I thought it might be fun to write about Carmen's visit to Betazed. For those who aren't familiar with my character, she's the daughter of Deanna Troi and Commander Riker from a parallel, war-torn universe who crash landed in the prime universe. Hopefully this will be a good introduction to her if you haven't read any of my other stories.

This was originally going to be a one-shot, but as my husband pointed out, I am incapable of writing just one chapter. So there will be a handful of chapters, maybe somewhere around five. No cliff-hangers, and no big action scenes. Just a lovely visit with Grandma Lwaxana!

Enjoy!

The mud feels nice beneath my bare feet. Water sloshes lazily at the shore of Lake Cataria, little waves rising up to lap at my toes. There is something about the sunshine and the way it warms my shoulders, something that the holodeck could never reproduce. The breeze smells like flowers, ones that I don't know the name of yet. I'm sure mom would know. She'd probably recite them to me in her counselor voice if I asked. And if she were here.

It'll be another week before I see her or my dad again. They're still on Earth, somewhere deep in the Alaskan wilderness for their honeymoon. I smile, thinking of them. Just a year ago it felt like a stab in the chest to think of my parents. And I know what it's like, to be stabbed in the chest. But now I can smile, because reminders of them feel as warm as the Betazed sun on my shoulders.

Something shiny catches my eye. It's a rock, smooth and round. I pluck it out of the mud and wipe it on the front of my shorts. One side is pink and the other is tan, with little white grains that sparkle like the surface of Lake Cataria. This is a keeper.

As I slip it into my pocket, I hear my nana say, "That's the fourth one today. You like rocks, don't you?"

I glance at her sideways. She has the same playful wrinkles around her mouth when she smiles as my mom does. Dad says we all have the same smile, being Daughters of the Fifth House. But there is something graceful, something delicate, about the other women of my family that eludes me.

"Yes," I answer, aware of the weight in my pocket. I like the weight. I like carrying these little pieces of Betazed around with me. "I have a whole collection back on the Enterprise, you know."

"Oh?" she says, even though she does know. "Where did you get the other rocks?"

She knows the answer to that, too. She can pull words from my mind before they reach my tongue. But sometimes, I think she asks me questions just to let them reach my tongue. I remember how she told my dad once that too many thoughts die in my throat. That's how she talks, as if things that aren't things can live and die.

"Mostly Alaska," I say. "But Allan brought me some from different surveys he's conducted." How funny, I think, that he brings me rocks and I bring him flowers. Maybe in a few years we'll have enough to terraform our own planet using just our collections! I giggle aloud at my own joke.

Nana joins in, her laughter falling like rain in the Vakronian jungle, and for a moment I'm surprised. I'm still getting used to being around telepaths, people who can read your mind like an open book. There is so little space between thoughts and words. I have to be careful that my mind doesn't wander somewhere private.

It is difficult for me to read their minds, however. My abilities are even more diminished than my mother's. If I concentrate, I can read other people in the room. But if my mom concentrates, she can read the whole ship. She told me once that it's like a tapestry, with all the different strands woven together in a confluence of emotions. That's how she talks, with metaphors and big words.

"We'll work on that," nana says. I look over at her, unsure of what she means. She points to her temple. "Your ability to read."

I nod, but I'm not really sure if it's possible.

"Why wouldn't it be possible?" she asks, reading my mind again. "Because of all those years that you spent burying your Betazoid side, hoping it would die?"

I nod again, grateful that she didn't wait for the words to reach my tongue that time. They wouldn't have sounded the same. Not only did I bury my Betazoid side, but I built walls over the top of its grave. Sometimes I can still hear old Montgomery, that strict and humorless man charged with turning a bunch of children into soldiers. "Empathy is a disservice to a warrior. One must wear armor on the battlefield."

Nana takes my hand and together we walk towards a winding, wooden staircase. I feel grains of sand beneath my feet at every step. The staircase is built into the side of a hill, and at the very top of that hill I see a house. Nana's house.

It reminds me of Data's cat, the way he perches himself on the back of a chair with his paws tucked underneath. Her house is even the same color, a buttery orange. Big windows face the lake and I know that I will miss the warmth of those windows beneath my palms. On the Enterprise, all the windows feel cold.

Mr. Homn must be preparing lunch, because I can smell something delicious as we climb higher up the hill. My stomach growls and it makes nana laugh. "We've worked up an appetite, haven't we? I think we should take another walk like this tomorrow morning."

"Could we go for a walk after dinner, too?" I ask. More like plead. She laughs again.

"Oh alright. Now let's go inside, Bright Eyes."

The Enterprise is a very orderly place. Every deck and door is numbered. The colors are all neutral and pleasing, with a sparse array of furniture.

Nana's house is nothing like the Enterprise. Strange collections of things cover every surface. I see statues and masks and marbles and jars. Every wall is a different color, a different mood. There are rooms devoted to books and rooms devoted to clothes and one that's solely meant for storing hats. Despite the clutter, nana's house doesn't feel small. The ceilings are high and rounded, and each room has at least one window with a seat. Even the kitchen.

This is where I sit as Mr. Homn finishes making lunch. It has become my favorite place to sit, on this big red cushion in front of the window. Nana hums to herself as she adds a few bowls to the table. Her mind seems to take up the whole kitchen; it is so big, so loud. Not a bad kind of loud, like those streets in San Francisco with the clanging cars. Loud like Christmas, when everyone gathered in Ten Forward and sang strange songs. Loud like when my father would play his trombone as I was trying to do homework. I would grumble and complain, but it was one of those sounds that made home feel like home. Oh how much louder was the silence of his trombone sitting in the corner, gathering dust.

That is like nana's mind-noisy, but it sounds like home. She turns to me with a smile. "Ready?" she asks, and waves her hand towards a chair. Mr. Homn pulls one out for her and we sit down at the same time.

I dig in immediately. The food tastes so good that Mr. Homn is swinging away at his little gong like a lumberjack swinging his axe at a tree. The gong is meant to convey a guest's appreciation for the meal, and it's one of the strangest Betazoid traditions I've ever heard of. I guess sometimes, they turn the noise of their minds into actual noise.

I don't slow down until I've had four helpings. Food was always scarce during the war, especially on a Bird-of-Prey. I could never be sure where my next meal was going to come from. Or if it would be edible. Human teeth are dull and flat compared to a Klingon's, a difference that warranted a lot of teasing from my crewmates. I could barely even break the skin of a targ.

I lean back in my chair, savoring this feeling of a full belly while Mr. Homn dabs the sweat from his brow. Light streams in through the windows, splashing against the side of the table. I can hear birds calling as they fly over the lake, searching for a lunch of their own.

"Well let's get started," nana says.

"Started?" I echo.

"Yes, we have a lot of digging to do."

My face scrunches together in confusion. "What do you mean, digging?"

She leans forward, resting her chin on her hands. Her fingers curve elegantly up the sides of her face. In here, she says from somewhere in my mind. We've brought down your walls. Now it's time to do some digging.