#pxc

Beverly tries to get up, but finds herself being restrained. After a brief moment of panic, she calms down, and realises that it’s just him.

Gritting her teeth, she extracts Jean-Luc’s arm from around her bare waist, and gets to her feet. After tripping over a shoe, left carelessly in the dark, she feels around for her uniform. She considers turning on the light, but turns the idea down. At least if she couldn’t get a well-rested sleep, he could. And plus, there could be a very important reason why she was being called to sickbay at such an unearthly hour. It could’ve been an urgent medical emergency, and someone’s life was possibly at stake.

She grabs a pair of trousers, and a shirt. I think I left them on this side of the bed, Beverly silently remarks, as she struggles with her shirt more than usual. She considers the possibility that possibly her shirt’s torn in more than one place after a brief accident with the branches during the away mission. She’s dressed in less than thirty seconds, and heads out of her quarters with her hair unkempt and her face unwashed.

Damn. Is it bad? Beverly thinks, as personnel turn round to stare at her as she passes through the hallways. She can’t remember how bad the rips were, but it was just unfortunate that she didn’t have the time to get it repaired yesterday, nor the time to retrieve a new set from her wardrobe. She yawns, stretching her arms slightly as she walks briskly.

She runs into Data just outside sickbay, out of breath. “You’ve seen what’s in there,” She asks Data. “Is it bad?”

“Not quite, but,” Data pauses, tilting his head quizzically. “Doctor, may I comment on one thing?”

“Yes, Data, but make it quick.”

Data holds up a hand to explain. “My analysis of the shirt you are wearing confirms that it belongs to Captain Picard. I am puzzled.” Data pauses. “I do not understand how you have come to obtain this piece of his clothing.”

“Shit,” Beverly curses, looking down at her red-dyed uniform and then slapping a hand to her forehead.

"Is there something wrong, Doctor?" Data asks, giving a slight frown.

"Well, Data," Beverly starts, grasping for the right words, "when something like this happens it usually implies something, and there are some things in my life I would avoid from letting the entire ship know."

Data pauses for a while. "I will try to process this."

"Don't say a thing," Beverly lowers her voice. Data agrees, and leaves.

Beverly works on her patient in a dazed state, relieved that the disease the young ensign contracted on an away mission wasn’t completely incurable. “We probably didn’t have to contact you right away,” Ogawa sighs, “but we’re a bit short on manpower at the moment. He was going into spasms earlier and we needed more hands. I’m sorry for calling you to sickbay.”

“There’s no need to be sorry for that.” Beverly says, stretching the muscles in her shoulders. “This disease is quite hard to diagnose, and it’s the first time we’ve come across such a strain.”

“Thank you, Doctor.” Ogawa says. She pauses, smirking. “Nice shirt.”

Beverly’s cheeks flush red, coming close to matching the colour of her fiery red hair. “Don’t you dare tell anyone.”

“You left your lab coat in your office last night.” Ogawa mentions. “That’s a bit odd.”

“Well, let’s just say things were a bit unusual last night.” Beverly sighs. “Is there anything else you need?”

Ogawa shakes her head. “We’ll take it from here.”

Beverly checks the time from the PADD on her table. “It’s been two hours since I got here. If I don’t return something, someone’s going to be late for his shift.”

She returns to her quarters, trying to keep out of sight. As she steps into her quarters, she finds the lights on. The sheets are thrown off the bed, and sitting on the bed, half-dressed, is a perplexed Jean-Luc Picard. “Beverly, have you seen my-”

She’s faster than him, and her hands fly to pull at the bottom of her shirt, tugging it up. “Are you going to just sit there and watch, or are you going to help me?” Beverly teases, raising an eyebrow. “You’d be a great help if you could help me find my uniform.” She nimbly worms her way out of his shirt, and stands with her hands crossed in front of herself as he searches the floor.

“See you at work, then, Doctor.” Jean-Luc says, as they exchange shirts.