Fic: Stitch in Time
Title: Stitch in Time
Author: tinheart
Rating: PG
Characters/Pairing: Nigel/Beverly
Disclaimer: CBS, you can sue me if you give me a second season!
Word Count: 1,695
Recipient: lastwordslinger
Summary: They had to stop meeting like this. (Set in what I've come to call The Paradox-a-Day universe.)
Prompt: Fenway/Dr. Crusher (Threshold/TNG crossover): Bedside manner.
Author's Note: It's still the 25th somewhere in the world! Sorry this is so late. Hope you don't mind, it's a sort of sequel to the stories you and Sheera write...
"You know..." Fenway began slowly. "I'm starting to worry about the Space-Time continuum. This has to be symptomatic of a larger issue."
Beside him, Beverly groaned. "Viral or bacterial? And why is it always us?."
"Something environmental, maybe? We're both doctors..."
"With all due respect, I think the medicine I practice and the medicine you practice is different enough. We'd hardly be exposed to the same situations or substances. Professional?"
"Yeah," Nigel snorted. "The universe has it out for devastatingly attractive doctors."
Crusher smirked back at him. "Well, then why are you here?"
Fenway's mouth worked for a moment, but he was distracted from whatever comeback he might have made but just how incredible that slightly mischievous smile looked on her.
They stared for a while at the cell door.
"What do you think they want with us?" She asked.
Nigel shrugged. "They probably want to know who we are and where we came from."
"Well, why can't they just ask us?"
"Because they don't want to ask the nice way."
Beverly sighed. "Why are you always so cynical?"
"Not everyone comes from where you come from."
"You were there for a while, weren't you?"
"Well, obviously I failed to drink the cool-aid before returning to a world where the military water-boards first and asks questions later."
"Well, can't you..." She hesitated, biting her lip. "Look, I know that humanity in your time can seem pretty bleak and hopeless, but doesn't the fact they will evolve into what I know in my time give you some hope?"
"Not really," Nigel shifted uncomfortably. "Since your artificial friend stated that we most likely don't come from the same timeline but a completely different timeline that already has a different past and will probably have a different future."
"But the fact that humanity has the potential-"
Beverly's point was cut short by the sound of approaching footsteps.
"Quick!" Nigel motioned to the floor. "Pretend to be sick!"
"Is that... not old where you come from? Because where I come from that's the oldest-"
Fenway reached for her arm and pulled rather insistently. Obligingly, she sprawled across the floor and lay as still as possible.
For a man who had no doubt filled the position admirably on many occasions, Fenway was doing a bad job of pretending to be distraught over a sick patient. Fortunately, whatever universe they had fallen into seemed to be populated with particularly dense human beings. (Or at least dense prison guards.) The guard in question leaned over Beverly at just the right angle to receive a solid kick to the face, followed quickly by Fenway shoving him into a wall for good measure. And, because they were both at heart very compassionate people, they took the time to check his pulse and arrange him in the recovery position before effecting their escape.
"It can't be that easy." Said Nigel, who admittedly hadn't done this sort of thing very often.
"It probably won't be." Said Beverly, who had.
***
It turns out you don't need to guard prisoners very well if your secret underground facility is compromised entirely of unmarked cement corridors. They ran with purpose for a while, then wandered aimlessly, finally resorting to leaving strands of Nigel's raveling sweater around to confirm that, yes, they were going in circles.
Crossing her arms, Beverly frowned. "You'd think we'd have run into somebody by now."
"I've got one better," Said Nigel. "You think we'd have run into our cell again by now."
"Do you hear...?"
Nigel nodded tightly. "Yeah."
A deep periodic rumbling sound had been steadily growing louder. Neither of them were quite sure what it meant, but they were wise enough to realize it didn't bode well. Soon, the room was shaking and it was all they could do to keep to their feet.
And then he saw it, the beam cracking as if in slow motion, and Beverly standing right under it. Without thinking he dove.
It would have been a heroic rescue, had he not misjudged her reflexes and his own agility. Te result being that she was quite clear of the debris that landed rather solidly on his back. In a moment of blinding pain it occurred to him that now he was the one that needed rescuing. Even to a man of Fenway's evolved sensibilities, that was pretty embarrassing.
It was his last thought before loosing consciousness.
***
He came to in pain, which certainly wasn't a new experience, and leaning against a soft, perfume scented body, which sadly was.
"Be careful," said his makeshift pillow before carefully extracting herself. "You arm is broken, but I managed to set it while you were unconscious."
Fenway, careful of his arm, struggled into a sitting position with her help.
"I didn't even have anything for a splint, so it's just wrapped. Be careful." Fenway looked down through slightly fuzzy eyes (his glasses, it seemed, hadn't survived the adventure) and sure enough the sleeves of his own lab coat were bound tightly around his arm. Her own lab coat had been sacrificed to bind his entire arm to his chest.
Not that he was complaining, the sight of her clad only in that form fitting jumpsuit was more than enough compensation for the coat. It assured him that no matter how equal the sexes would become, it was still a man designing those uniforms.
"A sling!" She went on, apparently oblivious to his ogling. "I remembered how to make them from our Emergency Equipment-less First Aid class. It's a bit primitive, but it works. Sort of like how doctors used to sew people up like garments."
"Hey, don't knock it." Said the man who was trained in the 'stitch them like garments' method of medicine. "A stitch in time saves nine."
"A stitch in time..." Her eyes had that far-off Eureka! look Lucas usually had when he'd come up with an even more convoluted method of delivering electricity to infectees. "That's it! We've been forcing things back and forth through these anomalies and we haven't done anything to repair them! And what does an aggravated wound do?"
Nigel was fairly certain he heard that one in college, but he wasn't sure how appropriate the punchline was...
"It continues to bleed! We've been caught up in the flow, bleeding back and forth through time and only making things worse."
Oh good, thought Nigel sleepily. In the future, this sort of diagnostics would be routine.
"Hey... hey!" She began patting his face gently. "Stay with me now. From what I can tell you don't appear to have a concussion, but there's no telling about internal injuries. I'd feel better if you would stay awake."
Nigel pried open one eye to peer at her again. "Doctor's orders?"
She rewarded him with her characteristic smirk. "Damn right."
"Talk to me..." He couldn't help but let his eyes slide shut again. "Tell me more about your Utopia." It was probably a sign of his condition that he'd managed the last without any sarcasm.
And so she told him, about Caldos colony and Tycho City, about Starships and Scarlet Moss, she talked about meeting new species and for one brief moment having been in the corona of a sun... But for all her beautiful stories he was still struggling to stay awake.
"Ssss... s'not enough."
"What is it?" She crawled over to sit closer to him. "What isn't enough?"
"S'not enough to know... somewhere, somehow... under the right circumstances things could be..." For a moment it seemed like he wouldn't finish, but with a labored breath he continued. "S'not enough... can't live there... have to live... here"
After a moment when he had stilled, and Beverly was convinced he was finally at rest, she took his face in her hands."I wish you could live there though." And she smiled through unshed tears. "I wish you could, because I know you'd like it."
***
When Fenway drifted back to consciousness, it was almost worth the pain to feel the gentle hand smoothing down his hair. It was a quite, beautiful moment. So naturally it was destined to be interrupted.
"Data!" Her voice lit up with, Oh God no, was that maternal affection? Great, simply great... he looked like her son. It occurred to Nigel that if that walking tin can had an off switch he better keep it well hidden, or else Nigel was in a mood to jam it permanently in the off position.
For a man without a concussion, he was sure developing a pretty headache. Blood pressure... he thought, but couldn't remember if that meant it was high or low. Through the haze he managed to catch anomaly, residual, closing and hurry before they were both at his side trying to scrape him off the floor.
"No no no... you can't carry me!"
Data tilted his head in the mechanical inquisitive way. "But sir, if you recall, I am an android. Your weight is well within my-"
"Data!"
"Yes sir?"
"Shut up."
Data's jaw snapped shut with an audible click and Fenway decided he wouldn't need the off switch after all.
"You can't carry me because I'm going to walk."
Data looked dubious (or as dubious as was possible, for him) but obediently said nothing.
"Nigel." Beverly said, uncharacteristicly using his first name. "You shouldn't." But her tone was one of someone who knew their advice was going to be ignored.
Together the three of them limped along the corridor, and if Nigel leaned on Beverly a little more than Data, no one said anything.
Finally they came to what looked like a very localized electrical storm. Nigel wished again he had his glasses, for it seemed he could almost make out in the center -- like a window -- the bridge of Beverly's ship.
"We should proceed one at the time." The android said just loud enough to compete with the rumbling that continued from above. "And quickly, it will not be stable for much longer."
Beverly looked at him warmly, and shot Nigel a dazzling smile, her hand outstretched. "Once more onto the breach dear friend?"
And smiling back, Nigel took it.
Author: tinheart
Rating: PG
Characters/Pairing: Nigel/Beverly
Disclaimer: CBS, you can sue me if you give me a second season!
Word Count: 1,695
Recipient: lastwordslinger
Summary: They had to stop meeting like this. (Set in what I've come to call The Paradox-a-Day universe.)
Prompt: Fenway/Dr. Crusher (Threshold/TNG crossover): Bedside manner.
Author's Note: It's still the 25th somewhere in the world! Sorry this is so late. Hope you don't mind, it's a sort of sequel to the stories you and Sheera write...
"You know..." Fenway began slowly. "I'm starting to worry about the Space-Time continuum. This has to be symptomatic of a larger issue."
Beside him, Beverly groaned. "Viral or bacterial? And why is it always us?."
"Something environmental, maybe? We're both doctors..."
"With all due respect, I think the medicine I practice and the medicine you practice is different enough. We'd hardly be exposed to the same situations or substances. Professional?"
"Yeah," Nigel snorted. "The universe has it out for devastatingly attractive doctors."
Crusher smirked back at him. "Well, then why are you here?"
Fenway's mouth worked for a moment, but he was distracted from whatever comeback he might have made but just how incredible that slightly mischievous smile looked on her.
They stared for a while at the cell door.
"What do you think they want with us?" She asked.
Nigel shrugged. "They probably want to know who we are and where we came from."
"Well, why can't they just ask us?"
"Because they don't want to ask the nice way."
Beverly sighed. "Why are you always so cynical?"
"Not everyone comes from where you come from."
"You were there for a while, weren't you?"
"Well, obviously I failed to drink the cool-aid before returning to a world where the military water-boards first and asks questions later."
"Well, can't you..." She hesitated, biting her lip. "Look, I know that humanity in your time can seem pretty bleak and hopeless, but doesn't the fact they will evolve into what I know in my time give you some hope?"
"Not really," Nigel shifted uncomfortably. "Since your artificial friend stated that we most likely don't come from the same timeline but a completely different timeline that already has a different past and will probably have a different future."
"But the fact that humanity has the potential-"
Beverly's point was cut short by the sound of approaching footsteps.
"Quick!" Nigel motioned to the floor. "Pretend to be sick!"
"Is that... not old where you come from? Because where I come from that's the oldest-"
Fenway reached for her arm and pulled rather insistently. Obligingly, she sprawled across the floor and lay as still as possible.
For a man who had no doubt filled the position admirably on many occasions, Fenway was doing a bad job of pretending to be distraught over a sick patient. Fortunately, whatever universe they had fallen into seemed to be populated with particularly dense human beings. (Or at least dense prison guards.) The guard in question leaned over Beverly at just the right angle to receive a solid kick to the face, followed quickly by Fenway shoving him into a wall for good measure. And, because they were both at heart very compassionate people, they took the time to check his pulse and arrange him in the recovery position before effecting their escape.
"It can't be that easy." Said Nigel, who admittedly hadn't done this sort of thing very often.
"It probably won't be." Said Beverly, who had.
***
It turns out you don't need to guard prisoners very well if your secret underground facility is compromised entirely of unmarked cement corridors. They ran with purpose for a while, then wandered aimlessly, finally resorting to leaving strands of Nigel's raveling sweater around to confirm that, yes, they were going in circles.
Crossing her arms, Beverly frowned. "You'd think we'd have run into somebody by now."
"I've got one better," Said Nigel. "You think we'd have run into our cell again by now."
"Do you hear...?"
Nigel nodded tightly. "Yeah."
A deep periodic rumbling sound had been steadily growing louder. Neither of them were quite sure what it meant, but they were wise enough to realize it didn't bode well. Soon, the room was shaking and it was all they could do to keep to their feet.
And then he saw it, the beam cracking as if in slow motion, and Beverly standing right under it. Without thinking he dove.
It would have been a heroic rescue, had he not misjudged her reflexes and his own agility. Te result being that she was quite clear of the debris that landed rather solidly on his back. In a moment of blinding pain it occurred to him that now he was the one that needed rescuing. Even to a man of Fenway's evolved sensibilities, that was pretty embarrassing.
It was his last thought before loosing consciousness.
***
He came to in pain, which certainly wasn't a new experience, and leaning against a soft, perfume scented body, which sadly was.
"Be careful," said his makeshift pillow before carefully extracting herself. "You arm is broken, but I managed to set it while you were unconscious."
Fenway, careful of his arm, struggled into a sitting position with her help.
"I didn't even have anything for a splint, so it's just wrapped. Be careful." Fenway looked down through slightly fuzzy eyes (his glasses, it seemed, hadn't survived the adventure) and sure enough the sleeves of his own lab coat were bound tightly around his arm. Her own lab coat had been sacrificed to bind his entire arm to his chest.
Not that he was complaining, the sight of her clad only in that form fitting jumpsuit was more than enough compensation for the coat. It assured him that no matter how equal the sexes would become, it was still a man designing those uniforms.
"A sling!" She went on, apparently oblivious to his ogling. "I remembered how to make them from our Emergency Equipment-less First Aid class. It's a bit primitive, but it works. Sort of like how doctors used to sew people up like garments."
"Hey, don't knock it." Said the man who was trained in the 'stitch them like garments' method of medicine. "A stitch in time saves nine."
"A stitch in time..." Her eyes had that far-off Eureka! look Lucas usually had when he'd come up with an even more convoluted method of delivering electricity to infectees. "That's it! We've been forcing things back and forth through these anomalies and we haven't done anything to repair them! And what does an aggravated wound do?"
Nigel was fairly certain he heard that one in college, but he wasn't sure how appropriate the punchline was...
"It continues to bleed! We've been caught up in the flow, bleeding back and forth through time and only making things worse."
Oh good, thought Nigel sleepily. In the future, this sort of diagnostics would be routine.
"Hey... hey!" She began patting his face gently. "Stay with me now. From what I can tell you don't appear to have a concussion, but there's no telling about internal injuries. I'd feel better if you would stay awake."
Nigel pried open one eye to peer at her again. "Doctor's orders?"
She rewarded him with her characteristic smirk. "Damn right."
"Talk to me..." He couldn't help but let his eyes slide shut again. "Tell me more about your Utopia." It was probably a sign of his condition that he'd managed the last without any sarcasm.
And so she told him, about Caldos colony and Tycho City, about Starships and Scarlet Moss, she talked about meeting new species and for one brief moment having been in the corona of a sun... But for all her beautiful stories he was still struggling to stay awake.
"Ssss... s'not enough."
"What is it?" She crawled over to sit closer to him. "What isn't enough?"
"S'not enough to know... somewhere, somehow... under the right circumstances things could be..." For a moment it seemed like he wouldn't finish, but with a labored breath he continued. "S'not enough... can't live there... have to live... here"
After a moment when he had stilled, and Beverly was convinced he was finally at rest, she took his face in her hands."I wish you could live there though." And she smiled through unshed tears. "I wish you could, because I know you'd like it."
***
When Fenway drifted back to consciousness, it was almost worth the pain to feel the gentle hand smoothing down his hair. It was a quite, beautiful moment. So naturally it was destined to be interrupted.
"Data!" Her voice lit up with, Oh God no, was that maternal affection? Great, simply great... he looked like her son. It occurred to Nigel that if that walking tin can had an off switch he better keep it well hidden, or else Nigel was in a mood to jam it permanently in the off position.
For a man without a concussion, he was sure developing a pretty headache. Blood pressure... he thought, but couldn't remember if that meant it was high or low. Through the haze he managed to catch anomaly, residual, closing and hurry before they were both at his side trying to scrape him off the floor.
"No no no... you can't carry me!"
Data tilted his head in the mechanical inquisitive way. "But sir, if you recall, I am an android. Your weight is well within my-"
"Data!"
"Yes sir?"
"Shut up."
Data's jaw snapped shut with an audible click and Fenway decided he wouldn't need the off switch after all.
"You can't carry me because I'm going to walk."
Data looked dubious (or as dubious as was possible, for him) but obediently said nothing.
"Nigel." Beverly said, uncharacteristicly using his first name. "You shouldn't." But her tone was one of someone who knew their advice was going to be ignored.
Together the three of them limped along the corridor, and if Nigel leaned on Beverly a little more than Data, no one said anything.
Finally they came to what looked like a very localized electrical storm. Nigel wished again he had his glasses, for it seemed he could almost make out in the center -- like a window -- the bridge of Beverly's ship.
"We should proceed one at the time." The android said just loud enough to compete with the rumbling that continued from above. "And quickly, it will not be stable for much longer."
Beverly looked at him warmly, and shot Nigel a dazzling smile, her hand outstretched. "Once more onto the breach dear friend?"
And smiling back, Nigel took it.