DISCLAIMER: The Star Trek characters are the property of Paramount Studios, Inc and Viacom. The story contents are the creation and property of Djinn and are copyright (c) 2002 by Djinn. This story is Rated PG-13.
Collateral Damage
by Djinn
The ship creaked and groaned
like a ruined thing as Beverly Crusher shifted uneasily in bed, trying to find
a position that was comfortable. She
closed her eyes, realized that she was clenching her fists and let them go in
an attempt to relax. Her mind would not
still, kept rehashing all that had happened since they had been sent to Romulan space.
She was worried about
Jean-Luc. He had waved her away when she
had tried to examine him. Had told her
he would come to her when the crisis was over.
But he hadn't come to her yet, and she wondered if he ever would. Shinzon was dead,
the threat to Earth had been put off, the ship was
limping home to space dock. The crisis
was over as far as she could see, and still he did not come.
With a tired sigh, she forced
herself out of bed. "Computer,
location of Captain Picard."
"Captain Picard is in his quarters."
She dressed slowly, her
uniform bunching and sticking as she pulled it on as if it and her body were
unwilling to go where her mind was directing them. But she'd been to Jean-Luc's quarters a
thousand times. There was no danger
there. Just an
unfinished story that never seemed to want to be concluded. She and Jean-Luc had spent the better part of
a decade dancing around each other without ever coming close enough to
touch. It was how things were between
them. If she was interested, he was with
someone else. If he pursued her, it was
a time that
And it didn't matter now
anyway. She needed to talk to him. Because he needed to talk to her, or to
someone, and she didn't think he was letting anyone in. It was time she acted more like a CMO and
less like his friend. It was time he
talked. Mind made up, she headed out of
her quarters and down the hall.
------------------------------
Geordi stood in the lab, staring at B-4. He had turned the android back on but left
him immobilized, not adjusting the settings Data had programmed in.
B-4 looked at him, waiting
for instructions.
"Again," Geordi ordered.
"Here Kitty-Kitty. Spot, come here."
Geordi knew the cat was somewhere in the lab. He'd followed her down here when she'd bolted
from Data's quarters. Geordi had been worried about her, afraid that she hadn't
been fed or that she might be afraid. He
should have left well enough alone. The
cat had been waiting for an opportunity to escape.
He'd been chasing her ever
since. She had somehow ended up behind him,
because when he opened the door to the lab, unsure exactly why he was going in
there, she had run in, brushing his legs as she headed for the far side of the
lab.
"Again," he told
B-4, listening for any rustle or mewl that might tell him where she had
gone. There was nothing.
"Will we find
Spot?" B-4 asked. He had a tendency
to ask questions like that. Data would
have estimated the probability of finding the animal in different places at different
times and the level of damage the cat would be likely to inflict on the
rescuer. B-4 just asked his stupid
little questions.
And it irritated Geordi. "Call
her again."
B-4 complied. His voice, so like Data's, got on Geordi's nerves to the point that he wanted to rush over
and adjust the android's vocal patterns.
Make him less like Data.
It wasn't fair that his voice
could evoke Data. Not now. Not when Data was gone. Not when Geordi had
helped Data die.
"Call her again,"
he said tightly, as he began to make another pass through the lab.
---------------------------
Worf sat silently in the chair he had pulled up in front
of the viewscreen.
His mind strayed, as it often did, to Jadzia. He knew that he should let go, but he
couldn't. Normally, even though he tried
to remember her as she had been--vital, uninhibited, alive in her love for
him--he too often could only recall the way she had looked as she lay
dead. The somber expression on a face
that usually smiled. The coldness of the
body that had warmed him so many nights.
But tonight, he could
remember her alive. His mind refused to
dredge up her corpse, instead providing memories of Risa,
of sparring on the holodeck, of the time he'd chosen
to save her rather than carry out his mission.
Jadzia.
His love. His wife. Alive in his memories...finally.
He shifted in his chair. Perhaps the pain of her passing was not so
severe because he was surrounded by the pain of others now. The senior staff was drowning in it as they
mourned the passing of Data.
Worf grieved for Data, but only lightly. He had died with honor. He had saved them all. His death had much meaning...much
significance. He would not need a
posthumous victory to get into Sto-Vo-Kor. If androids were allowed in that place? Perhaps they had their own version? Worf did not
know.
And to be honest, he did not
care. He was just glad to not feel alone
in the crowd. To know that on this
crippled, valiant ship, he was not the only one dealing with loss.
He suspected that was very
selfish of him, but the thought didn't bother him as he lost himself in
memories of the way the Risan sun had shone on Jadzia's skin.
-------------------------
Deanna lay next to Will,
fighting the desperate urge to claw her way out from beneath his arm. An arm she would have considered reassuringly
possessive and sheltering a few days ago.
A lifetime ago. She shuddered,
and tried to ignore the feeling of being trapped, focusing instead on tuning
out the nearly overwhelming cascade of emotions that was assailing her from all
over the ship. The emotions of the crew
were strong as they dealt with battle injuries and the aftermath of fear and
anxiety that the combat had provoked.
She could feel the grief of crewmen who had watched their friends fall
as the ship has been hit over and over, who had seen colleagues sucked into
deep space when the hull had been breached.
She fought to keep the pain at arms length and succeeded. But another grief slipped by her
controls...the pain she felt as her friends mourned Data. A pain she couldn't resist as successfully,
for she was more attuned to her friends, felt their pain more easily. And they were all in pain.
As was the man beside her,
even though he slept. His dreams were
tortured and his arm tightened around her, sending another wave of
claustrophobia through her.
He is not Shinzon,
she repeated to herself as if it were a mantra.
He is not Shinzon, not the Viceroy
either. They are not in my mind.
But she could still hear
their haunting laughter. She could still
feel the lingering touch of their minds.
She felt dirty. And she felt
scared. Because when Will had made
frantic love to her, when he had tried to forget all that had happened in the
familiar act of sharing his body with her, she had not been able to tell who
was with her. She had looked up and it
had been Will, until he changed to Shinzon, then the
Viceroy. She had closed her eyes,
willing herself not to tense up, trying to pretend that she was enjoying the
sex. But she hadn't enjoyed it.
She wondered if she would
ever enjoy it again. And as she did,
anger filled her. The same raw, deadly
anger that had allowed her to find the Viceroy's mind and ultimately Shinzon's ship. The
same rage that had helped her drive the Enterprise into the Scimitar, barely
paying attention to the natural urge to turn away, avert the collision. She had wanted to smash them, wanted to
destroy everything about them. She had
thought that once they were dead, they would leave her alone.
She had been wrong.
Will rolled away from her,
and Deanna sighed in relief. She moved
slowly to the very edge of the bed and closed her eyes. She had to invoke every Betazoid
mental discipline she knew before the emotions inside her head ceased pounding
her. But the voices of Shinzon and his Viceroy father kept whispering
relentlessly.
------------------------------------------
Geordi saw a flash of orange and white and grabbed madly for
the cat. With an angry yowl, Spot
stabbed at him, her sharp claws leaving long gashes on his hand, gashes that
soon welled up red as they started to bleed.
As Geordi
stared at his hand, he noticed it was shaking, shaking hard and then he
realized that he was shaking all over.
He couldn't see very well, and he blinked furiously. "Come on, Spot. Help me out here," he said in a broken
whisper. "I promised Data I'd take
care of you."
"When is Data coming
back?" B-4 asked from the other side of the lab.
Geordi looked up at him slowly. Through the haze of tears, he could almost
pretend that his friend was standing there.
That Data was back and everything would be all right and Geordi could stop chasing this cat he didn't even like and
could get back to living and wouldn't have to feel this pain that was
threatening to tear him apart.
"He's not coming
back," he finally said, spitting the words out as if they were stuck in
his teeth. "He's dead. He's dead and he's not coming back."
The android blinked once,
then said softly. "I do not
understand."
Geordi pushed himself up, strode angrily to B-4. "Why don't you understand? You're just like him, aren't you? You have his memories. I know he gave you those. Yet you're useless. You're nothing like him. You look like him, and you sound like him,
but you're not him. And you never will
be. And even if you could be, it
wouldn't be the same. Because I had
years with him and now they're all gone as if they never existed! And you know why? Because I helped kill him."
If B-4 could have moved, Geordi believed the android would have flinched away. But he stood immobile, staring back at
him. "Why did you kill him?"
he finally asked.
Geordi sank down to the floor, put his head in his
hands. "He wanted to save Captain Picard. It never
occurred to me that only one of them could come back. I thought Data would come back with him. If he'd held on to him...they could have come
back together. That's what I kept telling
myself. But it wasn't true. And I should have known that as I opened the
airlock for him. I should have known
that I was helping him go to his death."
Geordi looked up at the android. "Or maybe I did. Maybe I just didn't want to admit it."
"I do not
understand."
With a sigh, Geordi nodded.
"I know you don't, B-4. And
it's unfair of me to expect you to. It's
just that you look so much like him...and I miss him already. He was my best friend, and I never got to say
goodbye."
The android said nothing, and
Geordi stared at him, trying not to see Data, trying
to see B-4 for himself. But it was
impossible. He looked too much like his
friend.
"They're going to ask me
to work on you, I bet. They'll want to
see if we can resurrect Data." Geordi shook his head.
"I don't think I want that.
I don't think I could bear that.
Either way...having him come back or not having him come back no matter
how much we tried." Geordi rubbed at his eyes.
"It's nothing against you, B-4.
And maybe someday you'll understand.
But I just don't think I can do this again."
He reached over to turn off
B-4, and the android asked, "What about Spot?" It was an eerie imitation of Data.
"She'll find her way
home. When she's ready." Geordi flipped the
switch and B-4's face went slack.
Turning to the door, Geordi saw Spot waiting
patiently for him. As he scooped the cat
up, she didn't fight him, just settled down in his arms and reached up to lick
his neck. "He's not coming back,
girl." She mewed softly and he
swallowed a lump in his throat.
"Come on, let's get you moved into my quarters." Without another look at B-4, Geordi walked out of the lab.
-------------------------------
Beverly stood in front of
Jean-Luc's door, her hand poised to ring the chime but something held her
back. What did she think was going to
happen? What did she want to happen? He was hurting. He would need to reach out. But was that what she wanted? A battered, grieving man in her arms?
Not that she didn't want to
help him. She loved him too much not to
want to make it better for him. But
would he choose her, if he weren't in such pain?
Then she laughed bitterly at
herself. He hadn't chosen her yet. He might not.
As his doctor, she needed to see him, to make sure he was fit for duty.
She rang the chime.
"Come." The door opened.
She walked through the living
area, finally saw him standing in the shadows, in the space where bedroom began
and bathroom ended.
"Beverly." He didn't
sound surprised. He didn't sound much of
anything.
"Jean-Luc. Are you all right?"
He nodded. Then he looked back into the bathroom. "A mirror can tell us so much about
ourselves."
"You have to allow for
distortion," she said as she walked into the bedroom. "And it shows us our opposite."
"Does it? Does it really?" Something in his voice told her this was a
very important question.
"Our reflection isn't
us. Not completely. It lacks dimension, depth. And it is distorted. You know all this. Shinzon wasn't
you."
"Obviously, since he is
dead and here I stand."
She thought that he was
thinking the same thing as she. But the
"thanks to Data" went unsaid.
"I'm glad you're still standing here."
He nodded tersely, turned
away as if he was going to walk back into his bathroom.
"Don't," she said
softly.
When he turned back to her, a
tortured look on his face, she realized that she would offer this man anything
if it would only ease the pain he was feeling.
"I'm trying to get at
the truth," he finally said.
"Get at it another
way." She moved toward him, took
his hand, pulled him gently out toward the living area.
He followed for a bit, then
pulled back. "It's too bright
there."
"I'll dim the
lights."
"That won't
help." He jerked his hand from
hers, turned back to the bathroom.
"You need to talk about
this."
"I need to be
alone," he countered.
"I'll send Deanna."
He seemed to consider
that. "Yes, send her. She might understand."
Beverly looked away, trying
to beat down the hurt she felt.
"Will you talk to her, if I send her?"
He gave her an odd look, then
shrugged. "Maybe she needs to
talk?"
"Well, the two of you
can work it out," Beverly said, feeling adrift. She had never been this unsure of how to
reach him. "I'm here for you,
Jean-Luc. If you need me."
His voice was all business.
"I appreciate that, Doctor."
Then he turned away. "You
can see yourself out?"
To his unseeing back, she
nodded. Then she fled.
She had nearly reached her
quarters when she finally stopped.
"Computer, location of Counselor Troi."
"Counselor Troi is in mess hall A."
Beverly found her in a back
booth, sitting by herself. A large
chocolate sundae was untouched.
"Deanna? I would have
expected to find you in Ten-Forward."
"There is no
Ten-Forward." Deanna's voice was as
disinterested as Picard's had been.
Beverly cringed as she
realized her mistake. "Sorry. Of course there isn't." She had taken in the damage assessments but
had not considered what some of them meant.
She was suddenly very glad Guinan was not on
board.
"Are you here for a
reason, Beverly?" It wasn't like
Deanna to be like this.
Beverly slid into the booth
across from her. "He's not gone, is
he?"
Deanna didn't ask who she
meant. She just shook her head. "He may never be gone."
That's what Jean-Luc meant,
Beverly realized. That's why Deanna is
an acceptable visitor, and I'm not. His interactions
with Shinzon had left Jean-Luc reeling, and
Deanna--the only other person that Shinzon had hurt
on such a personal level--was in a position to understand the pain he was
feeling. With a sigh, like she had so
many times before, Beverly cut off her need to be with Jean-Luc, ruthlessly
shoving it back into the far reaches of her mind and focusing on the problem
her two friends were having. "You
need to talk to the Captain," she finally said. "He's hurting too."
Deanna looked up, her brow
strained, then it relaxed. "I never
thought...what it must be like. That's
why his emotions are so--" she cut herself off, the privacy of her patient
being paramount, Beverly supposed.
She could not stifle a pang
of jealousy that Deanna knew what Jean-Luc was feeling. Beverly could not even tell if he was feeling
anything.
"So you'll help
him?"
Deanna shrugged. "I'll talk to him. I'll listen to him. Sometimes that's the same thing." She looked down at her sundae, seemed to
shudder in distaste. "I used to
like chocolate."
Beverly had never heard her
sound so lost. "Deanna. If you need to talk..."
Deanna reached across the
table, took her hand and squeezed it gently.
"Thanks." She stared
hard at Beverly, then smiled sadly.
"He does love you. Just give
him time."
Beverly laughed
bitterly. "How much time? I've given him a lot already."
"Look at me and
Will," Deanna said. It would have
cheered Beverly up if there hadn't been such naked despair in her friend's
voice.
Deanna pushed herself out of
the booth. "I'll go to him
now. I'll try to help him."
Beverly watched her
leave. She looked around the mess hall,
studying the faces of the few people that were in it at this odd hour. Some of them looked shell-shocked after what happened. Others seemed to mirror what she felt, relief
that the battle was over, and confusion over what was going on with their
friends.
"I loved Data too,"
Beverly whispered, even though she knew that his death had less to do with this
than some other darker blow that had been dealt to Jean-Luc and Deanna.
"Need some
company?"
She looked up to see Geordi. He had a
bandage on his hand. "What
happened?"
"Had to rescue
Spot. She didn't make it easy."
"I guess not." She smiled at Geordi. "And yes, I could use some
company."
He smiled gently. "Me too.
I just don't want to be alone."
He looked down at his hand. "Or
with a grieving cat."
She smiled. "She'll get over it."
"I guess we all
will. In time."
As she nodded slowly, she
hoped that he was right.
FIN