Thank you for the wonderful reviews! Things are changing in our little world . . . . I hope you keep riding this train. ~ Liz


Jean-Luc sat down uncomfortably on the train, in pain and tired, yet deliriously happy. Beverly had given him medicine for the pain, but he dared not take another dose so soon. He closed his eyes to rest and think of Beverly, of their incredible physical encounter, that felt so much more than physical to him, but he was immediately interrupted when a smiling Will Riker sat down next to him.

"I take it congratulations are in order?" Jean-Luc asked his new traveling companion.

"They are. And for you as well?"

Jean-Luc paused. "Um, it's a long story, but yes."

Will produced two cigars from his jacket pocket and the two men chuckled as they lit them and began puffing.

"I-uh, I can't reach it, but I have a bottle of whiskey in my suitcase . . . ." As soon as Will heard where the spirits were located, he stood up and rifled through Jean-Luc's luggage. He smiled as he pulled the bottle out.

"I suppose we'll have to make do without any glasses," Will said.

"We shall have to make do without a great many things," Jean-Luc added. "We may as well start now."

The whiskey tasted good and helped ease Jean-Luc's pain. In no time at all, the two new husbands were talking comfortably. Each had a long story to share about the twists and turns on their journeys to the altar. Will needed more than a few swigs from the bottle to comprehend that his travelling companion was not married to Miss Ro, but was most definitely married to Beverly Crusher.

Their good time, unfortunately, was short-lived. Just as Will had moved on to a story about hunting a wild hog with Reg and Wyatt, the door to their compartment opened and Q walked in. Unsmiling, he took the seat across from them.

Not the least bit intimidated, and knowing he had to project bravado to keep his role in helping people to freedom concealed, Jean-Luc genially handed him the whiskey bottle. "Join us."

"I believe I will," Q said. He grabbed the bottle took a long swig, long enough for Jean-Luc and Will to exchange glances. "Not bad." Q pronounced, handing the bottle back.

"I guess you're not planning on getting up and trying to walk any time soon," Will commented.

"I can hold my liquor, Riker. Don't worry." Q's face was deadly serious. "I came to speak to you, Picard."

"Oh?"

"Yes, I want to make sure that you have a clear understanding of your role in my regiment."

"And that is?"

"You are being given the rank of captain." Q snorted. "As a major, I am your immediate superior. I would imagine it's very different commanding troops in an army regiment that is part of a battalion and a division. Different from being captain of your own vessel thousands of miles away from the chain of command."

Jean-Luc maintained eye contact. "Even at sea, the chain of command is always respected."

"Good. I'm glad to hear you say that. Because in the Hart County Regiment, I am the chain of command that must be respected."

Jean-Luc knew he was being baited. Q's assertion of rank and pestering demeanor invited, even courted, disagreement. He was not going to bite. "Major, you have my word, as an officer and a gentleman, that I will respect the chain of command at all times."

"Good. I'm glad we've got that straight." Q reclined, his long legs inserting themselves between the two other men. "Now, about that unpleasantness with your wife . . . ."

"My wife?" Jean-Luc immediately thought of Beverly. How did Q know? He fought to keep his poker face. With a posturer like Q it would be inadvisable to admit that he had no idea what the man was talking about. Fortunately, Q gave him no time to speak.

"Surely, you can understand that I had to be thorough in my investigation. The Crusher boy was using her wagon for his smuggling operation. Before her marriage to you, your wife was quite secretive and solitary. No one knows very much about her. Far be it for me to level accusations, but this morning, in the heat of the moment, it was very reasonable for me to question if she was involved in any way."

Ro, not Beverly. Jean-Luc exhaled. From the man's nervous chatter, Jean-Luc discerned that he somehow had Q at an advantage. He knew he would have to curb his curiosity to know what had transpired between Miss Ro and him, as he would have to act as though she had already told him. He frowned at Q to put him more on edge, for he knew he would have to exploit his position, whatever it was.

Uninvolved in the silent battle before him, Will asked, "What exactly did you do to Miss—I mean, Mrs. Picard?"

Q started to say something, then stopped. "That's not important. What's important is that I regret any upset I may have caused the Picards. Now that the captain is going to be serving under me, I wanted to make certain that we clear the air and are able to go forward, as officers and gentlemen." Some of his characteristic swagger had returned as he focused his intense gaze on Jean-Luc.

Despite his lack of full knowledge of the situation, Jean-Luc sensed it was too early in the game to concede his advantage. He stared back at Q as though contemplating the tall man's fate. Tension built up in the compartment. Finally, he said, "Q, I would also like to move forward. But, in order to do so, I must impose two conditions."

"Conditions?" Q clearly was not expecting any.

"First, you will leave my wife alone and, in the future, direct any questions you may have for her to me."

"Of course," Q readily agreed.

"Second, I would like you to leave me alone with respect to my command."

Q's eyes flashed.

"Naturally, you are my commanding officer and I will follow your orders. However, I would like the latitude to train and command my men as I see fit without unnecessary interference from you."

"That's an extraordinarily liberal, yet vague, condition, captain."

Jean-Luc nodded. "It is. However, I feel that, given my experience and the current situation, it is more than reasonable for you to at least try it out. I assure you, you will be pleased with the results that I achieve, on the training field and on the battlefield. If you are not, I will willingly re-negotiate."

He turned to Will, who, despite knowing even less about the "current situation," nodded his approval of the deal.

Q felt painted into a corner. He had underestimated Picard, but he would not do so again. "I agree, but only for now. You can be certain that I will be watching and I will evaluate your results, starting with the most basic marching drills. If your men are not up to par, then everything changes, Picard, and you and your men will put your boots on the way I instruct. Is that clear?"

Poker face, Jean-Luc told himself, as he inwardly smiled. "Yes, sir, quite clear." He had won a round against a powerful adversary, against whom victory would not always be guaranteed. Of that he was certain.

With another generous swig of whiskey, which practically emptied the bottle, Q stood up, said, "Gentlemen," and departed.

Will exhaled. His admiration for the man beside him had ballooned during the exchange with Q. No one in the county—not even his father—stood up to the imperious, volatile Q.

He sat back and realized how tired he was and how many surprises this day had brought. He had been awake since midnight, patrolling the countryside. He discovered that Ro Laren, a woman he had known for years and once kissed, was a slave smuggler. He learned that his newest neighbor, Jean-Luc Picard, was part of the conspiracy, not married to Ro and, later in the day, married to Beverly. Wesley Crusher was arrested, triggering Will's wish to help Beverly, another woman he had once tried to court. War was declared—which, of course, should have been the most significant thing that happened to him, but marrying and making love to Deanna overtook all the other surprises. Those pleasant thoughts, of their too-brief time together, occupied his mind as he drifted off into sleep, content with his brand new marriage and not worried about his new company and commanding officer in the newly formed army.

The train rattled on, lulling the men with its repetitive noises as it barreled down the tracks. Jean-Luc's energy finally drained, his weakened body pressed and won its case for rest. His eyes closed but his mind saw Beverly—her skin glowing as they made love; her eyes pleading with him to keep Wesley and himself safe, as they said their goodbyes; her alluring red hair spread across his pillow as she lay down to rest in his bed, at his insistence. Even his sadness at speeding away from her at the rapid rate of the modern mechanical world could not diminish his immense joy. Although he had no idea how or when, he would return to his wife as soon as possible. He rejoiced in those words, my wife, and felt a flutter of excitement at the new life with Beverly that awaited him once the foolhardy conflict between the northern and southern states was over. It would not be too long, he thought, as the dreams that awaited him beckoned, before Wesley and he would ride up the driveway to of his estate, to see Beverly standing on the verandah of her new home, their home.


When Beverly awoke, she did not know where she was at first. Then she realized she was in Jean-Luc's bed, now her bed as well. He told her that he wanted her to stay in the house, with Marie, although she had no idea how to accomplish that with the entire county believing him married to someone else. He told her that everything that belonged to him now belonged to her. Her sudden change in circumstances was enough to make her head spin, and it had been doing more than its fair share of that all day.

She could hardly believe that the morning had started with illicit, sensual kissing and a surprise marriage proposal. From that wonderful moment, everything quickly turned dark as she learned of Wesley's arrest and the threat of execution. Jean-Luc's offer to enlist to protect Wesley was the worst kind of torture, forcing her to choose, in her mind, between the safety of her son and that of her fiancé. She wished there were some other solution, but the reality was that she was glad that Jean-Luc was going to find Wesley. She hoped that maybe the two of them, plus Will, could keep each other safe.

Her hastily organized wedding had been beautiful. Despite the stress of the war and impending separation, Guinan had decorated with flowers and white cloth streamers and Dalen had walked her down the aisle of the sitting room. She began to quietly cry when she saw Jean-Luc standing next to the Justice of the Peace waiting for her. He looked so proud of her, so happy. So handsome and regal. The ceremony and becoming Mrs. Jean-Luc Picard were like a dream moment and she was able to forget about Wesley's predicament for a short while.

Of course, her time with Jean-Luc after the wedding put all thoughts of Wesley—and everything else in the world, for that matter—out of her mind. Even recalling it now, under the covers of their bed, with his smell all around her, she shivered with excitement. She felt that she must surely look different in some way. Younger, happier, healthier. She felt all these things and the sensual wave was almost enough to make her forget.

Almost. For the second time in her life, the man she loved had marched off to war. This time, with her son. She knew that, just because Jack had died in a war, did not mean that Wesley or Jean-Luc would, still she could not escape the haunting feeling that death was stalking her.

END PART I