Chapter 27

The feel of her hands on his back was like cool silk. They had agreed that no one else should find out about this. Just as their breathing quickened and they fell into sync, the door hissed open behind them, and they separated, both breathless. His perspiration turned instantly cold on his skin and for a moment he thought his heart was going to come thumping out of his chest. Beverly clutched the covers up to her chin and stared grimly at the door.

He turned in slow motion, attempting to cover himself, and that was when he saw the man walk through the door, phaser leveled at his naked chest. A ragged gash ran down the length of the man's face from his scalp to his chin. A gaping wound covered most of his lower torso. His eyes were lifeless but somehow were still filled with hatred. "Jean-Luc, couldn't you have at least waited until I was buried?" Jack Crusher's face contorted into a sneer as he fired the weapon, and Jean-Luc felt it burn straight into his heart. The blast spun him back around, and he fell face-first on to the bed. The last thing he heard was Beverly screaming.

His eyes snapped open, and he knew immediately that someone was there with him. He was lying face down on his bed, and the entire front of his body was covered in sweat. "Who's there?" he mumbled and pushed himself up slowly. A hooded figure stood in the early morning darkness. "T'Pel? Is that you?" He coughed and twisted around to an awkward sitting position. He rubbed his eyes, which felt dry and sore. He dragged a hand down his cheek. Had he been crying? Only in my dreams, he thought sourly.

T'Pel stepped forward. "You were dreaming," she observed quietly.

Picard sniffed in. The air was too dry. "Yes," he said. "And I can't thank you enough for waking me up," he said honestly. "Since your brother has made his presence known I've had a number of disturbingly real dreams."

"Yes," said T'Pel. "There are stray psychic strands of Ra'Val's power still circulating on this ship, Jean-Luc. Despite his imprisonment, he is still able to affect the psyche of anyone on this ship, including me. If you try to hide your innermost fears and desires, his power will only become more controlling. My brother is extremely powerful, but he is not the only one to blame for bad dreams," she added.

"What do you mean?"

"You were dreaming of Beverly Crusher," she said.

He exhaled and looked down at the covers twisting them in his hands. Then he stood up suddenly and threw his sheets onto the floor. "What are you inside my goddamn head now too?"

He tightened his bathrobe around himself angrily and walked over to the replicator. Lingering pain shot through his right leg and took his weight off of it, limping. Somehow his leg was getting worse, not better. All from a little scratch, he thought bitterly. "Water, cold," he snapped, and with a shimmer, a full glass of water appeared. He grabbed it and gulped it down fast.

T'Pel continued to speak. "As long as you deny your feelings for Beverly, you will continue to suffer, Jean-Luc."

He turned around and stared at her. "Me, deny my feelings? What the hell do you know about feelings? You have practiced all your life to push away your own feelings and now you have the nerve to tell me how to face mine?"

"Perhaps the way that a Vulcan best handles her emotions is not the way that a Human should handle his," said T'Pel.

"Why not, I learned from the best," he snapped at her. "Do you think it was easy being in a relationship with you?"

"You are not a Vulcan, Jean-Luc. You cannot, and should not control your emotions to the detriment of yourself…or those around you."

He stared at her but felt the anger slowly ebb. He wondered if it was something she was doing to his mind, or maybe it was just the words she had spoken that had the effect of calming him down. But yet, something in his mind protested, insisted on not being wrong. He looked at his friend in the eye, attempting some semblance of credibility when he quickly said, "I don't love her," in a low voice.

"Just because one says a thing, does not make it a fact," said T'Pel. "Do you forget that when you and I were together nearly twenty years ago, you denied your feelings for Beverly? I did not believe you then, and I do not believe you now," she said firmly, but without anger.

Picard folded his arms over his chest defensively, feeling as though he had just been exposed for a fraud. The only thing to do was to change the subject. "Surely this is not the only reason you came to wake me up at 0400 hours?"

T'Pel nodded. "Can we trust Admiral Imhoff?" she asked, quickly getting to the point.

Picard raised an eyebrow. "Who is 'we'?"

"You and I," she said. "The crew of this ship. Why did he remove you from command?"

Picard made a face. "I am the wrong person to ask about this, T'Pel."

"No," said T'Pel. "You are clearly the only person with whom I should inquire about this matter."

He drank another glass of water. "I suppose that at the very least, I owe you an explanation after everything you've been through over the past few days. Not to mention the fact that I haven't fully thanked you for risking everything to bring your brother into custody."

T'Pel nodded ever-so-slightly but said nothing.

He looked up at the ceiling. "Imhoff detests me. He once called me 'the most arrogant man to ever put on a Starfleet uniform', and swore that he would expose me for what I really was. To put it mildly, he thinks that I am not fit to command the new flagship," he said. T'Pel merely watched him waiting for further explanation. "It has to do with the loss of the Stargazer… I disobeyed his order to leave the ship."

"How curious. In the official transcript from the court-martial proceeding, you testified that you did not hear the order. Specifically, you said that the communications headset inside your helmet had malfunctioned. Did you lie?"

"Yes," he said. It was the first time he had admitted that fact to anyone but himself, and to some degree, it was a relief. "I lied."

"So if you did hear Imhoff order you to leave the Stargazer, then why did you not obey his order?"

He shook his head. She just glided from one uncomfortable topic to the next. "I can't tell you that, T'Pel, because I don't know."

"Even if you search your feelings?"

"I don't want to search my feelings, and that is the truth. But the point is that Imhoff does not want to see me successful, and to him, success is equated with commanding the Enterprise. As far as I know, this is his primary motivation."

"And do you believe that if your lie is exposed, you will lose command permanently?"

"I don't know," he said honestly.

T'Pel walked toward him. "There is something else, Jean-Luc. My brother is still a great danger. To this ship, to the Andorians, and to the people of Vulcan. As long as he lives, I do not believe that anyone is safe. And yet, I am not prepared to kill my brother, despite his actions."

"What do you recommend?"

"I will recommend to Admiral Imhoff that Ra'Val be transferred to a high-security cell on Vulcan and then brought before the Vulcan High Council. They will decide his fate."

"T'Pel, I don't know if that will be acceptable; to either the Vulcan or Andorian governments. We are trying to avoid a war here. And if the Andorians object to your plan, you may just start one."

"Nevertheless, Captain, I need to know whether or not you will support me or stand in my way."

Picard frowned. "T'Pel, are you planning to circumvent the High Council? That may prove dangerous, given that they are the ones who sent you on this mission."

T'Pel studied his face for a moment and then backed away. "Perhaps I was mistaken…now is not the time to speak of this," she said, pulling the hood back over her face. Before he could say another word, she left his quarters.

Commander Riker sat in the Captain's ready room waiting expectantly but not particularly patiently. In Captain Picard's usual chair sat Admiral Imhoff. The Admiral had asked Riker to come in minutes ago, and since then he had been sitting there wondering what the hell was going on, and what was going to happen next. So far, not a word passed between them. Between the recent capture of Ra'Val and the sudden removal of Captain Picard from command of the Enterprise, Riker and the rest of the crew had been thrown from elation to uncertainty within a matter of hours.

More than anything, Riker wondered what could have happened to justify removing Picard from duty so suddenly. Certainly, the Captain had hardly mentioned it, and it was nearly impossible to know what the man was thinking. He had already learned that if Picard did not want to communicate, he could not be prodded into doing so. It was almost as difficult to comprehend how a Captain with nearly legendary status in Starfleet could be removed from command so easily with little or no explanation. Although it may not have been his place to ask, and hell, he barely even knew Picard; he asked anyway.

"I hope that Captain Picard's absence from the bridge won't be too long Admiral", he ventured carefully.

Admiral Imhoff looked up from his work and fixed Riker with a steely glare. "What is it to you? You've practically just met the man."

"Some of the crew is already asking questions, sir. They miss his presence, Admiral."

"Miss him? They haven't even known Picard long enough to miss him." Imhoff scoffed.

Riker took a deep breath. "Sir, this may be difficult for you to believe, but in less than two weeks, Captain Picard has gained the loyalty of this crew."

Imhoff smiled unpleasantly. "It is difficult for me to understand. You see, I have known Jean-Luc Picard for years and it has always bothered me how such a…arrogant and cold man can inspire loyalty wherever he goes."

Riker said nothing. He supposed that Picard was a bit…detached.

Imhoff stood up. "Enough talk about Picard, and I suggest you get your mind back on the mission, Commander. Now I want suggestions from you on how to avert a war."

Riker stood up, and draped his hands behind his back. "We need to let the Andorians know that we have Ra'Val, sir. If they see him in custody, they may re-focus on bringing him to trial, instead of blaming an entire planet for his crimes."

Imhoff nodded slowly. "It's a start," he admitted.

"I recommend contacting Commander Zatha, sir. She commands the lead cruiser, the Ishran, and can be reasoned with," said Riker. He considered mentioning that Captain Picard had been the one to reason with her, but decided against it.

"Zatha? Didn't she try to imprison Picard aboard her ship?" Imhoff was incredulous.

"Well…according to the Captain that order came from an Andorian General and Zatha gave him something of a…head start, I guess you would say."

Imhoff smiled craftily. "Really…a possible ally. Well, good then. Let's bring the Andorians aboard," said Imhoff sounding rather pleased with himself.

Riker nodded. "Aye, sir."

He had finished his breakfast minutes ago. Now Wesley crusher sat with the side of his temple propped on his fist, repeatedly lifting and dropping the handle of his spoon on the edge of the empty cereal bowl with his other hand. Had his mother been in the room, she would have yelled at him by now to 'cut it out'.

Beverly Crusher walked into their quarters after answering an early emergency call in sickbay. A pregnant woman had gone into labor prematurely, but everything had gone more smoothly than she had expected and her patient had given birth to a beautiful baby girl. She couldn't help but wonder whether the stress of the last few days had caused the early birth, but she supposed that it was to be expected. It was not the first time that she understood the Captain's objections to having civilian crew members aboard.

She sat down at the table across from Wesley, and he barely looked up from tapping with his spoon when she entered. She began peeling an orange as she watched him with barely contained annoyance. "Something on your mind?" she questioned, trying to keep her voice from betraying her fatigue and irritation. They had all been pushed to the limit psychologically over the past 48 hours, and she knew her son was no exception. So far, neither of them had really spoken about their experiences while under Ra'Val's influence, and she wasn't really sure she wanted to.

He dropped his spoon with a clatter and shrugged. "Sorry. I don't know. I was just thinking, I guess."

"You're always thinking. Care to elaborate?" She got up and walked over to the replicator. "Coffee, hot," she said. Moments later, with coffee in hand, she walked back over to the table and sat down again.

"I can't believe they fired Captain Picard," he blurted out suddenly.

"He wasn't fired, Wesley…at least not permanently. He's still a Captain."

"Yeah, but he's not the Captain. And he's not in command of the Enterprise anymore. So who is?"

"Admiral Imhoff," she said taking a sip of her coffee.

"What a jerk," said Wesley with a glowering look.

"Wesley!" It was all she could say, as she didn't disagree. Imhoff was a jerk, after all.

"Well…." They were silent for a few more minutes. "Has Captain Picard said anything to you about what happened on the bridge when we were all unconscious?" he asked watching her carefully.

She looked at him. "No." Wesley looked somewhat relieved, and she wondered why. "We haven't had a chance to speak much since Imhoff came aboard," she added, tearing at her orange absently. Delivering babies always had the strange effect of taking away her appetite for a few hours. "Besides he's been confined to his quarters," she added. "Imhoff caught him giving Data orders after he had been removed from his post."

"Oh. Well, I bet he's pretty angry about that."

"Oh, I have no doubt," Crusher murmured and put her cup down.

"Why don't you go and see him?" Wesley suggested.

His mother's face reddened and she shook her head. "I don't think so. He wouldn't like that, Wes," she said.

"Why? You and Walker have known him longer than anyone else here. I bet Walker has already gone to visit him."

"That's different," she said and finished her coffee quickly.

"How is it different? I don't get it—"

"Wesley," she said, getting to her feet. "It would take too long to explain. Anyway, I need a shower badly, so I will see you later?"

"Sure," he said and winced as she ruffled the hair on top of his head as she walked by.

Picard scowled at the sound of the door chime. Who the hell was paying him a visit now? He pushed himself up from his chair, unsteadily. In less than an hour, his leg had begun to appear bruised and had become swollen. He felt light-headed as he stood, facing the door. "Come," he said and realized suddenly how weak his voice sounded to his own ears.

It was Wesley Crusher, who hesitated at the door.

"Please come in, Mr. Crusher," he said, putting his hand on the back of the desk chair for support. Wesley crept in slowly as though he was afraid someone might jump out at him.

"Hi, sir," said Wesley, standing with his hands folded in front of him.

"Hello…" said Picard. They stood in awkward silence for a few moments. Wesley tapped his foot.

"I just wanted to see how you were doing, Captain."

Picard smiled tightly. "I am quite well, Wesley, how thoughtful of you to ask," he said. Now please leave, he thought to himself. The pain in his leg was now radiating up through his groin and it was an extremely unpleasant sensation. In fact, he was beginning to feel nauseous. For some reason, the boy would not leave. He forced himself to fix his gaze on the boy.

"I…also wanted to thank you, sir. You know, for not telling my mom about what happened on the bridge."

Despite his discomfort, he chuckled. "Wesley, we can't be held responsible for what we experienced. We had no control over the situation. Besides… I could tell that you were embarrassed by the circumstances. Don't forget that I was a teenage boy once. Why on earth would I tell your mother?"

Wesley laughed and nodded. "Thanks, Captain."

"I should be thanking you, Wesley. If it was not for your ingenious design, we might not have captured Ra'Val. You helped to save everyone on this ship."

"Does that mean I can come up to the bridge more often?" Wesley said hopefully.

Picard sighed inwardly. "Wesley…as you know, your mother was none too pleased when I asked you to work from the science station the other day. I would very much like to avoid another argument like that again. So, why don't we just...review these opportunities on a case by case basis?"

Wesley nodded slowly. "Okay, that sounds fair."

Picard was beginning to feel light-headed again, and could actually feel his body begin to sway. He dropped his gaze to the floor, trying to steady himself. "Good. Now if you'll excuse me…"

Wesley nodded and turned to leave. "Bye sir," he said walking out the door.

"Goodbye…" As soon as the boy left, the room turned grey and he fainted.