Luc recognized the sign. It was time for him to leave. "Goodbye, Beverly. I'll see you tomorrow. I love you." He brushed his lips across her forehead and left the nurse to do her job. The nurse would hook up the intravenous feeding unit to provide Beverly with her nourishment. She would bathe and dress her. She would put her to bed. It was a job Jean-Luc wished he could do himself, but he knew that he couldn't. Beverly's blind glare would drive him to pieces. --- Sandy Lonkey was the nurse assigned to Beverly Crusher tonight. She hated this assignment, as did all the other nurses. Beverly had been in her unresponsive state for five years. There was no hope that she would come out of it. Sandy found it hard to believe that the frail form of a woman lying catatonic in a bed of an institution was once a brilliant surgeon, the best in Starfleet. The monitor beeped, and Sandy unhooked the feeding unit. The thing that all the nurses hated about this assignment was Beverly's eyes. They never blinked, and never moved. They simply stared. It was eerie. No one knew why she had simply tuned out the world around her. Admiral Picard had said she had been experiencing nightmares, but never before had bad dreams forced someone to this point. Sandy took the frog from under Beverly's arm and placed in on the nightstand, smiling at the cuteness of the toy. She began stripping the woman for her bath. Admiral Jean-Luc Picard. Boy, was he something. Admiral Picard was the reason nurses didn't refuse working Beverly's room. He came to visit her faithfully, every night. He was one fine male specimen, if Sandy did say so herself. All of the nurses wanted him, even the married ones. But it seemed Picard was married to the woman lying motionless before her. Sandy bathed Beverly and dressed her in a clean nightgown. She made a quick spot check, and upon seeing everything was in order, turned to leave the room. Just as she walked out the door, she heard a moan. She paused, and sure enough, she heard it again. Sandy blew it off as her mind playing tricks on her. *It couldn't be her; she hasn't made a sound in five years.* She shut off the lights and closed the door. As the door clicked, she thought she heard another moan, this one sounding a lot like "frog." --- Jean-Luc Picard was trying to get away from his desk. He had a meeting with Beverly's doctor in an hour, and he wanted to see her before he saw him. But, naturally, Admiral Alynna 'Iceberg' Necheyev had other ideas. "Admiral Picard, we must get the negotiation schedule for the Cardassian peace talks ready!" He sighed. This was not going to be easy. "Alynna, they will be done. Everyone knows the talks will never be on schedule anyhow." The blonde woman stiffened. "Yes, it is true, but that doesn't give you an excuse to play hooky!" "Alynna, I would love to argue with you, but it's going to have to wait. I've got an appointment with Beverly's doctor that I must get to." With that, he rose and left his office. Alynna watched Picard leave. She sighed. He was such a good officer. But his priorities were not straight. --- Picard strode into Dr. Alan Klicker's office, ten minutes late for his appointment. "I apologize for my tardiness, Doctor. Is there a problem with Beverly that I need to know about?" Dr. Klicker had overseen Beverly's case since her arrival at the hospital. He was considered one of the leading medics in mental illness. "Admiral, as Beverly's medical guardian, I believe you have a very important decision to make." "What decision is that, Doctor?" Klicker hated doing this. But sometimes, as in this case, it was the only option. "I think it's time to consider a different treatment option for Beverly." Picard was confused. "I thought this was the best thing for her. To be here." "Yes, it was, but now it's time to think about something else." Picard leaned back in his chair. He would do anything to help Beverly. "What do you suggest, Doctor?" The doctor cleared his throat. "As you know, Beverly has made absolutely no progress over the past five years. She requires constant care. Forgive the wording, sir, but she is little more than a vegetable." Picard nodded, but didn't speak. These were the words he didn't want to hear. Beverly was more than a vegetable. She was. She was just sick. She just needed time to get better. Klicker continued. "There is a good clinic on Vulcan that I think would suit her needs. These Vulcans are mind healers." "Beverly's already had a mind meld. It didn't work." Klicker was afraid of this. He would have to spell it out for the Admiral. "It isn't exactly a mind meld. The healers touch their patients' minds, and heal their pain." "Beverly doesn't appear to be in any pain. As for mental injury, we don't know. It can't be determined because her mind is closed. You know this, Doctor." "Admiral, Beverly is in pain. Look at her. She was an active woman, wasn't she? A brilliant surgeon, a promising Starfleet officer. What is she now? Nothing. She lays in bed and doesn't move or speak. Tell me she isn't hurting." Picard started at his hands. Beverly was hurting, and once again it was his fault. He had brought her here. "This clinic on Vulcan, what will they do?" "I told you, sir, they will touch her mind and end her pain." Picard still did not understand. "A Vulcan doctor attempted the same thing. She was unable to go into her mind. She was blocked off." Klicker decided to give up going around the topic. He was just going to say it. "She has her emotions blocked off, Admiral. Her body function centers are still available. It's quick and painless. The healer goes into her mind and touches the part of the mind that shorts out the brain-" "You want to kill Beverly?" The doctor swallowed. "Kill is not an appropriate word, sir. A better word is euthanasia." "You want to kill Beverly?" Klicker heard the rage in the Admiral's voice. He decided he'd better cut the meeting short before Picard lost control. "You have two weeks. Either she goes to the Vulcan clinic, or she goes to another facility. We can do no more for her here, and we need to make room for some people we can help." Klicker had almost left the room, when he turned. "I cannot call it killing, Jean-Luc, because Beverly is not truly alive." Jean-Luc watched Klicker leave the office, as silent as the woman he was trying to protect. --- Normally, Picard would have gone straight to Beverly's room to visit her, but today he went for a walk in the hospital garden. He needed time to think. For the first time since Beverly had come under his guardianship, he was at a loss for what to do. His mind told him that the euthanasia would be the best thing for her. His heart told a different story. Picard has always been convinced that Beverly would come out of it. As the years had gone on, that confidence had faltered. Now, he had a decision to make, and a serious one. Would he kill the woman he loved, or would he condemn her to a life of nothingness? Jean-Luc Picard, one of the finest officers in the Fleet, sat on a park bench and wept bitterly. --- Jean-Luc found himself agonizing over another decision concerning Beverly, just as he had five years ago. He wanted to do what was best for her, but what was best? He had called several other mental health facilities, but they would not take Beverly because of the length of her stay in catatonia. After many hours of searching, he found another hospital that would take Beverly. It was on Luna. Its location meant that he wouldn't be able to visit her as often. At most once every three days or so. Not that it mattered. She didn't know he was there anyhow. Klicker was right. Beverly wasn't alive. Could he find the strength within himself to make the right decision? --- Picard sat beside Beverly's bed, with a PADD in his hand. With a flick of the wrist, Beverly's fate would be sealed. He took another good look at her, just has he had done for the past several days. She looked exactly the same: thin, pale, sickly, with unmoving, unseeing eyes. She didn't know he was there, and even if she did realize another was present with her, she didn't recognize him. Beverly didn't know that he was her Jean-Luc. Jean-Luc Picard took a deep breathe and ran a hand over his smooth head. He swallowed the lump in his throat. He scribbled his name at the bottom of the document and submitted it. With the task done, Jean-Luc tossed the PADD onto the nightstand, next to the green frog. He took her hand. "I love you. Beverly, this is what's best for you. I hope you understand." She did not respond. In the silence, he could have sworn he heard a moan. For a second, he thought it was Beverly, but quickly dismissed the idea. Beverly hadn't uttered a sound in five years. Besides, the moan had sounded a lot like "frog." --- "Alynna, I really need to-" "Go see about Beverly. I know, Jean-Luc." Admiral Necheyev was not happy. "But these Cardassians don't care about that. If we want the alliance, we have to meet them halfway." *Or at Cardassia.* "The final itinerary will be completed in time, Admiral. I do need to get to the hospital though. She's leaving tomorrow." Alynna Necheyev was a hard woman, but even she softened when she heard about Beverly Crusher. "Was it ever determined what caused the catatonia?" "No. They think it had something to do with a dream sequence, though." He sighed. "Usually, a person with that type of catatonia attaches themselves to one object, and that object is used to bring them out of it. Beverly has exhibited no such symptoms." Necheyev frowned. "So there's no hope." "No." Alynna found it difficult to believe that with all the medical technology available to them, they could not help this woman. It was a crying shame. Beverly, though not Necheyev's favorite person, was one of the best doctors she'd ever seen. Now she was reduced to this... Beverly's illness had also had a profound affect on her favorite admiral, Jean-Luc Picard. He was the one making the medical decisions, and worry was etched on his face. Picard had recently been faced with a major decision: should he sign Beverly over to euthanasia? He'd taken a week off to contemplate his decision, and had finally made one. Alynna agreed with Picard's choice. Though it seemed cruel, she knew it was for the best. Now if only Picard would believe that. "Go on, Jean-Luc. I'll see you in a week." Picard gave her a look of gratitude. "Thank you, Alynna." "Anytime." Necheyev watched Picard leave, then smiled. She'd show them that Admiral Iceberg wasn't as cold as she seemed. --- Jean-Luc Picard walked down the halls to Room 387 for the last time. He reached her room and quietly entered. Beverly was turned on her side, her hollow eyes facing him. *The nurses must have turned her today.* He started to his chair by the bed when he stumbled over something in the floor. He glanced down, and smiled. At his feet lay Beverly's green frog. Picard picked up the toy. *It must have fell off the bed when the nurse turned her.* He put the frog next to Beverly and sat. His thoughts wandered to the trip tomorrow. Was he making the right decision? Was he doing what was best for Beverly, or for himself? Jean-Luc continued pondering these thoughts until he felt himself beginning to nod off. As sleep enveloped him, he was sure he heard someone say "frog." --- Sandy Lonkey quietly entered Room 387. Beverly Crusher would be leaving tomorrow morning. She made a quick spot check of the room to see what would need to be replaced. Sleeping in the chair next to Beverly was Jean-Luc Picard, her medical guardian. He would be accompanying Beverly on her trip tomorrow. As much as Sandy disagreed with the treatment option that had been decided, she did think it was the best one for Admiral Picard. She didn't think he could take the strain of... *No use dwelling on that.* She finished her surveying and adjusted the blankets around Beverly. Sandy's arm hit the green frog, and it hit the ground. She reached down and replaced it in its place beside the motionless woman. Sandy silently said good-bye, and exited the room. She could have sworn she heard someone whisper "frog." --- The shuttle ride was long. He could have ordered the pilot to go faster, but he wanted to spend this time alone with her. Jean-Luc stared at her unmoving frame. It hurt him so much to see her like this, but what else could be done for her? Over the past week, he had gone to every doctor that would hear Beverly's case. Every one had said there was no hope for recovery, she had been gone too long. All of them suggested euthanasia. Mercy killing. That's how one dictionary defined euthanasia. Picard saw it as murder. Those doctors spoke of Beverly as if she were little more than an injured animal. "This is what's best for her," they said. Picard didn't believe them. Beverly was no sick dog. Then again, what else was there to do? All the doctors had said it was a hopeless case and refused to admit her to their hospitals. Picard knew he could force the issue, could hire a lawyer and sue for the refusal to render aid, but what was the point? He found no answers in the viewport, nor in her empty eyes. --- The shuttlecraft touched down on the surface gently. Picard carefully placed Beverly into the support chair and gathered her things, making sure the green frog was securely in her lap. He nodded to the pilot. He then pushed Beverly out of the shuttle. Jean-Luc could have asked the pilot to set down directly in front of their destination, but he wanted to spend this time with Beverly. Jean-Luc slowly walked down the path, describing the scenery to her. His voice was soft and gentle. "These are Andorian roses, Beverly. They're usually pink, but a gas in the atmosphere turns them blue on this planet." She made no reaction, but he didn't expect her to. They were approaching the gates. He stopped short of them and knelt in front of Beverly. He lifted her face so he could look into her eyes, as soulless as they were. "Beverly, I have to make you understand that this is what's best for you." Jean-Luc suddenly swallowed hard. "I'm going to do everything in my power to see that this is as comfortable for you as possible. I love you, Beverly. I hope you know that." He leaned forward and kissed her forehead. He smoothed her hair down. He took the frog out of her lap and put it in his bag for safekeeping. After quickly saying a prayer to any gods who might be listening, he finished their walk to the gate and gently opened it. Picard took a last look at the surroundings, making sure he could always remember the grass, the trees, the scent of sun ripened grapes. Gathering all of his courage, he pushed Beverly through the gate. The sound of the gates clanging noisily as they closed covered a muffled "frog." --- Jean-Luc Picard paced the library in his house in France. The decision had been made. It was over and done with. So why was he so antsy? He thoughts were interrupted by a beep. He hit the button on his communications terminal. *If it is Alynna Necheyev wanting the Cardassian peace process schedule...* "Hello Admiral." "Will. How are you?" The captain of the Enterprise grinned. "Tired. Deanna's in her eighth month." Jean-Luc chuckled. "I imagine so." "We're going to stop by later this week. There's a transport coming by Earth." *Just like Deanna,* Picard mused, *having to check up on me.* "You're always welcome in my house, Will." Riker nodded. "See you soon. Take care." "You too, Will." As the screen went blank, Picard poured and downed a drink. --- He eased open the door to the room. It was the one next to his own. He needed to be close. He drew up a chair next to the bed, just as he had for the past five years. Maybe this was wrong. He no longer cared. Jean-Luc Picard took the hand of the woman he loved. "Welcome home, my darling. I hope you like France." --- Jean-Luc Picard swore as his leg slammed into the side of the doorframe. "Merde." He was running late this morning. It was so unlike him to sleep through the alarm, but he had been spending a lot more time with Beverly at night, since he could no longer do it during the day. His presence had been required the past few weeks at Starfleet Headquarters. The Cardassians had finally approved a peace talk schedule. Picard had been working closely with the Cardassian ambassadors to secure a location for the talks. Picky did not begin to describe the Cardassians. One planet was too close to the Klingon border. Another had too warm of a climate. This one was too close to Earth, this one too near Romulan space... It was finally agreed to meet on Inagut V, a sparsely inhabited world exactly halfway between Cardassian and Federation space. The Inagutian people were non aligned and had agreed to let them use their facilities. Jean-Luc quickly got his morning coffee. There was a reception this afternoon honoring the new talks that would commence within the next year, which meant he would be late. Since bringing Beverly to live with him, he had been able to do most of his work in France. It had not been possible over the last few weeks, so he had arranged for friends to come and sit with Beverly. He was not able to secure anyone for today, however. He was going to have to find some time during the day to check in and make sure she was okay. He went into Beverly's room to tell her good-bye. Jean-Luc took the frog from under her arm and rearranged the blankets. "Beverly, I'm going to San Francisco today. I'll be home as soon as I can. I love you." He kissed her forehead, smoothed her hair, and retreated. Halfway to the front door he realized he still held the green frog. After a quick debate whether he could afford the time necessary to return it to her room, Picard placed it on the sofa in the living room. *She'll never miss it.* In his hurry, he didn't hear the raspy voice whisper "frog." --- "So glad you saw fit to join us this morning, Jean-Luc." Picard walked into his office, which was occupied by none other than Alynna Necheyev. "I apologize. I overslept." Alynna shrugged. "I don't care. I just thought you should know the reception has been moved from this afternoon to this evening." "Alynna, I don't..." Necheyev shook her head. "I still don't care. You will be there. You will be there the whole time. Get over it. I'll see you then." As Necheyev sauntered out of his office, Picard realized just exactly why she was called "Admiral Iceberg." --- She was alone. A girl alone in a mess of blood... She was afraid. A girl the only witness to many murders...** --- In her temporary quarters at Starfleet Headquarters, Deanna Troi Riker held her first child, Roxanne Beverly, up to her chest. Something was not right. Or rather, something was right. It had been amiss for so long that Deanna had become accustomed to it being wrong, and accepted the wrong as right. She couldn't quite put her finger on what it was. That bothered her, but she didn't have time to worry about it right now. She needed to finish getting ready for the reception tonight for Admiral Picard. --- Alynna Necheyev was a sadist. It was as simple as that. If he had to listen to one more admiral commend him for his work on the Cardassian peace project, Jean-Luc Picard would scream. Admiral Necheyev had told him the "little" reception would only last two hours, but it had started over four hours ago. He was beginning to get antsy; he hated leaving Beverly alone for any time, and she had been by herself all day. His mood lightened a bit when he saw Will and Deanna approaching. He had hoped they would be able to attend. "Well sir, all I have to say is..." "Do not say it, Will Riker," Picard warned. Riker chuckled. "You did do a good job." "I don't need to be reminded of it every twelve seconds." Picard turned his attention to Deanna, who seemed a little distracted. "Deanna, is something wrong?" "No, nothing is wrong." Jean-Luc didn't think so, but it wasn't his place to ask. He bid the Rikers a quick farewell, and continued meeting with his admirers. --- She was so afraid. Everything she'd ever known was gone, destroyed in less than an hour. She was alone. Everyone she'd ever known was gone, killed in less than an hour. Only she was left, alone and scared. --- It was two a.m. Jean-Luc wearily walked up the path to his house. That damned reception has gone way over schedule. He was slightly afraid that Beverly would be sick or hurt after being alone for so long. He would have to see to it that this did not happen again. He went through the gates and approached the door. He turned the knob and pushed. The door didn't budge. He tried again. Still no movement. *Wonderful. The door is stuck, and it's two o'clock in the morning! You'd think that in the 24th century, we'd have ways of preventing this.* He walked around the house, attempting to find another way in. The other door, as well as all the windows, was locked. Picard groaned, and resigned himself to his task. Once again at the front door, he set about breaking into his own house. --- The noises were loud, and the girl was afraid. She had seen what they had done to her mother. She was alone now. She had nothing left. The noises were getting louder. They would come for her, and hurt her as they did her mother. She wanted to cry, but was afraid that they would find her if she made a sound. She needed to be safe. She needed to get away. She needed to get away now. --- For once, Jean-Luc was glad he didn't have any close neighbors. The noise he was making would wake the dead. He'd found an old ax in the shed, and was trying to wedge it in between the door and the frame to force it open. He had succeeded only in splintering the wood. If this had happened six years before, he simply would have camped outside. The thought had crossed his mind several times tonight, but he had to get to Beverly. Picard reconsidered his options. At this point, it seemed the best tactic would be to chop the door completely down, and replace it later. He once again set to work, hoping he would get into his own house by daybreak. --- The girl ran out of her hiding place. She had to get away. She had to find a safe place. She started to run to the door, when the sharp crack of breaking wood made her stop. She turned to run, but something on the sofa caught her eye. Her frog, the stuffed frog her mother had given her for her birthday. Her mother was gone; it was all she had left of her. She couldn't just leave it. The girl scooped the frog into her arms and ran. --- Picard gave the ax one final heave, and the door came down. He sighed. Now he could go in, take care of Beverly, and go to bed. The sky was turning gray with the arrival of dawn. He was not going in to work today. Jean-Luc pushed the debris out of the way and went inside. --- They were inside. They would find her. They would hurt her. From her hiding place in the next room, she spotted the ax, and knew her fate. She could not hold back her screams of terror. --- Deanna Riker shot up in bed. "Beverly!" --- When he heard the scream, Jean-Luc dropped the ax and ran to Beverly's room. He feared someone had managed to break into his house better than he had, and conjured up images of Beverly being murdered. Turning the corner sharply, he saw her room was empty, with no signs of forced entry. *Someone's taken her. They know what I'm worth, and they are holding her for ransom.* He went into his own bedroom, searching. *Oh, God, where is she?* Another scream pierced the air. He recognized her voice. "Beverly! Beverly, where are you?" --- "Deanna, what is it? What's wrong?" Deanna blinked away her tears, a mixture of sadness and joy. "Everything and nothing." "I don't understand, Deanna," Will quietly said. "Neither do I. Everything is okay. Everything will be okay now." --- He searched all the bedrooms, the attic, and the living room. He became more frantic with every room passed. "Beverly, where are you?" He ran into the kitchen, and there she was. She was under the table, curled into a small ball. She shook uncontrollably, and tears streamed down her face. In her arms was the green frog. "Please don't hurt me," she whispered. He dropped to his knees and crawled under the table. "Beverly." She backed away from him, pressing herself close to the wall. "Beverly, it's me, honey. It's Jean-Luc." "Please don't' hurt me," she repeated. "Baby, it's Jean-Luc. I won't hurt you, dear. I promise." He reached out to her and touched her face. She flinched at his touch. "Beverly." Something clicked. Something fell into place. Her trembling lessened, and she fell into his arms, crying freely. Jean-Luc rocked her, whispering to her that it would be all right. Tears of his own ran down his face. He had seen something he had longed to see for an eternity. He saw life in Beverly's eyes. --- The End