Author's Note: Ending the chapter 40 words later would be cheating. Pacing is the key. Nice and frenetic.
Snow Falling Softly XIV
Content. That's how Beverly Crusher felt as she stepped out of her grandmother's bedroom--ready to face whatever difficulties her children would bring. She and Jean-Luc had managed to work things out between themselves and rather nicely at that. A small smile tugging at her lips, she started down the hall, only to be nearly bowled over by a five year old running headlong down the same hall.
Gracie threw her arms around her legs, making it impossible for Beverly to move forward or backward. "Papa left," she said. The contentment that had suffused her moments ago rushed out, leaving nothing in its wake, waiting for more information from Gracie.
Beverly knelt to Gracie's level, holding her by the shoulders as the girl gripped her arms tightly. "What happened?" she asked.
The little girl's jaw worked, attempting to stem any more hurt from reaching her voice, certainly her father's daughter. "He got a call from the ship and they said he had a message from some admiral and he had to go take it. He said he was leaving."
"He'll come back," Beverly said. Yet even as she assured her daughter that her father would return, the doctor didn't feel as certain as she sounded. However, she'd learned a lesson of command from the captain when they were stuck on Kesprytt. Even when a captain has no idea of where to go next, he must give his crew the illusion of confidence. And she would give that to Gracie right now, her relationship with her father strong and fragile at the same time.
"Are you sure?" Gracie asked.
"I'm sure," Beverly replied.
The little girl nodded slowly, then headed back downstairs. Conal got up from his post between the two bedrooms. He shook himself, looking at Beverly. "Did you stay there all night?" she asked the dog. There hadn't been any shouting during the night, and if everyone was still alive, she assumed he must have. Conal snuffed, wagged his tail, then went down the stairs. Beverly hoped he could distract her youngest.
A voice from behind her said, "I don't think you're as sure about him coming back as you sounded."
Beverly stood up and turned to see Allie. "Losing faith in your father that quickly?" she asked with a hint of teasing.
"No," said Allie. "I have faith in Starfleet's ability to keep him away from here an awful lot. You didn't get around here much." She moved towards the stairs, falling into step with Beverly as they made their way down to the first floor.
"Starfleet wasn't the only thing that kept me away," she said, wondering if Allie held a grudge against Starfleet, if how Allie felt was part of what made Andrew keep his dreams secret. "I kept myself away."
"Why?" Allie asked.
Beverly stopped their walk in the front room, not wanting Gracie to hear things she wouldn't be ready for, or could take the wrong way. The doctor studied Allie's face, seeing the open curiosity. "So you wouldn't figure it out. So that others wouldn't notice." She frowned. "So I wouldn't become too attached."
"Didn't work, did it?" Allie said, the smile making her lips twitch at the edges.
"No, it didn't. I ended up attached to all of you and it hurt enough when I left you once or twice a year that I couldn't deal with having to leave you more often. I would have taken you with me, and that wasn't something that could happen, so I stayed away."
"I understand," Allie said. "Do you think he'll come back?" Apparently her children had as much difficulty with intense emotion as she did and would change the subject accordingly.
"Yes. I just don't know when. He doesn't owe me any details, I'm not in Starfleet anymore. Actually, I don't even think he'd be able to tell me since I'm not an officer. I don't know. He will come back." He will come back.
"You shouldn't have resigned," Allie said evenly.
"I know," said Beverly. Then she put her arm around Allie's shoulders and they made their way into the kitchen. It wasn't anything she wanted to discuss further. Her decision had managed to work--even after Jean-Luc had found out about the children--in keeping them away from one another. Contentment slipped even farther away. Gracie had gained back her usual cheer and worked away at replicating a breakfast as Conal watched her.
Wesley walked into the kitchen, dark circles under his eyes indicating that he hadn't slept well, if at all. "Morning," he said.
Gracie studied him, as if trying to decide whether or not her oldest brother would bite if spoken to. "Do you want coffee?" she asked.
The cadet laid his head on the table. "Please."
She smiled at him. "Nana always needed coffee when she looked like you do."
Beverly caught the glimpse of a smile from her son. The night seemed to have taken some of the edge off of him. She gave Allie a questioning look but she just shrugged and immersed herself back into her own breakfast. The doctor sighed. Only Conal would have any idea of who talked to whom during the night. She wished Jean-Luc were there to help.
But he'd been called away by Starfleet. She had chosen to leave that life and had to live with her decision and figure out how to make it work. It wasn't as if she had any right to him, she wasn't even married to him. Though she was the mother of his children. Watching Gracie make peace with her oldest brother with a mere cup of coffee brought back some contentment. The little girl could grow up to become a brilliant diplomat with the effect she had on people. But she was only five, who knew what path she would choose, if she would choose medicine, Starfleet, or blaze a path all her own. Then there was Allie, well on her way to becoming the veterinarian she knew she wanted to be. She would be applying to schools in the next year or two, Nana had written her about that. Allie had her hopes on an Earth school, though not one in particular as of yet.
The doctor looked over as she heard more footsteps enter the kitchen. Andrew had come down, looking more rested than Wesley. Beverly hid a frown. Andrew might look more rested, his face completely neutral, fully composed, but she knew something was wrong. His face was too neutral, too composed. He said nothing as he sat down, only nodding towards the others. She couldn't even read his eyes, see what was behind them, though she'd become a master at reading the gray eyes of his father. The father who exhibited the same mannerisms when he was upset and not wanting to deal with it. Perhaps Jean-Luc would have to speak with him, if he came back anytime soon. If he didn't, she would have to muddle through it, trying to reach him.
At first, Andrew didn't make eye contact with Wesley. The coffee had done it's work and Wesley was sitting up, now mostly awake. "Good morning," Wesley said to Andrew.
Andrew looked up at him, said nothing, and went back to looking at his breakfast.
"I said good morning," Wesley said.
Andrew ignored him.
Wesley threw a piece of cereal at him, bouncing it off Andrew's head.
Andrew stood, nearly knocking his chair over in the process. Wesley matched his action and they glared at one another across the table, the air between them filled with a strung tension, waiting for the snap of a fight.
"Cut it out," Allie said, remaining in her seat, her eyes not even glancing toward her brothers.
Both boys glared at Allie. For a moment, Beverly thought they would ignore their sister. Then Wesley gave a small sigh and returned to his seat. Andrew gave Wesley an odd look at his reaction, gave his sister an equally odd look, and sat down with a shrug. The doctor began to suspect that they had talked amongst themselves last night, maybe not all of them, but at least Allie and Wesley.
"So what's going to happen?" Gracie asked, putting her dirty dishes into the reclamator. "Are we going to live here or will we go up to the starship?"
"I resigned," Beverly said. "We're going to live here."
Gracie frowned.
"You wanted to go on the starship, didn't you?" Wesley asked, the malice of the day before completely absent from his tone, replaced by affection.
She nodded. "Yeah. We could see so much, all those stars. And the ship goes everywhere, and finds more stars, and nebulas, and planets. So many things to see! Plus whatever life is out there, you know, people we've never met before. I mean, people that the Federation doesn't know about yet." Her eyes lit up at the very thought.
"It isn't all it's cracked up to be," Wesley said.
Beverly turned towards him, trying to figure out if he was trying to hurt his sister.
As he continued, she realized he wasn't. "Some of the time, you wish you were somewhere else. You miss the changing seasons, you miss seeing people, you miss staying in one place. At first it's this huge adventure, then you start to think maybe your adventure is somewhere else and you flew right past it at warp seven."
It occurred to the doctor that Wesley might be speaking about himself, about having doubts of where he was going with his life. That his current moodiness might not be just about his family, but about his life in its entirety.
"I still want to go," Gracie said. "I'd never get tired of it. Andrew wouldn't either." She looked expectantly at her other brother.
Andrew said nothing, instead returning his dishes to the reclamator. His reaction to his younger sister disturbed Beverly more than his neutral facial expression. Andrew had always been protective of Gracie, gentle with her, telling her stories, playing with her. And Gracie worshipped her older brother. He was her hero. Felisa had told Andrew how his little sister felt about him and since then he had always been careful not to hurt her feelings. But now, the thought didn't seem to occur to him, that his behavior would hurt Gracie.
Gracie looked back at Wesley. "I don't think he would, anyway," she said.
"I think your brother has a lot on his mind," Beverly said, casting a significant glance to Andrew, being sure to catch his eyes.
They were hard when he looked back at her. The doctor realized he was angry, moreover, he was angry at her. Most likely, he felt he couldn't confront her about it, and hid everything, letting it out only when Wesley could provoke him. It felt as if the chasm that had kept her and Jean-Luc apart had been moved, not destroyed, when they managed to come together. The chasm had moved to stand between her and their son, one who had only days before been kind, open, loving.
Her thoughts and attention were interrupted by the sound of a transporter beam in the living room. Gracie ran from the kitchen. "Papa!"
Beverly frowned. How could he be back so soon?
Allie shook her head. "She took to him awfully fast," she said.
"He's like that," replied Wes, entirely nonchalant.
Gracie came running back into the kitchen, barely sliding to a stop before hitting the counter. She looked at Beverly. "He said he needs to talk to you," she said. "Alone."
Beverly ignored the raised eyebrow Allie gave her, informed her sons not to kill each other while she was gone, and went to the front room. There Jean-Luc stood, back in uniform, ever the captain. "I thought you'd left me," she said, teasing.
"I could never do such a thing," he replied, then motioned towards the office. "We should speak behind closed doors."
Bewildered, she followed him into the other room, shutting the door behind her. "What's going on?" she asked. "Gracie told me that you had gotten a call from the ship earlier and were leaving."
He nodded, leaning against the desk. "I did." With that, he started pacing the room.
Beverly watched him, trying to figure out what was wrong. Something had to be wrong, he only tended to pace when some sort of difficult decision had to be made. She decided to wait him out and settled into a chair, trying not to look amused. Meanwhile, the contentment had continued to creep back at seeing him there.
He finally stopped, this time his back to the window, leaning on the windowsill. "Admiral Necheyev has ordered the Enterprise to rendezvous with her vessel so that she can deliver orders for the next mission in person."
Beverly raised her eyebrow. In person orders tended to be quite significant. "And?" she asked.
He let out a deep breath. "And I have a problem."
"Only one?"
Then he gave her that look, his brow creasing, his gray eyes annoyed with her for teasing while he was trying to be serious.
Her hand hid her smile. "Sorry," she said.
"You aren't making this any easier," he said, the look still on his face.
"Considering I don't know what 'this' is, I don't see how I could cause it to be easy or difficult," she replied. Her curiosity was certainly piqued. She also felt nervousness behind that curiosity, causing her to tease rather than be serious.
He crossed his arms. "Simply, I do not have a Chief Medical Officer."
In return, she crossed her arms. "Dr. Selar is a capable physician."
"She isn't you."
She sighed. Got up and placed herself on the edge of the desk, right across from him and the window. "Jean-Luc, I resigned," she said.
"Did you really want to?" he asked. "Did you really want to leave Starfleet? Or were you trying to escape from me?" His eyes held hers, intense.
"I was trying to escape from you."
"So you would have no qualms about returning now?" he asked.
She glanced in the direction of the kitchen. "No, I have three qualms."
Frowning, he moved from his spot in front of the window, over to her. "I meant what I said, Beverly. I couldn't just leave you. Or them." He shook his head, slowly, as if he were still getting used to the idea, which he most likely was. "You're my family, and I can't stand the notion of leaving you all behind on this colony, not when I captain a perfectly good Galaxy class starship meant for families." Picard went back to pacing. "There's no way I could ask you to marry me and come back aboard the Enterprise by rights of being my wife. You're a doctor, it's who you are, and when you're on the Enterprise, you're the Chief Medical Officer. Nothing less." The pacing stopped. "And it seems that in my haste to prevent you from leaving the ship and leaving Starfleet, I hadn't entered your transmission into the ship's log as read. If you were so inclined, you could delete that transmission and we could pretend you never tried to resign at all." When he'd finished, he was leaning against the windowsill again, his head had dropped to study his feet intensely, unable to look at her.
Smiling, she got up and walked over to him. He raised his eyes as she walked, searching her face. She replied by kissing him fully. "I love you," she said.
Her statement caused him to study her more. "That's the first time you've told me that," he said.
Furrowing her brow she said, "Is it? I thought I must have said it at least once before, most likely last ni--."
He cut her off with a kiss of his own. "And I you," he said. "About that transmission?"
"Never happened," she said, the contentment rushing back as quickly as it had left her that morning, when Gracie had said her papa had left. "How long before the ship has to leave?"
"About ten more hours," he said.
She frowned. "That's not enough time to manage the quarters situation. My quarters don't have enough room for three more people. There's empty quarters next door, I know Geordi's people can adjust the modulars and rearrange mine, but they wouldn't be ready for--."
"Five more hours," Picard finished for her.
She crossed her arms. "Bit presumptuous, don't you think?"
He smiled, that half-smile he gave when caught by her in his confidence act. Then he turned to more serious matters. "We need to tell the children. We haven't long to get this house secure, and there are the horses to think of, and packing to do."
Beverly nodded. They found Allie and Gracie in the library, searching through the shelves of books. Gracie held her face up close to the a row of books, slowly reading each title along each spine. Allie had found a ladder and was reading the titles on the upper shelves. "I can't find it," Allie said.
"Look harder," said Gracie. "I know it's here. Andrew told me the story."
"Why don't you just ask Andrew where it is?" Allie sounded fairly exasperated.
"Because he's being a jerk and I don't want to," Gracie replied. She reached for one book and slid it out. "I think I found it." She opened the book and frowned. "I can't read it. Come look."
Allie nimbly got down from the ladder and headed towards her younger sister, acknowledging her parents with a nod. Beverly caught the idea that Allie wanted them to hear what Gracie had to say to her, in case it told them more about Andrew. "You can read perfectly well," Allie said as she got closer to her sister.
"I don't think this is Standard," Gracie said, handing her the book.
Allie studied the book, paging from where Gracie had opened it to the front page. "That's because it isn't in Standard. It's in French." And she handed the book back to the younger girl.
"I don't know French," she said, frowning more. "Andrew does. And I'm not talking to him until he's nice again."
"You could stop being stubborn," Allie said.
"It would be easier to stop breathing," came Gracie's reply.
Allie laughed. "There might be another solution," she said, then looked over to where Beverly and Jean-Luc stood. Her gaze caught the captain's. The doctor saw a glint of mischief in her daughter's eyes when she spoke. "Dad, you speak French, don't you?"
Picard's eyes widened slightly, caught off-guard by Allie choosing to address him as Dad. He regained his mental footing quickly and replied, "I do. What are you looking for?"
"That story about Lancelot and the lady Gwenivere. Allie found Mallory's version, but that's one Andrew says is crap, and not the one he told me. The good version is by someone named Chret..." She trailed off, trying to figure out how to say the name.
"Chretien de Troyes," Picard said for her, with the correct pronunciation.
The little girl brought the book over, handed it to Picard, and watched him expectantly.
With a look at both Allie and Beverly for getting him into this mess, he browsed through the book. "Are you looking for Lancelot, le Chevalier de la Charrette?" he asked.
"Lancelot, yes," she said. "But I don't know what the last part means."
"It means 'The Knight of the Cart.' Your brother is certainly well read," Picard said, handing the book back to her. "And I can tell you the story if you'd like."
Gracie rewarded him with a smile. "When?"
"I don't know yet," he said.
Gracie turned to Beverly. "I really thought Starfleet captains would know more," she said.
The doctor knelt to her level, trying not to laugh at Jean-Luc's expense. "Would you like him to tell you the story tonight?" she asked.
"Yes." The girl looked suspiciously over at her father. "But I thought he was leaving."
Beverly took her hands. "What would you think if we went with him?"
"Are we really?" she asked, very seriously looking back and forth between her parents.
"We're leaving in five hours," Beverly said.
Gracie squealed and threw her arms around the doctor's neck. Then she let go of her mother and wrapped her arms around Picard's legs. She only stayed for a moment and went to her sister, grabbing her hand. "Come on," she said. "We need to go pack."
Beverly straightened up and looked at Allie. "I know we have your approval."
Allie grinned, picked up her little sister and held her upside down over her shoulder. "I knew you wouldn't really resign. I already have someone set up to take care of the horses." And she swept out of the room, Gracie pleading to be let go.
"Two down," Beverly said. "And now the two who are having a harder time of it." Knowing Andrew was angry with her, and not knowing if he felt the same about Jean-Luc, she figured he should be the one to tell Andrew. She said so.
"And Wesley?" he asked.
"I'll tell him. Then I need to arrange a groundskeeper while there's no one here. I think your talk with Andrew will take longer than mine with Wes."
Picard nodded. "What's going on with the boy?"
She shrugged. "I don't know. He's doing what you do, shutting everyone out and pretending that he's absolutely fine. He isn't saying much to anyone. Certainly not any pleasantries. Maybe you can get through to him."
"I'll do my best," he said.
She kissed him on the cheek. "That's all anyone can expect," then left him so he could go find his son.
Jean-Luc Picard crunched through the snow in the backyard of the Howard home, heading towards the barn. Andrew hadn't been anywhere in the house and unless he'd run away, the barn was the next likely option. As he walked, he mentally kicked himself for mentioning marriage. Beverly hadn't said a word about it and he hoped that she hadn't been offended or hurt. But that had been his other plan, if she had refused to return to Starfleet. Marry her so that he could per regulations have her and the children on board the ship as his family. Of course, it sounded much too like the marriages of convenience in twentieth century America, where people gained citizenship by marrying current citizens. He shouldn't have mentioned the other plan, even in passing as he had. They hadn't spoken of the ramifications of their relationship at all, much less discussing the possibility of marriage.
Though it would be nice to wake up each morning with her beside him. He shook his head. There were other matters at hand, primarily trying to reach his son in some way, connect with him. At least so that he could tell him to pack to go on board the ship. The captain could see his breath, puffs of mist, even in the barn. Hearing someone come into the barn, the horses shifted in their stalls, neighed a welcome.
The face of his son appeared on the second floor. The entire floor was open to the inside of the barn and it was over the guard rail that Andrew looked. His cheeks were rosy with cold, his hair covered by a knit cap. Picard felt startled at how much Andrew resembled him when he couldn't see his reddish hair. The nose was smaller, but the lines of the face were the same. "Is that Tim the ostler?" Andrew asked.
The captain recognized the game. Beverly would play the same one when she was uncomfortable, turn the situation into a banter that wouldn't hurt either party. He played along. "I wouldn't make a dashing highwayman, so I must be."
"That's good," Andrew said. "I wouldn't make a good landlord's daughter anyway. My hair's too short, entirely the wrong color, and I have no idea what a blood-red love-knot is." Then his head disappeared from view.
Picard chuckled. It fascinated him how these children could inherit such different things from their parents and be complete individuals. Still chuckling to himself, Picard found the old narrow staircase and went up to find Andrew. The boy was at the opposite end of the barn, behind a few bales of hay. As he drew closer, Picard saw that Andrew was packing up a telescope, putting away astral charts, closing up a journal.
The boy must have heard him approach. "I didn't hear a whistle to my casement," he said, continuing his task.
"You said you were no landlord's daughter."
"I said I wouldn't make a good one," Andrew corrected. Then he seemed to pack faster, rolling up charts and shoving them into a bin.
"How long have you been stargazing?" Picard asked. He'd done the same, when he was a boy, watching the stars he wanted to be amongst.
Andrew didn't answer. Kept packing.
The captain decided to share, see if he could get Andrew to see the connection as well. "I used to do the same when I was little. I'd go out every night, find all my favorite constellations, dream about the adventures I'd have when I got older."
Andrew snapped the bin shut and turned around. His eyes met Picard's, just as gray, just as intense. Picard saw the boy's jaw working. "When I was little," Andrew said, "I had nightmares about being assimilated by the Borg." For a moment, he stood and watched for Picard's reaction. The captain gave none, not having suspected this sort of reply. Then the boy picked up the bin and slipped down the stairs.
Thoughtlessly, the captain followed close behind. Andrew didn't say a word to him, passed by Beverly at the back door, went into the house. The doctor gave her son a questioning look which was also ignored. She moved the questioning look to the boy's father. A light snow had started to fall and he looked at Beverly through the flakes, his face as neutral as his son's.