It started innocently enough.
A week out from Starbase 47, a member of the Enterprise engineering staff reported to sickbay with a case of the sniffles.
Four days later, one-third of the Enterprise crew was down.
It was an insidious virus, resistant to all but the most basic medical treatments. It left the patient congested, feverish, achy, nauseous, and dizzy. Sickbay had been overwhelmed with cases of the virus so quickly that patients were diagnosed and sent back to their quarters with a treatment regimen that could do no more than keep people as comfortable as possible while the virus ran its course. The medical staff checked in on each of the sick daily, but with new cases still popping up, they were hard pressed to keep up their manic pace.
It became even more difficult when their numbers were lowered by one.
=/\=
Captain Jean-Luc Picard gazed around at his half-empty bridge with a concerned look. Bridge personnel were at a minimum so that other areas of the ship could be staffed. The most notable absence, however, was that of Commander Will Riker, who had almost collapsed on the bridge the previous day and had to be helped to sickbay by Deanna Troi, who was now caring for the ill first officer.
"Sickbay to bridge."
Picard glanced up from the medical reports he had begun to read, and inwardly sighed. 'Now what?' he thought wearily. "Picard here. Go ahead."
"Captain, this is Lieutenant Ogawa. Could you come down here right away, sir?"
"On my way. Picard out." He was already at
the turbolift, knowing instinctively that something was wrong. "You have the bridge,
Commander," he called out to Data, just moments before he was whisked away.
He arrived in sickbay and found Alyssa Ogawa waiting for him. She
looked positively relieved at the sight of the captain, and pointed to Dr. Beverly
Crusher's office. "Dr. Crusher has the virus, Captain. And she refuses to leave. I
didn't know what to do with her, so I called you," she said, a small smile
brightening her weary face.
He answered the haggard nurse with an ironic grin. "I'll take care of her. Thank you for notifying me, Alyssa." With that, he strode purposefully into his best friend's office.
Picard found her huddled at her desk, shivers wracking her lithe frame as she tried, unsuccessfully, to concentrate on the virus analysis on her viewscreen.
She glanced up at the sound of a throat being cleared, and groaned loudly when she saw who it was. "I should have known Alyssa would haul you down here," she muttered, her voice already hoarse.
"And you should know better than to stay here when you're supposed to be in bed," he countered. "Come on, I'll walk you home."
"I'm busy," she snapped, and then was seized by a spasm of coughing.
Jean-Luc walked around to her side of the desk, a look of saintly patience on his face. "Yes, you'll get a lot accomplished when you pass out at your desk. Let's go."
"No."
He merely smiled. "You can either walk out of here on your own two feet, or I can carry you. Your choice."
Beverly crossed her arms against her chest defiantly. "Jean-Luc, I -"
"All right, carrying it is," he interrupted smoothly.
Before she could move, Picard had pulled her out of her chair and now had her cradled effortlessly in his arms. As he strode out of her office and through sickbay, Beverly pushed weakly at him. "Damn it, Jean-Luc, put me down."
To her surprise, he leaned forward and kissed her forehead. "In a few minutes I'll be happy to put you down. Right into your bed."
"Captain, I'll be by to check on her later," Alyssa called from across the room, safely out of range of her annoyed boss.
"Alyssa, I'll get you for this," Beverly called back.
The doors to sickbay closed on Ogawa's laughter.
Beverly found herself unceremoniously dropped onto her bed a few minutes later, where she landed with a small bounce. "Are you going to leave now?" she asked her best friend hopefully. If he left, she could put a stop to this nonsense and get some work done.
Jean-Luc didn't miss the calculating glint in Beverly's eyes. With a smile, he sat down on the end of the bed and began to remove her boots. "Actually, I thought I would stay for a while," he answered calmly. "I have some paperwork to do, so I'll just make myself at home while you take a nap. I've left the bridge in Data's capable hands, so I can stay here with you." Then his eyes moved from her feet to the rest of her body on a leisurely trip upwards. "Do you need help getting undressed?" he asked mischievously.
Beverly shoved at him with both stockinged feet. "No, I don't. This is ridiculous, Jean-Luc. I'm sick, not dying. I can do my work."
He stood, out of range of her feet, and merely shook his head. "I'm afraid not. Now, I'm going to go get my work. I'll be back in ten minutes. When I return, you'd better be in bed, asleep."
He narrowly missed being hit with the pillow she threw at his retreating back.
Beverly was indeed in bed when he returned, but she was anything but
asleep. She lay there, glaring at the doorway where Picard again stood. "Happy
now?" she asked.
His ears picked up a slight clattering sound when she shifted in bed. With a frown, he walked over to the side of the bed and abruptly lifted the blankets. He discovered several padds clutched in the doctor's hand. "Hand them over, and I'll leave you alone."
She looked down at the padds, and back at him. "And if I don't?"
"If you don't," he said with an increasingly weary tone, "I'll call sickbay and ask Alyssa to bring a sedative. You'll sleep one way or another. It can be your way, or my way. Your choice."
Beverly regarded the offending padds in her hand for a long moment, then finally handed them over, knowing that Jean-Luc would follow through with his threat if she didn't.
He accepted them gracefully, then left her alone to brood in the silence of her bedroom.
She was asleep within five minutes.
Beverly awoke seven hours later, groggy and disoriented. She attempted to sit up in bed, but the abrupt violent churning of her stomach forced her to lay back down and curl into a ball with a loud groan.
Jean-Luc appeared in her bedroom doorway a minute later. "Hello, Sleeping Beauty," he said with a smile. "How are you feeling?"
She pulled the comforter up over her head. "Like death warmed over," she answered hoarsely, her voice muffled. "Now go away."
He ignored her last comment and sat beside her on the bed. She snarled when he pulled the comforter down. "Can't you take a hint, Jean-Luc?" she muttered.
He laid a hand on her forehead, then smoothed her rumpled hair back. "No fever yet. That's good. Are you hungry?"
At the mention of food, Beverly buried her head in her pillow, shaking it negatively. Picard chuckled. "I take that as a no."
Just then, the door chime sounded. "Come," the captain called.
Alyssa Ogawa appeared in the bedroom a moment later. "How's the patient?" she asked the captain with a weary smile.
Jean-Luc glanced at the once-again burrowed Dr. Crusher. "She's a little grouchy," he answered.
"I'd be nicer if you left," came the response from under the blankets.
Ogawa shifted her gaze from the captain to the lump in the bed. "Has she been like that all day?" she asked.
"Actually, her mood seems to have improved. At least she's not throwing things at me this time."
"Yet," finished the cocooned doctor.
Alyssa laughed. "Well, Captain, I see she's in good hands. I'm going to leave a couple hypos here. One is an anti-nausea medication, and the other one is for fever. She should at least have some soup or broth to eat for right now."
"I'll pass, thanks," came the disgruntled response from Beverly.
Jean-Luc grinned briefly and winked at Alyssa. "I guess you don't want to look at the new virus analyses I'm sure Dr. Selar has come up with, then. I was going to let you see them after you'd eaten, but if you're not interested, I guess -"
He broke off as Beverly's head reemerged, and she fixed him with a dirty look. "That's blackmail, Jean-Luc."
"A captain does what needs to be done for the good of his crew, Beverly. You talk to Alyssa for a minute while I get you some broth."
Alyssa left a few minutes later after assuring her boss that all was as well in sickbay as could be expected. Beverly now sat sipping a mug of chicken broth and glaring at her best friend. "Can I have the analyses yet?" she asked hopefully.
Jean-Luc leaned over from his perch on the side of her bed and peered into her soup mug. "No, I'm afraid not. I said you had to drink at least half. Keep going."
She mumbled something unintelligible and continued plugging away at her broth. Finally, when she drank enough to satisfy the captain, he gave her the padds she wanted and left her to them, knowing that she wouldn't be reading for very long.
When he looked in at her ten minutes later, she was
asleep again. He grinned smugly for a moment, then tucked her back in.
Beverly awoke the next morning feeling like her head was going to explode. Congestion had settled in overnight, and after a few futile tries, she abandoned all hope of breathing through her nose.
She dragged herself out of bed, wrapping a throw blanket around her shoulders on her way out to the living room. There she found a blanket and pillow neatly stacked on the end of her couch, where she guessed the captain had slept last night. Unfortunately, she felt too miserable to be touched by his concern.
As food held no appeal for her, Beverly decided to go take a hot shower to ease her aching body. She padded back into the bedroom, grabbing some clean garments before stepping into the bathroom. Warm steam billowed out the door, and Beverly came face to face with Jean-Luc Picard.
He was only wearing a towel.
Beverly could feel her mouth open, move as if to form words. But nothing came out. She could only stare helplessly at her dripping wet best friend.
Her muscular, well-built, drop-dead handsome best friend. Who was standing before her clothed in nothing but a white towel and water droplets.
She was absolutely paralyzed.
Jean-Luc, for his part, merely smiled in amusement. "Good morning, Beverly. I didn't think you'd be up this early."
She stared stupidly at him for a moment longer before her vocal cords decided to kick in. "I, uh..." She cleared her hoarse throat. "I, uh... Um... Couldn't breathe. Congestion." She sniffled.
He was trying very hard not to start laughing. It would be very, very dangerous for him to do so, since Beverly would probably kill him when she was feeling better. "I was just finishing up in here. If you could wait a few more minutes, I'll be out of your way. But first..." He stepped forward and, after securing the towel around his waist more tightly, he placed a warm hand on her forehead. "Beverly, you're feeling a little warm. Might be the fever starting."
If she thought speaking was difficult, she was finding moving to be impossible. He was standing right there, touching her, wearing only that damned towel...
She swallowed, the action causing little licks of fire to shoot down her sore throat, though she barely noticed. If she was warm, she doubted it was from her illness. She had no desire to explain that to him, though.
Beverly turned and muttered something about getting some tea and beat a hasty retreat from the close, steamy bathroom.
Perhaps she'd wind up taking a cold shower, instead...
Later that day Beverly was confined to bed with a raging fever. She
drifted in and out of a restless sleep, soothed only by the cool washcloth she could feel
being gently brushed across her brow, and by the melodic voice of Jean-Luc as he read to
her by her bedside. At one point her fevered mind would have swore she had heard the sound
of a flute playing a flowing, gentle melody, but she could never be sure.
She awoke again the morning after "the shower incident"
feeling sore, tired, and decidedly grungy. The sound of soft breathing caught her
attention, and she turned her aching head to the side and found Jean-Luc sitting in a
chair by her bedside, sound asleep.
He looked anything but peaceful. Rather, he slept the sleep of the exhausted. A weary look etched lines that sleep hadn't eased across his face. His arms were folded tightly across his chest, and he certainly didn't look comfortable.
Beverly slid across the bed, ignoring the protests of her body, and touched the captain's arm gently. "Jean-Luc?"
His eyes snapped open in alarm. Then his features softened as he found Beverly looking up at him, her gaze clear and alert. "Beverly," he said with a tired smile. "It's good to see you awake." He laid a hand on her forehead, then softly caressed her cheek before catching himself. He withdrew the wandering hand and managed to fight off the accompanying blush. "Your fever is gone. I was getting worried there for a while."
She sniffled, relieved to find that she could breathe a little easier. "Jean-Luc, you should go home and get some sleep before you get sick."
He stifled a yawn. "Trying to get rid of me again?" he asked with a wink.
She smiled. "No, I think I'll keep you."
She could have bitten off her own tongue. Where the hell had that come from?
Picard stood and elaborately stretched to try and disperse some of the tension in the room. "I'm, ah, glad to hear it, Beverly. But I think I will go home, at least to get a clean uniform. But I expect you to eat breakfast when I get back."
The moment where she was tempted to bury herself under the covers again passed, and she managed to nod nonchalantly. "I think I'll take a shower and get dressed. Living in a nightgown for the past few days is getting a little old."
They met again in her quarters a half hour later, both freshly showered
and dressed. Beverly had the table set for them when Jean-Luc arrived, and he eagerly dug
in.
Beverly grinned when he looked up at her a few minutes later, a forkful of waffles halfway to his mouth. "What's so funny?" he asked.
"You," she said with a laugh. "One would think you hadn't eaten in days."
He set his fork down with a smile and sipped some coffee. "My apologies for my dreadful table manners," he said with a teasing grin.
She could see him darting glances back at his plate. She laughed again and gestured to his waffles. "If you're so hungry, Jean-Luc, dig in."
He didn't need to be told twice. For once, the tables were turned. This time, Beverly was the one who picked at her food, and Jean-Luc was the one who inhaled his meal as though it would be his last one.
When he finally settled back in his chair and sighed contentedly, he found Beverly watching him again. "What? Did I miss something?" He dabbed a napkin at his mouth.
She grinned. "No. I was just checking to make sure you didn't eat the silverware and plate, too."
He smiled. "Well, eating hasn't been a real priority for me over the last couple days. I guess it finally caught up with me."
"I think I'll drop by Sickbay after you leave for the bridge. I won't stay long. I just want to see how things are going." She sniffled, then blew her nose into a handy tissue. "Besides, I'd really hate to drip on a patient."
At that, the captain laughed. "Yes, I can see how that might be a problem. I'll check in on you at lunchtime to see how you're doing."
After cleaning up the breakfast dishes, they went their
separate ways, but not before Jean-Luc admonished Beverly not to work too hard. She, of
course, ignored him.
The next day, Beverly found the cure.
She and her medical staff now ran themselves ragged administering it to
the entire crew. Due to the unstable nature of the serum, it had to be given out by
hypospray, and couldn't be distributed in gaseous form through the ventilation system.
Captain Picard found Beverly slumped in her office the evening after the medical teams made their rounds. She glanced up absently at his knock on her doorframe. "Oh, Jean-Luc. What can I do for you?"
He sat on her desk and tapped her viewscreen off, causing her to growl slightly in annoyance. "Jean-Luc, I'm really busy here."
"Dr. Selar and Alyssa tell me you've been in here since 0400 hours. It's time to call it a day, Beverly. You look like hell."
She stuck her tongue out at him, and mentally cursed at her overprotective staff. "Gee, thanks Jean-Luc. I'm floored by your compliment."
"You don't want me to have to carry you out of here again. Twice in a week would be really embarrassing for you."
She raised an eyebrow. Actually, she thought that once that week had been more than embarrassing enough. "What do you want, Jean-Luc?"
He grinned. Score one for the captain. "You're going to have dinner with me, and then you're going to bed."
"Get that satisfied smirk off your face, Captain. Okay, okay, I'll come with you." With a groan, she eased herself out of her chair and stretched, unkinking muscles that were protesting the sudden movement. With a pointed glare at her best friend, she ignored the arm he offered her and stalked out of the office, leaving the captain to stifle a laugh and follow her.
Picard led her to his quarters, and she gasped in surprise when they entered the room. "What's all this for?"
The table was set for royalty, and the candlelight glinting off the crystal and china was nearly breathtaking. Taking her hand, he seated her, then joined her at the table. "I just thought you might like to get away from everything for a little while."
Beverly sometimes couldn't believe the fates had given her a best friend like this. He always seemed to know exactly what she needed, when she needed it. "Oh, Jean-Luc..." She clutched the linen napkin in her hand and smiled at him, tears threatening to break through her worn-down defenses. "Thank you. I don't know what else to say except that."
He merely smiled. "Well, in that case, I suggest you dig in."
She did so, much with the same gusto he had the other morning, her appetite having returned with a vengeance. When they were finished, they moved to the couch with their wine glasses. "Feeling better?" Picard asked.
She nodded and leaned her head back against the couch. "Much better. I think I forgot to eat today."
He chuckled. "Yes, I could tell. It's good to see your appetite is back, insatiable as it is."
"Well, it's nice to have things getting back to normal. I think I may actually sleep in tomorrow." Beverly sighed and rubbed the back of her neck. "I'm so tired."
The captain shifted on the couch and set his glass down, then took Beverly's from her and placed it next to his. "Come here," he said, patting the couch beside him.
She moved where he indicated, then turned when he asked her to. The next thing she knew, his hands were gently massaging her neck, rubbing the stiffness out. Unable to stifle it, she moaned. "God, Jean-Luc, your hands should be considered healing tools. Mmm..."
"Take your jacket off," he murmured, intent on his task, and savoring the rare opportunity to touch the woman he loved.
Limp with pleasure, she didn't argue. She also didn't protest a minute later when he asked her to take her blue turtleneck off. When she was down to just her tank top, his hands had free reign over her torso, and she found she didn't mind in the least.
His clever fingers and hands sought out all the knots in her neck, shoulders, and back, and had her nearly purring with contentment.
He also had her trapped smack in the middle of an aroused frenzy. When his fingers slid back up to her shoulders, she reached up and stopped him, then sighed. He squeezed gently, barely stopping himself from shrugging off her grasp and sliding his fingers even lower...
She could hear his ragged breathing behind her, and it matched her own. Beverly swallowed hard, then turned around. She came face to face with a very, very aroused man. "Jean-Luc," she whispered.
He closed his eyes, cursing himself and his hormones. "I'm sorry, Beverly. I didn't mean for this to go -"
She cut him off with a gentle finger laid against his lips. "I know you didn't. I didn't think it would, either." She sighed. "I'm so tired, Jean-Luc. So tired of fighting this, day after day. I've made us both suffer, and I'm sorry."
Picard shook his head. "No, Beverly. We both have made choices. What are we going to choose to do now?"
Beverly studied his face in the flickering candlelight. It was a different ship this time, and different circumstances, but the setting was so eerily familiar. There had been wine and candlelight after their mission to KesPrytt, too. She'd made the biggest mistake of her life that night, and she really didn't care to have history repeat itself.
She answered his question wordlessly when she pressed her lips to his. Her eyes drifted closed as his arms came up and slid around her, his hands rubbing her back in slow, seductive circles as the kiss deepened.
Beverly slid her hands up his broad, hard chest and behind his neck, her fingers teasing the short fringe of hair in back. He whispered her name, almost like a prayer, before joining his mouth once again with hers.
Finally, an eternity later, they broke apart, breathing stridently, both flushed with arousal. "Jean-Luc," Beverly asked. "Weren't you going to put me to bed after dinner?"
His eyes widened. "Uh... Well, yes, that was the plan..."
She leaned in, her lips only a centimeter away from his. "Does it matter if it's your bed or mine?"
Her breath washed warmly, tantalizingly, over him. "No... But mine is closer. And you're so tired and all," he teased. "I wouldn't want you to waste the energy it would take to walk all the way back home."
She kissed his jaw, his lower lip, and finally captured his mouth once again in a searing kiss. "I'd rather use my energy on more productive endeavors."
His ability to think disappeared when she slid his vest off his shoulders and unzipped his turtleneck. "That's very efficient, Beverly," he managed.
"I thought so." With that, she stood and offered him a hand. "Bedtime, Jean-Luc."
When they were standing in his bedroom doorway, Beverly turned his head to face her. "And Jean-Luc?"
His eyes met hers. "Yes?"
Now she smiled, almost shyly. "I am home. You are my home, Jean-Luc. I love you."
Picard pulled her to him, and held her tightly. "I love you, too. You've always been my home."
And with the stars beyond the window as their witness, they celebrated.
Home sweet home.