ENCOUNTER AT FARPOINT:

PRE- ENCOUNTER

The Enterprise is late, and I'm a bundle of nerves.

Wesley, on the other hand, is euphoric, but I expected that. This is a dream come true for him.

It wasn't supposed to happen this way. It was so carefully planned. I would leave my post at Medical on Earth, transfer to Deep Space Five and from there to Farpoint Station where Wesley, myself, and various other crew members would rendez-vous with the new flagship. Once on board, I could get stuck in to my work as Chief Medical Officer. No time to think, to worry, to doubt.

Now my careful plans have fallen apart, and my doubts are getting the better of me. My new CO is Jean-Luc Picard. I knew that when I requested the position of CMO on his ship, but I deliberately gave myself no time to ruminate further on that fact. Basically, I was tired of Earth, tired of teaching, tired of the comparatively mundane life I led as one of many doctors working at Starfleet Medical HQ. That wasn't why I became a doctor, and it certainly wasn't why I joined Starfleet- only, until now, I had no choice.

Families are not permitted on board most starships; the new Galaxy line, of which the Enterprise is the finest example, is an exception, and I jumped at the chance of being in space again- and giving my son an opportunity to experience the life that had filled his dreams since he was old enough to dream. It was sheer bad luck that the new ship's captain happened to be Jean-Luc Picard.

Once, we'd been friends- good friends. My late husband served under him during our engagement, and Picard attended our wedding. In the months and years that followed the three of us became close, spending time together whenever the opportunity arose. We made a good team- my impetuosity, Jack's humour, Jean-Luc's intelligence and moral ballast.

Then everything changed. In a tragic, futile accident, Jack was killed on an Away Mission. Jean-Luc ignored orders to the contrary and recovered his body, and brought my dead husband back to me- to us. He accompanied me to the morgue to make the formal identification and to say good-bye- and left. To this day, I am not certain whether he was at the funeral. My head tells me that, surely, he was. My heart was so empty I neither noticed nor cared.

Jack's death devastated us all. I lost my husband, my lover, the man who had taught me how to laugh, to love, to belong. My son lost his father. And Jean-Luc? I'm not sure. Another mutual friend, Walker Keel, kept in touch with me, and with him. From time to time he told me about Jean-Luc's rapid professional rise- and his gradual withdrawal from friendship and laughter. He had, so Walker said, become the consummate Starfleet officer and captain, but he had forgotten how to have fun, how to smile.

That, I had thought, makes two of us. I, too, had withdrawn into the safety of my work and my career, permitting only a few people to get close. As long as I had Wesley, my work, and regular contact with grandmother at home on Caldos, I was satisfied. Only now I know it's no longer enough.

Am I mad to work with Jean-Luc Picard after everything that has been and gone?

Or is it the best decision I've made in years?

I'm not sure. I wish the ship would come.

In an attempt to keep my mind off my worries- and to occupy my son- we've decided to go shopping. I smile as Wesley wanders through the boulevards and streets of the old town so strangely dwarfed by the duraglass and tritanium buildings that form 'Farpoint Station' itself. They are strangely reminiscent of Starbases throughout the Alpha Quadrant, I know, even though Farpoint 'Station' is not, as yet, endorsed by Starfleet.

Wesley comes back to my side just as I hear a voice calling my name.

I turn and see a tall, clean-shaven man with blue eyes almost as bright as my own, and a wide smile.

My son beams back at him, I notice. "Mother, it's Commander Riker," he explains, turning towards me. His face is aglow, and I try not to smile. My son has a tendency to hero-worship Starfleet officers.

I realise that Commander Riker is talking warmly to my son. "..hello to you too, Wesley," he says, a grin spreading across his face. "Enjoying Farpoint Station?"

Wesley's answering beam makes him look positively incandescent, I think, but he only says, "Yes, sir," and stands a little straighter. I feel proud of him. He's a good boy.

I realise Riker's eyes have returned to me, and I feel nervous when I note that his gaze is appraising. In spite of his pleasantness to my son, I am unsure. Riker seems young and cocky and way too sure of himself…. And then I remember his rank and I know that he cannot be as young as he looks or as facile as he may seem. I restrain myself from touching my own three pips, signalling that I, too, hold the rank of 'Commander.'

Riker gives me another smile, a slow, deliberately charming one this time.

"Saw you and thought I'd join your stroll, if I may," he says casually.

I look at him. "Actually, we're about to do some shopping," I tell him politely, but distantly.

For a moment, the man looks taken aback, and I am amused. Evidently Riker is unaccustomed to that response from women, I think. However, he recovers quickly.

"I've been meaning to visit the mall myself," he says easily. He cocks a brow at me. "That is, if I'm welcome?"

I nod. "Of course."

I walk towards the mall, and Wesley trots alongside, his head bobbing from me to Commander Riker and back again. His anxiety is almost palpable. Even so, I'm not prepared for what he says next.

"If you're wondering about Mom, sir, she's isn't actually unfriendly. She's just shy around men she doesn't know."

I feel the colour rise in my cheeks and curse my fair, red-headed colouring. "Wesley!" I expostulate.

Commander Riker's mouth twitches and his brow lifts slightly, and I know from the hint of a twinkle in his eyes that he is amused. I can't blame him. It would amuse me too if I wasn't the- highly embarrassed- victim.

I exhale and look straight at him for the first time since Wesley introduced us. I even smile to show that I appreciate the humour of the situation. I know that so far Riker must think the Enterprise's new CMO is something of an icicle, and I'm suddenly anxious to dispel that notion. We could be working together for a long time to come.

I hold my hand out to him. "I believe that means my son wants us to be friends," I say.

Riker grins and takes my hand in a firm shake. "I'm willing." The grin disappears and I'm startled, realising that already I'm beginning to associate it with this man. I know he's to be First Officer, and I wonder at his joviality- and then remember everything I've heard of Jean-Luc in the past years. An approachable, cheerful First Officer could be invaluable. I then focus on what Riker is saying.

"Although we're not officially part of the Enterprise yet, I thought there might be something useful we can do while we wait."

I turn from the pile of fabrics I've been examining. "'Useful'?" I repeat. "How and what, Commander?"

Riker steps towards me, his eyes eager. "Investigating some things I've noticed here, Doctor. The last was a piece of fruit-"

I nod at him slightly to show him I'm listening, and then smile at the stallholder, showing him the bolt of fabric that caught my attention. "Would this be available in emerald green?" I ask.

The merchant smiles, nods, and vanishes, and I turn back to Riker, having secured a degree of privacy. I catch a flicker of exasperation in his face as I look at him closely. He's serious about this. I resist the temptation to shake my head. He can't really be that young, but his transparent desire to make a good first impression certainly makes him seem so, and I speak more gently than I had perhaps intended.

"I'm sure, Commander, that there are reasons for a First Officer to want to demonstrate his energy and alertness to a new captain, but since my duty and interests lie outside the command structure-"

My voice breaks mid-sentence as the merchant reappears, smiling broadly, and displays a bolt of fabric in the very shade I had requested. I only just prevent my jaw from dropping.

Riker grins slowly and turns to me. "Isn't it nice he happened to have the right colour?"

I glance at him quickly, and try to hide my own reaction. More flustered by the whole thing than I care to admit, I nod curtly at the merchant and place the order, feeling a thrill as for the first time I request that it be charged to 'Beverly Crusher, CMO, USS Enterprise". I complete the transaction and turn back to my companions, walking quickly away from the stall.

Riker, who is that rarity- a man who is considerably taller than I am- keeps pace easily, but Wesley has to almost run to keep up, and I force myself to slow down.

"Now, where were we?" Riker asks at that point, the glint still in his face and voice.

I dither between being offended at his obvious enjoyment of the whole situation- or relaxing and making the most of this man's good humour. I settle on the latter.

"I was accusing you of inventing work in order to curry favour with your new captain," I say lightly. "I apologise."

Wesley suddenly jerks to attention, and I realise that for the past few moments he has worn that abstracted expression that indicates his mind is actively trying to decipher some puzzle or other. His eyes are wide, and his words an apparent non sequitur.

"Finding the right colour took him only about twelve seconds, Mom!"

I look at him, then Riker, then back towards the stall. When I think about it, I realise that my son is correct. The merchant really had responded to my request with almost unnatural speed. I glance at Riker and remember his words about an apple.

"Maybe you're right," I mutter half to the Commander, half to myself. "Maybe this is something Jean-Luc Picard will want looked into."

The pleased smile spreading across Riker's face stops abruptly at my easy use of the Captain's first name, and I feel my face flushing again. I hope he will leave it. He doesn't, of course.

"Jean-Luc? You know Captain Picard?" He sounds rather stunned, I think.

I bite my lip, unsure of how to respond. We're friends? Not anymore. He was my husband's CO? True, but awkward. He brought my husband's body back to me? Also true, and the best way of making everyone, myself included, feel acutely uncomfortable. I sigh and try to think, vaguely aware that Wesley has pressed himself to my side in a gesture of support that touches me. Now that he's fifteen, these gestures are becoming increasingly rare.

Before I resolve my dilemma, my son does it for me, speaking quietly. "When I was little, he brought my father's body home to us."

The simple words, stating the truth without making a plea for sympathy or pity, bring tears to my eyes, and I caress the top of his smooth head. Normally, he would jerk away- now, he doesn't, as if knowing that I need the comfort.

Or, I think, perhaps he needs it. I speak softly- and to explain to Riker, who looks startled and embarrassed. "It was a long, long time ago, Wes."

My tone is for my son, but my eyes are fixed on the officer, and Riker nods. I think it means that he understands that we-I- do not want to talk about this- or our complicated relationship with and to the Captain.

His understanding makes me repent of my acerbic words and astringent thoughts. I smile at him, and he returns it, more slowly that I expect. I gesture ahead.

"Shall we continue to walk?" I suggest, looking up at him. I allow myself to grin at him- the grin that my grandmother and Jack always declared meant mischief. "I'd like to get to know you better, Mr Riker."

Commander Riker stares at me. Then he nods and we carry on.

I think I have made a friend. I know my son has.

My thoughts turn towards the ship again, but with less dread, less fear. Perhaps there will be more friends on the Enterprise.

Perhaps Wesley and I will find somewhere to belong. At last.