Chapter 17

Vulcan -The Past

"Brother, we have been walking for some time. What did you want to show me?"

"Just a little further," said Ra'Val. Her brother walked ahead of her, seemingly tireless, up the mountain. Normally he tired more quickly than she, as he was frailer than she was. They shared many differences, despite the fact that they were twins, an unusual occurrence for Vulcans. Their twin status made them minor celebrities in their desert hometown, which meant their neighbors watched them with guarded curiosity, if not actual suspicion.

They were twelve, an important age for Vulcans, as logic training was now intensified and emphasized over everything else. Children were expected to take on responsibilities that would lead them into adulthood in a few years. Emotional outbursts or other dramatic episodes were no longer expected or tolerated. T'Pel was somewhat typical in this way, but her brother was different, a fact that she knew concerned her parents.

"We are here," said Ra'Val. He turned around at that moment, as he reached the peak of the small mountain. The summit was flat, and on the other side, a sheer cliff. The sun was beginning to set, and with its departure the desert chill was quickly moving in. The fading light, along with the wind whipping through Ra'Val's shoulder length hair—hair he refused to cut, made for an arresting view. Ra'Val closed his eyes and held his arms out. Was he meditating? T'Pel wondered. Then he began to do something strange, something that had been buried shortly after their first few years of life. He laughed and didn't stop laughing.

T'Pel watched him carefully. "Ra'Val, your actions are most illogical," she said, which she knew was the appropriate response to this kind of behavior.

"I do not care, it feels good!" He continued to laugh, but it sounded harsh now, and forced. Suddenly he ran to the edge of the cliff and spun around, arms wide.

"Feelings are illogical," said T'Pel, calmly. She walked forward to within reach of her brother, should he slip.

"My sister, do you not understand? Up here we can be free of the others. We can laugh and even cry if we need to."

"I do not understand, and I do not need to laugh or cry," she replied. "Ra'Val, you are at risk of falling if you do not bring your emotions under control. Our parents will be concerned if we do not return home soon."

"But they will not be concerned enough to be angry will they? They are never angry. But I can be angry! Do you want to see?" His brow creased and his eyes began to turn even darker than their normal dark brown. At that moment, Ra'Val did slip, and T'Pel leapt forward to grasp his arm. Somehow she grabbed his hand, but they both went over the edge and began to fall rapidly.

"No!" screamed Ra'Val, and suddenly they stopped their descent. They hung there, hands still joined, in mid-air. She looked at her brother's face, and saw a strangeness she had never seen before. His eyes were filled with blackness. Slowly, under this unknown power, his power, they safely floated back down to the bottom of the mountain. When they reached the foot of the cliff, she stared into his face and watched as the blackness in his eyes disappeared gradually. Suddenly, he smiled at her and hugged her close. "I love you," he whispered. She uncharacteristically returned his embrace, and somehow knew it would be the last time.

Enterprise-2364

"Mom, I think he's waking up!"

The prickly warmth started in his toes and slowly worked his way up his calves, thighs, and groin. By the time he felt it reach his chest he gasped involuntarily. The air was cool in his lungs, almost painful; still it was welcome. For some reason his eyes would not open. He coughed.

"Okay Wes, move back a bit please," a clear voice said. Then, "He's awake." And then there were footsteps and soft laughter from several voices nearby. Were they laughing at him? Why couldn't he see?

He blinked but still could not see. The peculiar warmth, which had paused at his collarbone, had now entered his throat. He took another breath and it was easier this time. The warm sensation spread through his face, and when it hit his ears he felt a pop and the voices were suddenly louder and clearer. He blinked, but a grey veil still seemed to hang over his eyes.

"Some kind of bladed weapon pierced your lateral femoral cutaneous nerve, Captain," said the same clear voice that had spoken before. "The blade must have been coated with some kind of poison."

"The knife," he whispered. "The Andorian soldier…."

"Sir, you should rest," came a deeper voice etched with concern. "The details can wait until you're well."

"Andorians have been known to use poisonous agents on their ritual blades," growled an even deeper voice. "Poison is a coward's best friend," he heard the growl again.

"I introduced a powerful neural stimulant into your bloodstream, Captain. We were able to reverse the paralysis completely. But I need to keep you here overnight to make certain your recovery will be as smooth as possible."

He blinked again, and the world began to become less cloudy. He could see color now. Shapes were clearer. He remembered now. He was on the Enterprise, and this was his crew. A sudden realization overcame him. He tried to sit up, but it felt as though a weight was still pressing down on him. He forced himself up and rested on his elbows. The air was now cool on his chest.

"We need to proceed to Vulcan," he gasped, coughing again. "The Andorians are planning an attack."

A shock of auburn hair moved near his side and leaned over him. A cool hand pressed against his shoulder and reluctantly he lay down. He could feel his forehead crease in frustration. His body had not yet caught up to his mind, and he still had some difficulty moving quickly.

"We know, Captain." It was Riker. "Admiral Imhoff contacted us about thirty minutes ago. We've been ordered to Vulcan at Warp ten to head off the Andorian fleet. And good news, sir; we will be joined by the USS Horatio. Captain Keel has already promised to host a poker game of course, after we, as he said 'clear up this little Andorian misunderstanding', sir."

Picard made a face and grunted. The tall man's face was coming into view now. "You are a poker player, then, Riker?" he murmured.

"Oh yes, sir." There was no mistaking the beaming grin now.

"Alright," said Dr. Crusher, addressing the others. "The Captain needs to rest, and so now if you would all afford him the opportunity…" Riker smiled and nodded to Worf and they left for the bridge. Crusher turned to find her son still standing there.

He was waiting, no doubt for some kind of acknowledgment from Captain Picard. Unfortunately, Captain Picard still had trouble seeing and his memory of the shuttle incident no doubt ended prior to entering the shuttle bay. He wouldn't remember Wesley's role in bringing the ship in safely. No matter; when he was feeling better, he would want to know what happened, and she hoped he would talk to her son then.

"Wesley," she said with an affectionate smile. "Why don't you go and get some rest yourself," she suggested, but it was more of an order. She opened her arms to him, and somewhat reluctantly he walked into them. She tried not to think about how close she had come to losing him this afternoon. And Jean-Luc. But, they were both safe now, she reminded herself. There was no use dwelling on what had already happened, and certainly not on what could have happened. She kissed Wesley on the cheek and squeezed his hand before he left, now thoroughly embarrassed.

Beverly turned back to Picard, who appeared to now be dozing slightly. She smiled to herself. Wesley would be glad to know the Captain had missed seeing him hug his mother. She dimmed the lights in the room and walked over to the recovery bed. It seemed that for the first time since she had known him, he looked peaceful and relaxed. Granted he was in a semi-chemical induced state, but rest was rest, she reasoned. She resisted the sudden unexpected urge to reach out and touch him as he slept. She sat down in a nearby chair and pulled up his chart on her data pad. Nearly all of his vital signs had normalized.

"I feel very weak." She glanced up at the sound of his voice, still hoarse, but working.

She remained seated nearby. "That's normal, Captain. Your body is gaining strength by the minute though. All things considered, you are headed for a full recovery."

There was a pause. "And I'm not wearing any damn clothes," rumbled Picard, slinking back under the sheet.

Crusher strained to remain composed and not laugh. "No, sir, you're not wearing any clothes. Would you like some?"

"Of course I would," he said sourly. "I can't very well command a ship in this pathetic state."

Crusher sighed. There were so many things she could have said right then, but thought better of it. "Captain, you are supposed to be resting right now. You'll have plenty of time to command later on. Besides, resting doesn't require any clothes at all."

Picard shifted on the bed. He detested hospitals, but had to admit he didn't mind the company. He cleared his throat and said "up". The bed tilted up until he was in a more comfortable sitting position. He rubbed his eyes, now mostly clear, but burning slightly.

"How much do you remember, Jean-Luc? Do you remember how you were wounded?"

"My mind is still a bit hazy, I am afraid," he began slowly. "Something went wrong….I was trying to escape the Andorian ship…when I reached the hangar, I fought two guards. One of them had a really nasty looking knife. I knocked him down and I suppose it grazed me, on his way down."

He looked under the sheet, suddenly alarmed. He had avoided looking at the wound before, frankly because it had been so close to his groin area, that at the time he just didn't want to know. Besides there really hadn't been enough time to worry. His priority had been escape.

Crusher put her data pad down next to her on a small table. "The wound was reasonably superficial, but it did nick the femoral nerve, as I mentioned before. Had it been deeper, you might not have survived. And don't worry, Captain, everything is intact," she added noticing his queasy look.

He looked away. "Of course," he murmured, and then fell silent, pulling the covers up over his chest.

Crusher smiled awkwardly, suddenly sharing his discomfiture. She slapped her hands on her knees and stood up quickly. "Well, Jean-Luc, I think it would be best if I leave you to rest. I'll be in my office, so please just call if you need me."

His eyes followed her as she left his side and then disappeared. Just for a moment he found himself back years ago, and he felt the delicious aching of wanting something, someone he couldn't have. As he began to doze off again, the thought crossed his mind that after all he had just been through, it might be time to finally live in the present.