From netcom.com!howland.erols.net!feed1.news.erols.com!news.magicnet.net!news.sprintlink.net!news-atl-21.sprintlink.net!news.hti.net!dialnet13.hti.net!user Thu Dec 26 18:48:30 1996 Path: netcom.com!howland.erols.net!feed1.news.erols.com!news.magicnet.net!news.sprintlink.net!news-atl-21.sprintlink.net!news.hti.net!dialnet13.hti.net!user From: noncur@hti.net (Non Cur) Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative Subject: Through Closed Eyes (TNG, P/C) Holiday Story Festival Date: Mon, 23 Dec 1996 09:45:51 +0100 Organization: Why Not Lines: 278 Message-ID: NNTP-Posting-Host: dialnet13.hti.net Hi folks, it's been awhile. Here's one I wrote last year about this time. It's set just after 'Generations' and seemed to fit into the Holiday Story Fest area so here it is.... oh and here's the part about TPTB owning all the Christmas cookies and attempting to monopolize the milk industry as well. They may own the pasteurizing machines but...sorry I got a carried away w/that one. Responses, feedback, etc, please forward to noncur@technologist.com Enjoy your Holidays All! --------------------------------------------------------------- Through Closed Eyes by B.A. Lopez The silence was unnerving at first. Watching her chest rise and fall without the accompanying sound of air passing over her lips had taken a few days to get accustomed to. The machines that monitored her vital signs, kept her muscles stimulated and fed her were disturbingly quiet. Twenty-four hours a day, for twenty-four days they toiled in space-like silence. 'Twenty four days,' he repeated to himself. He watched as the Nurse made the the daily entry into the medical log. 'No change.' He didn't even have to look to know what had been written. The same as yesterday, the day before that. Twenty four days he had watched Marie marking the days on the Terran calendar. If it wasn't for her nieces and nephews the days might have gone unmarked for her as well. And now on the 24th day of December he stared into the darkening sky and asked for his Christmas Miracle. --------------------------------------------------------------------- He would never forget the look on the face of the officer who had to relay the information about the loss of the Enterprise when he was first rescued from the surface of Veridian III. But there was no way he would believe it until he saw it for himself, firsthand. The numbness began to work its way through him as he searched for the professionalism Starfleet had drilled into him. He knew there had been casualties, he could feel it. He scanned the list of fatalities, praying that her name wouldn't be found. Over 100 injured and more being reported by the minute; again her name was still absent. He wanted to know the status of all 1,016 people aboard instantly. The shuttle pilot tried to explain how chaotic things seemed at the moment; 3 ships had been deployed to the site and the injured were being assigned to one of those sites according to severity. The rescue mission had already been underway for several hours when he arrived at the scene. His heart sinking further into his gut as he tried to swallow his emotions. Discipline saving him again as he moved through the motions of accessing the situation and the aiding the last of the injured off the planet. But there was still no sign of her. Neither Will, Data or Deanna had known for sure what had become of her. Worf hadn't seen her and Geordi seemed to be among the missing as well. He hid the panic settling into his veins as he only half-saw, half-heard the images and words around him. The update finally arrived and he knew he had to get to her. She was on the Farragut and just out of surgery. 'It's too early to tell,' was what the young physician had told him. He had no idea what that really meant but he set his expression in place and went into the crowded room to see her. She seemed so still. Only the silent rise and fall of her chest animated her. He winced at the slowly healing bruises and cuts. The young man explained that they were still under emergency status; they had stopped the internal bleeding and removed her spleen but the cosmetic work would have to wait until later. For now her broken arm was in stasis and he assured the Captain she was in no pain before he was called away for the newest emergency. On the second day of their journey the numbers began to fall into place, 17 dead, 212 injured. A third operation was completed on her and he wished like hell she would just open her eyes. They repeated their assurances to him, 'she was healing well', 'she was in perfect health before', 'she seemed to be responding. . .' 'Why the hell wasn't she waking up?' On the third day they began making arrangements to transfer anyone who wanted off the ships. Some were anxious for their next assignments, many wanted to get to their home planets and see their families before heading off again. He sighed as he recalled that there were 2 less members of his family waiting for him. On the fifth day they reached sector 001 and she was transferred to the Starfleet Medical Facility on Earth. The coma she had drifted into showed no sign of abating. And although they assured him she could 'snap out of it' at any moment he began to wonder if those blue eyes would ever smile at him again. At least now she was in a private room. He could stay at her side, talk to her. He would fall asleep in a chair by her bed. Deanna or one of the nurses would quietly place a blanket over him but for the next 2 days he refused to leave her for more than a few minutes at a time. And only unless one of the other Senior Officer or Alyssa remained with her. For once he didn't care what rumors he might be the subject of. Deanna finally talked him into going home to visit his sister-in-law for a few hours. It was Marie who put the idea in his mind. He thanked her, kissed her on the cheek, then faded back to Beverly's side. Two more uneventful days at Starfleet Medical's Finest had him pacing like a caged animal. His relentless questioning of the Doctors and so-called Specialists had them grasping for answers. There were none. She continued to sleep in silence. Deanna and the Doctors talked to him about the unknowns. They didn't know if she could really hear his voice calling to her, didn't know why wasn't waking up and they didn't know if she ever would. And the first time the subject of 'long-term care' was mentioned, the stab of pain the Betazoid sensed from him was so sharp it took her breath away. He stood, rock still, staring out the window, his hands clenched so tight behind his back it was painful to even watch. Then inhaling a deep breath, he turned to them and said softly, "I'm taking her home." There was nothing more to be done for her in hospitals. He would make whatever arrangements necessary but he was taking her home. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------- At first she was grateful not to be alone in the house anymore. It was her idea in the first place but as Marie Picard readied the bedrooms for her guests she wondered if there were ever going to be any happy times in the house again. The routine was simple. The Day nurse came and took care of the Doctor's physical needs; adjusting the machines to stimulate her muscles, take care of her hygienic needs and change her nightgown. Her nightgown. He hadn't even thought of such minor things before. The second day when the nurse asked for a clean nightgown it began to sink in. She had nothing left from the Enterprise. His head dropped as he thought of an explanation. But before words became necessary Marie told the nurse that she would bring her a clean one. It only took her a minute to return carrying the softest, most beautiful ivory silk he had seen. He quietly slipped from the room, angry at himself for not anticipating this need of hers. It was one of the most difficult things he had done, and he had had a lifetime of difficult tasks, he told himself he wasn't giving up on her as he called Deanna and asked her to buy a dozen nightgowns she knew Beverly would like. It was such a simple thing, a nightgown. Why hadn't any of them thought of it before? Another nurse came in the afternoon, more physical therapy, more adjustments, the daily log entry. In reality, the machines could have done it all but that type of assembly line medicine was only for those with no one waiting, watching. A Doctor was only an alert away, the machines would signal someone immediately if there was a need. He sat with her through the hours the nurses weren't around. Reading Shakespeare, then her favorites and then the stuff she really hated hoping to goad her into an argument. But she could only listen in silence as his voice grew raspy with the effort. At night he lit the fireplace, and thought aloud waiting for her to interrupt with her own opinions. Marie gave up trying to make him eat in the dining room and brought his meals to him. Then as the fire flickered out she would silently drape a quilt over him as he slept in the chair by her bed. It was an interesting circle of depression. The now childless widow taking care of the Starfleet Captain who in turn tried to care for the Doctor. She thought the sorrow of watching him grieve for a woman who was not yet dead combined with her own recent loss would be her undoing. And yet somehow in her despair she saw hope. The fates couldn't be so cruel as to take away the woman he loved for over twenty years before he had the chance to tell her? Could they? And then on the twenty fourth day, the Specialists came. 'No change,' recorded on the last 24 log entries, today was no exception. But it was time to think about 'other options.' He kept his face even as his heart dropped further into the pit of his stomach. The Specialists recommended changing out the bed and replacing it with a new hi-tech unit. Although the machines were able to create a thin layer of air to help keep her from developing bedsores this new machine could do that as well as taking over some of the tasks being done by the nurses. Every argument about quality of life he had ever had with her came back to him. He couldn't even begin to count the times they argued over preserving life and the extreme medical technology needed to do so. He could never understand why she was so adamant anymore than she could understand his position. He knew it was the machines that feed her, kept her alive, knew that without those machines she would simply wither away and die, but for the first time in his life he didn't care. Didn't care that she was little more than a breathing corpse, didn't care that he himself had strong feelings about keeping patients alive by such artificial measure. None of it mattered anymore. All he knew was that she was alive and he would use any technology in the Universe to keep her that way. He reluctantly agreed that after the New Year they would consider the new bed. That night he let the room grow dark. At sunset he made no motion toward the fireplace. He watched her more intently than ever, praying with every fiber of his being for just one twitch. She would hate this, he knew how she hated being catered to, fussed over. He adjusted the covers that didn't need adjustment and kissed her forehead tenderly. Then as the last vestiges of the winter sun faded he pulled his chair to the edge of the bed, took her hand in his, then bent his head to rest on the bed, her hand cradling his cheek as the tears began to spill over her fingers and his. Christmas Eve was never so silent. -------------------------------------------------------------------- She became aware slowly. She knew her eyes were still shut but the heaviness of her eyelids disallowed opening them. She had to think about thinking. Then realizing that she could think and not just dream anymore. She knew something was different. Her body ached, from what she wasn't sure. There were unfamiliar pressures and her muscles didn't seem to respond to any of the commands she sent them. But slowly, very slowly, her eyes fluttered open. Then just as quickly closed, her breathing deepened for just a second with the effort. The machine recorded it but it was not enough to warrant an alert. 'Perhaps I should try something easier,' she thought as she became aware of her breathing. 'Breathing.' It was steady and slow, that was a good sign. She *felt* as though her body were still there in whole but it felt so stiff and heavy. Arms, legs, fingers, toes, everything seemed to be reporting in. Now if she could just make them listen to her. 'What's that?' she wondered at the pressure she felt on her right hand. It was different than the other aches. She tried to wiggle her fingers under the pressure but nothing happened. Harder, she focused on the hand, knowing there was something wrong, something warm keeping it frozen. And cool. It felt cooler on some parts than on others. She had to move her hand. Something told her to keep trying. 'Concentrate, Beverly,' she scolded herself. And then as in all her dreams, his voice called her name. For a minute she thought she had failed, and fallen back into that endless dream but it was different now, louder. "Beverly, please come back to me." His voice choked as he realized what was happening. He could see her eyelids flutter ever so slightly and he knew it wasn't a dream when he felt her fingers tighten around his a moment ago. 'Or was it?' He called to her again. "Beverly, please, just once more," he urged. 'Why hadn't the machines registered this change?' He looked at the readings, other than a few minor fluctuations, which might have been her dreaming, there wasn't enough to call for the Medical team. And then as he turned his eyes back to her face his breathing stopped, just as it did the first time he saw those amazing blue eyes of hers. The moment hung there until he could no longer keep the breath he had been holding in for what seemed like an eternity. One last moment of silence. All hell broke loose in the next instant as beeps and chirps made the machine sing, followed by the appearance of a doctor and a nurse transporting into the room. He barely had time to smile at her before they asked him to step back. Marie was at his side soon enough, she held onto his arm as the team worked in front of them. The silent patient becoming more aware with each passing moment. "She's come home for Christmas," Marie whispered into his ear. He smiled for the first time in 25 days. "Merry Christmas, Beverly." ---------------------------------------------------------