Here is an extra long chapter for you to make up for how slow I've been putting these out. I've been doing too much writing for later chapters, and not enough for current ones! Also, I somehow still have like five more chapters left? Haha, I guess I'm really bad at outlining! Or at least sticking with an outline :-D. Sorry!

Kyle didn't care much for the IKS Kahlorn. It was dark, it was dank, and worst of all, it smelled of Klingons. After a briefing with Riker and Captain T'argon, he found that his presence had become obsolete. There was nothing more he could do until they reached the base. Riker went off to make sure the counselor was comfortable in their new quarters, while the captain said something about his "fire-eyed princess" and left without even excusing himself. No doubt he wanted to make sure Lwaxana was comfortable as well. Kyle shuddered at the thought.

He returned to his bunk to get some rest, but his overwrought mind wouldn't let him sleep. The bed felt hard and unforgiving, like the weight of his thoughts. He didn't need rest-he needed resolution. He needed to make his son's family whole again. And while resolution was close, it was not close enough.

Rolling onto his side, he caught sight of a rumpled bag on the floor. Sheppard's bag. It was with a brief wash of relief that he remembered the young man had come with them. Sheppard had barely spoken a word since they boarded, choosing to stay out of the way for the most part (especially out of the commander's way). He seemed even more miserable than Kyle, a dejected shadow merely drifting along with the rest of them.

With a sigh, Kyle swung his legs over the edge of the bed. His relief turned to pity. "You up there, sonny?" he called to the bunk above his.

"Yes, sir," came the softly spoken reply.

Pushing himself to his feet, Kyle turned to peer up at the junior officer. His eyes looked puffy and red, though any tears had long since dried up. He made no attempt to look back at Kyle, but instead stared straight ahead, tufts of brown hair sticking out between his cheek and a paper-thin pillow. Something stirred in the old man's rugged heart. Kyle was used to stony-faced officers, to people like Riker, like himself, who wore masks over their pain. Masks of defiance, of duty, of false strength and forced bravado.

There was nothing false about this young man. He wore his pain in place of a mask. There was something utterly and incorrigibly vulnerable about him. Most of Kyle's life, he had learned to scoff at people with such sensitivities. They were not cut out to be Starfleet officers, he once believed. But now, he understood why Carmen would leave this all behind for the chance of saving it. Now, he understood what it was she so desperately wanted to protect.

For these kinds of people-the shamelessly human ones-were exactly what Starfleet needed.

"Can't sleep?" he asked.

Sheppard's nose twitched, making a brief sniffle. "No, sir."

"Me either. Thought I'd give it a try. Anyway-" He shook the young man's shoulder. "Come on, let's go."

"Go where?"

Kyle shook his shoulder again, with more insistence. "To try something else."

"Not exactly homey, is it?" Kyle said, squinting through a fog of exhaust. A dull red light hung overhead, barely strong enough to pierce the haze. The darkened walls clanked and rattled and hissed with seeming menace.

Sheppard rubbed the outside of his arms. "Are you sure you want to do this, sir?"

"Come on," Kyle goaded. "I'm starving. And when was the last time you had something to eat?"

"It's just...Klingon diet is...well it's…"

"You ever heard the saying, 'When in Rome?' Well, when on a Bird-of-Prey…"

As they turned a corner, clashing voices rose in the air. Kyle tried to decipher it was the cries of a riot or a celebration. Or somehow both. He heard the clinking of dishes accompanied by a revolting sound that conjured up images of flesh and sinew being ripped apart.

"There we go," he said, pretending to sound relieved. "We must be near the food court."

The two of them pushed through a set of swinging doors and found themselves in a long, low hall. Tables fanned out from the center of the room, each one heaped high with mountains of food. Klingons snatched at the piles, eating by the fistful, flecks of meat flying from their ravenous teeth. Kyle put a hand over his stomach.

"Come to think of it, I'm not actually-"

"Allan! Kyle! Come over here, dears." A woman's voice sang across the room. Lwaxana waved them over frantically from one of the crowded tables. She sat perched upon a Klingon's knee, and Kyle recognized his brutish form as Captain T'argon. Bloodwine stained the corners of his lips as he looked up at them with a drunken sheen over his eyes.

"Quick, before she sees us!" Kyle hissed, pulling on the young man's arm. Sheppard dug his heels into the ground.

"She's already seen us! Come on, you'll like Lwaxana. I'll introduce you." He waved back at the ambassador, brightening a little in spite of himself. Kyle's stomach sank.

"Don't bother," he grumbled, skulking along behind Sheppard. "We've already met."

Lwaxana swatted the captain's chest. "Make room, T'argon, make room!" she insisted, flinging him aside with her whole arm when he did not move fast enough. Then she rose from the bench to hold Sheppard captive in a hug. A cup hung from one of her hands, and a dark, pungent liquid dribbled over the young man. "Allan, you look dreadful! Sit down and eat something, before you turn to skin and bones."

"Is that...a donut?" He stared down at a glossy pink pastry on her plate.

"Yes!" she cried, scooping up the plate and shoving it eagerly into his hands. "With sprinkles. Well, it had sprinkles. I already at them all. Here, would you like the rest of it?"

Sheppard nodded silently, sinking down to the bench. Keeping an arm around his shoulders, Lwaxana sank down with him. Kyle stifled an incredulous laugh. The ambassador could not look more out of place among the Klingons. Everything about them was crude by nature-their armor, their language, their laughter. But Lwaxana embodied something much softer, something much more feminine and elegant. Her dress fell to the floor like water, silver and glistening. Her cheeks blushed rosy red, probably from too much drink, but something about the delicate curve of her smile made Kyle's own cheeks flush with color. He looked away with a crisp clearing of his throat before he could make any more observations.

"Eat, eat," Lwaxana urged the young man, hand-feeding him a piece of the donut. "And Madak-fill him up!"

The Klingon sitting on Kyle's other side reached over to pour from a leather flask. Kyle covered Sheppard's cup with his hand. "No, I don't think so," he declined. "Bloodwine is a little out of his league."

"Nonsense! He can handle it!" Lwaxana drained the last of her own cup and then held it out. "Madak-fill mine, too."

The Klingon's eyes, dark and beady, darted towards Kyle. "You heard the lady," he growled. The corner of his lips twitched, flashing a few rotten fangs. Gulping, Kyle shrank back into his seat. Sheppard gulped, too, as he stared at the bloodwine sloshing from Madak's flask.

"There we go," Lwaxana said once both of their cups were brimming. "Cheers!" She lifted her drink into the air.

A rally of shouts rose around the table. The other Klingons lifted their drinks in solidarity. "To glory!" Madak cried.

"To victory!" roared another.

T'argon stumbled to his feet. Half his drink went spilling over the edge, but he paid no mind. "To all our brethren who came before us," he said in a rich baritone. The table fell silent, making way for his speech. "To the ones who have fallen and will meet us in Sto'vo'kor. Oh, to follow their example. Oh, to be a Klingon! Tonight, we feast, and tomorrow-tomorrow, we fight!"

The Klingons rallied together with battle-hungry cries. Lwaxana tapped her cup against Sheppard's, smiling kindly at the young man. "To Carmen," she added, and it drew a faint smile to his lips.

"Allan, be careful-" Kyle started to say, but he brought the cup to his lips and drank deeply before Kyle could finish his warning.

"Stop worrying about him," Lwaxana scolded. "And get yourself something to eat. Things are hard enough as it is. No sense in starving ourselves on top of it all."

Madak shoved a plate in front of him at once. Kyle's stomach made a funny flop as he looked down at a clump of worms. Their pale backs glistened with mucus as they writhed towards the edges of his dish. "Oh uh, thank you," he said, covering his mouth to burp in case more than a belch should arise. "But I'd much prefer a donut. Do you happen to have any more?"

"Sorry, that was the last one."

One of the worms fell onto the table, curling into a defensive ball upon impact. Kyle had just begun to reach for it, his hand trembling, when a knife flashed in front of him. "I've got it, Mr. Riker!" With one clean jerk of the blade, Sheppard split the worm in two.

Kyle's eyes widened. He looked at the young man who had hitherto been so gentle and mild-mannered. "Why did you do that?" he asked. "And where did you get a knife?"

"Carmen gave it to me for Christmas. She always said you have to kill them first," Sheppard explained, tugging on his collar. A sheen of sweat glistened across his face, which had paled by several shades. "Makes them...you know...go down easier."

"You have eaten gagh before?" T'argon asked him, just as astonished.

"Is it hot in here?" The young man wiped a sleeve across his brow. "What's that? Did you say something?"

Kyle pried the cup from his hand, suspicious of the sudden change that had come over him. "You damn near drank the whole thing!"

A strange wheezing sound drifted up from Sheppard's chest and rattled around his throat. It culminated in a hiccup that made his shoulders bounce and his head snap back. After it passed, he smoothed his hair down as though the force might have made it come undone. Then, to Kyle's horror, he picked up a shriveled half of the dead worm and casually dropped it into his mouth.

"Allan? Are you alright?"

Without warning, he slammed the knife down onto the table again. The tip of the blade lodged into the wood, splitting it around a second worm that had tried to escape. The metal sang as it warbled back and forth.

"Allan!" Kyle pulled on the hilt of the knife and dislodged it from the wood. "What the hell's gotten into you?"

"When in Rome," Sheppard said with a peculiar grin. "Carmen eats gagh all the time. She prefers pancakes, though. Did you know she likes pancakes?" He plucked up the freshly butchered worm and swallowed it whole. The more he talked, the more his words started to slur. "And Spanish daisies. And striking me out in baseball games. She's a great pitcher, one of the best. Course, I can never keep my eye on the ball when she wears one of those old-fashion baseballs caps...and those white pants that she KNOWS are sort of see-through whenever she bends over...oh God, did I say that out loud? Am I still talking out loud?!"

Kyle hurled a sigh out of the side of his mouth. "He's drunk! One drink, and he's wasted. I told you this was a bad idea."

Lwaxana waved a dismissive hand in the air. "Can you do any better?"

"That's not the point-"

"I knew it." The ambassador took another gulp of bloodwine, scoffing into her drink. "Human men..."

T'argon tore into a pipius claw, grinning wickedly at Kyle with bits of flesh between his teeth. "Human men indeed. At least the boy eats gagh!" Rowdy laughter rocked the other end of the table.

Kyle squared his jaw, indignant. Staring straight at Lwaxana, he grabbed a handful of worms and, hesitating only a moment, shoved them into his mouth.

The table fell silent. Kyle could hear a terrible squelching sound in his ears as he chewed. Beside him, Sheppard tilted his head back in surprise. "What did I tell you, Mr. Riker? You're supposed to kill them first!"

"If you're a child," he taunted, trying to move his tongue through the squirming, slimy mess in his mouth. It took every ounce of control to keep his face from contorting with disgust. "Would you like me to cut your donut for you, too?"

More laughter made its way around the table. Sheppard squinted at Kyle, vaguely aware that the laughter was now directed at him.

"Well, well," Lwaxana said, only mildly impressed. "And I expected you to run."

"Rikers don't run from a challenge," he declared, pounding his chest as he forced the mangled worms down his gullet. T'argon grunted approvingly.

"But they do run."

After slamming his fist against his chest a few more times, Kyle's eyes narrowed at the ambassador. "What do you mean by that?"

"You've been running for fifteen years, sweetheart. It's why William runs. And Carmen. We teach our children, whether we mean to or not."

Her words cut through the air as easily as Sheppard's knife had cut through the worm. She had gone straight for the jugular. "What happened is between me and my son," Kyle said through gritted teeth. "It is none of your business."

T'argon clenched his cup until it splintered into pieces. A growl rumbled deep in his throat. "You would speak to the Daughter of the Fifth House in such a manner?" he bellowed, rising to his feet. The leather of his uniform creaked as he stretched to full height. "On my ship? I will have you-"

"T'argon!" Lwaxana thundered, rising to her full height as well. Though she barely came up to his collarbone, he cowered in the wake of her admonishment, cringing like a scolded dog.

"But my love-"

"I can fight my own battles. Do not interfere again, do you understand?"

The Klingon lowered himself back into his seat. "I understand," he mumbled, resuming his meal without any enthusiasm.

"And as for you, Kyle," Lwaxana said, whirling on him before he could finish marveling at the Klingon's obedience. "You're talking about my family, so it most certainly is my business."

"Fine, but I don't have to listen to this." Kyle pushed away from the table, untangling his legs from the other side of the bench.

"Ah. Running again." Lwaxana waited until he froze, then continued her attack. "You still don't know how much he looks up to you, do you? William, I mean."

Kyle whipped around, a vein bulging angrily across his forehead. "I didn't come here to be judged, alright? I came here to help! To make amends! Call me a coward all you want, but I'm not running anymore. Not when it comes to my son."

"You think being here now makes up for the last fifteen years?"

Kyle's throat tightened. "It's impossible to make up for fifteen years! But I'm doing the best I can-"

"Since when has a word like 'impossible' ever stopped a Riker?" She folded her hands atop the table. An infuriating smirk tugged on the corner of her lips. "You are still running. That's why you're down here instead of with your son."

"He's a little busy, okay? He has a family of his own now."

"And you're afraid that means he doesn't need you anymore." Her smirk softened into something kinder. "Go to him. Talk to him. Don't worry about Allan, he's-oh dear. Allan, slow down!"

The young man's head was tilted all the way back. A dark red stream ran from the edge of his cup and down his chin as he guzzled on bloodwine. "Where did he get more bloodwine?" Kyle demanded, snatching it away. Sheppard sipped on air for a few moments, unaware that the drink was no longer at his lips.

"I don't know, I was busy talking to you," Lwaxana retorted. Kyle threw her a glare.

"Come on, we need to put him to bed before he passes out." He grabbed the young man under his arms and dragged him away.

Lwaxana lifted Sheppard's feet, helping him clear the bench. "I'll be right back dear," she said to T'argon, who looked as though he wanted to help but was afraid of interfering again.

"Heeey," Sheppard said slowly, looking down at his hands. "Where is...where's my drink?"

"Let's go," Kyle snapped. "Now." He half-carried, half-dragged him out of the food hall, one arm wrapped around his middle. The young man tried to keep up, wavering in and out of consciousness and rambling incoherently about something that made him giggle.

It was difficult for Kyle tell if they were going the right way, as every corridor looked the same. Rounding another corner, he paused to try and gain his bearings. "Take me out to the baaaaall gaaaaame!" Sheppard burst out in song suddenly. His voice, horrendously off-key, reverberated against the metallic walls. "Take me out with the crowd!"

"Oh, I love that song!" Lwaxana said, swinging her dress back and forth in time. "Carmen taught it to me! Buy me some peanuts and….crackle janks…"

Kyle scowled at her beneath his bushy gray eyebrows. "Don't encourage him! This is your mess, ambassador. And it's crackerjacks."

Sheppard wheezed with laughter. "That sounds right, Mr. Riker."

"None of this sounds right," he muttered. "Now can we just get to your bunk quietly, please?"

"Why are you so mad?" Sheppard craned his neck to look over at Lwaxana. "I DON'T THINK HE LIKED WHAT YOU SAID BEFORE," he said in an obnoxiously loud whisper.

"This has nothing to do with that!" Kyle turned around, yanking Sheppard with him. "We're going the wrong way. If you'd just be quiet, maybe I could figure out how to get back to our room."

"HE REMINDS ME OF THE COMMANDER WHEN HE'S GROUCHY," Sheppard continued. Lwaxana giggled.

"Come now, Will loves you. He just has a different way of showing things."

"ARE YOU TALKING TO ME? BECAUSE IT SEEMED LIKE THAT STATEMENT COULD BE DIRECTED AT-"

"Would you stop whispering? You're terrible at it." Kyle drew them all to a halt. They had come to another convergence of hallways, and this time, none of them looked familiar. "Why isn't anything labelled? We're going to miss the whole battle because we can't-"

"This way." Lwaxana looped her arm through his and strutted off down the one of the corridors. "And I suppose it could have been directed at you. William still loves you very much, in spite of everything."

Kyle felt his patience fraying. He wished now that he had never left his bunk in the first place. "Can you spare me the counseling session? Your daughter already gave me one and I am very tired."

"Oh, good. Deanna was pretty heartbroken, you know. When you missed the wedding."

"She...was?" He nearly stopped in his tracks, but the ambassador gently urged him on. Sheppard stumbled along at his other side.

"Yes, for William mostly. It took awhile for him to get over it."

Kyle said nothing. Though he wouldn't admit it, he understood a little better why she had gone after him so hard. He would have done the same, if someone else had hurt his son the way he had.

"I...didn't think he wanted to see me," he admitted after a prolonged silence of trudging through the dark. "It was supposed to be a happy day. I didn't want to ruin anything."

"You're lying." She patted the outside of his arm. "But it's okay. You're getting there."

"Getting where?" Kyle demanded.

"To the truth."

"And you know the truth?"

Sheppard hiccuped, and the sound bounced back to them in an echo. He laughed, utterly amused by it. Lwaxana smiled, and Kyle couldn't be sure if it was because of the young man or because of his own outrage.

"I'm a mother, Kyle. I know what it's like to be pushed away. We want to help them through everything in life, but we don't always know how. Sometimes, we come off as overbearing in our efforts. And sometimes...we push them away, too. We tell ourselves it's what they wanted."

"Exactly. Will wanted to do everything on his own. He-"

"Will wanted to know that his father loved him." She sighed, suddenly plaintive. "Why is that so hard to understand? You weren't doing him a favor. You were indulging your own pain."

"Please don't bring Betty into this-"

"This is all about Betty," she shot back. "You have to let her go, Kyle. You were the one who survived. I know you've been trying to punish yourself for that, but Will was the one being punished all along. He didn't have to lose a mother and a father. Ah, here we are."

Kyle saw the door to their bunks up ahead, like a light at the end of the tunnel. He tried to brush off her final words, but felt them sinking into his mind, burrowing into his conscience. He felt a sudden pang of urgency to see his son again, to see that boy who used to look up at him with yearning blue eyes.

"Well, at least he found himself a mother," he said. Though the words tasted bitter, he tried to speak them gently. Gratefully. "You two seem...close."

"We wore each other down, I suppose," she said. "It took a lot for me to trust someone with Deanna. And it took a lot for him to open up. But look at the outcome. Look at our beautiful family."

A sincere smile pulled at Kyle's lips. Quickly, however, it turned bittersweet. "Did you mean it?" he asked. "When you said that Will...that he still looks up to me?"

"I haven't lied to you yet," she said.

"Then you think he'll mind if I went and stopped by his quarters before bed?"

"I think that's exactly what you should do."

Kyle's smile returned, full strength. "Come on, Allan. Let's get you settled in." He guided the young man across the threshold. But Sheppard paused beside his bunk, swaying unsteadily on his feet. His face seemed to darken suddenly, like a cloud blotting out the sun. It made Kyle uneasy. "Allan?"

"She just wanted to bury them," he whispered, his voice barely audible.

"What?"

"The kids. The...other child soldiers. Every time one of them was killed, she wanted to give them a proper burial. Klingons...they have a different idea of death, though. The body doesn't mean anything after the soul is gone. But it never sat right with her, to leave them behind like that."

"Come on, sonny. You need to lie down-"

"What about her?" he blurted out. Tears welled in his eyes and his lips trembled to speak again. "Who's going to give her a proper burial? She ought to be buried on a planet-a pretty planet, with lots of beaches and trees. All her life on ships-don't you think she deserves a final resting place?"

"Quit talking like that," Kyle scolded.

"Thank-you, Mr. Riker." Sheppard stared straight ahead, as if in a trance. "You've been very kind to me. Don't wait too long to tell Lwaxana how you feel, okay? We think we have time, but...we don't. We really don't."

Slowly then, like a tree tipping over, he fell face-down on the floor and did not move again. A heavy, muffled snore rose up, the only sound.

Kyle spread his fingertips over his forehead and blew out a sigh. At first, he felt relieved that the boy had finally stopped talking. Then he realized that he was now alone with the ambassador, and his relief turned to embarrassment.

"He-he didn't know what he was talking about," Kyle said, mustering a small laugh. "He was just projecting, or something like that. I know that you and T'argon….Lwaxana? Is everything alright?"

Something strange had come over the ambassador. She was leaning heavily against the corner of the bed, one hand over her heart. "No…" she whispered, pleading with some invisible force. "Not you, too."

Concern flooded Kyle's face. He touched her on the shoulder, trying to break whatever spell had possessed her. "What is it? What's happening?"

Her eyes squeezed shut. "Come on, Bright Eyes. Come back to me."

"I"ll go get the counselor." As he turned towards the door, she grabbed him by the wrist.

"No-don't do that. She doesn't know."

"Know what?" He turned back around, making no attempt to pull away from her grasp.

"Her mind, it's been ravaged by those...those things. I built a wall to protect her, to give her some privacy while she heals. And...in case something like this happened."

"Something like what?"

"Poor boy. I wonder if he felt it, too." She looked down at Sheppard, his snores grating against the hard ground. "He's only human, but any bond with a Betazoid is a strong one. Our blessing can be a curse sometimes. When Kestra died…" She sank down onto the bed, still clutching her chest. "It stole my legs. My lungs. And when it was Ian's turn, it felt like someone shook the whole world beneath my feet. I thought I'd never love again."

Kyle recognized the sorrow that swam in the depths of her dark eyes. She had lost somebody, too. He moved closer, sitting on the edge of the bed beside her. She moved her hand down from his wrist until she had laced their fingers together.

"Life is a powerful force. Betazoids...we can sense that force, feel it as tangibly as you feel my hand. She's gone. I know because I can't feel her anymore."

Then Kyle understood. The realization hit him in the chest like a bullet. "Carmen?"

She nodded, swallowing a shaky breath. "Yes."

"You mean she's…?"

"I don't know. Something's happened to her, but it didn't hit me like the others, like a wave. More like a ripple...spreading out across the water and then gone without a trace. Bright Eyes...Bright Eyes, where are you?"

Her voice trailed off into a broken whisper. She seemed frail all of a sudden. Weak. As vulnerable and mask-less as the junior officer. "You stay here. I'll break the news to Will and Deanna, if you'd like," he offered. "Should I do it now or wait til morning?"

"No!"

She clutched his hand tighter. "Please don't. Not yet. Not when we are so close."

He stared at her quizzically. "You want me to lie to our children?"

"No. I just...I want you to wait. Hope is such a fragile thing. Let them carry it a little while longer."

As Kyle debated, the gravity of the situation slowly pulled his heart to the floor. He had been the one to convince Carmen to leave. And so he felt that some of that weight would always be his to carry.

The door burst open suddenly, nearly giving Kyle a heart attack. Seeing T'argon come through in a drunken stumble, Kyle dropped Lwaxana's hand sheepishly.

"We weren't-this isn't what it looks like-"

"My princess!" the Klingon said, disregarding Kyle entirely. "Won't you grace us with your presence again? The feast is nearly over and the blood pies have been brought out. Come, celebrate with us!"

Kyle cringed at his timing. While he told himself he should have been relieved that the Klingon was there to take over, he couldn't help but feel the sting of something sharp. Something that felt a lot like disappointment.

"I'm more tired than I thought," Lwaxana said. "I think I'll go lie down, actually."

The captain frowned, puffing out his lower lip. "Very well. Would you like me to bring you anything?"

"No thank-you, T'argon. Good-night."

As Lwaxana stood up, she cast a small, rueful smile behind her that somehow alleviated the sting in Kyle's chest. He nodded farewell, not moving from the edge of the bed even long after Lwaxana and the Klingon had departed.

Then, after gathering Sheppard up and tucking him under the blankets of the bottom bunk, he slipped out of the room.

He still had to speak with his son, even with Lwaxana's secret weighing heavily on his heart. Once Will found out, he might not want to speak to him ever again.