Disclaimer: Same old, same old.
Just wanted to thank Single Red Rose from FanFiction.net, and those who have reviewed my story so far. Many thanks for your words, and I'm glad people are liking this, and not just going 'What kind of junk is this?!' I shall explain the reasons (and more back-story) T'Maeve calls Capt. Picard by his first name. Also, for those that are commenting on T'Maeve's grinning: she is very emotional thanks to her Betazoid blood. And unlike Spock, she lets her emotions show. Her logic in showing her feelings is that she may as well embrace them, as they are part of her. She'll talk about this more in future chapters. She can be very logical and very distant like Spock if need-be.
This chapter is to tie in the rest of the story, and hopefully lay out the main flow of the following chapters. After this, the action and drama shall start to appear. And most likely the budding romance. * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Chapter 3: Observations, Discoveries, and More Questions
T'Maeve sighed as thunder rumbled through her rather good-sized flat. No matter how many planets she visited, her blood ran with desert heat, and rain always made her feel a bit chilled. She loved the sound it made though, and it was a very nice pattering as she wrote away on the paper in front of her. She looked over the musical notes in front of her, her latest piece. Smiling, she moved to the top of the paper to give it a title. "Second Chances."
Sitting her quill down, she looked over the piece again, and then put it aside for the last of the ink to dry. Walking to the window, she sat in the bench that made up the windowsill. "I miss all of you, back on the Enterprise. But yet, I am happy here. Even with the wet and coolness of this environment," she murmured to herself. As the rain fell down the window, she let herself get lost in memories.
**Flashback**
T'Maeve looked up as Capt. Picard walked into her quarters right on time, as always. "Sir. You asked to come by and talk with me. Did your mind meld with Sarek go well?" She asked this as she moved to make Vulcan tea, and Picard took the seat she offered.
"Yes, it did go well. His conference will most likely be remembered as one of his best. I wish I could do more for him." Picard looked sad and very tired as he said this. T'Maeve came back to a chair in front of him and looked into his face.
"You cannot do anything more then what you have already done. Your meld with him has shown you just how much he means to me. He was a second father to Sendet, Michael, and myself even though Michael had no Vulcan blood in his veins. And the ties to Sarek that my brother Sendet and I have, is through our mother. But it didn't matter that he was not our blood father. And now, as I look at him, I also wish I could do more." Her eyes looked blacker then Picard remembered, reflected amber by the flame of her meditation candle and fire pit in her quarters. "You now carry some part of my other father in you, sir. And in that, he shall never truly die. In a way, you are now part of him as well."
Picard smiled, and looked at T'Maeve, not as her commanding officer but as Sarek looked at her. Her red hair, now black in the low light, caught the fire in it as it framed her face in thick curls. Her skin had an otherworldly pale glow about it, but her eyes had dark circles, denoting the lack of sleep caused by Sarek's illness being in the forefront of her mind. But what struck Picard was that he looked upon this woman, a good many years older then he, and saw her as the daughter he wish he had. But now did, for in him lay Sarek's emotions, the echo of the love for this woman the ambassador held for her.
"I agree with you, T'Maeve. I know I can be very,.. aloof towards fatherly feelings, but you are right. And you have been there for me in many ways. Is this familiarity the same between Spock and Kirk?"
T'Maeve nodded. "It was, yet different from us. Even with Jim gone now,..Spock still thinks about him, I would suspect. Just know that as my captain, I shall never cross lines you set in the sand. But you are a friend, and one of the best captains I have ever served with. And I see in your eyes my surrogate father's emotions reflected in them. And I know now that you truly understand what I have gone through in my life to make me who I am. You, of anyone else on this ship, know this information the best. And you will most likely be the only one who will."
Nodding, Picard sipped his tea. After a time, he looked at her again. "If you ever need someone to talk to, you know how to find me."
T'Maeve grinned. "Does this now mean I can call you Jean-Luc?" Picard laughed, and nodded. "Yes, you may."
A glint of mischief flashed through T'Maeve's eyes, and she gave Picard a look. "Just know, I'm still giving Bev a chance to work her way into your heart. And don't give me that look, Jean-Luc! I have seen the looks you give her. I say go for it, but I do understand your views of that sort of thing."
Picard tried to look angry, but looked a bit amused instead. "Your former commander was accurate when he reported you had a 'sharp tongue,' and never had a problem in speaking your mind."
"Well, why lie to please others, when you can say the truth, in a tactful way, and feel no guilt in deceiving the other person. I have been lied to so much; I cannot bear to do the same. It's just not in me. Oh, I will lie if need-be. That old adage that Vulcan's do not lie is a misnomer. But if given a choice, we would rather tell the truth and be done with it." She sat back in her chair, and raised her eyebrow, waiting for his comment.
Picard said nothing, but he did return the eyebrow. T'Maeve almost fell over laughing.
"Jean-Luc!! I never knew you had that type of a sense of humor! Don't let Will know, or he will get you to perform in the talent contest he's planning in the next eight days." Picard gave an odd look, and placed his cup down. "I shall not let that happen for as long as I can. I have my hobbies, and I enjoy them alone. With the exception of Dixon Hill. Will can find someone else to do stand-up comedy."
"I agree with that. More tea?" And that is how the rest of the evening went; T'Maeve and Picard talking about their lives, childhoods, and anything else that came up. And when the next morning came, and Sarek stood in the transporter room with his wife Perrin, Picard watched on quietly as T'Maeve and Sarek embraced and then just looked at each other. Sarek looked ready to cry, and T'Maeve was already crying, but besides that she was the image of logic.
And as Sarek and Perrin disappeared in the transporter beam and the room was empty, Picard placed his hand on T'Maeve's back as she cried.
**End Flashback**
T'Maeve smiled, as she recalled how that beginning of friendship with the captain grew into the father/daughter relationship they now had, strengthened due to Picard's assimilation by the Borg only a few months later. T'Maeve never left Picard's side as he recovered. Neither did Beverly Crusher, for that matter. Yet, even the chief medical officer of the ship needed sleep. So while Beverly wasn't there, T'Maeve was. Standing by the side of her captain, and friend.
Any other musings were interrupted by a knock on the door. Quickly making sure her ears were hidden, and all 24th century items were secured and tucked away, she walked to the door and called out. "Who is it?"
"It's me, Meg! Can I come in?" T'Maeve smiled, and unlocked the door, letting little Meg Giry enter, closing the door behind the young girl.
"What a nice surprise! What brings you to my home, Meg?" T'Maeve asked as she moved into the kitchen to make tea.
"Well, I just wanted to see how you were doing. You looked a bit distracted today at rehearsal, and also to see if you had heard!"
"Heard about what, Meg?" T'Maeve walked over to Meg, handing her hot tea, and sitting down across from where Meg sat on the other couch in the sitting room of the flat.
"The Opera Ghost! He was seen today, just before you left! It looked like he was going towards your dressing room, and I had hoped he hadn't done anything to you."
T'Maeve smiled. "I was hearing a lot of commotion, but thought nothing of it. I really thought Carlotta was just making a scene again, about her greatness or some other thing like that." She made a face, and Meg nodded quickly.
"I agree with you, Maeve. She truly thinks that she is the greatest singer in the world, and we should all agree with her." Noticing the niceness of the flat, Meg looked at T'Maeve with a bit of confusion. "Maeve, if you do not feel offended by my asking, why are you dancing? You live nicely. You seem to have means. Why work at the Opera when you could be living in the country somewhere?"
T'Maeve grinned, and sipped her tea before replying. "Well, you have a point. But I was never one for fitting in. My father, before he passed away, told me I could be and do whatever I wanted when I set my mind to it. '"The heck with convention,"' he used to say. And I followed him. My mother sometimes thinks that what I'm doing is a bit too public, and maybe I ought to behave like the true proper lady. But she knows I cannot do that. That would not be me. I have all the manners, and yet I am a free spirit. So she lets me continue, for in doing what I want I am a full person. She has supported me from the first day I asked to learn to dance, and sing. Then I learned to play violin, and realized I have an ability to write music, though I never really learned how. It just came naturally."
Meg's eyes widened. "Really? Will you play for me tomorrow after practice?" T'Maeve nodded, and the two discussed which songs T'Maeve would play, while Meg worked on some of her dance moves. Meg couldn't stay long, and T'Maeve showed her out, as she had to hurry home before her mother grew worried.
After Meg left, T'Maeve settled into her favorite spot on the couch, and continued with her personal log entry for the day. * * * * * * * * *
The next day was frantic, with dancers and managers alike looking around as if they would catch sight of the Opera Ghost. T'Maeve almost laughed, knowing full well if Erik wanted to be seen, he would be seen in his own way. Mme. Giry was banging her stick trying to calm the girls down, and Carlotta went on and on about how all of this commotion was causing her to lose her concentration. All in all, a typical day.
Afterwards, Meg showed up at T'Maeve's dressing room, and sat down on a chair. T'Maeve took out her violin and began to play, the music filling the room. As T'Maeve played, Meg went through her dance moves, with T'Maeve calling out suggestions at a few points. Meg did not know (but T'Maeve did suspect) that they had an audience behind the mirror. T'Maeve knew her music would get Erik's attention eventually.
And in fact, Erik was watching. He had spent the morning working on the piece of music that sprung up in his mind the first time he had heard T'Maeve sing. He was on his way to give Christine one of her 'lessons,' but the music he heard from T'Maeve's room stopped him dead in his tracks.
**Such near flawless music! Not even the players of the orchestra can play this well.** Erik watched for a time, until Meg left for the evening, and T'Maeve put her violin away. She looked in the mirror, and Erik had the odd feeling she looked right through him. But it passed as she readied to return to her home. As quietly as he could, he moved away from the mirror, and down towards Christine's room, new ideas for his music popping up, in response to T'Maeve's violin. * * * * * * * *
As usual, the following day was like the ones before, but this time, the air was thick with nervousness. The Opera Ghost had been seen around the props that morning by stagehands, and the ballet girls were in an uproar. T'Maeve watched the going-ons and acted as nervous as she could, while trying not to laugh or sit the girls down and tell them there really was no ghost. But she doubted they would listen to her anyway.
She wasn't bothered by the displays from the dancers. But knowing what she knew, it was hard not to want to educate these young ones. That and the screams some made during the day as one story was told after another, hurt T'Maeve's sensitive hearing.
She did hope for a sighting of her own. She could sense Erik moving to and from his home under the Opera. He was very preoccupied about something, but T'Maeve did not wish to dig further, knowing Erik might sense her if she did. But he was 'wired for sound,' as it were.
Suddenly, Jammes and Meg let out screams and pointed. T'Maeve, standing by them winced, but followed their pointed fingers. There in Box 5 was Erik. A slight smile was seen under the white mask, and then he was gone. Meg then ran over to T'Maeve and latched onto her. The force of the girl hugging T'Maeve nearly sent both girls falling to the floor.
"Ok, Meg, it's alright. You can stop trying to break my ribs," T'Maeve said lightly, trying to make Meg laugh a bit. The force of Meg's emotions left T'Maeve's mental senses a bit raw. Humor always made that feeling go away.
It didn't work. "Oh Maeve! Did you see, did you see?!" Meg was white, and shaking like a leaf.
"Oui, oui, I saw. But he didn't do anything. Just calm down. Look, here comes your mother. It's time to practice again." T'Maeve moved back to her spot, and Meg followed, copying T'Maeve's example of bravery.
As Mme. Giry pounded her stick and the dancers started to move again, T'Maeve could not help but feel that it was time, or close to it, when she would have to track Erik down, and see what happened. If he didn't track her down first.
**And that is a very distinct possibility,** she thought. For as Meg's emotions hit her full force, T'Maeve did catch one thought from Erik before he billowed away, Phantom-style:
**"I must find out all I can about that girl."** And T'Maeve knew he was talking about her. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Again, many thanks to those that have reviewed, and to my boyfriend, my helpful editor. If any of you have ideas or would like to help me beta read each chapter before it is posted, drop me an e-mail, and we'll see what can be arranged. I am a full-time student, and help is wonderful.
The action and drama heats up in Chapter 4- - Opening Night and Dressing Room Encounters
Just wanted to thank Single Red Rose from FanFiction.net, and those who have reviewed my story so far. Many thanks for your words, and I'm glad people are liking this, and not just going 'What kind of junk is this?!' I shall explain the reasons (and more back-story) T'Maeve calls Capt. Picard by his first name. Also, for those that are commenting on T'Maeve's grinning: she is very emotional thanks to her Betazoid blood. And unlike Spock, she lets her emotions show. Her logic in showing her feelings is that she may as well embrace them, as they are part of her. She'll talk about this more in future chapters. She can be very logical and very distant like Spock if need-be.
This chapter is to tie in the rest of the story, and hopefully lay out the main flow of the following chapters. After this, the action and drama shall start to appear. And most likely the budding romance. * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Chapter 3: Observations, Discoveries, and More Questions
T'Maeve sighed as thunder rumbled through her rather good-sized flat. No matter how many planets she visited, her blood ran with desert heat, and rain always made her feel a bit chilled. She loved the sound it made though, and it was a very nice pattering as she wrote away on the paper in front of her. She looked over the musical notes in front of her, her latest piece. Smiling, she moved to the top of the paper to give it a title. "Second Chances."
Sitting her quill down, she looked over the piece again, and then put it aside for the last of the ink to dry. Walking to the window, she sat in the bench that made up the windowsill. "I miss all of you, back on the Enterprise. But yet, I am happy here. Even with the wet and coolness of this environment," she murmured to herself. As the rain fell down the window, she let herself get lost in memories.
**Flashback**
T'Maeve looked up as Capt. Picard walked into her quarters right on time, as always. "Sir. You asked to come by and talk with me. Did your mind meld with Sarek go well?" She asked this as she moved to make Vulcan tea, and Picard took the seat she offered.
"Yes, it did go well. His conference will most likely be remembered as one of his best. I wish I could do more for him." Picard looked sad and very tired as he said this. T'Maeve came back to a chair in front of him and looked into his face.
"You cannot do anything more then what you have already done. Your meld with him has shown you just how much he means to me. He was a second father to Sendet, Michael, and myself even though Michael had no Vulcan blood in his veins. And the ties to Sarek that my brother Sendet and I have, is through our mother. But it didn't matter that he was not our blood father. And now, as I look at him, I also wish I could do more." Her eyes looked blacker then Picard remembered, reflected amber by the flame of her meditation candle and fire pit in her quarters. "You now carry some part of my other father in you, sir. And in that, he shall never truly die. In a way, you are now part of him as well."
Picard smiled, and looked at T'Maeve, not as her commanding officer but as Sarek looked at her. Her red hair, now black in the low light, caught the fire in it as it framed her face in thick curls. Her skin had an otherworldly pale glow about it, but her eyes had dark circles, denoting the lack of sleep caused by Sarek's illness being in the forefront of her mind. But what struck Picard was that he looked upon this woman, a good many years older then he, and saw her as the daughter he wish he had. But now did, for in him lay Sarek's emotions, the echo of the love for this woman the ambassador held for her.
"I agree with you, T'Maeve. I know I can be very,.. aloof towards fatherly feelings, but you are right. And you have been there for me in many ways. Is this familiarity the same between Spock and Kirk?"
T'Maeve nodded. "It was, yet different from us. Even with Jim gone now,..Spock still thinks about him, I would suspect. Just know that as my captain, I shall never cross lines you set in the sand. But you are a friend, and one of the best captains I have ever served with. And I see in your eyes my surrogate father's emotions reflected in them. And I know now that you truly understand what I have gone through in my life to make me who I am. You, of anyone else on this ship, know this information the best. And you will most likely be the only one who will."
Nodding, Picard sipped his tea. After a time, he looked at her again. "If you ever need someone to talk to, you know how to find me."
T'Maeve grinned. "Does this now mean I can call you Jean-Luc?" Picard laughed, and nodded. "Yes, you may."
A glint of mischief flashed through T'Maeve's eyes, and she gave Picard a look. "Just know, I'm still giving Bev a chance to work her way into your heart. And don't give me that look, Jean-Luc! I have seen the looks you give her. I say go for it, but I do understand your views of that sort of thing."
Picard tried to look angry, but looked a bit amused instead. "Your former commander was accurate when he reported you had a 'sharp tongue,' and never had a problem in speaking your mind."
"Well, why lie to please others, when you can say the truth, in a tactful way, and feel no guilt in deceiving the other person. I have been lied to so much; I cannot bear to do the same. It's just not in me. Oh, I will lie if need-be. That old adage that Vulcan's do not lie is a misnomer. But if given a choice, we would rather tell the truth and be done with it." She sat back in her chair, and raised her eyebrow, waiting for his comment.
Picard said nothing, but he did return the eyebrow. T'Maeve almost fell over laughing.
"Jean-Luc!! I never knew you had that type of a sense of humor! Don't let Will know, or he will get you to perform in the talent contest he's planning in the next eight days." Picard gave an odd look, and placed his cup down. "I shall not let that happen for as long as I can. I have my hobbies, and I enjoy them alone. With the exception of Dixon Hill. Will can find someone else to do stand-up comedy."
"I agree with that. More tea?" And that is how the rest of the evening went; T'Maeve and Picard talking about their lives, childhoods, and anything else that came up. And when the next morning came, and Sarek stood in the transporter room with his wife Perrin, Picard watched on quietly as T'Maeve and Sarek embraced and then just looked at each other. Sarek looked ready to cry, and T'Maeve was already crying, but besides that she was the image of logic.
And as Sarek and Perrin disappeared in the transporter beam and the room was empty, Picard placed his hand on T'Maeve's back as she cried.
**End Flashback**
T'Maeve smiled, as she recalled how that beginning of friendship with the captain grew into the father/daughter relationship they now had, strengthened due to Picard's assimilation by the Borg only a few months later. T'Maeve never left Picard's side as he recovered. Neither did Beverly Crusher, for that matter. Yet, even the chief medical officer of the ship needed sleep. So while Beverly wasn't there, T'Maeve was. Standing by the side of her captain, and friend.
Any other musings were interrupted by a knock on the door. Quickly making sure her ears were hidden, and all 24th century items were secured and tucked away, she walked to the door and called out. "Who is it?"
"It's me, Meg! Can I come in?" T'Maeve smiled, and unlocked the door, letting little Meg Giry enter, closing the door behind the young girl.
"What a nice surprise! What brings you to my home, Meg?" T'Maeve asked as she moved into the kitchen to make tea.
"Well, I just wanted to see how you were doing. You looked a bit distracted today at rehearsal, and also to see if you had heard!"
"Heard about what, Meg?" T'Maeve walked over to Meg, handing her hot tea, and sitting down across from where Meg sat on the other couch in the sitting room of the flat.
"The Opera Ghost! He was seen today, just before you left! It looked like he was going towards your dressing room, and I had hoped he hadn't done anything to you."
T'Maeve smiled. "I was hearing a lot of commotion, but thought nothing of it. I really thought Carlotta was just making a scene again, about her greatness or some other thing like that." She made a face, and Meg nodded quickly.
"I agree with you, Maeve. She truly thinks that she is the greatest singer in the world, and we should all agree with her." Noticing the niceness of the flat, Meg looked at T'Maeve with a bit of confusion. "Maeve, if you do not feel offended by my asking, why are you dancing? You live nicely. You seem to have means. Why work at the Opera when you could be living in the country somewhere?"
T'Maeve grinned, and sipped her tea before replying. "Well, you have a point. But I was never one for fitting in. My father, before he passed away, told me I could be and do whatever I wanted when I set my mind to it. '"The heck with convention,"' he used to say. And I followed him. My mother sometimes thinks that what I'm doing is a bit too public, and maybe I ought to behave like the true proper lady. But she knows I cannot do that. That would not be me. I have all the manners, and yet I am a free spirit. So she lets me continue, for in doing what I want I am a full person. She has supported me from the first day I asked to learn to dance, and sing. Then I learned to play violin, and realized I have an ability to write music, though I never really learned how. It just came naturally."
Meg's eyes widened. "Really? Will you play for me tomorrow after practice?" T'Maeve nodded, and the two discussed which songs T'Maeve would play, while Meg worked on some of her dance moves. Meg couldn't stay long, and T'Maeve showed her out, as she had to hurry home before her mother grew worried.
After Meg left, T'Maeve settled into her favorite spot on the couch, and continued with her personal log entry for the day. * * * * * * * * *
The next day was frantic, with dancers and managers alike looking around as if they would catch sight of the Opera Ghost. T'Maeve almost laughed, knowing full well if Erik wanted to be seen, he would be seen in his own way. Mme. Giry was banging her stick trying to calm the girls down, and Carlotta went on and on about how all of this commotion was causing her to lose her concentration. All in all, a typical day.
Afterwards, Meg showed up at T'Maeve's dressing room, and sat down on a chair. T'Maeve took out her violin and began to play, the music filling the room. As T'Maeve played, Meg went through her dance moves, with T'Maeve calling out suggestions at a few points. Meg did not know (but T'Maeve did suspect) that they had an audience behind the mirror. T'Maeve knew her music would get Erik's attention eventually.
And in fact, Erik was watching. He had spent the morning working on the piece of music that sprung up in his mind the first time he had heard T'Maeve sing. He was on his way to give Christine one of her 'lessons,' but the music he heard from T'Maeve's room stopped him dead in his tracks.
**Such near flawless music! Not even the players of the orchestra can play this well.** Erik watched for a time, until Meg left for the evening, and T'Maeve put her violin away. She looked in the mirror, and Erik had the odd feeling she looked right through him. But it passed as she readied to return to her home. As quietly as he could, he moved away from the mirror, and down towards Christine's room, new ideas for his music popping up, in response to T'Maeve's violin. * * * * * * * *
As usual, the following day was like the ones before, but this time, the air was thick with nervousness. The Opera Ghost had been seen around the props that morning by stagehands, and the ballet girls were in an uproar. T'Maeve watched the going-ons and acted as nervous as she could, while trying not to laugh or sit the girls down and tell them there really was no ghost. But she doubted they would listen to her anyway.
She wasn't bothered by the displays from the dancers. But knowing what she knew, it was hard not to want to educate these young ones. That and the screams some made during the day as one story was told after another, hurt T'Maeve's sensitive hearing.
She did hope for a sighting of her own. She could sense Erik moving to and from his home under the Opera. He was very preoccupied about something, but T'Maeve did not wish to dig further, knowing Erik might sense her if she did. But he was 'wired for sound,' as it were.
Suddenly, Jammes and Meg let out screams and pointed. T'Maeve, standing by them winced, but followed their pointed fingers. There in Box 5 was Erik. A slight smile was seen under the white mask, and then he was gone. Meg then ran over to T'Maeve and latched onto her. The force of the girl hugging T'Maeve nearly sent both girls falling to the floor.
"Ok, Meg, it's alright. You can stop trying to break my ribs," T'Maeve said lightly, trying to make Meg laugh a bit. The force of Meg's emotions left T'Maeve's mental senses a bit raw. Humor always made that feeling go away.
It didn't work. "Oh Maeve! Did you see, did you see?!" Meg was white, and shaking like a leaf.
"Oui, oui, I saw. But he didn't do anything. Just calm down. Look, here comes your mother. It's time to practice again." T'Maeve moved back to her spot, and Meg followed, copying T'Maeve's example of bravery.
As Mme. Giry pounded her stick and the dancers started to move again, T'Maeve could not help but feel that it was time, or close to it, when she would have to track Erik down, and see what happened. If he didn't track her down first.
**And that is a very distinct possibility,** she thought. For as Meg's emotions hit her full force, T'Maeve did catch one thought from Erik before he billowed away, Phantom-style:
**"I must find out all I can about that girl."** And T'Maeve knew he was talking about her. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Again, many thanks to those that have reviewed, and to my boyfriend, my helpful editor. If any of you have ideas or would like to help me beta read each chapter before it is posted, drop me an e-mail, and we'll see what can be arranged. I am a full-time student, and help is wonderful.
The action and drama heats up in Chapter 4- - Opening Night and Dressing Room Encounters