In a Treetop

Author's Note: This story was first published in 1996 in the fanzine Eridani 27.

Disclaimer: The crew of the Enterprise doesn't belong to me.

For a full ten seconds, no one moved, blinked an eye, took a breath, said a word. Then, a baby cried.

In an instant, Beverly Crusher was on the transporter pad, Miles O'Brien right behind her. Together, they knelt on either side of the crumpled maroon and black uniform and looked down into the folds of the material. There, literally swallowed by the waves of fabric, lay an infant, his little, oval-shaped face beginning to turn red as his crying intensified.

Crusher cast a glance over at O'Brien, their eyes meeting for a moment, and then she directed her attention back to the child. Quickly and carefully, she extricated his arms and legs from the uniform, his small, naked body trembling with each piercing sob, tiny fists waving in the air. She ran her tricorder over him, studied the results, looked at O'Brien again and nodded. "It's him. Approximately eight months. Good physical condition." The cries grew louder. "Good set of lungs," she added with a hesitant smile.

Leaning over, she wrapped the uniform top around the baby like a blanket, then picked him up and cradled him against her shoulder. "I'll take him down to Sickbay and run a few more tests on him." She stood up and shifted her gaze back to O'Brien. "I think you'd better run some tests of your own."

The transporter chief blinked and mentally threw off the shocked astonishment he was experiencing. With a meaningful glance toward Keiko, he responded. "I'll get right on to it. We'll get it figured out."

Crusher stepped down from the transporter pad, cuddling the baby closer, the soft top of his head brushing her chin. The loud sobs had trailed off into hushed whimpers, but she could still feel his wet, warm tears against her neck. "Please hurry, Miles," she insisted as she left the room.

~vVv~

"Ten fingers, ten toes, two eyes, one nose." Crusher's voice rose and fell in a tuneless sing song, and she tickled the baby's stomach. "One tummy." He chuckled. She stroked his face. "One chin." His smile widened.

"Beverly?"

She jumped, looking up from the bio-bed where the infant lay. The counselor and first officer stood just inside the Sickbay door. "Deanna. Will." Her cheeks flushed slightly. "You caught me." She grinned and glanced back down at the little body. "Baby-talk. Guilty as charged."

Troi and Riker stepped closer to the bio-bed, their own gazes shifting toward the diapered baby. Hazel-green eyes stared up at them, and he gurgled. A smile lit Troi's face. "It's really him, isn't it?" She reached out and touched one tiny hand; delicate fingers closed around her thumb. "Oh, he's got quite a grasp."

Crusher nodded. "Little One's strong and healthy." She brushed her hand over the baby's head, bald except for a thin, soft, light brown covering of fuzz. "And definitely Jean-Luc Picard."

Riker stared disbelievingly at the infant. "He's so... little."

Crusher sighed. Leave it up to a baby to render their usually loquacious first officer near speechless. "He's a baby, Will. They're supposed to be little."

"But I... I didn't think he'd be this..." His mind searched for another adjective. "Small."

Crusher felt slightly offended. "He's no smaller than any other baby who's almost nine months old."

Riker noticed the doctor's defensive tone. He shrugged. "Forgive me, Beverly. It's just that... the last time I saw him he was almost thirteen. It's going to take me a while to adjust."

A puzzled smile returned to Crusher's face. "Join the club." Leaving the baby with Troi, she gestured Riker over to a medical monitor on the wall. "I've taken a new tissue sample, and there are more veroxic sequences missing. I'm not sure why. Our plan should have worked."

Riker glared at the enlarged images of the captain's ribo-veroxic nucleic structure. "But it didn't work."

"I'm aware of that, Will," Crusher replied dryly, glancing back over her shoulder at Troi and the baby. "All too aware. And this time, there is more of a difference. Not only has his physical appearance been altered, but his psychological make-up as well. From what I can gather, there's a physiological point at which mental regression takes place."

Riker mulled her words over in his mind. "So, although at the age of twelve he had all the memories and mental capabilities of the adult Jean-Luc Picard, he's too young to have them now?"

"I think so," Crusher agreed. "Aside from some babbling, he doesn't have the ability to talk yet. But, as I said earlier, if we do nothing at all, he will probably grow up to be Jean-Luc Picard. So, at some point, all his knowledge, his memories, would more than likely return to him."

Riker's eyes widened at the prospect of having to wait another fifty years to get their captain back. "But we can't do nothing at all," he argued.

Crusher drew in a deep breath. "Of course, we're not." They returned to the bio-bed, and she gently placed her hand on the baby's forehead. "I've got half my staff working on this problem, and I'll continue to work on it myself, in between taking care of him." Her attention shifted toward the child.

'You could get someone else to take care of..." Riker's eyes caught Troi's gaze and the almost imperceptible shake of her head, and he allowed his suggestion to go unfinished. He cleared his throat instead. "I'll meet with Miles and Geordi and Data. See what they can come up with. You'll keep me informed of any changes?"

Crusher glanced over at him distractedly. "I will."

Riker nodded in Troi's direction, then turned and left Sickbay.

The counselor looked back at the baby and studied his little face. 'You know, he already has the captain's cleft chin," she said, noting the minute indentation.

Crusher laughed softly. "Don't be silly, Deanna. Babies don't have clefts. They have dimples."

Jean-Luc gurgled again, seemingly in agreement. Crusher wiped the drool away from the comers of his mouth with her fingertips.

Troi shook her head. "What do we do with him?" she wondered aloud.

"Well, I know it's been a while since Wesley was this age," Crusher answered matter-of-factly, "but I don't think baby care has changed much in the last twenty years. I plan on keeping him clean and dry, clothed and fed until we can return him to... his previous self."

Troi sighed. "There's no telling how long it will take."

"I know. In the meanwhile, I think I'm going to take Little One back to my cabin. I'm having ship's stores send up a crib. Something about keeping him here is just... sort of cold and impersonal."

Troi stared at her carefully. "Beverly... don't get too attached. Remember, this is the captain. He won't be little forever."

Crusher glanced over at her. "Don't be ridiculous; I know that." She quickly returned her gaze to the baby.

"Then why aren't you calling him by his name?" she asked pointedly.

One eyebrow arched challengingly. "What do you mean?"

Troi smiled, trying to diffuse some of the tension of the moment. 'You've called him Little One twice since I've been here." She rolled her eyes. "You're beginning to sound like my mother."

Crusher tenderly ran her hands over the baby's legs, and he kicked at her. "I... I just can't call him Jean-Luc. It's him, but..." She looked up at the counselor. "Deanna, Jean-Luc Picard has looked the same to me ever since I've known him. Maybe a little more hair at times, but... Except for the last few days, he's always... been the same. Now, if we're not able to find a way to return him to... who he was before..." She shook her head. "And we've got fifty-three years of possibilities..." She sighed. "I can't explain my reasoning, I just think Little One sort of... fits him for right now."

Troi nodded and laid her hand on Crusher's shoulder. "I think I understand." She shifted her gaze back to the baby. "And I also think Little One needs something other than a diaper to wear."

Crusher snapped her fingers and pointed at the counselor. "I've got that covered. Watch him for a second." She stepped away from the bio-bed and disappeared into her office; she returned in a few seconds carrying what looked like a piece of clothing in her hands. "I had the replicator make this." She spread the small garment out on the bio-bed next to the baby.

Troi took one look at it and started to laugh. "Oh, Beverly, if he ever finds out."

Crusher smirked. "Of course, he'll find out," she said, taking one of Jean-Luc's feet and gently pushing it into the leg of the little one-piece stretch suit. "I have to make a video log of all this."

Troi continued to laugh as Crusher pulled the maroon and black stretch suit into place over the tiny arms and legs, and then fastened it at the collar with four gold snaps.

~vVv~

Troi and Riker walked slowly along the corridor toward Crusher's cabin, each lost deep in thought.

Riker was finding it difficult to accept the fact that his commanding officer was only eight months old. And yet, at the same time, he recognized a certain sense of irony inherent in the situation. Jean-Luc Picard, who always claimed that he didn't know how to relate to children, was now one himself. Of course, Riker had had the same thought two days ago when faced with an adolescent Picard. Only now, it seemed worse. The captain was an infant in every sense of the word: mentally, emotionally, physically. "Why not... keep him in Sickbay?" Riker questioned, thinking irrationally that by taking him away from the ship's medical facility it would prolong his present condition.

Troi rolled her eyes at the first officer. "Will, he's just a baby. He needs to be somewhere where he can feel at home. After all, Sickbay's so... cold and impersonal," she found herself repeating Crusher's words.

Riker cast a sideways glance at her. "He's not just a baby, Deanna. He's the captain. We can't let ourselves forget that," he added stiffly.

Troi grabbed hold of his arm and pulled him to a stop in front of Crusher's door. She smiled up at him, sensing his discomfort. 'You're right," she agreed. "We can't forget that. But, we also can't forget that captains were babies once, too."

"Come in," Crusher called at the sound of the door chime.

The door slid open, and Riker and Troi stepped into the doctor's cabin. "Beverly?" Troi looked around the empty living room.

"Right here." Crusher came to the bedroom door.

They glanced over at her. "Where is..." Troi began, but stopped when a small figure appeared on the floor next to the doctor.

Crusher shrugged at their surprised expressions. "He crawls," she said simply.

Despite his attempt to control it, a broad smile spread across Riker's face as he watched the baby creep further into the room. "Who picked out his clothes?" he asked, amusement tingeing his voice.

"I did," Crusher raised her hand, returned his smile. "I thought it was appropriate."

"He's fast," Troi commented, following Jean-Luc over to the sitting area where a small blanket, scattered with toys, had been spread on the floor.

"He's learned where the good stuff is," Crusher agreed, sitting down next to Troi on the sofa.

Riker sank into a chair across from them, never taking his eyes off the baby on the blanket. "What's that he's got in his hand?"

Crusher laughed. "It's a chess piece. And it won't be in his hand for long. He's teething."

Riker's brow creased in concern. "Is it safe for him to chew on it?"

Crusher gaped back at him. "No, Will, it's not. He'll probably swallow it, and choke on it, but, hey..." She clapped her hands in front of her, then her voice sobered. "Of course, it's safe. It's too large for him to swallow."

At the sound of the hands clapping, Jean-Luc looked up from the knight in his fist and smiled in Crusher's direction.

Troi noticed. "I think he likes you, Beverly," she teased.

Crusher shook her head. "I think he knows who can give him this..." She reached over and picked up something from the table beside the sofa.

Riker stared incredulously. "A bottle?"

Crusher leaned down and extended the milk-filled bottle to Jean-Luc. He dropped the knight, wrapped his little hands around the bottle, and pushed the nipple into his mouth, smiling even as he started to suck hungrily.

The doctor relaxed back into the sofa cushions. "Will, he has to eat something," she explained, addressing the expression on Riker's face.

Confusion clouded his eyes even more. "But..." He sighed, waved a hand in the air. "Never mind."

Troi grinned over at him. "Takes some getting used to, doesn't it?"

Riker looked around, peering through the open door into the bedroom, his eyes falling upon the crib in the far comer. "I'm not sure I want to get used to it."

Seeing where he was looking, Crusher started to speak.

Riker stopped her. "I know... He has to have a place to sleep."

During their conversation, Jean-Luc pulled the bottle from his mouth and dropped it on the blanket. He rolled over on his side, then onto his stomach and scooted toward Riker. He stopped at the man's boots and put a tiny hand on his leg, the other on his knee, pulling himself up to a standing position.

Crusher smiled. "He, uh...he pulls up, too."

Riker leveled his gaze at her. "Can he walk?"

"No, Will," she responded, "he's a baby."

As if that explains it all, Riker thought, staring at the baby leaning against his leg. "Why don't you pick him up?" Troi suggested.

Riker glanced at the counselor uncertainly, but carefully placed his hands under the baby's arms and lifted him onto his knee. The little green eyes looked at his face.

"I think he likes your beard," Crusher proposed.

At that moment, Jean-Luc put out a hand and grabbed at Riker's chin.

"Ow!" Riker exclaimed. "That hurts." Tenderly, he removed the baby's hand from his beard. "Don't do that... sir." He looked helplessly over at Troi. "This is... weird. It was one thing having him hug me and call me Dad, but... to be..."

"Bouncing him on your knee?" Troi offered.

Riker nodded. "It is a little strange." He gazed at the baby on his lap. "Hey, look at that, he's already got a cleft in his chin."

"It's a dimple!" Troi and Crusher responded together.

"All right. Whatever you say." He shook his head. "A lot strange."

Jean-Luc twisted his little face up, his lip jutting out, and he hollered. Riker jumped. "What do I do?" he asked as the baby began to cry.

Crusher got up and leaned over, picking Jean-Luc up off Riker's knee. "Give him to me." She retrieved the bottle from the blanket, and then settled back down on the sofa, nestling Jean-Luc into the crook of her arm. She stuck the bottle in his mouth, and he immediately quieted. "He's just hungry."

Riker shifted in his chair, searching for something to say. "Beverly... Geordi, Data and Miles are working on... this problem. And, uh, I think they're going to figure something out, sooner or later, but if..."

Crusher looked up from the baby in her arms. "But if they don't?" she finished Riker's question. She'd been expecting it, even though they'd skated around it the last time.

He sighed. "If they don't?"

Crusher glanced over at Troi, looking for her reaction, then answered slowly. "Well, legally, he has family in France. His brother and sister-in-law have a son of their own. Or I..." Her voice trailed off.

Troi studied her. "Beverly, that's a big responsibility... under normal circumstances. And, well, these circumstances are far from normal."

"I know that. But, I raised Wesley on my own, and..." She looked back down at Jean-Luc, sucking contentedly on his bottle. "Why don't we just not worry about this until the time comes?" This time, she chose to skate.

Troi exchanged glances with Riker. They both silently chose the skating option as well. "Agreed. And in the meantime, if you need a babysitter... Will's available."

Riker laughed and threw up his hands. "No, no. I don't do diapers."

Crusher removed the bottle from Jean-Luc's mouth, deftly turned him over onto her shoulder and started to pat his back expertly. "Deanna, I don't think I'll need Will's help with babysitting," she smiled. And Jean-Luc burped loudly in agreement.

~vVv~