Chapter 1

The Continuum

"Do you know why we have called you here?"

"No."

"And that bothers you… that you do not know, doesn't it?

He studied the glowing lights surrounding him, no longer in awe of their beauty, as before. "My intellect is supposed to be limitless, of course it bothers me that I don't know your intentions."

"Our intentions have always been good, whether you recognize it or not. Now even as a Q, your life is limitless, as are your powers to manipulate and shape nature. However, your intellect, your ability to know all… still has limits."

"Why do you speak so condescendingly, as if I were somehow less than the other Q? I have paid my dues, just as you have."

"So you have paid your dues," said the Q. "Perhaps more than any other. But your time with us has come to an end."

He laughed. "This is a falsity! Another test, no doubt?"

"No," they said, and for the first time, he heard a real sadness in their collective tone. "The time has come for you to return to your own kind."

"My kind? What kind? I have no other kind but Q."

"Many years ago in your time, but less than an instant in our time, you agreed to join us in exchange for the life of your friend. Now you must return to your old life, your old ways of being. Your friends need you."

"I refuse," he shouted to them. "I have no old life, no connection to those people, and certainly I have no friends. I am not like them anymore… don't you understand?"

The sparkling lights began to withdraw one by one until he was standing alone amidst a white landscape.

"Where are you going?" he called out to them.

In a flash, who should appear beside him, but perhaps his only last remaining friend?

He turned to face Q. "This is just another test isn't it? I will succeed, Q, I am not concerned."

"Perhaps you will succeed in another way, but not as Q. You heard them. It's time to go."

"Wait!" he pleaded. "Let me show them I can be the way…the way they want me to be. Let me keep my powers."

"Oh that makes no sense at all," said Q. "Really… you can do better than that," Q said almost encouragingly, a sentiment that was unusual for Q.

He paced away, clenching his fists. "What can I do to show that I deserve to be in the Continuum?"

Q stared at him. "That is really all that matters to you now, isn't it?"

"Yes! Yes," he repeated a little less stridently. "That is all I care about."

"Well perhaps that is why they no longer consider you to be Q," observed Q.

"Are you trying to tell me you are somehow more noble? That you don't also desire to be in the Continuum?"

"Well, of course I desire it…but then I was born to be a Q, and you, you're more of an experiment. And a failed one, apparently…"

Q started to walk away, and then turned back suddenly. "Suppose we made another deal, you know…just between us—Q to Q."

"What kind of deal?"

"Well, you'll keep most of your Q intellect. At least you will retain the knowledge you've gathered over all these years…which is considerable. Certainly you will bury any other human with that intellect. But you won't be able to see into the future. And it goes without saying that because you're no longer immortal…you will die someday…"

"And my other powers?" All of this was so unfair. Imagine a Q having to beg like this.

Q made a point of appearing to ponder the question. "You will have three chances to use your power. It may take only one use to prove you are worthy to remain with the Q; or it may take two or three uses. But you will only have three opportunities to prove you should remain a Q. And of course, there is always the chance that you will fail to use your power to our satisfaction—"

"You mean, to your satisfaction. As you said, the deal is between just us two Q," he said.

"Ah yes…as I was saying, should you fail to utilize your power to my satisfaction, your entry back into the Continuum would be forever barred."

For the first time in years, he began to feel fear. "Why are the Q doing this? What have I done wrong?"

"Oh quit groveling! All you must know is that when the Q do something it is for a reason. There is a reason that you are being returned at this particular time, and as you will see, in a very particular place."

"I don't care about that reason. I only care about remaining where I am—who I am."

Q walked closer and stared into his eyes. Unexpectedly, Q smiled. "Just wait until your friends see what a horrible human being you have become." He snapped his fingers, and with a flash it was all over.

2365 USS Enterprise

Jack Crusher examined his face in the mirror. Overall it was a good looking face, and always had been. Two weeks ago he had turned forty-four, and somehow he already felt twenty years older. Touching a horizontal line on his forehead he found that when he smiled at his reflection in the mirror, the line smoothed out, disappearing for a moment. The truth was Jack didn't smile very much lately; but he hoped that would soon change.

When she arrived in a few days everything would change. Just the thought of her reappearance gave him pause and made his heart skip a nervous beat. He felt underneath his jaw and was dismayed to feel a double chin in development. He patted the little bit of excess weight around his middle and sighed. Would she notice that he had put on weight? After all these years together and now just one year of separation it seemed odd to him that he would think of this now, for the first time.

It had been almost exactly one year since she had left him, announcing to him with quiet resignation that she had come to realize that his life's plans were too focused on his career to include her any longer. He had protested, he had even cried, but it hadn't been a surprise; she had threatened to leave him before for the same reasons. But the fact that it hadn't been a surprise didn't mean her departure hadn't nearly crushed the life out of him. That was what she had always meant to him: life.

And now, she was returning to him in just a few days. She had agreed to give it another try. Every day he thanked the stars that Wesley had agreed to stay with him on the Enterprise until he and Beverly worked it out. For a sixteen year old he was remarkably mature and sensitive, something Jack knew Wesley had inherited from Beverly.

He turned away from the mirror, and then paused for a moment, leaning against the sink. In two days it would also be the eleventh anniversary of Jean-Luc's disappearance, or as Jack had come to accept years ago: Jean-Luc's death. He told himself that it was merely a coincidence that these events had converged. Of course, Jack knew Beverly had never accepted that Jean-Luc was dead. She had read the reports over and over until her review of them became obsessive, and later almost disturbingly clinical as she memorized each detail.

She had finally concluded that he had been abducted by an entity. But Jack had been there, and he knew what had happened. The same glowing object that enveloped Jean-Luc in light had hovered next to Jack, about to kill him. Jean-Luc had screamed no, and that was when the light attacked him instead. He hung suspended and frozen for a matter of seconds, and then disappeared. There was no disputing that whatever it was that had nearly killed Jack that day had diverted its path and instead taken Jean-Luc. For years he had agonized over why it hadn't been him. The guilt at times had been like a weight pressing down from above; or more often, something awful pulling him downward from below.

Beverly rarely mentioned Jean-Luc anymore, not even on the anniversary. That is, she did not mention him to Jack, but he knew that when Wesley had questions, which he sometimes did, she would tell her son anything he wanted to know. But she didn't need to say a single word. Jack knew everything.

He'd always known everything that had to do with Beverly and Jean-Luc. At least, from the time of Wesley's birth, it had all been made entirely and painfully clear to him. Over the years, the pain had lessened, but Jack had sworn he would leave her if she revealed her secret to Jean-Luc. And then one day when Wesley was not even five years old, Jean-Luc disappeared. And it was suddenly as though they had to tell Wesley…even though he was very young, they had to tell him the truth. They did it to honor Jean-Luc.

In the past, Jack and Beverly had taken a day to celebrate the life of Jean-Luc Picard, privately, when Wesley was not around. Despite their truthfulness with Wesley, they didn't want him to dwell on the pain of it, as they both had for so many years.

Silently, Jack Crusher crept to the doorway. Ever since Beverly had left, sometimes Jack would sit just outside the door to Wesley's bedroom, reading a book or just sitting quietly when he knew Wesley was sleeping. If Wesley knew, he hadn't said anything. There again was the maturity. Lately, Jack relied on this.

"Dad?" Wesley turned over in his bed groggily. He rubbed his eyes. "Hey. What time is it?"

Jack winced. "Sorry, kid. It's about 4am."

Wesley pushed himself up on an elbow. "What's wrong, Dad? Can't sleep?"

Jack shook his head, but realized Wesley could probably not see him in the dark. "It's alright. Everything is going to be alright soon."

Wesley sighed. "Dad…were you thinking about Mom?"

Jack came in and sat down on Wesley's bed. "Yeah, I'm a little nervous, son. You know she's going to be here in just a few days." He laughed and sat down on the edge of the bed. "You know how I get."

As their eyes adjusted to the light he saw Wesley smile. "I guess I'm pretty excited about it too," he admitted. His expression sobered slightly. "But Dad, no matter what happens I know it will be alright." He was excited to see his Mom, but was also nervous about how much his Dad was expecting from his Mom. As much as he wanted her to return to the Enterprise, more than that, he wanted them both to be happy. "Things change, but we're still a family."

Jack wiped underneath his eye feeling more than a little emotional. "I know we are. Come here," he said and drew Wesley into a hug. Letting go of him, he stood up and backed out of the room. "Good night, and sorry I woke you," he said turning to leave.

Wesley turned back over and stared at the wall in the darkness. In a few days she would be here, but he could not help but think that in a few days that other day would also be here. Each year it got worse, and he would think about him, dream about him as though he were someone who was still in existence, instead of a stranger from the past. Reaching out, his hand fell on a small round device on his nightstand. Engaging in an almost nightly habit, he pressed it lightly, and a shimmering holo image appeared about ten inches high. There he stood, back straight, mouth set in a tight line, commanding as ever. His father.