Beverly Crusher swept into the captain's quarters without pausing to ring the chime. The doors whooshed closed behind her, their smoothness a stark contrast to her frenetic movements. She strode several feet into the cabin, unconsciously heading toward the empty dining table, before coming to an abrupt stop in the center of the room. Her hands twitched as her gaze darted from the empty desk to the seating area, to the access to the bedroom, to the dining area, and back.

"Damn," she muttered before turning on her heel and heading back into the corridor. She headed for the turbolift. "Bridge," she said as the doors closed behind her.

Beverly tapped her fingers against her thigh as the lift propelled her to the summit of the ship. The familiar hum of the command center of the Enterprise greeted her as she stepped onto the bridge. Under normal circumstances the sight of her fellow crewmembers going about their duties would have had a calming effect on her, but this situation was anything but routine.

Her long legs carried her down the side of the horseshoe toward the viewscreen. She paused long enough to make eye contact with the ship's counselor who watched her progress with unfeigned interest. Will Riker arched an eyebrow from where he lounged in the captain's chair. Beverly gave her head a tiny shake before she spun on her heel and approached the ready room.

Unlike a few moments earlier at his quarters, Beverly paused at the door and waited—impatiently—for the occupant to grant her entrance.

"Enter."

The disembodied voice startled her and set her teeth on edge.

This isn't right, she thought as she triggered the door's sensors and crossed the threshold.

The captain of the Enterprise looked up from his computer screen and regarded her coolly. "Doctor Crusher," he said, seemingly tasting each syllable—and finding them somewhat unpalatable—before uttering them. "What can I do for you?"

Beverly stared at the man seated behind the gleaming desk and fought the urge to turn and flee. Half-formed memories of perching on the corner of the desk flickered along her periphery and she frowned. She would never willingly bring herself into such close proximity with the captain, would she? An invisible force pressed against her, erasing the images and nearly driving her back through the doors. She was not welcome here.

"Sir," she said. "I'm here to relieve you of command."

He laughed and fear slid down her spine like viscous oil. "You will do no such thing."

The buzzing of a thousand hornets filled the room and she reached for the glass case holding a centuries-old copy of the complete works of William Shakespeare to steady herself – only her hand met empty air and she stumbled.

The captain stood. "Doctor, you will return to your duties immediately."

She shook her head in an effort to clear the confusion. Where had the notion of an ancient print book come from? She glanced at the table next to the sofa. Its surface matched the desk and held only a single potted succulent. Beverly's stomach recoiled in horror as she tentatively reached a hand out to touch the grey-green flesh.

Do. Not. Touch.

The command echoed throughout her body as though written in her DNA.

"Doctor, return to your duties at once!"

The pressure increased and her feet propelled her backward and out the doors before she could formulate a reply. She turned and fled back up the ramp to the turbolift, intent on returning to sickbay and attending to her duties.