Post Nemesis Story
Blinking at the hand on his arm, Picard looked at the officer sitting to his left. "Your friend across the table is concerned," she explained. "He's been trying to get your attention for the past five minutes."
Embarrassed by the lapse, he thanked the Andorian captain and looked over at his friend. "I'm sorry, MacDonagh. My mind seems to have wandered."
"Ah, it's no problem," he smiled. "You senile old goat."
Picard chuckled, "Old? I do believe that I am eight months younger than you."
Nodding sagely, MacDonagh replied, "Hmmm, yes. At this point in our lives, eight months makes such a difference in terms of experience and maturity."
Both men laughed. As MacDonagh shifted in his seat, Picard caught a glimpse of her again.
He couldn't help it.
No power in the universe could force him to take his eyes off her. Drinking in the sight, he mentally catalogued everything he could see. Her auburn hair was longer than he remembered, she looked relaxed as a smile chased across her lips, he could see suppressed laughter in her eyes, and he couldn't help but admire how the fit of her uniform highlighted the excellent shape she was in.
The dinner drew to a close: the tables were cleared, the coffee was served, and everyone waited for the obligatory speeches to begin. Staring into his coffee, Picard realized that he honestly had no idea what he had been discussing with MacDonagh and the others at his table for the past two hours. He hoped he had been coherent, or at least sociable, but he couldn't say for sure. All he knew was that he could not get the thought of her out of his mind.
The voice of Admiral Brandt brought his thoughts back to the present. Giving himself a mental shake, his focused his attention on the speaker, but not before risking one last glance over MacDonagh's shoulder.
