Nathan Picard looked up from his padd as his father entered their
quarters. He smiled. "Hi, Dad. Long day?"
Captain Jean-Luc Picard sighed and nodded his head. "Filling out reports always makes the day long." Then, he walked over and squeezed his son's shoulder. "And how was your day? Not as tedious as mine, I trust."
His son smiled again. "No, sir. Our class visited the arboretum today, and we were each assigned our own plots to care for. Then we were given a choice of what we would like in it."
Jean-Luc sat beside his son, his expression open. "And what did you choose?"
"We each picked three types of plant. I decided on carrots, a small rose bush, and a camellia." His eyes carefully studied the floor by his father's boots. "No one understood why I wanted a camellia. My teacher said they're hard work, but I insisted, and she let me. I'm glad, too."
The captain's eyes misted over, and he reached over and folded his son in his strong, warm embrace. He kissed the top of the boy's head and murmured, "I'm glad too, son. I'm glad, too."
A boy of seven shouldn't have to bear such a heavy load, Picard thought. Sometimes, I think he's stronger than I am.
His musings were interrupted by the sound of a bedroom
door opening and small footsteps pounding his way. He braced himself for the customary
onslaught.
A little girl slammed into him, happily wrapping her
arms about his neck. "Daddy!" she cried jubilantly. "I missed you! I am
very glad you're
home." She kissed him on the cheek. "I love you Daddy."
He didn't miss the unmistakable gleam of mischief in her eyes. No doubt where that comes from, he thought. He readied himself.
"Daddy, I would very much like ice cream for dinner. With strawberries, so it's good for you," she added, hoping that mention of nutrition would help her get her way.
His heart melted, much like the ice cream his daughter spoke of. Daddy's little girl, indeed. "Tell you what, sweetheart. We'll have spaghetti for dinner, and if you eat everything I give you, we'll have ice cream for dessert. Okay?"
The bottom lip came out. "I want ice cream. Not pasketti."
Nathan sensed the brewing conflict between father and daughter. "Morgan, you'll get your ice cream. But you have to eat a real dinner first. I will if you will."
Morgan looked from her father to her brother, sensing she was outnumbered. "Okay," she sniffled. "Nate, you promise?
Her big brother nodded. "Yeah, I promise."
Jean-Luc turned to Morgan again, grinning teasingly. "Do you still love me, Morgan?"
In one of those rare, tell-everyone-you-meet-about-what-your-kid-said-and-embarrass-them-even-when-they're-forty moments, Morgan Picard turned on her four-year-old heel and stalked off to her room, tossing off, "Talk to me after the ice cream, Daddy."
Jean-Luc Picard threw his head back and laughed.
=/\=
Picard stretched out on his side in bed, facing the nightstand. As he
did every night, he studied the picture carefully resting in a frame, the picture of his
beloved wife. And, as always, he told her about his day. He knew she would want to know
about what was going on on the ship, about him, and about their children.
It had been a year since she died, but every day brought some reminder of her, and the pain stabbed him anew. Then, he would think about his children, and how they needed him, now more than ever, and the pain would fade to a dull ache around his heart.
His gaze now turned to the one of his children, taken just a month ago. He had to smile. Nathan's parentage was obvious. He was a carbon copy of his father, down to the shade of his eyes and the dimple in his chin. Morgan, on the other hand...
Morgan served as a constant reminder of her mother. She was tall for her age, with a lean, willowy body, sky blue eyes, and a head full of long, wavy red hair. She was Beverly Picard in miniature.
He sighed wearily and leaned back against his pillow, pinching the bridge of his nose to abate the stinging there between his eyes. Now, like every night, the tears came. He knew by now not to fight them, because they came whether he wanted them to or not.
And, like every night, he wondered when the pain would go away.
And, as always, he knew the answer.
It never would.
***One year earlier...***
He awoke to the sensation of warm, soft lips trailing across his bare
chest. His eyes fluttered open and fixed on his wife, smiling. She looked up into his
inviting hazel depths, and her lips found her way to his.
After they had shared a lengthy good morning kiss, he wrapped strong arms about her and held her tight. She clasped her arms around his, and they lay that way, happy, peaceful, and more in love than ever.
"Beverly?" his voice rumbled, still rough from sleep.
"Hmm?"
"I love you."
Even without seeing her face, he could feel her smile. She turned in his embrace and kissed him softly. "I love you too."
Their attempt at ushering in the morning properly, however, was interrupted by two large masses invading their bed. Jean-Luc stifled a curse; Beverly quickly put her nightgown back in order. "Good morning!" two cheerful voices sang.
Nathan and Morgan sat in between their parents in the bed in the space that had hastily been made a moment earlier. They scrambled beneath the covers and snuggled in next to Jean-Luc and Beverly, as was their usual morning routine. Mother, father, son, and daughter shared a brief period of togetherness before the hectic routine of starship life separated them.
In these few minutes of the early morning, they were
the only four beings in the universe.
The frantic call came into sickbay later that morning, just a few hours
into the shift.
"LaForge to sickbay! Medical emergency in engineering!"
Already directing medical staff and grabbing her
medkit, Dr. Beverly Picard dashed out of sickbay.
The sight that greeted her in engineering was horrifying. Three
engineers were sprawled out on the catwalk above, where Geordi was trying to shut down the
plasma spitting out of a conduit.
Beverly and her medical team hurriedly climbed the ladder and reached them just as the plasma was cut off. She pulled out her tricorder and ran it over the three officers, then looked up at Geordi and sadly shook her head. "They died instantly, Geordi. There's nothing we can do."
How she hated to say those words. She could see the stricken expression in the chief engineer's face as he backed up and leaned heavily against a wall. "They were just trying to-"
He was cut off as the hastily-repaired conduit ruptured once again, sending a stream of plasma directly at Dr. Picard. "Beverly!" LaForge shouted as it hit her directly in the abdomen, sending her reeling back against the warp core. She dropped to the floor as the plasma stream shut off, the entire plasma system shut down by the engineers below.
Geordi grabbed the fallen tricorder and ran it over
her, knowing immediately what it would say. He wasn't wrong. In a voice choked with sobs,
he hit his comm badge. "LaForge to Captain Picard."
On the bridge, Picard looked up. "Picard here," he said,
addressing the comm system. "What is it, Commander?"
"Sir, I..." Geordi drew a deep breath, but the trembling in his voice was still noticeable. "I think you'd better get down here. Beverly, she..." LaForge's sobs could now be heard over the comm link before he severed it.
Counselor Troi and Commander Riker both turned to their captain. His face was wiped carefully blank. He slapped his communicator. "I'm on my way."
As he stood, Deanna placed a hand on his arm. He
quickly shook it off, calling out as the turbolift doors closed, "You have the
bridge, Commander."
The next two days passed in a blur. The shipwide memorial service, the
private funeral, all of it. He managed to keep everything inside until, after the funeral,
his six year-old son looked up at him, wide-eyed, and innocently asked, "When is
Mommy coming back?"
For the first time in his life, Jean-Luc Picard broke
down in front of his children. He could have handled anything except that question,
because Beverly was never coming back. He vaguely noticed Deanna clearing everyone out of
the room, heard something about Will taking Nathan and Morgan with him, and felt Deanna's
arms around him, holding him as he sobbed like he never had before.
After that, it got a little easier each day. His children and his work
filled his daytime hours, keeping his mind focused. It was only at night that his mind and
his heart betrayed him, forcing the tears out of his eyes, and the pain to lance through
his soul.
=/\=
"Beverly!"
The name ripped from his throat as Jean-Luc Picard sat bolt-upright in bed, sweating profusely. Then, he felt warm hands gripping his arm, and a low, insistent voice pierced through his dream-induced panic. "Jean-Luc, I'm right here! What is it?"
He was overcome by violent shudders as reality came back to him. He sobbed in relief as Beverly held him, totally mystified as to why her husband was crying at 0330 in the morning. Finally, he calmed, and met her confused, concerned gaze in the semi-darkness.
"I just had the worst nightmare..." he began.