Chapter 29
"Captain!" he felt someone shaking him, and he was wide awake and staring, but something kept him from registering anything but the paralyzing fear inside his head.
Someone was gripping his arms tightly. "Sir!" The slim form standing above him was blurred, but gradually the earnest face shouting down at him grew clearer. "Wesley?" he whispered.
"Come on, sir," said the boy, attempting to yank his father up out of the holographic sand. Gaining some fortitude, Jean-Luc pushed himself up from the ground, and staggered forward into his son's arms.
Counselor Deanna Troi sat across from Picard in her new office. He had reluctantly agreed to meet with her after Wesley Crusher had found him lying in the holodeck experiencing some kind of panic attack. He had been too embarrassed to go to sick bay, and so this had been his next best option, it seemed. Wesley stood in her doorway for a few minutes before Deanna nodded at him gently and he reluctantly left.
Picard sat down on her couch and seemed as though he were in a daze.
"Captain…"
"I'm not in Starfleet anymore," he answered dully.
"Alright then…may I call you Jean-Luc?"
He looked down at his hands. "Yes."
"Jean-Luc, do you mind if I use my empathic powers as we discuss what happened to you today on the holodeck?"
"Do I have a choice?" he asked looking up at her.
She laughed softly. "Of course you do."
He nodded. "Whatever you need to do then," he agreed.
She paused and looked at him closely. "How do you feel, Jean-Luc?"
"Disappointed...as though everything I thought I knew about my life was just revealed to be a lie. Is that what you expected to hear, Counselor?"
She tilted her head at him. "You're not planning on hiding anything from me, are you?" His emotions are so raw, she thought. He can't hide a thing from me, and he knows it.
"Jean-Luc, have you ever heard of repressed memories?"
"Yes, of course," he answered.
"You're thinking about a light, Jean-Luc. Tell me about it."
"There's nothing to tell. It's a light, and it is both beautiful and horrible at the same time."
"I can already see in your mind that it is very beautiful Jean-Luc. But why is it so horrible?"
"Can't you see it? How it takes and takes? Even the things it gave me, it took back."
"The light represents the Q, doesn't it Jean-Luc?"
The light was the Q. He had never put these events in his life together. How could that have been. The death of his dog as a child and his abduction as an adult were inextricably linked. Had there been other instances of contact with the Q? He didn't know, and didn't want to. He stared at the floor. "Ever since I was a child, it has been there, watching me. I am nothing but an experiment."
"Jean-Luc, what do you mean?"
"I thought I was special, Troi, but my whole life has been only to entertain them. And then when they became bored with me, the Q tossed me out on my ear, like the damaged goods that I am."
"How are you damaged?"
He laughed. "How? Counselor, I cannot even relate to the people I care about. If you had known me before the Q, you wouldn't have needed to ask that question."
"Oh? I recently read your personnel file from years ago within which your psychological profile described you as distant, avoiding of anything more than superficial interpersonal relationships, with frequent displays of arrogance."
"So you're saying the sum of all of those unfortunate qualities is still me? That seems a bit rude," he objected.
"The truth hurts, at times," she said. "Now...I think you are deflecting my questions about the past because you're afraid to reconsider it."
"Afraid? I'm not afraid of the past. It's the future that should scare me to death, based on my track record of late."
"Try and focus," she said calmly. "We were discussing what happened to you as a child."
He dropped his forehead into his hand with a sigh. "Not this again."
"Tell me about your dog, Jean-Luc." Deanna had moved to the edge of her seat.
"No." He abruptly stood up. Turning to a nearby table, he picked up a vase full of flowers, suddenly compelled to throw it against the wall. Self-control…clenching his jaw, he slowly and carefully placed it back down on the table.
She looked at him intently but with compassion. But she could see that he did not believe he deserved her compassion.
"You can continue to stand if you like, Jean-Luc," Troi allowed. "But I want you to tell me what happened to Henri," she urged him gently.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I have nothing else to tell you," he said, and walked from her office.
Deanna centered her mind, after Picard had left, trying to rewind everything she had just sensed from his mind. She tried to recall every image and emotional reaction. She opened her eyes slowly. The inner workings of the recently returned former captain were at best jumbled. He had eleven years of Q knowledge packed in there. During that period, he could see that he had been protected from typical human emotions and morality. In order to behave as a Q he had to be.
But there were dark periods too, events that even he did not fully remember; times when he was not so protected. And now, this realization that he had been followed, even studied by the Q from a young age, had deeply unsettled him. He was questioning everything he had been through in his life, including his very identity.
She got up and walked slowly over to the vase he had picked up. He had wanted to hurl it at a wall, but hadn't. He was practicing self control. While admirable, he would need to let some of this emotion out gradually so that he could heal from his experience. She touched the vase lightly, hoping there would be some residual emotion there left from his touch. There was. Her knees buckled slightly as a series of frightening images came to mind. And then out of a sweltering, dark room, two dull green lamps moved toward her. She let go, and the vase almost crashed to the floor, before she caught it.
"Captain?" As Picard exited, Wesley stood up from where he had been sitting against the wall outside of Troi's office.
"Hello, Wesley," said Picard. "Thank you for taking care of me, and for waiting."
Wesley nodded. "I brought Marca back to your quarters and gave her something to eat."
"Thank you, she's always hungry, it seems."
Wes looked down at his feet. "I'm worried about you. You seem so lonely…."
Picard looked at him in surprise. He hadn't realized this very clear fact until now. "I am lonely, Wesley. You're right."
"Well…you have me, you know."
Picard nodded, and put his hand on Wesley's shoulder. "Thank you."
Wesley cleared his throat. "I'm going over to Mom's for dinner, sir. Do you want to come? I'm sure she wouldn't mind if you—"
"Yes…she would mind if I came, Wesley. I can't blame her. I sometimes act very strangely around her, and I practically need a chaperone to monitor my behavior. It's really quite embarrassing."
"Sort of how I was when I first started hanging around with Anna." Wesley's expression grew sad, but then he composed himself and looked at Picard. "Look, I can be your chaperone for dinner tonight. Just please come with me? She already knows what happened this afternoon on the holodeck. I told her, and it kind of freaked her out. She might even be nice to you."
"Oh, I don't know..."
When the door opened, and they were standing there side by side, Beverly had been hesitant about letting him in. But she had invited Wesley for dinner, and perhaps with his son here he would actually behave himself. Besides both Wesley and Troi had told her generally about what had happened to Jean-Luc on the holodeck, and she felt very badly for him. Standing there next to his son, he seemed so vulnerable, and hardly imposing at all. She beckoned them both in and gave him a reserved smile.
Jean-Luc stood looking out the view port silently while dinner was being replicated. Wesley worked on a model starship he was building nearby while occasionally stealing furtive glances at his father.
"Nice to see you eating something more than root beer floats," said Wesley, once they sat down to eat. The spaghetti was delicious, and Picard had filled his own plate with an immense portion. Beverly watched him dubiously without saying a word, and seemed to doubt whether he could eat the entire meal.
"Mm hmm…" said Picard, wiping his mouth with a napkin. "I even stopped smoking...well mostly," he said, sounding proud of himself.
Beverly reddened, and tore off a piece of bread. She was annoyed that he had been smoking in the first place, but said nothing.
"What's the point of smoking anyway?" Wesley asked.
"Among other things, and depending on the substance being smoked, ancient people believed it gave a person a suave, sophisticated, even sexy appearance," said Picard, taking a drink from his glass of milk.
Beverly reached across and wiped sauce from his chin with her napkin. "They were completely wrong, by the way," she said.
Picard shrugged. "To each his own," he said easily.
She sat back with an irritated sigh. "Alright, Jean-Luc, you win. Smoking is very sexy," she said, standing up from the table with her plate and when she walked over to the recycler, she dumped it in rather noisily.
Picard glanced at Wesley seriously. "See? Even your mother agrees."
"You can't read sarcasm anymore, can you Jean-Luc?" she called out from across the room.
"This doesn't mean you're allowed to start smoking, son," he continued, seriously. "In particular...avoid Guinan's herbal blend," he whispered loudly.
"What are you whispering about?" Beverly asked from across the room.
"Nothing," he and Wesley said at the same time. She sighed in exasperation.
Wesley looked up at his mother proudly as she approached the table again, hoping she had heard Picard refer to him as 'son'. And she had.
Beverly sat back down at the table slowly, with two cups of coffee. She slid one to Picard silently. Taking his cue, Wesley got up and left the table. He walked over to the living room area, and sat down, fiddling with a model starship he had built from scratch. He had thought about bringing it to show Geordi, but he knew Geordi was still in a coma. He pushed these and other sad thoughts from his mind, and took solace in watching his parents talk quietly at the table.
Picard was somewhat worried now that Wesley had left the table, because his track record with Beverly had not been good. He thought perhaps starting off with an apology might be well received. "I am sorry about earlier today in sickbay."
Beverly sipped her coffee with an astute smile. "For which part are you apologizing?"
He froze, feeling sure that this was a trap. "All of it," he said finally.
Beverly nodded, looking somewhat impressed at his quick thinking. She raised an eyebrow. "So you regret openly staring at my behind while I was working?"
Picard stared into his cup. He had no idea what the appropriate answer was, and she seemed to be playing a game with him. "No, not really," he admitted. "I rather enjoyed it, actually."
Crusher smiled mischievously. "I thought so," she said.
It wasn't long before their conversation took a more serious turn. Beverly put her hand on his. "Jean-Luc, what happened to you today? Wesley told me he found you lying on your back near a riverbed in a holodeck simulation."
He looked away and then focused on her hand. "I decided to go for a run, on Riker's advice…."
She raised an amused eyebrow and tried to catch his gaze. "Oh? Well, you used to run all of the time. I think that's a great idea. Is that what you two were talking about in sick bay?"
"He suggested that I try and get rid of some of my excess energy."
"…which is something that has been causing you a problem lately?"
He glanced at her and then looked quickly away again. "Yes."
She squeezed his hand affectionately. "You really don't want to tell me what happened, do you?"
He shook his head and then finally looked up at her. "I went for a run to get some exercise, and I found something much more…something I didn't want to see."
"What did you see?" she whispered.
"Something…perhaps a memory from when I was just a boy. Something horrible that had been buried for years." He shrugged and pulled his hand away. "I supposed I just froze…it's quite embarrassing, really."
"You don't have to be embarrassed with me, Jean-Luc. I want to hear it."
He shook his head and stared at the table.
She sighed and leaned back in her chair. "You know… Wesley doesn't want to talk with me either lately. I'm worried about him, Jean-Luc. His friend was killed right in front of him, and now Geordi is in a coma. Geordi has been like an older brother or an uncle to him—that is how close they are. And now…well he's internalizing everything." She smiled wistfully. "He's like you in that way."
Picard turned and looked at Wesley, who was sitting on the couch fiddling with a model starship. He realized that he needed to have the courage to face his emotions honestly, if he was to guide his son to do the same. He looked at Beverly, and realized that he wanted to be someone that she could rely on, not someone who ran away from her when he was uncomfortable. He suddenly regretted not telling her about his memory triggered by the holodeck. He owed her, owed them both something more than what he had offered so far. He waved at Wesley to get his attention. "Wesley, come here for a moment, please."
Wesley got up immediately and walked over, sitting down across from him without a word. Beverly's eyebrows shot up in surprise at how quickly her son had responded. She put her chin in her hand and watched the two of them curiously.
Picard took a deep breath. "I have realized that I haven't told you much about what happened to me with the Q, so I want to tell you both something now."
Wesley jiggled his leg underneath the table and stared at Picard with rapt attention. "Yes, sir," he said. Beverly's mouth twitched, her amusement kept in check by the anticipation of what Jean-Luc was going to say.
"I want you both to know that I intend to stay here with you…in whatever capacity you will have me. I have no plans to return to the Q Continuum. When I was first…rejected by the Q, and left on Delvora I was given a chance to return, but now I realize that I no longer want to. You have to understand that for years I had no contact with human beings at all. And I thought that all of you had forgotten about me, which of course I now know was not true." He paused, but they didn't seem to want to interrupt him, so he continued. "The fact is that although I thought that there was no limit to my knowledge, that I had somehow evolved into a Q, I was always just a human being, and the Q were able to keep certain things from me."
"You mean they lied to you," said Wesley.
"Yes, they lied to me. There were two very important lies in particular: when Jack—your Dad and I—were on an away team mission the Q entity came to me and told me that Jack would be killed if I did not go with them."
"What?" Beverly's hands dropped to the table in shock.
"I now think that they had no intention of killing Jack, but of course at the time I believed I had no choice."
Beverly stared down at the table, and shakily wiped a tear from underneath her eye. Wesley took her hand consolingly.
Picard cleared his throat and continued. "The next lie they told me was that you were not my son, Wesley. After a few years, when I became more adept at using my powers I was given a choice to stay with the Q or to return to humanity. I chose to investigate whether you were my son first, believing that I would be able to know the truth. But the Q hid the truth from me; the truth that you were my son. I need you to understand that had I known, I would have returned to be with you."
Wesley nodded and looked at his mother, who was shaking her head and wiping her eyes. "What do you think the Q wanted with you, sir?"
"Your mother asked me a question before I called you over. It was about what happened to me today on the holodeck, Wesley. But I didn't have enough courage to answer her properly just a few minutes ago."
"Jean-Luc, it's alright," Beverly said, blowing her nose into a tissue.
"No, no… I want to tell you. That small river where I went running today on the holodeck is a river that was the border of my parent's land during my youth. We were forbidden from crossing over the stream. One day after I was done working with my brother Robert in the fields, I took my little dog Henri for a run down to the stream. Oh I really loved that dog," he said with a grin, remembering. "Anyway, I had told my parents that I intended to go fishing, and I even brought the pole and a bucket with me."
"You fished? You mean you hunted for real fish?" Wesley was astounded, as such things were no longer allowed on Earth.
Picard shook his head no. "I didn't fish, and had no intention of fishing that day, but I lied to my parents. My father was very strict. To him if you weren't working all day in the sun, you were lazy and no good. Even after you had done all he had asked you to do, it was never enough. And so I often tried to get away once all of the work had been done, just to be alone. But on that day, I had something else in mind. You see, a few days earlier, I had seen something glinting in the sand across the stream. And I wanted to see it again. That was why I brought a small shovel with me."
"How old were you?" Beverly asked.
"About nine, I think."
"A young archaeologist," Beverly said with a smile.
He smiled at her and then quickly grew serious again. "I found my way across the stream, and then began to dig. When I spotted that same glinting, I continued to dig as though my life depended on it. I was driven by something I didn't understand—the promise of discovery, I suppose. But the more I dug, the more it became clear I would never be able to reach this strange shining object, and the darker it got outside, the more obsessed I became with finding this object. But…." He suddenly struggled to keep his composure, and wasn't sure if he could continue. "But the problem was that I lost sight of Henri…he had been barking at me. He wasn't happy with me that I had crossed over, and he must have jumped in to the stream when I was preoccupied with finding the object. He was too small to keep up with the current. As I dug like a madman my best friend was swept away. I dove in, and I searched and searched for him letting the current take me, but he was gone."
"Oh Jean-Luc that is so horrible…."
His voice trembled when he spoke next. "Today I remembered something that I had seen after—after I lost Henri. It was a bright light floating above the bank where I had been digging. The object finally showed itself to me, as if it was rewarding me for ignoring my friend and allowing him to die. I cursed it. I hated it. I didn't speak to anyone for weeks from the guilt of it all."
"That light," said Beverly. "That was the Q wasn't it?"
He nodded. "Yes, but how could I not have recognized it all those years later when it came for me?"
"They did something to your brain, that's why," said Wesley. "They must have made you forget."
Picard laughed and stood up to stretch his back and shoulders. "You're right, I suppose. As Troi said, it was a repressed memory."
"Awful, just awful," said Beverly, and to his surprise she stood up and embraced him. He hugged her back but was careful not to squeeze her too enthusiastically, remembering what Riker had told him. As she pulled back, she looked into his eyes, and her closeness was such that he had to consciously tell his body not to respond. He feared she could see the desire in his eyes, and he felt badly, because he knew it wasn't the appropriate reaction. She was only trying to comfort him.
Determined not to make the moment awkward, he shut his eyes and then hugged her again tightly, this time allowing himself only platonic thoughts; thoughts of friendship. When she pulled away again she had a curious expression on her face, and there was a look of recognition in her eyes that made him feel good. She sat back down slowly, still looking up at him, and then took his hand and rubbed her thumb over his knuckles gently. It was the first time in many years he had experienced true intimacy with another person.
He broke her gaze when Wesley spoke again. "Do you hate them?"
He thought about the question for a moment, and then sat down at the table again with them. "The Q? No, Wesley, I don't hate them. As much as they harmed me they also helped me to see and do things I never would have been able to do had I not gone with them. As much as I feel anger toward the Q they will forever be a part of me."
"Were they ever like us?"
Picard smiled. "The Q actually started out as a small creature resembling an earthworm."
"A worm?" Wesley was incredulous. Beverly laughed.
"Yes. The Q are very open about their origins and history," continued Picard. "They seem to find it almost amusing. The Q have always been characterized by a curiosity and a boldness that is similar to that of human beings. That may in part explain their interest in human behavior. And yes, at one point, at one stage of their evolution they were somewhat like us. It was at that stage, perhaps a good deal more advanced than we are now, that they discovered the power that they now possess. "
"What do you mean they discovered it?" asked Wesley.
"Well, their power is separate from them, although they sometimes forget this, perhaps to their detriment. But try to think of the power they wield as a technology, like an extremely advanced tricorder, for lack of a better example. But the power itself also has a sort of consciousness. It allows itself be used. But as I said, the first Q to discover the power was at least human-like. That first Q, Wesley, made a sort of pact with the power, which they now refer to as the Understanding. The power was to be used only in accordance with certain principles, which in effect is their only existing system of ethics."
"But what if one of the Q breaks the Understanding?" asked Beverly.
Picard stared at her for a moment in wide-eyed silence, as though he had never before contemplated such a possibility. "Oh, that would never happen..."
"Why not?"
"Well… no Q wants to lose the ability to wield the power, which is what would happen if the Understanding were broken."
Beverly leaned forward. "But Jean-Luc… if no Q has ever broken the Understanding, then how do you really know what the result would be?"
"I don't know…I honestly find it difficult to believe that such a thing could happen. But perhaps if such a thing ever did happen, I would have never known. Remember, I am now inconsequential to them. A failed experiment."
Beverly shook her head. "I'm not so sure about that. Maybe you are actually special to them, Jean-Luc. Not in the same way you are special to us...but they followed you for so long for a reason."
Picard shrugged with a weak smile. "Perhaps I shall never know…." He fell silent, and sat back in his chair. "Thank you for listening to me," he said.
"Thank you for telling us," said Beverly, touching his arm lightly, before getting up from the table.
He was watching her walk away when Wesley spoke again.
"So... Yar told me we'll be entering one of the trans warp conduits soon." He tried to sound as casual as possible. Wesley didn't know how to say it, but he was frightened that the Enterprise was now pursuing the Borg. The thought that he would have to encounter a Borg in person again made his heart race with fear and anger, when he thought about Anna.
Picard felt his mood darken suddenly. "Wesley, stay away from that woman. She isn't safe for you to be around." He had tried to keep his voice quiet, but Beverly heard mention of Yar, and wandered back to the table.
Oh," said Wesley. "I thought because she was your friend and everything…it would be okay to talk to her."
Picard inhaled sharply, but tried to make his face seem more neutral. "She's not my friend, Wesley. Please, just…stay out of her way."
Wesley nodded. "Okay, sir," he agreed easily.
"Maybe you should consider taking your own advice, Jean-Luc," remarked Beverly, leaning against a nearby wall. There was an unmistakable edge to her voice. "Now where would Wesley have gotten the idea that Yar is your friend…'and everything'?" She crossed her arms over her chest, watching both of them expectantly.
Wesley laughed, at the memory of finding Yar in Picard's quarters, and then covered his mouth with his hand, looking at his father, a clear apology in his eyes. His father merely blinked and looked resigned to the fact that there was no clean way out of this one.
"Wesley, what's so funny?" Beverly demanded to know.
"Nothing, Mom. Sorry." He picked up a cup of cocoa and started drinking it, thankful for the distraction for his lips.
Beverly reddened as she studied both of them. A conspiracy of silence, she thought, annoyed. "So which one of you is going to answer my question?"
Picard smiled up at her. "Beverly, it's nothing really. Wesley was under the misapprehension that Yar was my friend, because, well I invited him to meet my dog for the first time, and she happened to be in my quarters—uninvited I might add."
"Jean-Luc, the innocent act is not going to work with me," Beverly said lowering her voice and sitting back down at the table. "You seem to forget that I know exactly what you and Yar were doing…because I nearly walked in on you myself."
Wesley coughed in surprise and choked on his cocoa. He pushed himself to his feet, and announced with a fake yawn, "I think I'm going to go to bed early."
"Wait!" Picard raised his hand in protest, and tried to get Wesley to stay, but Beverly said, "Fine," dismissively, and Wesley quickly retreated to his room. She turned back to Picard with a severe look. "Jean-Luc, who is that woman?"
"Beverly, I can't tell you…exactly who she is. Not yet."
"Why?"
"If I told you why I can't tell you, I would be telling you, in effect who she is. And the more people who know, the less safe it is for the people on this ship."
"But she's someone from your past? I mean, you have a history with her, obviously."
"I know of her…."
Beverly looked into his eyes. "Yes, but who is she to you?"
He shook his head. "She's no one to me. No one at all."
Yar paced outside the injured Borg's prison cell on the Enterprise. It had been subdued in Engineering, in fact she had personally subdued it. Of the one thousand or so different ways to subdue a Borg drone, she knew them all. "Are you awake and listening to me?" she asked.
"We are awake," said the Borg soldier. "We are listening."
"Do you recognize me?" she asked.
The Borg hesitated. "We recognize you, but you appear different to us now. You appear primitive…a human."
"I can appear in whatever form I choose—even a primitive one. What do you plan to do with humans?" Yar asked calmly.
"The humans will be assimilated," said the Borg.
"Why?" she asked, her voice almost a whisper.
"Because you wish it," answered the Borg impassively.
"And who am I?" she asked, eyeing the Borg.
"You are the One and we are the Many. And you show us the way," answered the many Borg voices.
"And now I will show you the way that will allow you to grow and to improve yourselves."
"Where is this Way?" the Borg asked.
Yar smiled. "The Way is to Earth."
Thanks as always for following this story. -PP
