Continuity Note: This story takes place about a month after the events of Star Trek: Generations. It's roughly two years after chapter 14 ("Transition – Part I") of Crush III: Sostenuto.

Stardate 48740.86

(Tuesday, 28 September 2371, 10:00 AM, local time)

Chapelle Sainte-Anne, LaBarre, France

The day is unusually gray and rainy for early autumn in France, but somehow, given the occasion, it seems appropriate. The church – Chapelle Sainte-Anne - is an old, stone, building. There's a metal plate in the floor of the narthex with a year, but I only manage to read the first two digits – 16. Still, the weight of the ages is there in the gray walls and the deep red carpets layered over the cold stone floor. Though there are modern touches – temperature control, light control – and there are signs of continuous restoration, there is also a sense of peace.

I peek into the nave, and see the statues representing the Stations of the Cross. My family is Episcopalian, and the Stations in the church in the coastal arts colony on Centaurus which is my hometown, are bas relief plaques affixed to walls and pillars along the outer aisles.

When the service starts, Data and I are seated in the second pew, behind the Captain and Dr. Crusher, his sister-in-law Marie and some of her family. Will Riker and Deanna Troi are next to us, with the commander on the aisle, and Deanna next to me. Geordi, Guinan, Worf, and Wesley Crusher fill out our row. My own family is directly behind us. My stepfather, Edouard Benoit, was the captain's boyhood friend, and my stepbrothers were schoolmates of the captain's nephew, Rene.

The ceremony is neither too long nor too short. The priest is of an age with the captain and delivers his sermon in a mix of French and Federation Standard. I speak both, but Data had reminded me to wear a comm-badge – something I typically avoid when not aboard-ship, so I hear the actual words and the translation. Rather than the church choir or deacons providing music and readings, members of the family and community share brief anecdotes, and the school orchestra, in which Rene had played the bassoon, accompanies the hymns we sing.

The captain's voice quivers during the singing.

The service is a full mass, and when it comes time for communion, Data stands aside so when I leave our pew and receive the sacraments, Geordi can follow me to do the same. Ahead, I notice the captain. I'd known that the Picard's were originally a Catholic family, but I hadn't realized that the that Captain Picard still kept his faith.

Anyway, it wasn't the time or place to ask. We weren't in France to engage in philosophical discussions; we were here to support the captain – our friend – as he buried his family.

(=A=)

In a break from modern tradition, Robert and Rene Picard will be buried rather than cremated, interred in the churchyard cemetery where generations of previous Picards also rest. My stepbrothers - fifteen-year-old Remy who was one of Rene's best friends, and eighteen-year-old Michel – are among the pall-bearers for the smaller of the two coffins.

As we follow the family out of the sanctuary and into the cool, damp, air, I glimpse tears on the Captain's cheeks, and I see him clutch Beverly's hand, as if she is his lifeline on this day. I can't really blame him, because I've been doing the same – holding Data's hand so tightly that if he weren't a mostly impervious android – the diamond in my engagement ring would have cut his hand.

The graveside ceremony is solemn, of course, but the sense of closure is strong. I'm not sure you get the same finality with cremations or burials at sea or among the stars.

We linger in the churchyard. Many people are leaving directly from the church – friends of the captain who shuttled or beamed in from starships or bases. They take their leave of him, and the crowd thins. Data and I are standing with Geordi, Will, and Deanna – Worf left almost immediately – but the latter two must return to their temporary billet. The crash of the Enterprise-D has separated this crew, but they are hopeful that a reunion - a more pleasant and permanent one – will be forthcoming.

The four officers get sidetracked into a conversation about their careers, and I step away, allowing them to have the moment. The captain is momentarily alone, and I approach him, not sure what to say, or if I should speak at all.

"Zoe. Thank you for coming today. I trust you haven't missed too many classes?"

My junior year at Yale began a week after the crash. As I'd been with Data on the Enterprise at the time, I'd missed the first week of school, but my advisor and I had worked it out with my professors. This funeral, not quite a month later, was taking me away for another few days, but no one would object to my absence.

Data insisted you'd understand if I couldn't make it, but there was no way I wouldn't have come. My brothers go to school with Rene."We both know I'm referring to my stepbrothers, part of the family Mom and I acquired when she remarried three years ago.

"Went to school with…" The older man's voice shakes when he says it.

I accept the correction with a brief dip of my head. "I've seen Rene a few times over the last three years. He often joined the boys when they came to visit. Michel is old enough to interact with adults, but it was easier for Remy to have a friend." I glance across the churchyard and notice that Data is no longer surrounded by his friends but has joined my family. They're only a few meters away and I know my fiancé can hear my conversation. "He was such a bright, engaging boy, and so thirsty for stories about you. I told him about our boxing lessons." I chuckle softly at the memory. "He made me show him your techniques."

"I meant to have him visit the ship, but the timing never worked out. And now... It's too soon. Too damned soon. Merde!" And now the trace of tears I'd seen before is a waterfall.

It jars me, seeing this strong man, this icon, break down in tears. In that moment, he's no longer my partner's commanding officer. He's just the gentle friend who sends me books and gave me his sextant, and my response is automatic: I wrap my arms around him.

Picard returns the embrace, and I realize that we're the same height, at least while I'm wearing heels, and suddenly the fragile curtain that's always hung between us is gone. He's not THE CAPTAIN, he's not even Captain Picard; he's just Jean-Luc. Not that I would dare use his name.

Footsteps approach - Data coming to check on me - and we move apart, but there's a heartbeat when our eyes meet, and a recognition passes between us. Kinship. Family.

Data slips his hand into mine, even as he addresses Picard. "Sir, Commander Riker and Counselor Troi had to return to San Francisco. They asked that I make their apologies."

With the tug of his uniform jacket, Jean-Luc becomes Captain Picard once more. "Thank you, Data. I must see to Marie. I'll see you both at the house?" Beverly has a comforting arm wrapped around Robert Picard's widow.

"Yes, sir." I let Data speak for both of us. My own voice is temporarily gone. I stay silent as the captain walks across the damp ground to where Beverly has a comforting arm wrapped around Robert Picard's widow. I see him take his sister-in-law gently by the arm and lead her from the grave of her husband and son. When I'm still silent after several minutes, Data asks, "Are you alright, Zoe?"

"Not yet," I tell him. "But I will be." I take a breath. Then another. "We should go. See if the caterers need help." Ed had insisted that as friends of the family, our family should relieve Marie of hostess duties on this day.

"Your parents left a few minutes ago," Data tells me.

"How are the boys holding up?"

"They are grieving, but they are 'handling things' well, I believe."

I nod. Tears are blinding me as he guides me to our flitter.

NOTES: Forgive me, please, for jumping ahead of the timeline in this story. Years ago, I read an incomplete Picard/Troi (!) fic that suggested Jean-Luc Picard was Catholic, and the idea stuck with me, even though the rest of the story did not. I don't even know who wrote it. Exactly one month ago, just eight months after we lost my mother-in-law, my father-in-law died. He was giant bear of a man, and when you eventually meet my version of Pran Tainer, you'll glimpse some of him in my interpretation, but there's a touch of him in my version of Picard as well. Chapelle Sainte-Anne is a real church in LaBarre, France, but I have no idea how old it really is.