Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Wesley Crusher awoke in his bed. The bed was soft and warm. The gray sheets encumbered his thin frame. He felt heavy. He had half the mind to slip under again if only his nearby round alarm clock wasn’t blaring. With his eyes shut, he reached out his arm to a matching gray nightstand and waved it around until his hand landed on the device. He switched it off with a tap.

He groaned and managed to crack open his eyes. He was drained. He felt as if he were a battery that had been charging with the wrong cable; he had slowly gained energy but not enough for a full charge, despite being connected for hours. Unfortunately, as much as he wanted to sleep in, he knew he couldn't. He had an exam in school that morning and was expected at The Bridge afterward.

Wesley hardly understood why he needed to finish school. He was receiving experience from four different sources, and it was dragging him down. He had his regular school work where he attended The Enterprise’s equivalent of high school with all the civilian kids. Then, he had a separate class for ensigns, which was only supposed to be taken after finishing regular schooling. Then he worked in Engineering, which again, you were only supposed to do after finishing school and maybe the ensign classes too. Lastly, he worked on The Bridge. He loved working on The Bridge. He loved to have the honor of being there. He loved helping the captain directly. He loved seeing the flashing buttons and staring out the front glass at the stars and galaxies and endless possibilities. In the back of his mind, he knew he shouldn't have been allowed to work there. He also wondered that if he had finished his regular schooling, or tested out of it perhaps, if he would have been taken more seriously and doubted himself less.

The boy at sixteen, going on seventeen, years old had been on The Enterprise for a year. During that time, he had accomplished what many could have only dreamed. His high intelligence unlocked some doors for him. Additionally, his mother was old friends with the captain, so many strings could be pulled. Wesley had done what was practically impossible and was allowed access to The Bridge even before he had ensign status. He was told it was originally given to him due to his high intellect. He was allowed on The Bridge because he deserved it. He belonged there as much as anyone else. His ensign status only cemented that.

That's what he assured himself anyway. Oh, The Captain and Worf especially seemed to disregard him at first, ignoring the fact that it was The Captain’s idea in the first place. But then he and Data saved the ship, while drunk, as his mother found a cure to the virus that was causing everyone to become drunk in the first place. Then he was finally allowed on The Bridge, and Picard almost seemed proud of him. The next thing he knew, he was assigned as ensign which was supposed to be the greatest career choice of his short life… but it wasn't.

Suddenly, he had a real job with a real boss. He listened to him to a T and tried to be a model employee. He was the envy of his peers, and he knew it.

Half the time, he didn't think it was worth it.

He spent every day either at school or work. He hardly had time for friends. On that note, he was hardly allowed to have friends. He didn't think he'd ever forget the time he skipped an optional meeting to hang out with a kid his age, for once, only to come home and have his mother slap him. He knew now that she was under the influence of something on the ship, but even then all it did was make her angry, not force her to hit him.

Wesley crawled out of bed and grabbed his gray engine uniform. He took a hot shower in his and his mother's restroom, and as he stood in front of the sink, combing his hair back, he wondered if he could borrow somebody's make-up or if he had time to run a cold compress under his eyes; his dark circles were looking terrible.

Once he was dressed, Wesley managed to open a small laptop computer he kept in his room specifically for class. He sat on the bed and took his test remotely. he never really left his quarters if it wasn't for work as of late.

The test had taken longer than he thought it would. It wasn't difficult for him, but the civilian test had a timer to ensure everyone finished together. He finished his test very early on and was more or less forced to sit and wait until the timer was done and the teacher closed the session. Once he was finally freed, Wesley began to place everything in its correct location. Soon, he would head to The Bridge. He probably needed to eat something before he left, but he solely decided against it. He left his quarters and headed towards his station.

The walk there was enough to cement his breakfast decision. The very thought of being on The Bridge was making him feel nauseous.

A few months ago, which felt like an entire lifetime at that point, he was more than excited to be on The Bridge. He would wait in the turbo lift, hoping someone was going up to it, just to see it, and when he helped solve the ship’s problems, it made him feel good. It made his mother proud. It made Picard proud.

After a while, it seemed like his success was starting to grind on The Captain's metaphorical gears. Wesley would even bet Picard almost seemed jealous, which should have been a ridiculous notion. Picard was the captain of a great ship with the highest amount of respect. He got to work with hundreds of amazing people over the years, including Jack Crusher. Wesley never had any of that. If anything, it would only make sense for Wesley to be jealous of him.

In the end, as Wesley did his usual thing, Picard had begun to become irritated. Picard used to at least toy with his ideas, but lately Picard also always dismissed them. Just last week, Wesley hadn't even gotten to say his idea at all. Picard wouldn't let him and promptly told him, “Shut up, Wesley!” It wasn’t the first time he had told him that.

Logically, he knew the turbo lift was one of the fastest ways around the ship. At the same time, he begged for it to go faster. He was going to be late.

The turbo lift opened at The Bridge. Captain Picard, as usual, was at the helm. Riker leaned on the chair at one of the stations, and Troi was acting as a bridge officer. The other stations were occupied by temps. Wesley stepped out and stood at attention. His eyes searched for his station, but he paused as he say someone was already at it.

Picard turned toward the newcomer. Upon recognition, he immediately stood. “Mr. Crusher,” he announced, “You’re late.”

“Yes, sir,” Wesley confirmed, “But I can explain. I was-”

“You’re late, Ensign,” Picard repeated, “For the third time this month, I believe.”

“Yes, sir, but I taking a test-”

“Ensign, Crusher!” Picard yelled, “I did not ask for an explanation.”

“But sir! It’s not my fault! I was doing schoolwork!”

Picard raised his hand, and Wesley’s mouth slammed shut. The Captain’s face revealed nothing but disappointment.

Wesley stood silently before Picard. He could feel both his heart breaking and his mind numbing. Picard drilled him, “Ensign Crusher, I honestly don't know what to do with you. You lack responsibility and yet can't seem to understand when it is your place to intervene. I need to make it very clear that you need to understand when it is the proper time to speak, and you need to manage and reevaluate your time. Through your actions, you can endanger this entire ship. You need to become a proper member of our crew. Do you understand?”

Captain Picard paused. He waited for the boy genius to nod, to confirm the fact he was a terrible crew mate. Instead, Wesley’s lips tightened. The boy stilled. He said coldly and emotionlessly, “No, I don’t.”

Picard asked, “What?”

Wesley shook his head, “I don’t know what you want from me.”

For the first time in a while, Picard was left speechless. He attempted to gather his words, but Wesley only shook his head. A spark entered Wesley’s eyes, something that also hadn’t happened in a long time. He silently reached for his badge. The badge was Wesley’s main connection to the ship and signified his alliance with the fleet. His hands wrapped around the delta insignia. With only slight hesitation, Wesley ripped the badge from his uniform. The rest of The Bridge watched as he extended his arm and dropped it. He said, “I quit.”

Silence overtook The Bridge. Calmly, melodically, and without permission, turned like a soldier and left to the turbo lift. He stood in the middle, his arms behind his back but with a worn, tired expression on his face, and said, “Engineering.”

The doors closed. He was gone.

Riker stood from his seat. A frown etched across his face. He peered at the other members of the crew and stopped at Troi. He asked, “What just happened?”

Troi quickly stood. She stared angrily at Picard and demanded, “What did you do!?”

Chapter Text

Wesley was reeling at what he had done. He had quit. But what had he quit? Had he quit The Bridge, being an ensign, or Starfleet in general? He wasn’t sure. All he knew was that he was free.

The door opened and revealed a sector full of people wearing yellow uniforms. It occurred to him that he didn’t actually want to be in Engineering; it was simply the first thing that came to mind. He stood awkwardly, staring at the open door, until two familiar faces walked by. Geordi and Data stopped in their tracks. “Hey, Wes!” Geordi greeted, “Did The Captain let you go to Engineering early?”

“Something like that,” he replied before stepping off the lift.

“We could surely use your help today, Wes,” Geordi assured, “Two of our new guys called in sick, and we could really use the manpower.”

A small smile slid over his face. Someone actually wanted his help.

The teenager calmly stepped out of the lift and fell into the group, like a gear in a machine that was always meant to be there. The three of them took turns working on motherboards, crawling through small spaces to find the right cables, and generally living their input. It was when the three of them were hovering over one particularly difficult piece of equipment, which Wesley was shocking and prodding at with his hand-held tool, that the serenity began to break.

Wesley moved his tool and worked on one section of the panel. He asked, “Does this look correct, Data?”

“It is correct,” Data assured, “Though it is advanced for an ensign. You must have studied thoroughly.”

Geordi pat Wesley on the back, startling him. “Of course he did!” Geordi said happily, “You should see him! He gets locked in. I’ve never seen someone take studying so seriously!”

“That can be a very beneficial trait to have,” Data praised, “Then my assumption must be correct. You did study well.”

Wesley's throat suddenly became dry. He couldn't fathom why, but it was. He blinked; his vision was becoming blurry. “I did,” he croaked.

“Look at our boy,” Geordi squeezed his shoulder, “Over here, making us proud.”

It was there before he knew it. Tears swam in his eyes. He didn't notice a few had escaped until they pooled at his nose and dripped on the project in his hands. “Wes?” he heard Geordi say, concerned.

“Sorry! I'm sorry!” he apologized as he wiped the device dry with his sleeve.

“Wesley, what's wrong?” Geordi asked.

“Nothing's wrong!” he insisted, but tears kept rolling down.

“Are you sick?”

“My scanners indicate a normal temperature,” Data supplied.

Geordi agreed, “Yeah, mine too. Come on, Wesley, what are you crying for?”

Wesley stood up straighter and angrily swiped at his eyes. “Nothing's wrong!” he repeated before choking and sniffing up snot. He said, “I don't know. It's stupid!”

“Hey!” Geordi interrupted, “It's not stupid. Come on, we're your friends.”

“Perhaps it would be better if we were in a more private location,” Data suggested.

Wesley let out another sob before taking a deep breath. He managed to finally wipe away the tears and pull his hands away. He searched between the two and saw they had worry etched in their faces. Then, he looked at the rest of the engineers. Truth be told, so much drama happened on the ship that the shipmates were rather numb to it. No one would bat an eye at the scene he was causing. However, at the same time, looking around Engineering, he suddenly felt trapped. All around him were thick walls and cramped spaces. He wanted out, or as open in the open as one could get in a starship. He gathered himself and gently placed the piece of the ship he was working on back in its original spot. He turned and nodded to them. He began walking, leading the way without having to ask, and entered the turbo lift.

The three of them found their way to a civilian recreational area. It was a small area between the walking paths of the ship, with three white and blocky chairs, a glass table bolted to the floor, a chessboard, a short fig tree in a white pot, and a large window allowing them to see out into space. Many of Wesley’s peers used the space to do homework, talk, or simply hang out. He had never gotten the chance to use it before.

Wesley had taken the seat closest to the window. He basked in it, his eyes swimming through the sea of stars. Geordi took the seat next to the plant, and Data stole the one closest to the chessboard. Wesley sat, simply breathing, and they calmly waited.

The boy calmed down and looked toward the other two. “I'm sorry,” he apologized. In a serious tone, he said, “My behavior was unacceptable. It'll never happen again."

“Hey! Don't be like that. It's okay,” Geordi assured.

Wesley shook his head, “I… I was feeling overwhelmed, I think.”

They nodded. Geordi said, “It happens to the best of us.”

“Do you have any idea why you may have felt this way?” Data inquired.

“I,” he paused to think before looking down at the floor and continued, “I try so hard, and -I know this is childish and petty- but it's been so long since anyone said anything about it.”

Geordi leaned forward and said, almost astonishingly, “You got overwhelmed because we acknowledged you?”

“I told you it was stupid.”

Geordi and Data glanced at each other. Data asked the teen, “Does your mother not congratulate you on your accomplishments or behavior?”

“Heh,” he chuckled, “No. It's more like a that's-what-you’re-supposed-to-do kinda thing.”

Geordi said, “Wes, are… are you sure?”

“Yeah?” he answered.

“What about your teachers?” Geordi tried.

He shrugged, “I’m busy, Geordi. I take online classes now; I don't have time for regular ones. I haven't talked to, or even seen, my teachers in real life in months, maybe a year.”

“You're that busy? That can't be right,” Geordi speculated.

“What is your usual schedule?” Data asked.

Wesley recalled, “I do schoolwork in the mornings. I can usually finish it in a few minutes, but sometimes we’ll have virtual group calls, and we have to wait until the teacher dismisses us. Then, it really depends after that. I go to The Bridge just about every day, but I have ensign classes three times a week, and I go to Engineering about four to five days a week.”

“But that doesn't make sense,” Geordi tried to justify, “Aren't you getting any rest days?”

“Not unless I'm allowed to go on shore leave, but that technically counts as ‘working on The Bridge,’” he said with air quotes.

“Wes,” Geordi said gently, “That's not good. No wonder you're overwhelmed.”

“There's not much I can do about it.”

Geordi thought for a moment. He asked, “We know you're doing great in Engineering, but do you feel like you are slipping somewhere? I mean, to be completely honest, I figured they'd let you skip the ensign classes.”

“No,” he replied immediately, “I excel in my classes.”

“Of course you do,” Geordi began, “So let me get this straight. You work on The Bridge and in Engineering, take two types of classes on the side, study and work hard in all of them, and get almost no downtime.”

“Yes?” Wesley answered.

Geordi let out a long sigh and leaned back in his chair. Wesley felt unease in the pit of his stomach. He shifted awkwardly in his seat. He asked, “Is something wrong?”

“Is something wrong?” Geordi parroted at him. He sighs again and sits up once more. He crossed his arms and said, “Don’t worry. You haven't done anything wrong. It's just… how come none of us noticed? I don't think most of us could do that.”

Wesley furrowed his brows in confusion. Geordi tried asking something else, “So this, I don’t know, episode you had, well, is this the first time that’s happened?”

“Yes,” he replied. 

Data asked, “Have you experienced the lack of enthusiasm for your daily tasks? Or have you experienced increased fatigue, insomnia, lack of appetite, any form of mental decline?” 

Wesley appeared almost offended at the question. His mind raced, trying to piece together why he would ask that. Then, Wesley took the question into consideration. Just that morning, he had been hesitant to get out of bed. Just thinking of working on The Bridge felt like a chore. Then when it came to food, well he skipped breakfast that morning because he dreaded The Bridge. It probably wasn’t the first time that week that had happened either.

The boy sat silently, thinking of an answer. He must have taken too long too long because Geordi sighed once more. He asked him, “Have you talked to Counselor Troi about it?”

“No,” Wesley replied, “Why would I?”

“Well,” Geordi started, “It sounds like burnout to me.”

Data took the time to explain, “It would appear you have a case of burnout. It was very common in the 21st century. It still happens, but Starfeet has been actively attempting to resolve it by providing adequate breaks, vacations, sick days, and counseling.”

“Burnout?” Wesley asked.

Data nodded, “The physical or mental collapse caused by overwork or stress.”

“Oh.”

Wesley sat back quietly. He took a moment to think before suddenly standing up. He looked out at the window again, drinking in the view. “It doesn’t matter,” he informed them before turning back to them and reaching where his badge was, “Captain Picard didn’t dismiss me early. I… I took off my badge and told him I quit.”

“You quit?” Geordi said, disbelievably, “Quit what? Quit The Bridge?”

“I don’t know,” he informed them, “But I can’t do this anymore.”

“You may not be allowed to work in Engineering anymore,” Data explained.

Wesley sighed. He said, “I know. So, if I’m not allowed back, just, thank you. Thank you for letting me participate.”

Geordi offered, “If you still want to do Engineering, I can pull some strings. You can be my personal intern or something.”

“Or mine,” Data added.

Wesley smiled at them, “Thank you. I might try that. I just, I don’t know, need to sleep or talk to someone my own age, or just… sit. Just sit and do nothing.”

“Take your time,” Geordi assured, “We’ll be here.”

One final time, Wesley said, “Thanks. Um, I wanna go back to bed. I’m sorry for my behavior."

“Hey, don’t worry about it,” Geordi responded.

Wesley began to walk away. He made it to the turbo lift and called out before the doors closed, “And don’t sick Counselor Troi on me!”

After he was gone, Data asked Geordi, “Are you going to ‘sick’ the counselor on him?”

“Of course I am, but let’s finish up in Engineering first.”

The two returned to their station, scheming the entire time.

Chapter Text

Wesley made his way back to his quarters. The doors immediately slid open in his presence. He stepped inside and barely registered the door closing behind him. He was alone. It was still early in the “day”, and his mother would be working for many hours.

He tried to make himself focus. He was alone, and for once, he actually had extra time. What could he do? Try to work on school assignments? Take the time to study for his ensign classes? Follow up on his research about The Academy?

He stopped thinking. He said out loud to himself, “No. Wait. I don't… I don't have to do that anymore. Do I? No. No, I don't. I can do..,” his eyes searched the room hastily. He breathed out, “I can do whatever I want.”

“Whatever I want…”

…

Laughter crawled its way out of his throat. He laughed, cackled, howled. He screamed like a maniac, "I can do whatever I want!”

He knew what he wanted to do. He all but ran to his bedroom and stripped off his uniform. He rummaged through a dresser and finally pulled out new clothes. Almost just as quickly, he slipped on a pair of gray civilian pants and a fluffy orange sweater.

His fingers played with the ends of the sleeves. They were so warm and soft. The bulkiness of it hid his too-thin figure. It was much cozier and much more loved than his solid gray ensign uniform. He never understood why his uniform had to be so boring. When he first boarded The Enterprise, they had given him a lovely uniform. It was gray like the plain ensign uniform, but it had stripes on the shoulders that made it oh so different. The stripes of red, yellow, and blue meant so much to him. They meant he could become anyone on the ship. Would he end up with a red uniform like Riker, a yellow one like Geordi, or a blue one like his mom? The possibilities were endless! Now, the new uniform they gave him was lifeless, soulless, blank. A nobody.

He felt his stomach growl and knew he should probably eat. He padded out of the restroom and into the living room. It housed a gray couch, a clear coffee table that wasn't quite made of glass as it was much more reinforced and difficult to break, a small end table with photographs of him, his mother, and his father; and a television screen against the wall. He walked by it and into the next room, which was the kitchen.

The kitchen was a blue round table with matching thin chairs, a sink, and counter space as if they ever cooked real food. There was no oven, fridge, or dishwasher but just a replicator. He walked up to it and paused. It had been a while since he sat down with an actual meal. Most of the time, especially recently, he was rushing out the door with little to no time for breakfast. Then, sometimes he would go home afterwards and find his mother had left out food cubes and would snack on those. Occasionally, he would drift to Ten Forward and score a meal, but with the recent exam season, he was mostly preoccupied with work and studying. He stared at it and thought of all the possibilities. Gosh, it shouldn’t be this hard to figure out what food to eat. Finally, he knew what he wanted. He ordered a hot bowl of cheddar macaroni and cheese with wheat noodles. The replicator spawned in a bowl or it along with a fork. He scooped it up and headed back into the living room.

Normally, all meals were eaten at the kitchen table, but he truly just didn’t want to. Instead, he hunkered down on the couch, leaning his back against the arm rest with the back of the couch to his left side as if he were laying down for a nap. He tucked his legs under him as if sitting criss-cross and placed the bowl between them. He hunched over, and the fork clattered against the bowl as he stabbed it. He took a bite. If anything, it made him feel more hungry. As quick as he could, he stabbed the pasta and ate bite after bite. As he chewed and let nostalgia wash over him from the childhood favorite food, tears had once again sprung to his eyes. He harshly swallowed, and curled slightly in on himself. He dropped his fork in his dish and swiped at his eyes. He muttered to himself, “What am I doing? I’m just eating mac and cheese. I shouldn’t feel so..,” he scrambled until he could come up with the correct word, “ …Heartbroken. I shouldn’t feel so heartbroken.”

He finished eating and returned the bowl to the replicator. With his belly full of warm food, he was begging for a nap. He slipped into his bedroom. His pajamas were on the floor. The sheets were still crumpled. His laptop sat closed. His room appeared as it did every day. He picked up his gray sheets. They were as dull and lifeless as his new uniform. He said to himself, “I really need to redecorate- make it look like someone actually lives here.”

He slipped in and had the computer turn off the lights. He curled up under the covers in a fetal position. ‘I don't have any work to do right now,’ he assured, ‘It’s okay. I can risk taking a nap.’

It took a bit more coaching, but he managed to let his body relax enough for sleep.

A knock on his quarter's door woke him. He released a huge yawn and sat up, his back cracking in the process. He ran a hand through his tossed hair.

Another knock reminded him of the other person's presence. He slipped out of bed, his bare feet making a hard thump on the floor, and traveled out of his room and into the living room. He stood a few feet from the door. If it was his mother, it would have opened by itself. As if whoever it was could sense he was there, they announced “Riker.”

Wesley furrowed his brows but still responded, “Enter.”

The door slid open, and Riker was standing there, a smile on his face as if everything was normal. Wesley saw that behind him was a familiar woman with big hair and a purple uniform. “Counselor Troi,” Wesley acknowledged, “Can I help you?”

“Actually,” Riker started as they entered the threshold, “We were wondering if we could help you .”

Wesley took a step back, allowing them space as the door closed behind them. His eyes switched between the two of them, unsure what to say.

“Did Data and Geordi put you up to this?” Wesley found himself asking.

Troi answered, “Not quite. They did come to me, but I had already made plans to visit you,” she walked beside him and placed a soft hand on his shoulder. She used the other to gesture to the couch, “May we sit?”

“Sure,” he said curtly.

She kept her hand on his shoulder as she guided him to his own coach. He sat on one end, and she sat on the other, creating a cushion of distance between them. Riker, instead, pushed the table away from the couch and slightly sat on the edge, directly across from Wesley.

No one said anything for a minute. Finally, Wesley folded his arms and said, “I did not seek your counsel.”

“That is correct,” Troi agreed, “However, your friends and I are worried about you. I understand you may be hesitant to talk about it, but please understand that we are safe. This has become a safe space, and we will not judge you for speaking your mind.”

Wesley pointed out, “You're my mom's best friend.”

“And I cannot not tell her anything outside this room,” Troi insisted, “Not unless it threatens your safety or others.”

Riker nodded, “The second she decided this was a potential session, she became under oath for patient confidentiality.”

“That doesn't apply to you,” Wesley kept trying.

Riker leaned forward, “Wes, you've asked me for advice before, and I've listened. This won't be any different.”

“But..,” Wesley trailed off before mumbling, “But I don't know where to start.”

Troi said softly, “Why don’t we start with what happened today.?

Wesley shrugged, “I did my high school work this morning. We were taking a test, so we had to be on a video call to make sure no one was cheating, and we weren’t allowed to leave until the teacher dismissed us. As a result, I was late to The Bridge.”

“And Captain Picard didn’t take it well,” Troi added with a thin lipped smile.

“You saw!” Wesley yelled, showing the most emotion they had seen from him since they got there, “He said I was being irresponsible, but I wasn’t!”

“Is that why you said you quit?” Riker threw in, “You didn’t want his attitude, so you quit The Bridge?”

Wesley shook his head, “It’s not just that! It’s- it’s-” he threw out his hands and waved vaguely around before concluding, “Everything. It’s everything. I just- I can’t do this anymore, okay?"

“What exactly did you quit?” Troi asked.

“I’m not even sure,” Wesley admitted. He said desperately, “ I need something to stop.”

Troi said calmly, “Why do you say that?”

Wesley shook his head. He looked away and answered, “All I do is work. I participate in high school, then I take ensign classes, then work in Engineering, and then take my station on The Bridge. It's all I have time for.”

“That is a lot,” Troi agreed, “You’re working more often than most people on this ship.”

Riker looked him up and down. He said, “Wes, when was the last time you slept or had a good meal?”

“Honestly,” Wesley started, “A few hours ago. I ate and slept and,” he looked down at his sweater and tugged on the sleeves, “Wore something that wasn’t a solid, faceless gray."

“What about before that?” Riker kept digging.

The teen shrugged, “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know because you didn’t think about it, or you don’t know because it’s been so long?”

“The second one,” Wesley answered.

Riker sighed. He said, “I thought you might have been paler than usual, maybe thinner, but I thought Beverly would have said something about it.”

An involuntary laugh escaped Wesley’s throat. He mumbled, “Be for real. Mom just worries if I do well, act accordingly, and keep high grades and work hard enough until she’s happy.”

Troi frowned worryingly. She said carefully, “Do you truly believe that?”

The boy nodded, “We haven’t sat down to eat together in a long time. She doesn’t ask me if I’ve made any new friends or ask if I have any hobbies or read any new books or made any new inventions or just ANYTHING that I used to like to do. All she wants is for me to become my dad -to be someone I don’t even remember. You know who does ask me that? Data and Geordi and,” he looked toward Riker, “You. And that’s only every once in a while. My mom never does anymore.”

Troi nodded, “This is not to say that your feelings are invalid, but she’s a very busy woman. You could meet in the middle, and you could start the conversation.”

“But I’m busy too!” he shouted.

Riker couldn’t help but wonder, “Why did you apply for all those classes at once?”

It was Wesley’s turn to look confused, “What? I didn’t.”

“Yes, you do did-”

“No,” he insisted, “I would just wake up and be told by either my mom or The Captain that I was starting some other thing. She signed me up for ensign classes, and he insisted I work full-time on The Bridge.”

“The Captain told you?” Riker asked. To a visiting ambassador, he would have appeared rather calm, but to Troi and Wesley, they could see the extra crinkle around his eye and the straightness of his back. He was starting to become pissed, “He didn’t ask you? He didn’t want to try part-time first? Or talk to your teachers to set up a reasonable schedule.”

“No,” Wesley confirmed, “He didn’t.”

Riker sighed disapprovingly, though not directed at Wesley. He steepled his hands and said, “If you’re still interested, I can lower the amount of hours and move you to part-time. I can ask your teachers if you can test out at least some of it. Gosh, Wes, how do you have time for rest or your friends?”

“I don’t.”

Troi swapped to a different path of conversation, “How has your relationships been with other children your age? How has your schedule affected them?”

Wesley shook his head, “I don’t have any friends my age, Counselor. I don’t attend in-person schooling anymore, and I can’t hang out with anyone outside of school either. Do you remember what happened last time I tried that?”

“Remind me,” she replied. He looked at her coldly, “I convinced my mom to let me go to a concert with a girl. She changed her mind and wanted to go somewhere else. It wasn’t supposed to be a big deal. But then Mom became so mad, she said I had done wrong against her and The Captain for not sticking to the original plan, and then she slapped me. I know you said it wasn’t her fault and it was one of those things affecting the entire ship again, but it hurt . Not the slap itself but the fact that it was such a big deal to her in the first place. And…”

“And what, Wesley?” Troi encouraged.

He looked down, “And that may have been the first time, but it was not the last. She’s gotten worse lately, just being constantly stressed about what I’m doing. I can’t risk it anymore,” he suddenly looked up, eyes wild, “What is she going to do when she finds out about this!?”

“Does your mother hit you?” Troi demanded seriously.

He nodded shallowly and choked out, “It’s not that often. It’s only when she’s really angry or when I’ve messed up in front of The Captain.”

Riker ran a hand down his face. He had to think of something he could do for the kid. It seemed like Beverly had lost her mind, and The Captain was part of Wesley’s problems.

Wesley sat up straighter. He pulled his knees close to his chest and buried his face. Troi and Riker shared a look. Wesley turned his head, leaning his face against his legs. His eyes were wet, and his cheeks burned. He asked them, “Do you ever feel as if even Data is more alive than you? Like, he has hobbies and friends and a pet and simple work schedule and colorful clothes that actually mean something, and when he helps out, he gets appreciated for it, and he’s just alive and well and happy if he could feel that. 

“And you don’t do that?” Troi inquired.

He shook his head, “I live in gray. I go to work. I’m punished when I have friends my own age but get chastised because I don’t have any. I need to act my position and help around the ship but also step aside and let the adults handle everything. I don’t live, Counselor. I exist.”

Troi said slowly, “Wesley, this is very important. Have you ever thought about killing yourself?”

“No.”

“Have you ever wished that you could go to sleep and never wake up?”

“Not never ,” he emphasized, “Just, like, a long time. Like, if I was in a coma or something.”

Riker steeled his face. Troi gave Wesley a look of sympathy. She ended up saying, “There will be changes. That doesn’t necessarily mean that’ll be a bad thing. I will attempt to touch base your mother and The Captain, and together, we can create a schedule that can work for all parties.”

Wesley’s head flew up, “You're going to talk to them!?”

“Only to discuss a proper schedule,” she assured, “Commander Riker said he will request to see if you can test out of at least some of these programs and move you to part-time on The Bridge. If that doesn't work, we can try holding off some of your classes until you complete the others and are ready for them. I will help you.”

Riker nodded, “As for your mom, well, Wes, this is going to sound hard, but we can't let you live with her if we're afraid she'll hurt you. I'm going to see if we can move you to different quarters until we can figure everything out.”

“But where-” he began to say.

“You can stay with me,” the older man assured, “It'll be a real bachelor pad. I won't mind having you at all.”

Wesley asked, “I can move in with you? I can just do that?”

Riker nodded, “Of course!”

Troi moved to get off the couch. She moved to stand in front of Wesley and bent down to his level. She said, “This will be frightening, but we will fix this. I promise this not as your counselor but as your godmother. We will take care of you,” she stood up properly and made her way to the door. She said as the door opened, “This session is now adjourned. I will contact you with an update later on.”

“Goodbye, Counselor Troi,” Wesley said, “And thank you.”

“Anytime,” she replied before walking out.

Wesley then looked at Riker. The man still sat near him on the table. Riker sighed. He admitted, “That went a lot more civil than I thought it would.”

He questioned, “What?”

Riker let out a chuckled, “Wes, you should have seen her earlier. I don’t know what you were feeling or what she picked up, but after you left The Bridge, Troi was so mad . Not at you! No, she was furious at Captain Picard.”

“Why?”

He shrugged, “I don’t know, but she was ready to tear him a new one. I’ve never seen her so emotional before.”

Wesley let out a laugh, and Riker allowed himself to smile. He stopped and said seriously, “Wesley, I want you to pack a bag. I’m going to email your teachers and see if we can find a solution to all this.”

Wesley nodded, “Okay. See you tomorrow?”

Riker agreed, “If that’s what you want.”

Riker stood up and walked out the door. Wesley refused to move from the couch.

Outside in the hallway, Riker paused as he saw Troi was still standing there. She was leaning against the wall, a hand on her face. “Deanna?” Riker asked.

She removed her hand. She had been crying. “Oh Will, it’s awful.”

“We’ll fix this,” he said as he moved to grab her hands. He held them, keeping her grounded, “We’re going to help him, Deanna.”

He let her slip her hands out and instead fall into him. They embraced. She rested her head against his shoulder and muttered, “I don’t know how I didn’t see it. And Beverly? How could she? She loves that boy.”

“I know she does,” Riker replied, “But people change. We’re mandated reporters, so we’ll have to report this.”

She let out a sob, and he held her until she was done. They walked away together, her leaning on him with his shoulder over her.

---

Wesley couldn’t move from the couch. He had let everything out in the open. Data and Geordi ratted him out, and Riker and Troi wanted to take him away from his mom. He knew he needed to get up and start packing, but he wasn’t sure what he needed to pack. He didn’t notice as the door opened once more.

Beverly Crusher lugged herself into her home. Her hair was frazzled, and she looked tired. “Hi, Wes,” she greeted. She walked further in, and complained as she rounded behind the couch, “I swear at least a third of the ship needed boost vaccines today.”

She stopped behind him and gave him a quick kiss on his head before running a soft hand through his hair. She asked, “Did you work on The Bridge today, baby?”

“I worked in Engineering,” he replied numbly.

She hummed in acknowledgement and removed her hand. She left for the kitchen. He heard her request a mug of hot coffee from the replicator. She yelled across the home, “I heard you took a test in school today! Did you do well!?”

“I think so,” he replied.

She walked back into the living room, steaming mug in her hands. She looked him up and down and asked, “Is something wrong?”

“Mom, I…” he trailed off. He felt a pit in his stomach burning in his throat like he was going to throw up. He stood and turned to face her. He gasped the ends of sweater sleeves. It was a nervous habit he had when he was younger, but he hadn’t done it much since they boarded The Enterprise. “Mom… It’s just… I…”

He watched as a shadow seemed to fall upon her face. She asked, “What?”

“I told The Captain I quit,” he ripped the bandage off, “I said I quit and went to Engineering instead. But it’s okay! Riker said I don’t have to fully leave and can move to part-time. It’ll be okay!”

At first, Beverly Crusher didn’t say anything. She didn’t move, didn’t respond, didn’t approve or disagree on the statement. Then, he saw her grip tighten on the cup. She said in a quiet, eerie tone, “You told Jean-Luc that you quit?”

He nodded, “I’m not sure what I wanted to quit exactly, but Riker said he would help me figure something out.”

She seemed to have either not heard or straight up ignored a fair amount of what he said, but instead, her grip tightened almost impossibly more. Her head flew up, the shadow gone, and yelled, “You quit!?”

He took half a step back. She shouted, “After everything I’ve done for you, you quit!? You have no idea what I did for you to work on The Bridge at your age! I’ve made sure you could be successful, and you’ve gone and thrown it all away!”

Wesley was barely able to duck in time as the cup of steaming coffee went flying toward him. It flew over his hand and shattered against the nearest wall. She stomped, advancing to him, but he scrambled and ran to his room. She was still yelling at him when he asked the computer to lock the door. He gave it an override code so that she could not open it. He shuffled to his bed, and as if he was a small child, he hid under the blankets. He softly sobbed as she banged at the door, hollering obscenities. He couldn’t wait until morning.

---

The next day, Wesley found himself sitting on his bed. T here was an open suitcase resting next to him. Riker was standing in front of his dresser and was holding up another sweater. “This should be the last one,” Riker announced. 

He handed it to Wesley, and he put it in the very-full luggage. He clipped it shut and slid off the bed. Riker held out his hand and took the case. Together, the two left the bedroom and entered the living room. Riker glanced at the broken glass. The boy shrugged, “She didn’t take the news very well.”

Riker shook his head defeatedly. He used his empty arm and wrapped it around Wesley’s shoulders. “Let’s go, bud.”

Finally, with a colorful sweater, a person to lean on, and less burdens to bear, Wesley was led away from his and his mother’s quarters to live somewhere anew.