January 8, 2012

I'm not entirely sure where to begin.

Deanna has given us these journals, urging us to keep a log of our thoughts and feelings as we begin this newest – and perhaps greatest – adventure, though whether she did so as an act of friendship or as an act of our former counselor, I do not know. I suspect that, perhaps, in our absence and in the passage of time, she has lost the distinction between the two.

For us, after all, it has been the course of but a single year since we last saw our friends; the memories we had of them remained fresher, newer, and more accurate, I suspect, than their memories of us – after all, we had, from their perspective, died; live memory faded and changed, replaced with exaggerations of what they thought they remembered – rather than what we really were. For us, there was always the thought that our friends were alive – and perhaps we might see them once again.

Somewhere in that process, I suspect that became, in Deanna's mind, a colder, more emotionally controlled man than I truly was – though I will admit that concept was solidly based in reality. As such, she must have thought that my need for an emotional outlet cold be served, in part, by keeping the equivalent of my personal log – a place where I could record those thoughts I once dictated into a machine – though her presentation of these paper books does betray her unfamiliarity with our time.

Our time.

I chuckle, saying it so easily. Our time – their history.

But I digress: Deanna's gift was one of bound paper books, so that even in the primitive times we could record our thoughts as well as the daily events we experience. I think she might have been more than a little surprised to discover that the computers of this time, while far less intricate than ours, are more than capable of doing many of the same things – including recording journal entries.

Or perhaps her gift was one meant to acknowledge my love of tradition; there is something tactile and sensual in holding this pen, writing these words…

But the need to do so faded months ago. Sharing a life with Beverly does not allow for that type of emotional isolation; like it or not, she expects me to share myself with her – to express myself, to let her know what I am feeling and thinking – and what I need and want.

And I find I expect – indeed, I savor – the same revelations from her.

Then again, it is hard to be emotionally distant from someone when you make love with her every day. I can't look into her face as the physical and emotional sensations of our passion surge through me and not want to tell her how much I love her, I much I relish her touch, her caresses, her gentle kisses… and that intimacy has come to extend through all aspects of our life.

That intimacy and trust in one another's open honesty was essential in our last few days on the Enterprise. It allowed us to openly discuss what options lay before us: stay – and try to discover a new life for ourselves, as the lives that we had left has passed away, or return to our new found lives here.

Beverly's medical knowledge and technical skills could be regained, her position re-established – but at a cost she was no longer willing to pay: years of learning and practice would be needed – but having sacrificed her time with Wesley for that same goal, she was not willing to do that with our son. She wanted to be with our child as he grew up.

And perhaps with our other children.

I say that with more joy than I could have previously imagined: first in learning that the events of Patrick's birth, while terrifying, were not life-threatening, even if we had stayed in this time – and, had Beverly been in a hospital, could have been addressed safely and promptly – but secondly, that there is little risk to her if we choose to have another child.

Another child. I had never thought that I would have been a good father or even want children; those small beings terrified me – so small, their minds working in such diverse ways – but to find they are open and loving and giving without restraint, and that within them lies our future – what once terrified me now thrills and delights me. To realize how we can shape that future through education and love and nurturing… I chuckle at that thought – that I would hope to change the world not through myself, but through them.

As for me… there simply was no way for me to return to being the captain of the Enterprise. Maybe the captain of some ship – maybe – if Starfleet decided that my skills had not become too rusty, my abilities not too out-of-date – neither of which was likely, to be brutally honest. In the timeline we left behind, the last conflict with the Borg left the Federation victorious – but short on ships. Captains, however, they had in great quantity – and ones who were not six years behind the times.

I've taken a moment to re-read this – and it has occurred to me – who else will? Will they take these writings to be the fantasies of an old man who has lost touch with reality? Indeed, do I want posterity to see these ruminations of mine? Should they? Should my knowledge of what is to come ever be made public - and alter the future's timeline –or should the fact that Beverly and Data and I plan to deliberately change the path this world is following invalidate my notes of the my past?

I don't know; I cannot know. But, for now, I will continue to record my thoughts – then put them away. Let my act of recording them suffice; future generations need not know where we came from – or where they are going.

Wesley's home! After all of these years, there was a knock on the door – and there he was! I was so shocked I didn't even know what to say – I wasn't sure it was him, or just my imagination… I just remember hugging him and crying, then Jean-Luc's arms were wrapped around the both of us… My family. Our family.

…calls Jean-Luc "Captain"; Jean-Luc tries to get him to call him by his first name, but even so, I think he rather likes this one reminder of our past. And Wes is such a good big brother; he plays games with the baby, and even though Patrick's far too little to even smile yet, I know he loves being doted on by his big brother.

In the midst of all this, I learned that Sho's thesis was accepted! I am so happy for him! He's been asked to join the research team at Johns Hopkins researching the use of oncogenes in the treatment – and perhaps prevention of cancer – and he has asked me to join him.

I declined, of course; Patrick is still far too little to not be with his mother – and I don't want to sacrifice my time with either of my sons or my husband for anyone or anything. Not even for the future of our world. Still, we're going to conference with one another by internet on a daily basis – and I will plan to travel to see him once I'm sure that all of my men are able to handle a few days without my being here.

Our world. I still laugh when I realize that we have made the commitment to staying here – and how easy that decision was. I truly thought Jean-Luc would want to stay on the ship – but distance and time seemed to have provided him with a different perspective. The realization of just how political the Federation was – and by default, Starfleet itself – and how each of his actions were less that of his own conscience and more that of others has struck at him deeply – and as much as he might deny it, I know that he was disillusioned with the situation that surrounded him.

Was working for such a politically driven organization such a bad thing, I asked myself – and know the answer is 'no'; there was so much good done and for so many people that it outweighs the problems it created. But if I had to choose between following the orders of some unknown admiral, whom I've never met and do not know, or the conscience of this one man, who I love and trust, the answer is an easy one.

…some things that Will didn't need to know. The replicator that we had removed from the shuttlecraft should have lasted us only a few years – but Data has developed a power system that will allow us to continue to use it for at least the next generation. It is not infinitely powerful, of course, but Beverly is able to produce the medications and vaccinations we require – and, in an act of selfishness for which I will not apologize, vaccines for our son. If the war is to come, he will be safe from the rampages of the diseases that follow…

Nothing happened today. Jean-Luc and I laughed and smiled and made love throughout the day in celebration, with little Patrick and William staring at us in confusion. Nothing happened today!

The nuclear power generators in Japan that had been damaged in the earthquakes and tsunami only three years ago did not melt down today; the explosions that rocked that country and led to the devastating fall out of radiation that killed one hundred thousand did not happen; the government of North Korea did not rage against the loss of life that resulted – and war was not declared.

Data says we had nothing to do with this – and indeed, we could not have. At most the only effect we could have had so far in this time was with dear Fred, who decided to join Habitat for Humanity now that he's graduated from the university; he's using his knowledge and skill to help build homes for those who otherwise could not afford it. We're so proud of him… as I'm proud of Jean-Luc's student, little Tyler.

He stood up for a girl at the school playground yesterday; she was being bullied, and he stood up for her, telling the boy who was bothering her to leave her alone, blocking his punch a moment later – and not throwing one in return. Of everything that has happened here since we arrived, this was one of Jean-Luc's – and my – proudest moments.

A girl! We decided on Deanna Jordan – Jordan as a feminization of Geordi – a few months ago – but after two strong and healthy sons, we were fairly certain that a girl's name wasn't going to be needed.

Now that we have a girl, however, I plan to convince Beverly that this should be our last one. I love our children – but I love Beverly more – and this pregnancy has taken a toll on her. I will not have her producing children just to maintain the Picard name or out of some erroneous thought that I want more children.

Nothing is more important than Beverly is.

Beverly and Deb would disagree with me on this point, of course; somehow they think that our little girl will 'wrap me around her little finger', if I may quote Deb, and provide for her every desire. Nothing could be further from the truth, of course; I'll not treat her different than I treat Patrick and Will.

I do agree with them, however, on their other point: woe unto any young man who plans on dating my daughter.

…simply astounded! Both Jean-Luc and I had thought that the Picard family was flourishing during this time period. When we arrived in LaBarre, however, only one Picard remained on the estate – if you can call that ramshackle shed on two acres an estate!

Michelle Picard is in her late seventies; childless and unmarried, she is the last of this branch of the family tree – and much like Jean-Luc, she both savors her solitary lifestyle while regretting that the family was about to die out with someone to carry on the family name. I think she was relieved to find out that the Picard line has persevered, if in a distant land.

Beverly and I have talked about it at great length. We decided that it would be too much of a disruption for the entire family to move to France while the house is being built – so I will travel there, alone, to oversee the various stages of the construction. I hate the thought of being away from the family for such long periods; I've not been away from them for more than a few days at a time – and the thought of not sharing my bed with Beverly every night is both emotionally and physically burdensome.

To my surprise, however, Michelle was more than happy to accept our offer for the house and land; she's already found an apartment in Paris and has moved in - and while we offered to build a room for her exclusive use – or even a small outlying home on the property so that she could stay in LaBarre, she has declined. Tradition dictated that she oversee the family estate; freed of that obligation, she has decided to enjoy the years left to her as she had wanted to in her youth.

…how he does it is beyond me. He comes home after these long trips to France, kisses me soundly, then plays with the children for hours before having dinner with us, then putting them to bed – and all I can think of is taking him to my bed!
Even now, he's talking with Patrick, watching the video of the school play – while I sit here, writing, aching for the man to take me and make love with me all night long…

Patrick's quite gifted with language, and while William's French is not much better than that of his mother… Beverly just hit me – reading this over my shoulder once again! – Jordi has taken to our adopted country as if she was born here. This summer vacation in our new family home in LaBarre will be a proving ground for deciding whether we will move her permanently, or make this little more than a vacation home.

I'm not sure which one I would prefer. Though I was born here – or rather, I will be born here – Batavia has become our home as well, and moving away from Pat and Ralph and Gy and Sandra is not something that will be easy for any of us.

But with the sale of the school to the Joseph and Robert – who are running it as well, if not better, than I ever did – we're financially independent even without Beverly's income from her work with the Sho's cancer research team – and without considering the accounts we set up before leaving the Enterprise, and Data's investment strategies that have left us with enough money to be able to act as we think we must to help our world as best we - Beverly, Data, Wesley and I – can.

I was saddened to hear about Gy and Sandra's separation; they are a lovely couple – but people do grow in different directions. Jack and I had our difficulties; I'm not sure how long our marriage would have lasted if we had been given the chance. It's not that I didn't love him – I did – but he was traveling around the galaxy with Jean-Luc while I was at home, raising Wesley as a single parent while attending medical school full time – there were strains that were developing, and that could have damaged or destroyed our marriage had we had the chance. Jean-Luc and I haven't faced those same issues – but we were far older when we married – and circumstances kept us working together, rather than going along our own paths. Certainly Gy and Sandra have been going in their own directions for the last few years – Gy's been focused on his custom woodworking business while Sandra has been doing research in her field… It's been good for them as individuals to pursue their own interests, but there are times when I suspect they wish they were doing nothing more than going to that anime convention – together. Perhaps Gy spending a few weeks in France at our home will give him the opportunity to think about how he wants to proceed.

If he gets a chance to think; despite having already made a cradle for the babies and a bed for us, he's now in the process of making a formal dining table – and the design is almost the same as the one Jean-Luc claims was on the table in the house when he grew up here.

Almost – but not quite. I'm not quite ready for the circle to come around quite that completely!

Papa says I'm a big boy now and I can have a jurnle like his and Mamas and Patricks. I get to write in it every day! Jordie says she wants one to, but Papa says she has to wait until she ate years old like me!

I don't even know what to say. I'm… shocked.

Terrified.

Thrilled.

Beverly's pregnant.