Title: The Duty to Defend

Disclaimers: Chapter 1 - I own nothing. Well, a whole lot of DVD s and a mortgage but I don't want your characters...I'm just playing with 'em. You can have em back when I m done :)

Author's Note: Here's a nice long Chapter...You're welcome. :)

Chapter 4 - All Work and No Play

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ Captain's Log Stardate 45643.24

We have returned to sector .001 for a brief stop at McKinley station for new supplies and to drop off a few crew for new rotations. I have also been notified that Admiral Brand has requested to see me at Starfleet Academy. After our last conversation and turn of events a year ago, I pray the bearer brings favorable news. On a personal note, we are looking forward to having former Ensign Wesley Crusher join us for a brief time as we work on upgrades to the warp drive and the crew gets some well deserved time off on our home world.

Engineering 1430 hours Her mother once said that as a child the lure of a holo-tree at Christmas time would keep her entertained for hours as the lights danced before her eyes like something from the hands of a great sorcerer. When she became a Starfleet cadet and got her real first glimpse at the stars that wrapped around the solar system like a glittering veil, she was awestruck. She knew she would have to find her place nestled among them. The flickering lights of her display console seemed to lull her into a hypnotic chasm. Two red lights, one green, one yellow, four blue, one pause, and a peculiar set of blips before the cycle would repeat itself on the display. Ensign Lefler ran the numbers for her simulation for the third time in the last five minutes. To say she was distracted was an understatement.

A frustrated sigh did not escape the ears of the person now beside her, as she turned cautiously feeling eyes boring into her soul. She swallowed nervously as her hazel eyes traveled upward into a sea of blue but was not met with the ire she expected, but an understanding calm.

"On a break soon?" her voice was almost melodic.

"Oh, hi Dr. Crusher. Uh yes, I mean no, I mean I'm off in thirty minutes, just trying to figure out what's wrong with this stupid destabilizer unit."

"I can't seem to get in touch with Wesley, I'm going down planetside to try and surprise him. Would you . . .

"YES!" she leapt from her chair, a bright red blush coming to her cheeks as Beverly stepped back, surprised by her exuberance.

" . . . like to come I guess, that's redundant. Ok, I'll see you at Transporter room 3 in about an hour kiddo."
"I'll be there."

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Thornydyke Turbines 1450 hours

Getting here was half the battle. Struggling to pull his battered and bruised body from the bed, putting on clothes over torn and scarred flesh, and navigating the grounds with a ferocious headache and left flank pain that raised more than a few eyebrows as he awkwardly lurched his way through mass transit to get to Thorndyke.

The screeching of metal to metal was his signal that he had made it in to his place of employment on time. It certainly wasn't a quiet place, not like the Enterprise. Here he went home filthy every night, exhausted, and had burned himself more than once with dangerous fuel cells.

Wesley Crusher arrived at his terminal just in time to suit up in his jumpsuit. Before his partner could see him, he gingerly put on a hard hat and goggles and tried to quickly make it to his work location before anyone could notice the striking bruises on his face and neck. It wound up taking most of his energy and concentration to walk without limping and to hold his battered arm close to his body so he could get right to work.

He was lucky. Youth worked in his favor for once. He was easily the youngest employee here with the person closest to him at least 8 years his senior. Most of the guys that worked here didn't know him as "that guy," the guy who ruined Nick Locarno's life, the traitor, or worst of all Dr. Beverly Crusher's son. Here he was just one of the guys who just happened to be good at engineering. He kept a tight lid on his intelligence. He never shared too much information, and worked quickly and efficiently trying not to draw too much attention to himself. Wesley had to keep this job. Since he'd lost his roommate, he had to pay for his entire dorm by himself.

He placed glowing ear plugs in his ears to try and reduce the horrific whine the machine made as he began.

Wesley tried desperately to hold on to the machine throughout the process, but the sound rattled through his aching head and he found his eyes clinching tightly to staunch the pain streaking through his brain. It was his own defenses working against him that prevented him from hearing footsteps behind him. A strong hand grabbed his shoulder and startled him as the program was suddenly terminated sending the nacelle spinning out of control. Wesley quickly tried to stop the machine but his reaction time was off and he was unable to stop it. Within seconds, the tricorder was ripped from his hand by the man now beside him and the whine reduced as the spinning suddenly came to a halt. Wesley still tried desperately to hide his face from his co-worker, but it wasn't his face that caught his attention.

"What the hell are you doing Wes?"

"Uhhh. S - Sorry Linus, I..." the power to the machine was shut down and all eyes were now on the two men.

"Sorry? Sorry doesn't cut it. You could have killed yourself. You know you are supposed to work behind a shield when you do that. What the hell is wrong with you?" he asked to the back of Wes's head.

Linus had been working there for the better part of a year. He was a big hulking guy with broad shoulders, sandy blonde hair and an uncharacteristic Scottish accent. He was true terran, from generations of hard working Terran who believed Terrans should keep their feet on the ground and out of the affairs of the aliens in space intent on destroying human way of life. Even though he was not Wes' direct superior he had taught Wes the ropes during his first few weeks on the job, and was the only guy who knew who he really was.

"I just want to get this done Linus, I'm sorry, I know we have a lot to do." Linus spun Wesley around to face him, the lightweight didn't stand a chance as he was spun on his heels and thrown off balance. The ringing in his ears,
and loss of equilibrium that plagued him was the final straw that sent him out of control. A groan escaped his lips as his world began a desprate tilt and he saw the floor coming towards him at an alarming rate. Before he knew it he was grasping at his abdomen and clinging to the cool corner of his durasteel workstation as he struggled to stay upright.

"You ok kid?"

"Yeah, just something I ate. 'sorry Linus I'll b more careful, I promise. " A less than enthusiastic pat on the shoulder was his only reply.

He took Linus's warning to heart with a visual full body shiver that conveyed not only fear, but pain, and turned back to his work. Turning on the force shield to protect his swollen eyes he began. He hunched over trying to be as oblivious as possible as he held his small welding torch in his left hand, dropping the tri corder from his right.

Wesley leaned over his station and performed the necessary calculations to his device to begin working on his equipment. Taking a quick glance, his co-workers seemed to be in the midst of sharing a lighthearted laugh over a synthetic cup of caf from one of the many automatic dispensaries. He would take no such luxury. He had to power though. He had to get through the next nine hours without raising suspicion, without adding to his pain. Without letting on that he was mere minutes away from falling to pieces right before their eyes.

Two hours into his shift, even as he worked diligently repairing one part after another, he would usually be shedding one article of clothing after the next as his work became more and more tedious. Wesley found this to be unnecessary this day. He clinched his thick jacket tighter, securing his gloves snugly, the fan circulating in the area to keep him and his men cool in the already climate control area brought him to a near shiver. He could hear his own teeth chatter as he felt his eyes fight to stay focused on the blurry piece of engine part before him.

"C'mon Wes...get it together...just a few more hours, and you can get out of here" his mind warned. It would be a warning his body would be unwilling and unable to obey.

He stood warily from his stool and slowly walked to place his completed inventory onto a conveyor when it hit. Like a bolt of lightning. Pain he hadn't felt since the very first seizure that triggered his, illness...his curse, besieged him. He studied, learned as much as he could about telepathy, and how to quiet the voices, but his injury has made that task nearly impossible. He felt easily as bad as that day back on Earth when Dr. Grainger discovered his brain was in meltdown mold. When not only could he hear Counselor Troi, but could feel her.

The headaches were its most common symptom. It had never been discovered in humans, he was in fact the only know human case according to the counselor.

Irescine Syndrome. He could hear his body, hear that it was about to betray him.

More than that he could hear the change in the voices around him. Nothing he did was in secret, because he could always here what people thought of him, said about him, needed of him even before they attempted to deceive him with their selfish lies or treachery.

People had been calling him a freak for years. Perhaps it was time to quit fooling himself. He was a freak of nature.

The whir of an engine snapped him back to reality, and with it an onslaught of agony

He tried to program a tricorder and then test a nacelle but he couldn't concentrate. His teeth were clinched so hard together his face hurt. It had never been this difficult for him to concentrate. Why was this happening to him?

Why him?

Why now?

He tried to move away from the voices... escape, even for a moment.

Air... he just needed some air and he could continue on, the pain would subside.

But that was it, he couldn't, Even though he made it to the end of the warehouse like structure, when he made it to the edge of the facility, near the spacecraft hangar entrance, he tried desperately to gulp in air. But, each time he turned his head he felt nauseous. Finally his center of control is lost as a particularly violent pain struck him in the left side of his abdomen. Wesley pulled himself out to the outside wall and slowly slid down it clenching his ribs, a pain filled grimace on his face. As his eyes slammed shut he prayed that he could rest for just a few minutes and let the pain subside. If he could just hang on he could go home and rest. He knew better than to seek medical attention. He was persona non grata on campus.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ 5 months earlier.

Wesley stood at the door to his class. His classmates intentionally bumped him as he shuffled past. Once he reached the exterior door his PADDS were knocked from his grasp. It took every ounce of his willpower not to pop up and punch the bastard who was now laughing at his expense. But he knew from experience, since the accident, even when he was right he was wrong, and if he was caught in another fight he would land himself in the brig for three days. A rather unpleasant experience where there were no witnesses. He bit his lip so hard he nearly drew blood as he grabbed his materials and pulled down his tunic.

Wesley took a deep breath as he turned and began to make his way down the steep flight of durasteel steps when he felt a shove and his feet came flying from beneath him. As he tumbled and rolled down the step he tried his best to protect his head as he heard the laughter above him cease. A sharp pain lanced through his arm, and he felt his face smack a step full contact before he flipped hard landing on his back with a thud sliding to a stop at the base of the twelve stairs. He saw the blurry images of the crowd near him disperse as the class bells rang. He closed his eyes, and scrambled to his knees to get up, collapsing flat to muffled laughter before finally regaining his footing. The dizziness that assailed him was overwhelming. He walked and half stumbled to a nearby comm panel. He pushed a site to site transfer placing his hand on the key pad.

"One to transport, Starfleet medical. he slurred, wiping the blood dripping from his mouth. A shimmer of yellow enveloped him as he arrived in the medical bay waiting room.

Once he checked in to medical he sat down in the office chairs as patients came and went. Wesley's mouth and face continued to throb. As he went to the restroom to relieve himself he was horrified by the face in the mirror. His jaw was out of line and the blood soaked tissue he held was not even beginning to staunch the flow from his head and face. The right side of his face was black and blue and had swelled to twice its normal size. He was sure his jaw was broken. It made a popping noise that hurt his ears each time he moved. He walked to the desk again.

"Pwease...I been here an hour...can someone just fix my jaw...I will splint my own arm..." he said. The young nurse didn't bother to look up from her computer terminal.

"I'm sorry Cadet Crusher, but the doctor is really busy tonight he'll get to you as soon he can. As Wesley peered into the office he saw the doctor with his dinner in his lap his feet on his desk watching a holomystery. Wesley nodded his head, and was about to leave out the door, when the nausea and dizziness overtook him again. He felt flushed and began to sweat profusely. He felt his whole body shaking as he made it cautiously back to the chairs.

He closed his eyes and tried to stop the endless spin the world around him had suddenly begun. One last whisper of help escaped his lips as he felt himself falling before his world went black.

The nurse turned in time to see the cadet's collapse and raced to the back to get the physician.

"Well why didn't you tell me he was this bad?"

"You said you didn't care if he broke his neck...don't bother you."

"Damn it. Get an anti grav bed." he screamed. He tugged at Wesley's tunic cutting it off of him revealing the arm swollen to three times its normal size. His jaw was obviously fractured. Shining a pen light in his eyes, Crusher's pupil were unreactive and stared straight ahead unmoving.

He was deeply concussed. With his gloved hand he reached into his hairline and felt a cut, about 8 inches above his brow and another six inches behind his ear." Two men lifted the feather light muscular frame onto the antigrav bed onto the bed as he was whisked away.

A sharp intake of air sent mild shockwaves of pain through his body, but when he opened his eyes, he felt an explosion.

Pain. Blinding. Intense and Focused.

He felt like he'd been hit in the face by a runaway Targ. He tried to reach up with his hand but found it held in stasis across his chest.

He heard footsteps and then the face of a pretty blonde haired nurse, hit his neck with a hypo spray instantly easing his discomfort.

"Welcome back Cadet. We have reset your jaw, and your broken arm is healing nicely. You had a grade two concussion that is also much better. We were about to notify your next of kin Commander Crusher of your injuries. Would you like for us to contact her now?"

He slowly moved his head back and forth and whispered softly "no."

" You should probably take it easy for a few days and rest as much as possible, your jaw and arm will be tender for a few days yet." the doctor remarked standing in the doorway.

Wesley glanced at him briefly, so angry that this doctor he'd seen watching television had allowed him to suffer for so long. He then turned his attention to the wall, praying his anger didn't bring him to tears.

"As soon as you feel up to it, you are free to go. I'll sign your release papers." The male doctor said. No 'I'm sorry for nearly killing you', 'how are you'...nothing. Just a quick script to cover his own ass.

"Can you at least tell me how long I've been here?"

"Three days." he said as the door swooshed closed behind him.

Suprised eyes followed the retreating doctr out of the door.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

He knew the quality of care of Starfleet medical well. If his mother knew of course, there would be hell to pay.

He saw pieces of the last 24 hours flash before his eyes, and one last surge of pain rocketed through his skull as the agony caused a sharp intake a breath, his eyes quickly closed, and he slumped his head over onto his chin.

The only movement came as the tendrils of hairs on his forehead move gently in the breeze between the two buildings.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ How did Wesley get his gift/curse...oh so much more to this story...and it's actually revealed in my other story "By Her Side"
Open for suggestions. Reviews and comments welcome