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WHO: Beverly Crusher
WHERE: Stella's House
WHEN: Late May
OPEN TO: Stella Gibson
WARNINGS: TBD

A while has passed since Beverly found herself transported far out into the distance away from the village and while she and Jean-Luc had eventually made their way back, the idea that it could happen again hadn't really left her mind. She's been meaning to keep up with several of her friends here ever since she got back, but one thing or another has kept her away. For the most part, life has been oddly quiet lately. Last month was a bit crazy with the forced expedition along with waking up in the fountain again. Honestly, Beverly keeps expecting something else to happen.

That combined with what she knows of certain people has her a little more worried than usual.

It's closer to evening when she finds herself making her way through the village. If someone were to stop her and ask what she was planning on doing, she might not be able to answer. But eventually, her feet take her to the doorstep of two people she knows and wants to check on most of all. Peggy and Stella have both been through so much here. It's the least she can do to be a decent friend to both of them.

As though coming out of a fog, she lifts a hand to the door, giving it a few firm raps in the hope that one or the other of them is there. Maybe both, if she's lucky. Either way, part of her wants to check on them and part of her, a part she's been trying to bury when she's around anyone other than Jean-Luc, keeps chewing over what happened to the people who were beamed out not that long ago. It adds yet another layer to everything and makes Beverly just as convinced that they're in a really elaborate simulation. Again.

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Stella feels a bit like she's been living in a sort of haze ever since she came back through the fountain the second time with fresh bruises and the memory of a serial murderer's pointless suicide. It had taken her long enough to cope with the personal blow dealt her by her failed investigation — and then they'd all ended up in this strange village that is and isn't where they'd been living previously.

She hasn't yet convinced herself something like a self-sustaining, immersive simulation is possible, even though the evidence has been pointing in that direction a great deal more clearly now. A mass hallucination had made more sense, but only marginally. One of these days she may well give up trying to figure it all out, but it hasn't happened quite yet, and it's at least given her something to think about to take her mind off of the various other things that have been going on of late.

From bizarre illnesses to people vanishing and reappearing in strange places — the observers can't seem to let them alone. Aside from the expedition Peggy had gone on in order to help save the lives of other villagers, though, Stella and her housemate have remained relatively untouched in the past few weeks. But it's not as if Stella expects that to last.

She's been getting on as best she can, following her usual routine despite all of the strangeness going on around her because it's what she knows how to do. She and Peggy don't typically get very many visitors, aside from a specific set of people, so Stella's not expecting a knock on the door late in the day when her housemate is out. When she goes over to the door and opens it, she's visibly surprised by the woman on her doorstep.

"Beverly." She can't really help it if she sounds a little surprised, and maybe a little worried. The surprise is the good kind, at least, but she knows Beverly was gone and she hopes the other woman is all right in the aftermath. Since there's really only one way to find out — "Come on through," she says, stepping back from the door to allow the other woman past her. There's a pause, and a faint smile. "I can't say I was expecting anyone." Which means: Beverly is welcome to stay, but Stella can't promise to be entertaining or even interesting.

The surprise on Stella's face is expected and perfectly warranted. Honestly, a part of Beverly is surprised to have found herself here. But at the same time, it's not all that surprising that she would care enough to come visit. Even if she was the one who had recently been displaced rather than Stella. All the same, she feels no small amount of relief to see Stella looking as well as possible here.

"Hi," she says, sounding a little breathless, like someone who's just been confronted about something they were doing. She doesn't expect Stella to entertain her; that's not at all why she's come. "I wanted to see how you were doing. I guess I could have sent you a message, but-" Honestly, she hadn't thought of it. Now she suspects Stella probably would have avoided her and said not to bother if she had. Beverly just offers a gentle shrug as she steps on into the house.

"We haven't really seen much of each other lately and I just wanted to check on you and Peggy since I'm back from my recent expeditions."

Plural, since she's been forced into two recently, of varying sorts.

Yes, Beverly could just as easily have sent her a message — but Stella has no idea how she would have responded, so maybe this is best. Truth be told, though she can come off as a little bit isolated — and is, typically by choice — Stella knows she needs interaction with other people to keep herself on an even keel, metaphorically speaking. She trusts Beverly, more now than before, and for as much as she enjoys Peggy's company it will do her some good to talk to someone who isn't her housemate.

"So I'd heard." News travels quickly in such a small group of people, and Stella's instinct is to pay close attention to the conversations of people around her, lest something important come up.

She gestures Beverly towards the living room sofa; the dining table would probably do just as well, but the sofa is more comfortable and a bit more personal. Stella wants to ask after Beverly's well-being, but maybe she ought to at least try to be a good hostess first.

"Do you want a cup of tea? I can put the kettle on." It's about all they have right now that isn't water, and while it is a little late in the day for tea, Stella still finds it comforting. It reminds her of home, as much as anything does in this place.

Beverly isn't surprised to find that Stella had heard. Gossip always traveled quickly on the Enterprise and the starship had several hundred more people than the villages here do. A large number of the relatively small population vanished at once, it seemed; it's only natural that those disappearances would be the talk of the town.

"I would be surprised to hear you hadn't," she admits wryly as she steps further inside and towards the offered sofa. The suggestion of tea does sound good, but Beverly doesn't want to take up too much of Stella's time.

"Only if you were going to make some for yourself." She'll drink it and enjoy it, so she isn't saying no, exactly; she just wants to make sure Stella isn't going out of her way for it. "Although there are few things like talking with a friend over a cup of tea."

Her smile turns a little warmer, with a slightly impish hint to it. She'll be the first to say the word friend in relation to a lot of people. With everything they've been through, she thinks it definitely applies to Stella.

"Have you been doing all right? I know things haven't exactly been easy lately."

Granted, it takes longer to boil water for tea here than Stella's used to from home — she misses her modern electric appliances on a regular basis — but it's hardly an inconvenience, and they can talk while they're waiting for the stove to heat; she's done this enough now that she knows roughly how long it takes.

Stella perches on the end of the sofa, where she can easily get up in a few minutes to check the kettle. The question is one she's always tempted to brush off, and that hasn't changed even now; she has to suppress the I'm fine that comes almost immediately to her tongue, because it's a lie. A socially acceptable lie, but still a lie. And she tries not to lie to her friends — and Beverly is in that category, whether Stella consciously thinks of her that way or not.

"No, they haven't," she admits softly. It's not as if Stella hasn't dealt with much worse, but it's been a long time since she's had so much thrown at her in such rapid succession. It's been a lot to process, to say the least. "I'd been having nightmares, but not so often now. Routine helps, a bit. The rest is just time."

It's the most candid admission she's likely to make, that the things that happened to her at home were enough to disturb her sleep in the worst way. Stella is a detective, and used to seeing horrific things — but she only occasionally had nightmares, back home, about the things she saw at crime scenes. After a while, it was impossible not to become at least somewhat desensitized — she had to, to do her job. But Spector's attack on her had been an entirely different scenario.

"I was about to ask you the same," she points out. In fact, she'd much rather talk about Beverly than about herself. "Are you all right? Do you know what happened, exactly, the last time you were gone?"

She doesn't expect a real answer, but she thinks Beverly's thoughtful and intelligent enough to try to remember some details of where she went, if not how she got there.

As Stella sets the kettle on, Beverly settles down onto one end of the sofa, leaving enough space for Stella to take her perch for a few minutes while the water heats up. It's funny how much tea she's been drinking and how her tastes have become a little less refined since she got here. She's been happy to have whatever they can find rather than the fastest thing the replicator can spit out. But on the other hand, it's nice to have real food and drinks. For all that the replicators have made their lives so much easier, replicated food just doesn't quite taste the same.

That goes for the drinks, too.

Beverly waits patiently for Stella to reply, glad that the other woman doesn't just spit out what is likely almost an involuntary reaction by now. Beverly knows how easy it is to just say "I'm fine" and leave it at that. Especially for someone as closed as Stella is. It's a testament to their friendship that Stella is offering as much as she does.

"Routine usually does help," Beverly agrees softly, thinking to some of the times she's had nightmares after adventures on the Enterprise. Or a crisis. Or Ronin. A slight shudder grips her spine but she hides it. "I hope your nightmares calm down. I don't know that I have much that will help, but I can look through my garden and see if there's anything that might help calm your mind at night."

It's not much, not nearly as much as she would normally have available on the Enterprise, but it's something and Beverly is the last person not to offer help if she can.

With the question turned back on her, Beverly offers a light shrug. "I have several theories, but other than that? No." She sighs softly, wearily. "Jean-Luc and I were transported not far from the village. We were lucky. Our journey back wasn't that hard. It sounded like a couple of other people were farther out."

Edited 2018-05-31 23:41 (UTC)

"I don't know that there's much that can help," Stella says, "but thank you." The nightmares are a reaction to stress; they'll fade with time. It would actually help if she had another blank book in which to start writing down her dreams again; the one she got at Christmas not long after she came here is completely full and then some. But she doesn't count on having that again any time soon.

She gets up then to take the water off the stove and prepare two cups of tea, bringing them back and handing one over to Beverly. This time she can sit down properly on the sofa, turned to face the other woman with the mug of hot tea clasped between her hands.

"Eventually we might have the time to get the lay of the land properly," she says, "instead of being forcibly transported to who knows where." A little annoyance is there under her tone, but it's directed at the observers rather than Beverly.

"We've got so used to being trapped in the canyon, it's hard to know what to do with all of this space." Her brows arch slightly. "Or what all of it is, for that matter."

Most of this place, the part they've been familiar with up till now, looks like it could be on Earth. The rest is a jumbled hodgepodge, and that's not even counting all of the bizarre fauna and flora.

Thinking about Spector makes Beverly think of Ronin. A part of her wants to offer that, wanted to offer it along with with story of Jev the Ullian, but even years after both events, it can be hard to even voice her thoughts on the matters, let alone what actually happened. Neither one of them killed their victims, but they did take something that was just as bad in a different sense.

The cup handed to her is accepted gratefully. Even though she hadn't wanted to ask Stella to go to so much trouble for her, she appreciates it all the same. There's something calming about a cup of tea and a friend. Maybe that's what she really came for.

"I think we might," Beverly agrees. She hesitates for a few seconds and then adds on, "You know what I miss? A good tricorder. They're our scanning devices and would be able to tell us exactly what's around, what DNA pattern and genetic coding is in everything, and the life-signs around us. Everything down to the molecular structure would be available with just a quick scan. I think being here is teaching me something about humility."

Her lips twist wryly at that.

"There's just so much out there it's like going in blind. I got paralyzed by a frog while on the trip to find the lichen because we didn't know what it was. It would just... be nice to have a little bit of an edge for once."

Stella's visibly curious now, because what Beverly's describing is so far ahead of any technology she's familiar with that it's almost beyond her comprehension. Almost. DNA profiling, for example, has been around long enough it's been integrated into the mainstream, but you've still got to have a physical sample from your target that needs to be processed using highly specialized equipment in a laboratory. To have that kind of information available at the press of a button, without days' worth of analysis—

"I hope you realize how impossible that sounds to me," she says, with a little humor and a small, dry smile. It's impossible in a good way, though. She's already thinking of the forensic applications of something like what Beverly's describing. "I know people at home in several forensics laboratories who would pay dearly to have something like that at their disposal."

Wishful thinking, and she knows it. "As it is, I'm afraid we're just going to have to explore this place the old-fashioned way — by taking as many notes as possible. And certainly we're going to need a new map, or several."

A lot of things in the Federation would likely seem fantastical to someone from Stella's time period. Beverly understands that, mostly because of the different planets and cultures she's met. Many of them would never have had access to the kind of technology that Starfleet has. For so long she's tried to keep all of her knowledge under lock and key, adhering to the Prime Directive. After that period of speaking nothing but the truth, she's sort of given up on that. There's little she can say now that will break it into further shards, but there are some things she won't describe.

"I do," Beverly answers wryly. "I've met enough cultures with even less technology than your time period. I can imagine what it's like to hear. I used to keep it all to myself because of the Prime Directive. Now... it's a little of that and a little bit of an effort not to make people think I'm lying about it."

The last part is something of a joke. She isn't worried about people thinking she's lying, more that she'll overwhelm others with the sheer magnitude of the differences in their worlds. Space travel is fantastic enough; the specifics of technological advances in the Federation are something else entirely.

"Clint and I said the same thing while I was gone. I think we're all going to have to do a lot of working together to make all of this work."

"I don't think you're lying," Stella reassures her, though she picks up on the joking tone in Beverly's voice and a smile pulls at the corner of her mouth in answer.

"After some of the things I've seen here — I'd be willing to give the benefit of the doubt to almost anything." She sips her tea, then leans into the back of the sofa, more relaxed than before. "I'm used to being able to deal with what I can see and touch. Tangible proof. The sort you put into a sealed container in evidence storage," she adds, dry-voiced.

"People here start talking about technology more advanced than anything I've known in my life, about things like magic, and it's got to the point where I just have to take them at their word. So yes, I believe you. I just wish I could see these things for myself.

Or is that the point, that we're not supposed to? Is that what your Prime Directive is about?"

She realizes she hasn't really asked Beverly much about her world, about what she does in it, other than being a doctor. When they first met, Beverly barely wanted to tell her anything about her life before the village.

"Believe me, if I had some tangible proof, we would all be a lot better off," Beverly teases wryly. If she had some example of Federation technology, their lives here would be so much easier. Even if it was simply a tricorder or a stellar map or even the most simplistic commlink somewhere that would allow them to communicate verbally and visually over distances, that would be something.

"That would be part of the point," she admits cautiously. "The Prime Directive was designed as a directive of non-interference. Starfleet is an organization that is military, but we're predominantly a group of explorers. Or, well, that was the idea once. We've made first contacts with countless people, but we have to be careful about where and how we do it. There are so many rules we have to adhere to. If I were dropped on a planet much less technologically and culturally developed than any Federation planet, anything I say or do or touch could alter how that culture grows and develops. If I were following the Prime Directive perfectly here, you wouldn't even know I was from anywhere but this very planet."

This probably explains at least a little bit of why Beverly hadn't spoken much about the details of her life before now. She'd been trying to uphold that directive for a long time; now it seems a little pointless when the Observers had seen fit to have her spill so much already without her consent.

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