"Kamin." The voice whispered loudly in his ear. "Kamin, wake up."
"Huh? What?" he mumbled, still half asleep.
"You're snoring. Wake up."
He opened one eye. Eline's face was inches away from his. "You woke me up just to tell me that I was snoring?"
"Shh," she hissed. "Not so loud. You'll wake the baby." She glanced toward the foot of the bed where Meribor lay in her cradle.
Kamin propped himself up on his elbows, stared down at the wooden cradle he'd made just a few months earlier. "Sorry," he whispered. Then he quietly slipped out from under the covers and crawled to the end of the bed, looked down at his daughter. "She's still asleep." He smiled back at Eline. "Besides, I don't snore that loud."
"Kamin, you woke me from a sound sleep."
He crawled back up next to her. "I did not."
She laughed softly, reaching out and smoothing the hair over his ear. "I think it's time you faced it, dear. You snore, very loudly."
He frowned. "You've never complained before."
"Only because I've gotten used to it. More or less."
"Well, apparently our daughter is used to it, too."
Eline smiled. "I guess she is."
~vVv~
The voices came from the side of his bed; half awake, he could barely hear them. Soft, hushed tones of conspiracy.
"Mother says if you roll him over he'll stop."
"Really?"
"Uh-huh."
Silence for a moment.
"Does it hurt?"
"What?"
"Snoring."
"I don't think so. Usually you sleep right through it."
"Does everybody snore?"
"Only old people."
"Is Father old?"
"He must be. Cause he sure snores a lot."
"It's loud, too."
"Yeah."
Another silence.
"You think we should?"
"What?"
"Roll him over?"
"I guess. You push his legs and I'll push his back. Ready... Push."
He came fully awake instantly, just as he hit the floor. "What?" he managed before the impact took his breath away.
Eline came running into the room. He stared up at her.
"Are you all right?"
"I'm fine. I think." He stood up slowly, rubbing his shoulder, and turned toward the opposite side of the bed. There was no one there. Looking back at Eline, he saw her smiling, trying not to laugh, and pointing under the bed.
He shook his head. Ambushed by his own children, in his own room. "All right," he said, using his best Dixon Hill accent, "I've got youse guys cornered. Ya' might as well come on out."
Two heads, one brown, the other blond, appeared from beneath the bed. Two sets of grey eyes stared up at him.
"I'd like to know the meaning of this?" he continued.
"Well..." Meribor began, then looked nervously at her brother.
"It was her idea," Batai whispered.
"What was her idea?" Eline asked, walking over to stand next to Kamin, her hand gently touching his shoulder. He winced slightly.
Batai scrambled out from under the bed, eager to confess. "Meribor said that you said that if we wanted Father to stop snoring all we had to do was roll him over." He looked down at the floor. "So we did."
"Meribor." Eline stared down at her. "You pushed your father out of bed to stop him from snoring?"
The girl got up and stood next to Batai. "I didn't mean for him to fall." She looked at Kamin. "I'm sorry, Father."
Slowly, a smile spread across his face. "It's all right. Just," he stifled a laugh, "just don't try it again."
"We won't," they promised in unison, shaking their heads solemnly.
"Why don't you go outside and play for a while?" Eline suggested.
And they were out the door in a flash. Kamin sat down on the edge of the bed, stared up at his wife. "This is your fault," he said good-naturedly.
She sat down beside him, kissed him on the cheek. "Perhaps. But it does prove one thing."
"What?" he inquired, puzzled.
"Meribor must have never gotten used to your snoring."
~vVv~
He awoke suddenly with the distinct feeling that there was someone in his room.
"Is anyone there?" he called. But there was no answer.
He glanced at the chronometer on the bedside table. 2100 hours. He grimaced. Another six hour nap. Probably not what Crusher had had in mind.
He sat up, swung his legs over the side of the bed, and stood. He felt a little dizzy, and he had to reach out and brace his hand against the wall to steady himself. Eat a good supper. Crusher's words echoed in his head. "All right, Doctor," he murmured aloud, almost as if she were standing beside him.
He walked slowly into the other room, and ordered pork chops, asparagus and scalloped potatoes from the food dispenser. Sitting down at the table, he began to eat. But although it tasted good, he wasn't much interested in his supper.
All he really wanted to do was sleep. And so, leaving the plate of food barely touched, he went back into his bedroom to dream.
~vVv~
Beverly Crusher stood in the dim light of Picard's cabin. He was asleep. She could hear his gentle snoring issuing from the bedroom, and she smiled, remembering how she'd grown used to the sound when he'd spent so much time in Sickbay after the Borg. She'd even teased him about it, and he'd denied that he snored at all. She'd had half a mind to record it.
She looked around, saw the plate of food sitting on the table, and frowned. She knew she should have come earlier, if only to make sure he ate properly. She went to the bedroom door and looked in. Picard lay sprawled on his back, one arm curled above his head, the other over his chest, his hand holding a wooden box.
The flute. Will Riker had told her about it. She stepped over to the bed, picked up the blankets that he'd kicked off onto the floor, and carefully spread them back over him. He stirred.
"Eline?" he murmured.
"Shh, go back to sleep," Crusher whispered.
He rolled over on his shoulder, pulled the covers closer around him. Crusher stood there for several minutes until his even, deep breathing resumed. As she started to leave the room, her eyes fell upon the medicine bottle on the bedside table. She picked it up and carried it into the next room. She opened it.
Earlier that morning, she'd given him eight pills. They were all still there.
~vVv~
"I think he would rather be there, with them."
"Beverly, I don't-"
"No," Crusher interrupted the counselor. "While I was there he... he called out for his wife. For Eline. I'd given him these." She handed the bottle of pills to Troi.
"To suppress his dreams?"
"Um-um. He hasn't taken any of them. I don't think he's eaten much. I think..." She took a deep breath, closed her eyes for a moment, then stared back at Troi. "I think he's just slept most of the day. And dreamed."
Troi sighed. "I was expecting this."
"You were?"
She nodded. "He's torn right now between two lives, both very real for him. And his memories of Ressick are so close, closer than what he did last week, or last month. He was taken away from everything and everyone he knew, and that other reality became all he had. He misses it terribly."
"I know that, Deanna. But how long do we allow him to escape into that other life? Damn it, it is so unlike him. That's what's so aggravating."
"We can't expect him to be the same man he was before. In his mind, he's lived an entire life. Without you, without this ship. I think we're going to have to give him all the time he needs."
Crusher caught the underlying meaning in Troi's words. "Are you saying we should relieve him of duty for medical reasons?"
"Well, I was hoping we wouldn't have to put it quite so officially. Perhaps, if we strongly suggest he take a few more days off."
"We can try."
Troi smiled reassuringly at the doctor. "I'll talk to him in the morning."
~vVv~
"Kamin, get up." Her voice was firm, but he ignored it, rolling over on his stomach and pulling the pillow over his head.
"You can't sleep all day long." He could still hear her. "This is your life. The doctor said you may never remember what happened before you got sick, but you can't run away from here and now. You can't live in these dreams you're having. They're not real."
He whirled over, jerking the pillow away. "They are real," he hissed up at her. "Just... just let me sleep."
"No." She sat down beside him on the bed, took hold of his shoulders firmly. "You're my husband and this is our life together. You've got to accept that."
He shook his head helplessly. "This is not my life. Don't you see-"
"No, I don't. All I know is that I love you. And I want you here, with me." She rubbed her hand along his cheek. "Please, Kamin, please get up and have some breakfast." There were tears in her eyes. "Please."
He wanted to sleep, and dream of the Enterprise, of Beverly and Will, Deanna and Data, but he could not cause her this pain. And slowly, he got out of bed, and she wrapped her arm around him as they walked toward the dining room together.
~vVv~
He was surprised when the door slid open to reveal Deanna Troi. At this hour of the morning, he thought it would have been Beverly Crusher paying him a cabin call. He wasn't even in his uniform yet, and, somewhat uncomfortable, he pulled his dressing gown tighter around him. Troi didn't seem to notice his slight embarrassment.
"May I come in, Captain?"
"Yes. Yes, of course." He took a step back into the room, and Troi entered. "I was just getting dressed. I'm supposed to be on the bridge in twenty minutes," he added.
"That's what I wanted to talk about." Troi sat down on the sofa in front of the viewport, and she seemed to settle against the cushions as if she were planning on sitting there for a while.
Picard groaned inwardly. "Counselor, I'm sure whatever we need to talk about can wait. In fact, I'd much rather meet with you in my ready room a little later, if that's all right. I really do need to get to the bridge now. Can't have the captain being late, can we?"
"Sir," Troi's voice was calm, "I think you need to take some more days off."
He sat down in a chair across from her, suddenly realizing why she was here.
"You want me to take sick leave."
"That's not what I said."
His eyes flashed. "No, but that's what you meant."
She exhaled a deep breath. "It's just that Beverly and I think-"
"I should have known she was in on this," he interrupted. He ran a hand over his forehead. "Deanna, I appreciate your concern, but I am fine. I assure you."
Troi held her hand out in front of her, and Picard realized she was holding something in it. The bottle of pills he'd left untouched on his bedside table.
He snatched it away from her. "Where did you get this?"
"Beverly gave it to me."
He stared down at the bottle as he nervously passed it back and forth in his hands.
"Why didn't you take them?"
"I don't want to talk about it."
"I didn't think you would, but you need to."
He shook his head. "Not now, please." His voice was rough, heavy with emotion.
Troi stood up. He felt her hand on his shoulder. "I'll be back later, sir. And so will Beverly."
He nodded, and she left. Just like Eline, they were refusing to let him go.
~vVv~
