Chapter 1

Jean-Luc felt the familiar tingling as his eyes attempted to focus. It was, as if he willed his other senses to signal what he already knew. Logically there would be a welcoming committee awaiting his arrival back on the new ship. He could only hope the contingent would be small. He was drained and exhausted and needed to rest. The last month had been gruesome. The new ship was taking on supplies and crew were being called back from their leaves. Becoming familiar with the new ship occupied most of Jean-Luc's time but the last fourteen days had been spent on Earth with Marie.

Although the funeral for his brother, had taken place over a month ago, Jean-Luc had not been there. His reports on Soren, the Nexus and the death of Captain James T. Kirk had been filed. There were many questions and explanations he had to give Starfleet. Resurrecting a legend who had been dead for 80 years was no easy task. He had been debriefed and then whisked though this new ship as its final outfit days were coming to an end.

"It's good to have you back Captain," said a smiling Troi. She knew he was tired and it had been a long two weeks without him.

"Thank you, Counselor, I'm glad to be back. God knows this has been a difficult time." Picard looked around sighing and muttered, "Good to be home."

As Picard stepped off the transporter pad and moved to the exit, Troi positioned herself closer to her Captain, "What are Marie's plans, sir? Will she stay on the farm and continue to run the vineyard?"

"Oh yes Counselor, she has no intentions of leaving. She is all that is left of the Picard family. She wants to stay to carry on."

It had been four years since Jean-Luc had been home. His last trip was just after the rescue from the Borg. He had felt the need to connect once more to his roots and to feel earth beneath his feet. At that time, he and his brother had forged a new bridge in their relationship. Taking a deep sigh Jean-Luc looked at his welcoming committee, and felt pride in his crew and his ship momentarily clouded by a twinge of remorse for his chosen life.

"Captain, I would like to extend my sympathies for your loss, "Riker began, appearing decidedly uncomfortable.

Although the entire crew had made their sympathies known weeks ago, Jean-Luc knew the words were given again for lack of something else to say.

"If there is anything I can do," Riker glanced hastily at the others, "I mean, anything we can do, please let us know."

"Thank-you, Number One, but right now I think I would just like a little rest," clipped Jean-Luc in his most professional voice. He turned and walked quickly through the opened transporter room doors.

Riker turned and with a solemn look gazed at the others noting Data's questioning expression, but didn't say anything. He really didn't know what to say. Deanna scowled and appeared concerned, wondering whether she should comment on Jean-Luc's real feelings or not. Her abilities as an empath often put her in the uncomfortable position of knowing how a person really felt regardless of what they said. The only one who spoke was Beverly Crusher, ship's doctor. "Will, he looks terrible. He looks so hurt and totally worn out."

"I know, doctor, but I think what he needs now is some space and some rest. Thank you all for coming. I'm sure it meant a lot to the Captain." Beverly and Data nodded and hurried off in opposite directions.

Will slowly walked to the turbolift. He was off duty for the next twelve hours and wondered how he should spend the time. There was still work to do on the personnel evaluations and placements, or he could go over the system modifications Geordi had submitted for approval. Instead he muttered, "Damn I need a break."

"What Will? Did you say something?" asked Deanna looking back towards him.

Looking down at her he smiled. "I need a break. Can I buy you a drink? I haven't really had too much time to check out our new Ten-forward." He grinned at Troi and his eyes sparked with anticipation.

"Hmm, I should go back to my office and work on today's reports, but I think I need a break too. Change the invitation to double chocolate mousse, and I'll follow you anywhere Commander."

Will smiled again and continued to gaze at Deanna, reveling in her beauty. Standing there with her eyes wide, dark and sorrowful, she was captivating. He watched her full red lips turn upwards in a smile and felt the same intense yearning, he knew only too well. Touching the full ebony curls that softly framed her face, he moved his fingers to trace the curve of her cheek and down towards her chin.

She sighed, "Mmm," and felt her face blush with desire for him. "Imzadi, you know how I feel about you, but you must remember our promise to each other."

"I do," whispered Will, "but I also remember what we were like together. It's those feelings that I'm recalling." They stood and looked deep and long into each other's eyes.

* * *

Jean-Luc paced in his quarters, feeling confused and not understanding why. "Computer! Music! Mozart Lindzt symphony #36 in C major." The music began much too loudly. "Computer, lower volume and dim these damn lights!" he ordered. The music and lights heeded his words. He decided he needed something to eat and moved to the replicator, "Computer, chicken salad sandwich and Earl Gray tea - hot!" Seating himself at the glass dining table he began his meal, feeling some of his tension starting to fade.

"There now, I feel better," he muttered finishing the last of his sandwich and wiping his lips with the linen cloth.

He looked around his quarters. Though this was a new ship and the room was larger than his previous one, it still had the same, almost sterile ambiance. "Funny," he thought, "this really is my home. Not the vineyards back on Earth. No, this room is my home. Everything I am is here, in this room."

Jean-Luc looked around, letting his gaze fall on the few personal items that had been saved from his quarters after the crash of the 1701-D. He had his leather bound album of pictures, and a couple of crystals he had collected in his travels. There was also the model of the original Enterprise, the NCC 1701. He had carefully mended the shattered port nacelle and replaced the deflector dish. The only book he had been able to recover had been the Kipling collection, albeit a little worn around the edges. "I could put everything I own in one small satchel," he thought. "My life in one small bag."

Jean-Luc leaned back into his chair and continued to look around his room. It suddenly dawned on him that as few personal possessions he had before the crash, he now had even fewer. He began to smile and the smile turned into laughter and the laughter brought tears to his eyes. Suddenly the laughter stopped, but the tears did not. He felt his face contorting with pain, and his eyes spilling over.

"This really is all I have," he sobbed, "this is it. I, the impressive Starship Captain, Jean-Luc Picard have nothing but books and crystals to represent my life." His emotions were uncontrollable and sobs racked his body as he bowed his face to his hands. "I, who have everything...in fact, have nothing," he cried. "I am alone in this world. No parents, no brother, no family. Who will remember Jean-Luc Picard? Who will carry on?"

All of the sorrows of the man came pouring out. He began to sob uncontrollably. For many minutes tears coursed soundlessly down his face leaving him totally empty, spent of every ounce of the composure and poise he had always so carefully maintained. With the end of his tears, he stumbled to the bed and collapsed into its warmth and security. Jean-Luc pulled the lightweight blanket around his trembling shoulders, momentarily wishing for the thick comforters he had used the past days at his brother's home. He whispered a few more words before succumbing to sleep. "Who will remember Jean-Luc Picard? Who will carry on?"

The evening hours passed slowly and he slept fitfully, tossing and turning and occasionally crying out. His dreams were tumultuous, fragmented and jagged - scenes of his brother and himself fighting and pulling at each other's faces, yelling and sounds of ripping, tearing metal. Images of his nephew René, crying and shrieking. He was frightened and his fright jarred him awake, the sweat drenching his clothes.

* * * *

On another part of the ship, another being was caught in the same throes of anxiety. She felt the way a leaf would feel caught in a whirlwind. Spinning out of control, she grasped at the edges of wakefulness, clutching at its threshold, demanding its surrender.

As she awoke gasping she felt the panic explode in her chest momentarily paralyzed with fear. The heaviness pressed against her being. She clutched at the sides of her bed, her fingers scraping against the smooth polymer pedestal and struggling, she rose from the berth and staggered to the replicator. "Water, cold!" she rasped.

Her fingers trembled as she lifted the glass to her lips and drank in gulps. Her breathing became more difficult, as she once again felt Picard's emotions renewing their attack on her being. She sank heavily into a chair and closed her eyes. She knew she had to do something to help him. The only problem seemed to be how?

* * * *

"Computer. Time!" he gasped.

"It is fourteen hundred point two hours," answered the familiar voice.

Panting heavily, his chest contracted and expanded in exaggerated movements. Jean-Luc laid back, eyes forced shut against his consciousness and he willed himself to sleep and once again he fell victim to his nightmares.

When his eyes opened some time later, he knew he couldn't risk the chance of going back to sleep. It offered no escape from his thoughts and at least when awake he would be able to concentrate on attempting to relax. The captain sat up and swung his feet to the floor. Once more he looked around the room and once more asked, "Is this all there is? Is this what my life represents?" Jean-Luc pulled his legs up and sat cross-legged on the bed. He bent his head to his hands and allowed the emotions once more to wash over him. After several long moments his sobs once again ceased and he struggled to breathe normally.

He decided a hot shower might feel good. Standing up, he stumbled to the grooming area, stripping his sweat-soaked clothes along the way. He had both sonic and water showers in his quarters and most often used the sonic version. This time though he needed to feel the pins of hot water pummel his body. The warmth of the water loosened tired, constricted muscles and he stood there, eyes closed, in the enveloping mist.

After the shower Picard quickly slipped on a clean uniform and left his quarters. Ship's environmental controls were set so that the ship experienced regular days. For the rest of the Enterprise crew it was still the middle of the night. He walked slowly along the dimly lit corridor. Every few steps his hand went out to touch the walls, to steady himself. He wasn't really sure where he was going until he stood facing the holodeck panel.

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