1.
I was reading through the latest batch of personnel reports and sipping my final cup of coffee (still decaf) when I felt a hand on my shoulder and Jean-Luc said, "You are a hard man to find." He gave my shoulder a squeeze, which is the most that either one of us would ever do in public, let alone in Ten Forward, and sat down across from me. Mac sauntered over and Jean-Luc said quietly, "I believe that Guinan has something for me under the bar. Neat, thank you."
Mac quirked one eyebrow and wandered away; I grinned.
"The only group on this ship that's doing any hard work at the moment, sir," I said, "or that isn't involved in make-do work, is stellar cartography. So you're telling me one of two things: either Admiral Nechayev is on her way, or Ambassador Troi is."
He grimaced at me, which I took to be a smile, but didn't say anything; having received the shot glass from Mac, he took a sip. I kicked him under the table – lightly – and there was a flicker in his eyes that made me want to back away. Then he laughed.
"You could have comm'd me," I said.
"I wasn't looking for my first officer," he replied.
"Ah," I said.
The first months of our relationship had been spent with me isolated and in sickbay; emotionally I'd been completely dependent upon him. Since my recovery we were trying to negotiate a personal relationship which had been intense but which was now stabilising into what we both hoped was something permanent; Jean-Luc had asked me to marry him, and a month or so later, I had reciprocated. This was complicated, however, by our professional relationship, and it was the guidelines of the new professional relationship that we were working on, now.
On the one hand, we were often simply too busy to do anything but fall into bed at the end of a long and sometimes fraught day. That was easy. It was times like this, when we were drifting in space, working on science projects, that the guidelines of what would and would not work became important. Jean-Luc was an intensely personal man; a shy man. He kept, some would say, a cold demeanor; I'd figured out, early in, that was merely a cover because he felt things so deeply. My persona had been extroverted and boisterous before I'd fallen apart; if people thought you were shallow and none too bright, they didn't make emotional demands of you. Jean-Luc had figured out my cover early in as well.
Well, I was still loud and silly, but it was real, this time; Dr McBride, my psychiatrist, had shown me that I could feel again without the world caving in on me, and I was still working on that. Jean-Luc had been fiercely protective of me when I'd been sick, and he still was – that was something he was working on, to let go, a little.
I finished my coffee and turned off my padd. "Personnel reports," I said. I reached for his hand, and was surprised when he allowed me to hold it. "What's wrong?" He didn't answer for a moment, and I said, "Tell me it's really not Admiral Nechayev."
"No, it's not Admiral Nechayev," he answered.
"Mrs Troi?" I asked, grinning.
He sighed. "She sent a video acceptance of the invitation," he said. "It is," he said in that dry tone he used, "required viewing."
I laughed. "I'm sure it is," I said. "But that's not what's wrong."
"No," he said. "I could use one of your ten words to describe it, Will."
I was delighted. "Oh, please do, Jean-Luc," I said. "Can I guess, first?"
Now he was laughing. "By all means, William," he answered.
"Well," I drawled, "it couldn't be cranky, although you were cranky when you walked in here."
"Indeed," he agreed.
"In fact," I said, "I thought you were going to jump me, for a second there."
He looked at me blankly, and then the neutral expression took over his face. "When you assaulted me, you mean?" he asked. "I did think about it."
I was tempted to provide a little drama, but I actually possess better judgment – sometimes, anyway – so I said, "I only tapped you, Jean-Luc."
"You kicked me," he said, "and I don't think we should be playing –" he lowered his voice "footsie in Ten Forward."
I would have liked to have fallen out of my chair at this point, but I maintained what I hoped was a dignified expression. "And you accuse me of being silly," I said, "and I know it's not silly, either. So –" I pretended to think over it for a minute.
"William," he said, "you are supposed to be an intelligent man, and it is only ten words."
"You're killing me, Jean-Luc," I said. "It's not cranky or silly. It's not mad, although I think you're feeling mad. It might be difficult –" I looked at him, and then I said, "I know – it's stupid. Whatever it is that's bothering you, it's stupid, and it's made you mad." I was triumphant, and he rolled his eyes.
"You two seem to be having a good time," Guinan said, and she pulled up a chair. "Although you don't usually drink whiskey at this time of day, Picard."
"Hello, Guinan," I said. "Why don't you join us?"
"Thank you, Will," she replied, "I would like that."
Jean-Luc rolled his eyes again.
"The captain," I said to Guinan as I waved Mac over – I might as well indulge in another cup of coffee – "is feeling mad over something stupid."
Guinan looked at both of us, and then she said, "This sounds like an in-joke to me."
Mac brought me a refill.
"It is," Jean-Luc said, "a reference to Mr Riker's limited emotional vocabulary."
"I thought he was supposed to be over that," Guinan commented.
Jean-Luc grinned, the one that terrified junior officers. "Yes," he said.
"That's why it's funny," I said, "because he's using my words."
"I see," Guinan said. "So what is so stupid that it's made you mad, Picard?"
Jean-Luc hesitated, for about a fraction of a second – I saw it, and so did Guinan. I didn't know what his relationship had been with Guinan, other than that they were very close – but whether their relationship was sexual, that I didn't know. However, that hesitation caught me just a little by surprise, because he'd been joking, before, but now it felt as if he were in the middle of a former girlfriend and a present boyfriend – Guinan was smiling, though, so perhaps I was (as I tended to do) making too much of everything.
"This will be," Jean-Luc said, "a little familiar for you, Guinan. I received a communication from my brother, today."
Jean-Luc had talked to me about his family, of course he had; during the course of my illness we'd had several conversations about his family and its dynamics, as he tried to give me a reference point for what families were supposed to be like and what they were realistically like. I knew, of course, that Jean-Luc and his brother were fiercely competitive, all throughout their shared childhood and young adulthood as well. And that some of that had been resolved when Jean-Luc had returned to his home in France after the Borg. I knew too that much of the coolness between the two of them had also been resolved, because Jean-Luc now regularly communicated with his "uncle" René.
"You mean, a response to the invitation?" I asked. I suddenly felt I was treading on unstable ground.
"Oh, it was a response to the invitation," Jean-Luc replied, and I couldn't quite identify the tone of voice he was using. "They would like to come, of course they would, but it's spring and it's the wrong time…They send their regrets."
I looked down at my cup of coffee. "I'm sorry, Jean-Luc," I said. There was something more to this, and I waited to hear what it was; the only family I had, my great-aunt Tasya and my great-uncle Marty, were well over one hundred and I didn't expect them to come, even though I'd sent them the invitation. I had sent an invitation to my one cousin who'd been my friend when I was a child, even though I hadn't known he was my cousin. When your family still lives in a tribal village in Alaska, the likelihood of them coming to deep space was probably nil.
"Is this about the title, Picard?" Guinan asked.
Jean-Luc shrugged, that quintessential European gesture he made. "It would seem so," he said, still using that odd tone of voice. "It's not as if I am the heir. René is."
I wanted to ask him what he was talking about, but it suddenly occurred to me that whatever it was; it had nothing to do with what was really bothering him.
I said, "Are you off the bridge now? Because I'll walk you back to our quarters."
"You're still on shift," he said.
"I know," I answered. "But as First Officer, I have a little leeway, now and then."
Jean-Luc looked down for a moment.
"Picard," Guinan said, "I'd take him up on his offer, if I were you." She stood up. "Gentlemen," she said, "it's been a pleasure."
I watched her walk away, and I took his hand again. "Come on," I said. "I'll walk with you."
He finished his drink. "All right, Will," he said.
We left Ten Forward, walking together but not too closely, which I guess in a way was silly, because the whole ship knew we were together and that we were getting married, it was the only subject of conversation, it seemed. Deanna had told me that the whole ship was celebrating, which I found embarrassing and Jean-Luc found – at least this is what I surmised, from his reaction – humiliating.
"Deck Eight," Jean-Luc said when we entered the turbo lift.
Moving into the married captain's quarters had been an epic all of its own; we'd been on the ship for seven years and while I travelled relatively lightly, Jean-Luc had the entire library of Alexandria before it had burned in his quarters and moving it, despite willing workers and the transporter, had been a royal pain in the ass.
Still, we were moved, and there was no carpeting for me to soak when I came out of the shower, and there was enough room in the head for two people – which had led to a few enjoyable discoveries – and we had a bed that could actually comfortably fit the two of us, although Jean-Luc pointed out that it didn't matter how large our bed was, as he always seemed to wind up in the morning with me as close to him as I could possibly get.
"I could take a few hours off," I offered, "and make it up later."
"You're due back on the bridge," Jean-Luc said.
"An hour, then," I answered.
"There isn't anything you can do," he replied as we stepped out of the turbo lift.
We walked down the hallway.
"I can listen," I said quietly.
"I don't even know why it's bothering me," he responded. "I should have expected it. I was expecting it."
He opened the doors to our quarters, and I followed him inside and then took him in my arms. It felt good to be comforting him, for a change.
"Why don't you," I said, "go take a long hot shower, and I'll fix something for you, and then you can tell me what it is, okay? If you want to, that is."
"We should talk about it," he said into my shoulder. "It's why I was looking for you."
"That is not the same thing, I don't think," I said.
"No," he answered. "I believe Rabbi Cardozo has had a profound effect on you."
"Yes," I said simply. "I told you I was going to grow up, Jean-Luc."
"You are my sweet boy," he said, kissing me.
"Go on, go take a shower." I let him go, and watched him disappear into our bedroom.
Married quarters for the captain was like having a decent apartment in San Francisco. We had a small kitchen and eating area, the dayroom, two bedrooms, and a terrific view. The kitchen had been the deal-maker for me. Despite the fact that I'd nearly starved myself to death during my illness, I've always enjoyed meal preparation and cooking real food. The replicator is easy, and when you do two shifts a day – one on and one on-call – it's a necessity. But there's something very soothing about preparing a meal from real food. Guinan and I have a deal now; she lets me know what she can find; I give her a standing order. It had been her job to try to coax me into eating during my illness. We'd traded recipes and ideas on food since then, and becoming friends with Guinan had been one of the many unexpected bonuses of my falling apart.
Jean-Luc had showed me how to make real tea – mind you, I knew how to make tea; all the Russians in my family drink it – but he is more picky about his tea, I think, than he is about the Enterprise. I set the kettle on to boil, and thought about what he might find pleasing to snack on, given that I had to go back on the bridge and we probably wouldn't have dinner together until much later. Finally I decided just to do a platter of cheeses and fruit, with some pickles, and chutney, and the dark bread that my auntie Tasya had shown me how to make.
I'd set everything up on the table in the dayroom when he walked out, and I let him pour himself his tea. I just had water; I'd drunk enough coffee, even if it had been decaf, and I'm not a fan of hot tea.
"This looks lovely," he said as he sat down. "Who would have thought you would turn out to be such a domesticated creature."
I just rolled my eyes. "I spent my childhood cooking, Jean-Luc," I said, "and you know this."
He sipped his tea and helped himself. "Where did you get this?" he asked. "This is real horseradish cheddar."
I shrugged. "I'm a dealmaker," I answered, "and you already know that, too."
He laughed. "Another reason why I wasn't a particularly good first officer," he said. "Despite being French, I've never quite gotten the knack of haggling."
"It runs in my blood," I said, sitting down next to him. "All those cheechako traders."
"I was told that wasn't a very nice word," he scolded.
"No," I agreed, "it's not a very nice word."
I stretched my legs.
"You tired, Will?" he asked.
"A little," I said.
"This can wait until you come off the bridge, if you're too tired. I don't want you overtired."
"I'm fine," I said. "I can be tired, Jean-Luc, without being ill."
He sighed. "Yes, I know," he said. "I still worry, though. It will take time, Will."
"I'm patient," I said.
He took my hand. "You are a wonder, sometimes," he said. "I find it hard to believe. How much has changed, in a year."
"Now I'm the one who's worried," I said. "This has really upset you. What did he say, your brother?"
"Oh," Jean-Luc said. "He didn't come out and say anything. You can read what he wrote, Will. And of course," and he smiled, "you have to watch Mrs Troi's reply."
I rolled my eyes. "I can just imagine," I said. "But –?"
"What he wrote seems innocuous," he said, finally. "And it's all true, of course. It is, spring. The young vines have to be taken care of. He needs to oversee it himself. He could send Marie and René, but Marie won't come without him."
"But?" I repeated.
"It's the implications," he said. "That, once again, I've done what wouldn't have pleased my father. That I haven't fulfilled my obligations, as a Picard. That there's the family, and the family name, to consider."
I was quiet. "This is about marrying me?" I asked. "Your brother is objecting to your marrying me?"
"It's not personal, Will," Jean-Luc said, "or, at least it isn't to Robert. It's extremely personal, to me."
"Because you're marrying a man," I said. "He didn't know?"
"Perhaps not," he answered. "I don't know. I didn't date much, when I was still living at home. Not because there wasn't anyone I wasn't interested in, but because I felt I didn't have the time. I was so determined to succeed."
"To succeed at what?" I asked curiously; he so rarely talked about himself.
"My only goal, the years that I was in upper school, was to get into the Academy. Everything I did was driven by that goal. Because both my father and my grandfather opposed it, it was all the more important that I make that goal."
Since I'd been groomed for the Academy from the age of seven, struggling to get into the Academy wasn't something I was too familiar with.
"So you didn't date at all?"
"Oh, I did, but there wasn't anyone serious," he said. "And then – then I failed the test."
"That must have been hard," I said. I remembered, when Jean-Luc had picked me to be his first officer, I'd immediately gone and done as much research as I could on him. I'd been surprised – completely surprised – to discover that he hadn't made first admission, and then, that he hadn't been a particularly brilliant student, either. It had made me intensely curious about him, because his career had been brilliant – but having met him, I could easily see that he must have been shy, and anxious, and perhaps too overwrought to have done well on the first try.
"When I did fall in love, the first time," he said, "it was with this boy I'd met at the library. Michel. I was determined to pass the test the next time, and I wasn't going to give my brother or my father any ammunition against my taking the test again. So they never knew about Michel. I never brought him home."
"So it's entirely possible, Jean-Luc," I said, "since you had been estranged, that it never occurred to Robert that you would be interested in men too."
"Yes, I suppose that's so," Jean-Luc said. "But to be so – so pigheaded –"
"That," I said, "sounds like a very familiar complaint."
To my surprise, he laughed. "You are very wise," he said, and he pulled me in and kissed me. "It is, indeed, a very familiar complaint. I always said Robert was pigheaded, and Robert always called me cold and arrogant."
"Dmitri called me Mr fucking Federation once," I offered. "Because I kept trying to get him to follow the rules."
"From what you've told me about your cousin Dmitri, William, that must have been a losing proposition." He sighed. "You need to get on the bridge, Will. And I need to sort out what I'm going to say to Robert."
"Don't be too hard on him, Jean-Luc," I said, standing. "After all, it's not worth the two of you fighting again. I don't know him, not yet, so it doesn't hurt my feelings. And – ultimately – he'll just have to get used to it."
"You must remind me," Jean-Luc said, smiling, "to reward Rabbi Cardozo with a field promotion to commander."
2.