Chapter 11


USS Hood

"I need to use your empath," said Yar, as Riker approached.

Captain Riker halted in front of her. "You need to use my empath?" he repeated, not attempting to hide his outrage. "That empath happens to be Counselor Troi, who is one of my bridge officers, and she also happens to be my wife," he warned.

Yar looked at him in a way that conveyed she did not care if he was offended by her tone, and cared even less that she was being warned. "Fine. Whatever her actual title is, I still need her assistance," she said. "In case Captain Picard is less than forthcoming, I would like to have Counselor Troi at the Enterprise briefing this morning to gather as much from him as possible-"

"You mean read his mind," said Riker with a half grin. "Doesn't quite work that way for an empath, Yar; but I agree, it could be useful to have Deanna at that briefing for all kinds of reasons."


USS Enterprise

Wesley thought he was being tortured. The first ten minutes at the breakfast table with his parents was more awkward than he could remember it ever having been before. His Mom and Dad said nothing to each other, and very little to him. His Mom, who had her own quarters, had come over for breakfast and everything had seemed fine until they sat down to eat.

Finally, he attempted to break the silence. "What was all the commotion last night?" asked Wesley, taking a swig of orange juice. "I heard the intruder alert alarm, but it only lasted about a minute."

Beverly froze in mid-chew and stared at Jack. Jack scratched the back of his head. "Um, it was nothing son… just a drill."

Wesley looked at him disbelievingly. "Dad, I heard security guys running by my door…."

"Yeah, well, they were really into the drill, what can I say?" said Jack, hating to lie to Wesley.

He glanced at Beverly. She had been completely distant and pensive since having gone to see Jean-Luc in sickbay late the night before. She hadn't said a word to him about what she and Jean-Luc had talked about. He hardly understood why she had even come to breakfast—oh right, to see Wesley, he thought.

"Mom, did you hear anything?"

She gave him a look that said "who me?" and shook her head, sipping her coffee. Momentarily she went back to staring vacantly at the wall.

Glaring at her angrily, Wesley suddenly threw down his napkin and pushed his chair away from the table.

Jack looked up. "Hey, where are you going?"

"To school," said Wesley over his shoulder, grabbing his data pad, and left.

Jack looked at Beverly. "Jean-Luc's roaming the ship in a drunken angry stupor and teleporting all over the place and Wesley's going to find out eventually."

"Soon," she said, finishing her coffee. She stood up and put on her blue lab coat. "I just have to find the right way to tell him."

Jack stood up too. "What happened when you met with Jean-Luc last night?"

"Why?"

He laughed. "Why? Because…I'm your husband. And maybe it would be nice if we could share things with each other again. Haven't we had enough secrets, Bev?"

"What the hell does that mean?"

"What did he say to you last night? You're completely distracted this morning."

"Alright Jack," she said tiredly. "No more secrets. I told Jean-Luc that Wesley is his son."

"You what?"

"Yes, I told him. I told him because he told me he plans on leaving us again. I did what I thought was best."

"Were you trying to convince him to stay?"

Beverly looked at Jack pointedly. "Don't you want him to stay?"

"Not if he doesn't want to be with us! You should have heard the things he said to me in Ten Forward. That's not my friend, Beverly—"

She snatched her med kit from the table. "I don't want to hear this," she said. "Whatever he told you is between you two."

"So…when are you going to tell Wesley he's back?"

Beverly ran her hands through her hair. "This afternoon, after your briefing, I guess."

Jack nodded. "Good," he said approvingly.

She tilted her head toward Jack. "Thanks so much for offering to help," she said with angry sarcasm.

"You didn't even ask for my help, Bev, you never do."

"I shouldn't have to!"

"You seem to forget how well I know you, Bev. You always do things your way, then ask for my opinion afterwards."

"Don't make excuses for not stepping up. He's your son too, Jack."

His eyes fixed on hers. "Are you sure about that? Now that Jean-Luc's back, that is…."

"Oh, please..."

"I bet he didn't respond too well to the news he had a son," Jack pressed. "Not so wonderful now, is he?"

She resisted the urge to throw her med kit at him. "I'm not going to even give you the satisfaction of engaging in your passive aggressive bullshit right now, Jack. I have to go to work now."


"Flex your fingers as wide apart as you can", said the doctor. Picard complied. "Now make a fist," the man ordered. He slowly balled his hand into a fist. It would not completely close.

He looked at the doctor with alarm.

Dr. LaForge stood back with a distinctly unsatisfied expression. "You have some slight nerve damage here and here," he said pointing to Picard's hand. "Lucky for you it will heal in time," said the doctor.

"It no longer hurts," Picard observed.

Dr. LaForge made a face. "Nevertheless you caused unnecessary damage to your hand by neglecting to get it fixed immediately, Captain."

"I'll remember that next time," said Picard dryly.

"Or you could simply avoid punching people in the face so that there will be no next time," said the Chief Medical Officer. "That would be my medical advice to you," he said tightly.

"That may be easier said than done," said Picard slowly. "However I will take your advice under consideration, doctor."

Dr. LaForge seemed unhappy with that answer but said, "Good. You are officially discharged then. Oh, by the way," he said as
Picard turned to leave. "Don't show up in my sickbay drunk again. Our resources here are used for people who are actually sick, not people who simply lack basic self-control…so go home and sleep it off next time, or stick with synthehol," he snapped, walking out ahead of Picard.

Picard watched him leave and wondered if there was anyone on this ship left whom he had not alienated or offended in some way-and it was not lost on him that he had only just recently arrived. He thought about the bartender in Ten Forward, and supposed that he could count at least one.


As he stepped out of his hospital room, he hesitated. Beverly was speaking to a tall good-looking doctor. They were amused about something, and he focused in on her mouth as she laughed. He could read lips, but decided for some reason he was not so interested in the topic, as much as the laughter it was eliciting. He had forgotten the perfection of her smile, until now. Just as her colleague turned to walk away, she said something to him and he smiled at her. Then she gave the man a light, playful punch on the arm.

She had never been that way with him. Jack yes; Beverly and Jack used to laugh all the time…but she had never had an easy way of being with him. He wondered if Jack would be jealous to see Beverly laughing with another man, or if it wouldn't matter. Should it? He himself didn't feel jealous watching the interaction, at least, it didn't feel like the emotion he remembered. Still, there were the beginnings of something though. He closed his eyes, trying to concentrate…was it regret? He honestly hoped not.

The corners of his mouth turned down, as he remembered their encounter in his hospital room the night before. He knew he'd said something wrong…of course she had cried. He'd hurt her. It hadn't been his intention. He was just trying to be honest with her. He remembered how important honesty had been to her in the past. He considered now, perhaps that honesty was no longer the best policy. After all, he would be here only temporarily, so why upset Beverly with the truth? He wasn't sure why it even mattered to him how she felt…it had been so long since he had cared about anyone. The problem was…he wasn't sure quite how to lie properly anymore. He opened his eyes and saw that Beverly was now standing alone in the middle of sickbay, looking directly at him.

She glanced around her, and then placed her hands in her pockets before walking toward him. "How do you feel this morning? No headaches?" she asked, guardedly.

"I am well, thank you."

"Considering the amount of alcohol you consumed last night, I'd say that's a miracle."

"It was that bartender. She insisted I have a drink."

"And so you had fifteen? I saw the blood test results, Jean-Luc." Beverly seemed distracted. She fell silent, and he had nothing really to say, so he just stood there. She seemed to be studying him closely. She walked closer and raised her hand hesitantly. For a brief moment, he assumed she would reach out to touch his arm, but then she put her hand back in her pocket.

"Do I appear different to you?" he asked curiously.

"No," she said shaking her head. Her expression was too complicated for him to decipher. "You look the same. But…you aren't, are you?"

"Decidedly not."

She lowered her voice. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Yes," he said, confident that he would not upset her this time. "You only have one? Everyone else seems to have so many questions for me."

She pressed her lips together. "If those aliens…the Q just abandoned you on that planet, why do you want to go back to them?"

He swallowed, and felt dizzy. He had to be careful. As familiar as she seemed, she didn't understand any more than the others did. It solidified his determination to leave humanity. "I don't think you would understand, if I tried to tell you."

"Try, and I'll tell you if I understand or not," she said firmly.

He scratched the top of his head. "I'm sorry," he said finally. "I can't explain it."

"Maybe if you weren't in such a rush to leave us, you could find the words," she said.

"I don't feel human anymore," he said slowly.

"I'm here for you, and so is Jack. We can help you—"

"I don't want to feel human anymore," he said, his voice deepening. He felt a strange surge of something, and knew it was the power. He struggled to suppress it.

Beverly watched in alarm, because when he spoke, his eyes turned bright white for just an instant, the same bright white she had seen just as he teleported away from her the night before. She stepped away from him, still watching as his pupils returned to their normal hazel hue.

He blinked, somewhat dazed but back to "normal" again. That had been a close one.

"Well," she said, trying to keep her voice from trembling. "I guess you've answered my question then. I won't beg you to stay with us, Jean-Luc. But whether you decide to stay here with us or not, I'm glad I got to see you again. And I will never forget the way you used to be." She turned and walked away from him quickly.


He watched Beverly leave, but then glimpsed someone approaching out of the corner of his eye. It was the pale skinned person with the strange golden eyes he had seen briefly the night before when he had first entered sickbay. The man approached him with efficient, yet oddly mechanical steps.

"Hello, Captain Picard," said the man extending his hand for Picard to shake. "I am Commander Data, First Officer of the Enterprise," he said. Picard studied him as he shook his hand. He certainly was not human. When Picard did not respond, Data continued. "Captain Crusher has ordered me to escort you to your new quarters and then to a briefing in conference room one."

"My 'new quarters'? I have no intention of staying on board this ship much longer," he snapped, and began walking quickly out and into the corridor.

Data kept up easily with him as he walked, and Picard noted that he could not hear the man breathing, even as they walked faster. "My understanding is that they are to be temporary quarters, sir."

"Don't call me sir…."

Data's mouth opened slightly in what appeared to be surprise. "What should I call you then, Captain?"

"I don't want to be called 'Captain' either. Frankly, addressing me as 'hey you', or anything else is entirely fine with me," he said.

Data nodded. "Very well then…my understanding is that you have been assigned temporary quarters…you," he said hesitantly.

"And I don't need an escort, either. Doesn't the First Officer of a ship like this have better things to do than babysit me?"

"Captain Crusher specifically said that I needed to 'keep you out of trouble' until the briefing," said Data.

"Oh, I am sure he did," Picard said sardonically.

"Yes…he did," Data agreed seriously.

Picard realized as he stomped through the corridors that he had no idea where he was going. He would have to take a few minutes to study the schematics of this vessel. "So I have been assigned quarters," he said. "I suppose that is an improvement over prisoner status, but still, I did not ask to stay, and I am going to leave when the first opportunity presents itself." He stopped abruptly as they reached a place where the corridor branched off, and Data walked in front of him.

"This way…you," Data said, gesturing to the right. They soon reached a doorway, and Data slowed.

"This is the section of the ship reserved for bridge officers' quarters," said Data. "We are to be neighbors," said Data. "We have some time until the briefing. Would you like to view my quarters?" Picard shrugged noncommittally and followed the man inside.


He looked around, feeling rather bored. Data showed him ten different paintings he had apparently made of the same four legged creature. After seeing the fourth painting, Picard turned to Data and said "Is that supposed to be a cat?"

Data nodded. "Yes, that is Spot," he said, and at that moment Picard felt a cat weave in between his ankles. He glanced down, guessing that this must be the inspiration for Data's works of art.

"Oh, hello," he said. He picked up Spot and began petting him or her. The cat purred agreeably. Finally, another ally.

Data pushed a panel and turned on a symphony which Picard immediately recognized as Mozart. Suddenly finding himself enjoying music for the first time in many years, he sat down on the edge of Data's desk, still holding the cat. He looked at Data. "Look, you are obviously a …sentient being of some sort—"

"Yes, I am an android," said Data easily.

"Oh, I see," said Picard somewhat surprised. "How fascinating," he said, and actually meant it. "Well anyway," he continued. "From one sentient being to another…it's not right for them to attempt to hold me here against my will," he said. "You must know that."

Data looked at him fixedly. "As a sentient person, you will no doubt be allowed to leave, should that truly be your wish. However, the Federation is currently facing a new and very dangerous threat," he said. "We believe that you have knowledge that can be of great help to us. Do you not want to assist us to protect our way of life?"

Picard put the cat down carefully, and stared at Data. For a change, he didn't have a clever answer at the ready. "Could I see my quarters now?"


Thanks everybody for reading (or re-reading) this story. I do appreciate your reviews as well, so thank you. -PP