DISCLAIMER—

I do not own Star Trek, any of its characters, settings or ideas. I just use them. Badly.

This fic is set in a fictional alternate storyline where Wesley decided to finish Starfleet Academy rather than drop out to become one of the traveler's groupies (never understood that, myself) and Data was restored to life from digital heaven. (Curse you, Picard clone. :( )

This is an idea that is still evolving in my head, so please be kind when commenting. Thank you.

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Beyond a Generation

Chapter 2 – When in Rome

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The two-minute turbolift trip to the transporter room was spent in an uncomfortable silence. Remia was unsure of what to say, or how to act while they weren't onboard the Enterprise. Wesley seemed as though there were things he wanted to say to her, but couldn't. She knew something was bothering him. His body language told her everything she needed to know and his constant trickle of projected thoughts weren't helping him hide. Not that she was meaning to read his mind; she just couldn't help it sometimes. Some people just screamed their thoughts out, forcing her to hear them, whether she wanted to or not.

The turbolift slowed to a stop and the door slid open, revealing a small, relatively undecorated room. The rear two-thirds of the room were a raised wall-to-wall platform. The front third of the room comprised solely of a control console near the wall to the left. Behind the console was a very bored looking science officer who had obviously been napping recently. He snapped to attention as soon as they entered the room.

"Three for the Enterprise?" He asked, pressing a series of lit-up areas on his control panel.

"Thank you." Remia said with a smile and a nod as she stepped up to the platform. The Crushers followed closely behind her, taking positions at her right and left. She sighed softly, watching the science officer as he went about his business.

A cold blue light surrounded her body and she closed her eyes. She still hated the sensation of the transporter. She felt the temperature and air pressure change slightly and she opened her eyes, the blue glow that had surrounded her was replaced with a chilling tingle from head to toe.

A man exuding a strong commanding presence stood near the doorway. Remia could only assume he was the Captain with the way he held himself. He had an air of near royalty to him; disobeying his orders would be a hard task, indeed, should she ever need to. She knew then and there that she was going to love working with him, trying to find out who he really was under all that mystery.

Wesley stepped off the transporter first, extending his hand to Captain Picard.

"It's good to have you aboard again, Wes." Picard said, giving his hand a firm shake.

"It's great to be here again, sir." Wesley said, stepping back as his mother stepped forward.

"You can't tell me you didn't expect me to be back again." Dr. Crusher said with a smile as she placed her hand in his.

"No, as a matter of fact, I counted on it." Picard said, shaking her hand somewhat softer. Her hand slipped from his, though they both seemed to regret the loss of contact.

Picard turned his attention to Remia. Taking a step closer, he held out his hand to help her down from the transport platform. "And you," She stepped down on the floor next to him with his assistance, giving him a genuine smile. "You must be Miss Remia Char. It's a pleasure to have you on board." He returned her smile, somewhat lacking.

"I'm sure the pleasure will be entirely mine. I've heard about the Enterprise my entire life... and to actually be able to serve here... well..." She smiled again.

"I hope you won't be intimidated by such a large crew." Doctor Crusher spoke up, drawing their attention. "You were last stationed with a group of 27?"

"I'm sure I will be fine. I wouldn't have this position if I couldn't handle it." She said with a tart smile. So, she wasn't the only one who read personnel files... "Thank you for the welcome, Captain, but I really have to find my quarters and get settled. I have a dinner date that I can't afford to miss." She flashed the Captain a small smile.

Picard turned to the computer panel set into the wall. "Computer, show Miss Char to her quarters." His command was followed almost instantaneously by a series of beeps and a glowing line running across the display on the wall. "Just follow the lines. All you have to do is ask and the computer can lead you anywhere on the ship."

"Thank you, Captain." She shook his hand again, and then turned to Beverly. "It was lovely meeting you, Dr. Crusher." She turned to Wesley. "And I'll… see you… around." She slowly backed out of the room, turning around as soon as she was past the doorframe. The bright line ran across the wall, guiding her down the corridor. She followed it around a few bends and into a turbolift. She stepped inside.

"Computer, what deck are we going to?" She asked as the doors closed.

"Deck two." The computer stated plainly. Remia shrugged, leaning back against the wall. The turbolift hummed softly, coming to a stop far sooner than she expected. The doors slid open and she took a few slow steps outside, the bright line running along the panel across the hall. She looked up and down the corridor, trying her hardest to commit it to memory, knowing that it was almost pointless. She had a mind for facts and details, not passages and landmarks.

She followed the line absently, and it took her around a few bends and down corridors she forgot about soon after passing. The line ended just before a door labeled "3654". She stepped up to the door and it opened immediately.

She peered inside, finding standard issue beige furnishings. The only color in the room came from her suitcases piled neatly on the bed. She sighed heavily, hesitating to enter.

"Is something wrong?" A voice that soothed her, yet startled her at the same time asked. She turned around quickly, composing herself as she moved, she hadn't felt anyone come anywhere near her. She was suddenly face to face with a man that seemed impossibly handsome and yet lacked something, something beyond his pale complexion.

It took her longer than usual to form an answer in her mind and she stammered for a moment, admiring the smooth, yet unnatural contours of his face as he tilted his head to the side.

"Um, I'm… alright. I just saw my quarters for the first time and they are pretty –"

"Spartan? Starfleet would have it no other way." He cut her off and flashed an impish smile. "I happen to be a certified Interior Decorator, among other things."

She was unsure how to take a man that spoke with such an animated fervor, yet gave her not a hint of real emotion. Her eyes scanned the lapel of his red shirt casually, identifying him as the ship's commander. Her mind seemed blank when it came to his personnel file. She decided it was best to play it safe.

"I would love any advice you could give me, Commander. Whenever is best for you, of course." She said, stepping back into her doorway. "I need to get ready for a, um… meeting." Why couldn't she say date? "But, thank you, Commander."

"The pleasure is mine, miss …" He stopped, holding his hand out to her.

"Char, Remia Char. The new ship's –" He cut her off again as she took his hand, an intense tingle running down her spine. His skin was unusually cool, but felt softer than she thought legally possible.

"Counselor. Counselor Char." The way he said her name left her breathless, and she found herself at a loss for words. His eyes seemed to stare directly into her soul. She felt her cheeks turn a pale pink.

"I will stop by your office tomorrow then, Counselor." His hand slipped from hers, she had forgotten to do so much as shake it. "Good night, Counselor." He said, turning and entering the door across the hall from hers. The small glimpse she caught of his quarters was, indeed, well organized and planned.

She stared a moment longer, then shook her head and turned her slowly returning thoughts to unpacking and getting ready. A small thought blossomed in the back of her mind. She attempted to push it aside. She knew he couldn't be human, but it was not the time to dwell on it. She moved the uniforms that had already been in the closet to the side, making room for the rest of her clothing.

What WAS he then? Why could she feel nothing from him? The thought gnawed at her until she tossed the shirts she had been hanging onto her bed and stalked to her computer, quickly calling up the personnel files. She scanned them absently, going through page after page until, finally, she came to the Commander.

She stood up quickly, closing the file. An android? No wonder he was so amazingly perfect. She sighed and forced him from her mind. She had a briefing to get ready for and only a half hour to do it in.

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Twenty-three minutes later, when she stepped back from the mirror, she smiled, toying with the ends of her waist-length wavy red hair. She stared at her reflection, scanning the soft porcelain confines of her face. The pupils of her dark hazel eyes were so large they almost covered her irises, something she remembered her father saying had come from her mother's side – another thought she pushed aside with a frown.

She smoothed the front of her black and grey uniform and reached towards her communicator, which she had found earlier on top of her desk in a small wooden box. She attached it to her uniform just below her left shoulder. With a smug smile she put on a small pair of emerald earrings, perhaps a little outside standard dress code, but she didn't think the captain would mind. She had always been told that green brought out her eyes and she figured that any advantage at all while alone with the Captain was more than a good idea.

She sighed heavily, wishing she could simply climb into her bed rather than go to her briefing.

"Computer, can you tell me where the Captain is?" The computer beeped.

"Captain Picard is on the bridge."

"Computer, can you show me the shortest route to the bridge?" Another beep was followed by the door to her quarters opening. She walked out the door and looked up and down the hall. She stood there for a moment, staring at the bright line that ran down the hall. The door in front of her opened and the Commander stepped out.

"Hello, Counselor." He said, waiting politely for her response. She stared at him longer than she should have, still captivated by his presence.

"Oh, hello, Commander. I'm… on my way to the bridge, I need to meet with the Captain."

"It just so happens that I, too, am on my way to the bridge, I can show you the way if you like. And please, call me Data." He said, giving her the same gut wrenching smile as earlier. He extended her his elbow in a gentlemanly fashion.

"Alright, I'll call you Data, but only if you call me Remia." She smiled, placing her hand on his arm. He led her down corridors and around corners she was vaguely placing in her memory. She was more focused on the smooth way he walked, the way his feet seemed to barely touch the ground.

"Remia, " He started as they stepped up to the turbolift door. "Why did you join Starfleet?" The emphasis he put on the word 'you' made her uncomfortable. She sighed softly to herself, moving through some of her darker thoughts, trying to get at the light she had placed in a distant corner of her mind.

"Because… I wanted to see what was so great about it." What's so great that you leave your only daughter behind? She pushed her negative thoughts away. "I wanted to see why Starfleet makes so many people feel like they've accomplished in their lives. I wanted to help people… I wanted to…" She drifted off, following him into the lift. "I wanted to make a difference."

"You've done that already." He said, looking at her. She felt her cheeks go crimson and looked away, pretending to examine the control panel on the wall. "Bridge." He said and the turbolift's door slid shut. She tried her best to hold her tongue, even though the turbolift ride seemed to go on for ages. She was afraid of saying something more... personal to him. Androids couldn't feel, how would he understand her? Sure, mathematically and all, but she wanted a deeper level of communication before she opened her heart to anyone.

The turbolift came to a halt and the door slid open. She stared in awe for a moment, it had been years since she had been on a bridge anywhere near this size, not to mention a Sovereign-class bridge. She watched as the commander walked towards the Captain, who, she just noticed, had been staring casually at her. She stepped into the room, allowing the turbolift to close behind her.

The Captain stood slowly, turning to the Commander.

"The bridge is yours, Number One. I'll be back for a short while after my…" He looked her dead in the eye. "My appointment." She stared back, unwilling to give in under pressure. He walked towards her slowly.

"Understood, Sir." Data replied, taking a seat in the Captain's chair. She smiled to herself, wondering if he knew just how well the chair suited him. The captain stepped up to her.

"Are you ready, Counselor Char?" She nodded, as much for herself as for him, and followed his quickly retreating form into the turbolift. "Deck seven." He said, barely giving her time to clear the doorway. She stood next to him, attempting to gage his strange flux of emotions.

"Is something wrong, captain? You're pretty much spitting fireballs at me, and I really don't think I deserve it." He turned to face her, the storm that seemed to lay barely under the surface of his skin subsiding.

"You're right, Counselor. I've let the stress of the situation get the better of me and I apologize." He gave her a small smile, which was more than she could have asked for. "I assume you know who you are trying to replace, and what is to be expected of you. I have heard nothing but glowing praise of your ability and character, and I can only hope that will continue on my ship."

She gave him a small, satisfied smirk. "I assure you, I haven't changed at all since my last post, and I surely don't intend to. I will do everything you ask and more, but I promise you that I won't hold back if I feel strongly about something." The turbolift came to a stop, the door sliding open.

"I wouldn't expect anything less from the daughter of Admiral Char." He stepped out into the hallway, standing aside so she could step out next to him. "I hope you don't mind French cuisine." He said, stepping up to the console in front of him. "Computer, load program Picard seventeen."

"You have your own restaurant onboard?" She asked as the large double doors slid back into the wall.

"In a, manner of speaking, yes."

This chapter has been finished for a while now, I've been hesitating to post more because of an apparent lack of interest in anything that doesn't involve cartoon characters and/or slash of any kind. Anyhow, reviews are always welcome, even encouraged. Thanks for reading and all that jazz. -- Chakra Kitten