Standard Disclaimer: Blah, blah, blah, boring, boring, and more boring!
A/N: Don't know why I put this here.... No new reviews, so nyah to you too.
Icheb glanced, curious, at Frances; and her reaction attested to the veracity of Q's amazing pronouncement. She was biting her lips, cheeks pale, eyes reflecting some deep emotion, either grief or confusion, or both. Then, seemingly aware that people were looking at her, she brought her hand up to her face and started chewing at her nails. Icheb recalled that she had done that frequently in the period in which he had known her, it seemed to be a nervous habit.
"Is this true?" He asked her, quietly, though he already knew the answer. Q was looking on, smug; his dark eyes sparkling. Icheb couldn't understand why the omnipotent being would want to see Cadet Henry – Frances – so upset; perhaps it was just his race's delight in dischord.
Frances seemed flustered by his question. She dropped her eyes to the floor, then, softly, whispered "yes." Then, seemingly determined to defend herself, she looked up, earnest, and began to babble.
"It wasn't my fault, I didn't ask to be taken to the future. At least, not out loud. It was Amanda's fault, and anyway, it doesn't seem to have influenced the timeline at all..." She paused, at a loss, and looked down at her feet again. "I'm sorry" barely whispered.
"What was not your fault?" Icheb asked, with determined calm. Temporal violations were strictly regulated by the Temporal Prime Directive, and if he was going to have to make a report to the Department of Temporal Investigations, he wanted, at least, to have the full story.
Frances was torn. She knew, obviously, what Icheb was going to say. The Department of Temporal Investigations, if 'Trials and Tribulations' was to be trusted in these matters, was very strict. She was going to be sent back.
And while the idea would have been horrible a few weeks ago, even yesterday, she could no longer, in good conscience, ask to stay. This was her family! Her little sister, 'whose beauty illuminates the universe' (as Frances liked to call her), had started hanging out with Krystle again. Never a good thing, as Kathleen tended to be moody, and all around depressed after meeting with Krystle.
Their father's borderline personality disorder had apparently worsened in the following months, leaving Kathleen ever more angry and unhappy- which was how she always was when their father was angry- and Mom in a deep depression.
On the other hand, she really didn't want to leave Icheb. She had always known that Icheb was the best character- ever- on Star Trek. And now she knew that he was the only one for her. She had never met anyone who had successfully explained to her the complex mysteries of science- or, for that matter, anyone else who had read Livy's History of Rome enough times to quote it, word for word. Obviously, they were meant for each other.
So, slowly she began telling her story in full, starting with her early obsession with Star Trek, and ending with her arrival at the Academy, having memorized the answers to the entrance exam, as provided by Nog. Wonderful what a Ferengi would do for a few strips of gold-pressed latinum, even a Ferengi in Starfleet.
When she was done, she glanced over at Q2, and, pushed back a surge of annoyance, when she saw the look on of smug satisfaction on his features. The surge was suppressed for her almost immediately as the words she expected, and yet dreaded, left her love's lips.
"Well you'll have to go back." Her heart sank; she had been irrationally hoping that he would pretend he had never found out, would pretend that she was from the twenty-fourth century. Of course, he would never do that. The Temporal Prime Directive was very clear.
"Right." She said, looking at, but not seeing, her feet. Q2 took hold of her arm, and, instantly, she felt the ground beneath her grow soft, and saw grass begin to take solid form below her.
She looked up, and found that the big brown house beside the cemetery loomed far too solidly in front of her, and Icheb was gone. She was willing to bet she wouldn't see him, even if she did go back into the living room. She sighed, looked up the street, and, catching sight of Kathleen, running across street that intersected theirs, dashed after her.