The bald-headed, short bearded Frenchman stepped inside. The doors slid silently closed behind him. "Thank you," he answered graciously.
Bolerov motioned to his aged, leather couch. "Have a seat."
Picard chuckled and shook his head. "You're still carrying around these old things?" He stoked the back of the couch. Although it was in extremely good condition for its age, there were several noticable cracks and chips in the leather. "I remember when we tried to ram these things into your quarters on the Stargazer."
Bolerov chuckled at the memory. That, at least, was a memory worth remembering. "My quarters were slightly smaller then." He took a quick evaluation of his current quarters and determined it was roughly three times the size of his quarters on the Stargazer.
Picard sat down. At least the cushions were still soft. "We tried to transport the damn thing in three times before giving up. You kept insisting it would fit..."
Bolerov headed towards his bookshelf. "And I was right," he commented, pointing at Picard. "Would you like a drink?"
Picard craned his neck to look over the recliner. "If it's that Siberian vodka you're famous for acquiring, yes."
Bolerov pushed open a group of books that was actually the door of a small freezer. "Anything less would be considered mouthwash." He countered with a smile. Andrei pushed through a number of empty bottles until he found one that still had some of the liquor in it. Picard noted the number of empty bottles with a brief look of concern. He quickly grabbed a couple of glasses from the kitchenette and headed back to the living quarters, pouring as he walked.
Putting the bottle down and handing a glass to Jean Luc, he sat down with a grunt. Picard offered up his glass. "To the memories of sacrifices past and the hope of a better future for them."
"Here, here," the glasses klinked.
The vodka still burned as Picard remembered, causing him to take a quick, deep breath. Still somewhat relaxed from the drinking he had done earlier, the bite of the vodka barely affected Bolerov. "By the way," Andrei started, pointing in Picard's direction, "congratulations on your promotion. It was well deserved and long overdue." He raised his glass again.
Picard raised his glass as well. "And to your unretirement, Captain. It would seem Starfleet still has purpose for us both." They took another drink. Picard sat back in the overstuffed couch and looked around. "This is an impressive ship you helped build."
Bolerov shook his head. "I didn't build it. I was just part of the oversight committee. It IS impressive, though... much more than I ever imagined it would be. If we had only had this during the Dominion War..."
"Well, she's here now," Picard said optimistically, "and she's already made great strides in bringing about peace."
"I'd like to think so," Bolerov took another long drink.
Picard considered him thoughtfully. "Are you alright? You look tired."
The captain smiled wearily. "I'm fine. I guess I'm still adjusting to being back in the 'big chair'. Times have changed." He took another drink. "It would seem I didn't change with them."
Picard pointed absently at the table. "You know, I once felt the same way; shortly after I took command of the Enterprise. The bridge had carpeting on the floor; no metal deckplates. The deck rail was oak trimmed, for heaven's sake." He began to smile at the memories. "There were CHILDREN running around the ship. I had a counselor sitting next to me, second guessing my every intention. Then... as if to further mock me, I was presented with the teenage son of Jack Crusher."
Bolerov had to smile at the name 'Jack Crusher'. He hadn't thought of Jack in years. Andrei was at the party when Jack proposed to that red head... what was her name... Beverly. The memories came flooding back. He had no idea Jack had a son. "How did you cope?" He asked distantly.
"I got to know my crew." He answered simply. "Not just as shipmates, but as friends. Slowly, I changed... and I didn't mind at all."
Bolerov looked down, visibly saddened. "I just don't think I can do that again, Jean Luc. I don't think I have it in me any more."
Jean Luc took another drink. "I understand how difficult it is for you. We lost a lot of good people on the Stargazer as well..."
Bolerov interrupted, looking up. He looked almost desperate. "Not like that... not the way I lost my crew on the Vigilant..." He couldn't finish. The memories were starting to resurface again. He finished his drink with a hard gulp and forced them back.
Picard observed his old shipmate with compassion. He remembered reading the report... not because it was the only one; there were dozens of incident reports, but because his old friend's name was on the report. It truly must have been a horrible experience to go through. "I can't imagine what you must have felt." The two sat in silence for several moments. "Perhaps, once this mission is over, you'll be able to take some time to rest and reflect." He forced a smile. "I won't claim to be a councelor, Andrei, but I think getting to know your crew will help you heal your wounds. I've already had the pleasure of meeting many of them. They're good people, Andrei, and worth getting to know. Just give it some time."
Andrei's mind was still a jumble of memories of the distant and recent past. All he could do was look sorrowfully at the table in front of him. "We have some leave time coming after this mission," he said finally. "That should help."
"You should consider talking to a councelor. They can help." Picard offered. "I found my ship's councelor occasionally intrusive, presumptuous, and frustrating... and absolutely indispensable."
"We'll see."