More Than Infatuation
Based upon Star Trek: The Next Generation.
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Beverly sat in her office alone. There was a lot going on in the main bay of the infirmary, but all she heard was a deafening silence. She had just run a post-mortem on several of the recently deceased crewman. There were more and more every day, and the civilians were beginning to join their numbers.
The constant attacks were whittling their numbers down and the civilians started with filling in for the enlisted, but she had a nagging feeling the officers would be next. The overcrowding on the ship since the evacuation seemed to be fixing itself without anyone's assistance.
Anyone but The Borg.
She took a deep breath and shook her head as a few tears dripped from her eyes. They had lost several people in the last few months, but nothing had prepared her for today, not even the death of Jean-Luc when it all started.
Deanna had died that morning. She had taken the CONN after the panel had overloaded and severely burned the officer there. No one had expected it to overload twice. She died of severe plasma burns to the face and neck. There was nothing Beverly could have done.
That wasn't even the worst of it. She could hardly believe it. She didn't know how it was possible. She could barely think it even.
She had called down Will, the Captain, to tell him what had happened. He already knew that Deanna was dead, but he didn't know the rest. When he arrived, she stood and clasped her hands in front of her, not knowing what to do with them.
"Will, I don't know what can be done now, but I think you should know. Maybe you know who we should inform . . . but . . . It won't do any good now."
Will ran his fingers through his hair. Beverly could tell he was tired. He was tired from the strain of being captain. He was tired from loss of Jean-Luc. He was tired from all the attacks. He was tired from the grief of losing everything he knew and all those he loved.
But, weren't they all tired?
"Beverly, what do you mean?" he asked in a scratchy voice, one tired of giving orders and wanting to be quiet for a while.
"Will . . . Deanna was pregnant."
Will gripped the chair in front of him to steady himself on suddenly uncertain feet. His other hand covered his mouth and his breathing deepened and slowed. His eyes raced back and forth as if searching his mind for something he'd forgotten.
Beverly had felt similar when she had found out. She was Deanna physician and Deanna had never told her. More importantly, she was Deanna's friend. Beverly had been hurt by the exclusion for a moment, but it vanished the second she realized her friend and that friend's baby were dead.
"She wasn't very far along; not far enough for anyone to notice . . . but she probably knew. She must have known," she explained in a quiet voice, just barely above a whisper.
Will fell into the chair. His breathing slowed even further.
Beverly knew he would take this hard, but it was worse than she had expected. She knew that Will and Deanna had always been close, but there was something between them in their past that had held them apart while on the Enterprise.
"Will, the father needs to know. I know you and Deanna were friends, do you know who . . ." she couldn't even finish the sentence. It hurt too much. She was going to have to tell someone that their baby had died. That was the hardest thing a Doctor had to do, and she knew, being a mother.
Will was silent and stared off to the side of Beverly's office.
"Will?" Beverly rounded her desk and sat on the edge of it. "Will, do you know who the father is?
He took a deep breath and met her gaze. His eyes seemed lost within themselves and were full of tears. "I was," he replied in a whisper almost silent to the human ear.
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