Author's Note: Sorry about skipping a day, folks. Brain needed a break. Getting even five pages done yesterday was like trying to get a meaningful sentence out of a drunken monkey.

Snow Falling Softly XV

A strange silence filled the house. Beverly Crusher noticed it and frowned. The family hadn't even left yet, the house should be noisy with shouts and verbal sparring and frantic searching for items that had to be packed. But as soon as Jean-Luc had entered the house with that damn neutral look on his face, Beverly had felt the silence. Starting with Andrew, it had continued entering with him, and had yet to leave. The doctor attempted to ply information out of the captain, but he gave away nothing. She found herself finishing up the packing with a fury to her movements, driven by frustration over the two of them, Andrew and Jean-Luc, stonewalling everyone. "I'm sorry," she heard from the doorway. Turning, Jean-Luc stood there, the mask gone. "He caught me by surprise and I had to set things straight in my own head."

Beverly clicked shut the lid of the last bin. "What did he say?" Then she saw the haunted look in his eyes and only one ghost could cause that haunting. As she waited for his reply, Felisa's words slid into her head. "You'll remind him. Because you serve on the Enterprise, and you faced the Borg." How could she have forgotten? Jean-Luc would be a reminder much stronger than herself or the ship. For so many people, the captain was Locutus, they saw no difference. Those who knew him well enough saw differently, that Picard had fought to his best ability, that they had nearly taken away his soul. He had gone through many, many counseling sessions, but the Borg would always haunt him. Their mention would always unsettle him, as it must have done at some point in his conversation with Andrew. When he hadn't answered for several minutes, she said, "Jean-Luc."

His eyes snapped back to the present, to her. "He told me that when he was a little boy, he had nightmares about the Borg, about being assimilated."

She closed her eyes. "Oh, Andrew." It sounded as if Andrew had done it on purpose, thought of what would hurt Picard the most, and thrown it at him as hard as possible. If it was meant to drive his father away, it seemed to have worked.

"Did he?" Picard asked.

Opening her eyes, she nodded. "It's why he got Conal, so he would feel safe. But he didn't just have nightmares about assimilation."

"I was in them." The captain's voice was flat.

"Yes. And more than a few times in those dreams, he tried to kill you." Andrew wouldn't talk about those dreams, only once had he told Felisa about them, who had in turn told Beverly. But Felisa's visceral reaction had been so strong that Andrew never spoke about the dreams again, at least in detail.

The captain walked fully into the room. If Beverly's information surprised him, it didn't show. "It must be very hard for him," he said.

"And for you," she said.

He nodded. "Yes, but this is about him."

Beverly stacked the last bin on top of the others. Most things were packed for storage. Only a couple bins would be beamed to the ship for Beverly, mainly keepsakes. She had tried to find the box of pictures, but met without success. One of the children must have gotten to it first. Once the box had been put down, she looked up at the captain again. "He was ashamed," she said. "And I think that's when he decided to read about you, find out who you really were. When they toured the ship, he was able to call up the entire route of the Enterprise since it left the shipyards. Allie told me that Andrew read about you so he could know the person and not the thing." She sighed. "But I think first coming face to face with you, then finding out you're his father had to upset that process."

He nodded again. "I'll have to tread carefully."

"We all will."

The captain said nothing more about it and Beverly was content to leave it alone for the time being. Her belongings were beamed up to the ship and then went to check the progress the others had made. They had finished as well. Allie went for a final goodbye to the horses. Andrew readied Conal for the trip. The ship did allow pets, and with the modification to Beverly's quarters, they would be big enough for the dog. Coupled with the holodeck and the arboretum, Conal would be perfectly happy. As for Andrew, nothing was entirely certain. Beverly held in a sigh as they made their last preparations and beamed up to the ship.

The doctor felt a sense of deja vu when they left the transporter room, Gracie at the head of the group, pulling the captain by the hand. Except Allie walked with Wesley and Andrew walked alone. Gracie raced into the quarters and ran into each bedroom before declaring which would be hers. Beverly took a quick trip around the cabin to see what the engineers had done. The bins had been left stacked in the center of the living area. Andrew took a couple of them and moved off into one of the rooms Gracie hadn't claimed, Conal close to his heels. Allie glared at her brother's retreating form and muttered, "Craniorectal inversion."

A laugh escaped from Beverly, a chuckle from Picard.

"Cranio what?" Gracie asked.

"She means your brother isn't being very nice," Beverly explained.

"Oh," said Gracie. Then she glared much as her sister had. "No, he isn't."

"Mom," Wesley said from behind her.

She turned, remembering Wesley requested his own quarters. "Right," she said.

Wes nodded. Beverly turned to Jean-Luc. "I'll be back. Think you can handle it?"

"I'll be fine," he said, a slightly panicked look on his face.

She smiled, patted his arm, and left with her oldest son. Wesley was quiet on the turbolift, the thrum of the moving 'lift the only conversation. Unlike the trip before, Beverly allowed herself to feel settled, at home again. While Andrew had grown worse, it seemed Wesley had calmed down. Maybe maturity was finally catching up with him. They arrived at the quarters assigned to the cadet. "Here you go, your very own quarters. And they're as far away from mine as possible, so you won't even have to see me if you don't want to," she said. The banter picked up again, so neither of them had to be serious if they didn't want to be.

He gave her an annoyed look as he stepped into the cabin. "Mom, you know that's not why I asked for my own quarters this --."

She cut him off. "No, no. You don't have to explain. There comes a time in a young man's life when he doesn't want to stay with his poor old mother, I understand." The doctor wasn't sure why he wanted separate quarters. She had ideas, knew that they most likely had to do with the past few days. But she didn't want to discuss it, not when Wesley had finally started acting like a normal human being again.

Wesley recognized the teasing and intentions behind it. "I'll come visit you in the old Doctor's Home every Sunday," he said.

It made her smile. Good, he would play along, and the day could conclude without anyone else being struck by well-honed emotional barbs.

Then Wesley put a hand on her shoulder. "Mom, I don't hate you."

"I know," she said, knowing that she had no idea how he felt and that her son had decided he wouldn't play the game.

He continued explaining as he paced around the room. "I mean, I think I did at first. But only briefly. Then I was just...angry. Angry at everything and everyone and I wanted to make sure that everyone else felt just as angry and hurt as I did." He caught her gaze from the opposite side of the room. "Especially Andrew, Allie, and Gracie. I felt like such an ass for hurting Gracie like that. She's just a little kid, she doesn't know anything, and nothing is her fault at all." He stopped, considering his words.

Beverly watched, realizing her son had certainly grown up during his time at the Academy. While he had reacted at first, he had then been able to think things through and act appropriately in the end, mostly. "What happened with you and Allie?" she asked.

"She gave me a talking-to, that's what," he said, then gave her a wry smile. "She'd already tried to kick my ass before that. If Andrew hadn't pulled her off me, I think she would have succeeded."

"Andrew pulled her off you?" She thought Andrew would have cheered her on.

Wesley nodded. "Only to come after me himself. Which made Allie mad as hell."

"I can imagine," Beverly said. Allie tended to have the more fiery temper, tended to hit first and ask questions later, if she even bothered to ask questions. For Andrew to pull Allie away, she must have thought he was trying to get her to come to her senses. For him to then go after Wesley himself, it was a wonder Allie hadn't clobbered her twin brother for it.

The cadet sat heavily on the bed. "She's a lot like you," he said.

Beverly lifted her eyebrow.

Wesley pointed. "See! Exactly. Exactly like that. I hate that." He glared at her while she smiled. Then he flopped back on the bed and started to talk. "She came into my room last night, wanted me to read Nana's journal." At Beverly's questioning look, he said, "No, I haven't read it yet. Anyway, somehow she got me to talk. About what was really bothering me. Made me realize that I was hurt that things hadn't been out in the open earlier."

"You would have been less hurt?" she asked. The doctor couldn't imagine him knowing at such a young age about his brother and sister, about where they came from, if it would have hurt less. If she had stayed with Jean-Luc, if Wesley had grown up with him for a stepfather, with his brother and sister.

As he sat up again, Wes nodded. "I think so." He looked at her, his brown eyes serious. "Growing up, I had this wish. I wished that Allie and Andrew weren't my cousins, but were really my brother and sister. I'd pretend that they were a lot of the time. So when I found out that they were, I was hurt, and at first, I thought it was because of when they were conceived. But I was wrong, for the most part. I was more angry at the lost time." He paused, taking a breath.

Beverly listened.

"Allie asked me about the incident at the Academy, when Josh died. Asked what it was like with Captain Picard there. I told her the truth, that some of the cadets thought he was my stepfather. I wouldn't have felt any less guilty if he had been, either. And knowing what my wish was, about Andrew and Allie, and Gracie later, it made me angry that it was taken away." Wesley looked down at where his fingers picked at the bedcover. "All of us, we could've been a family all this time. Getting through everything together, instead of alone."

"I'm sorry," she said. It was the only reply she could come up with.

Wesley stood up, hugged her close. "I know," he said. It was the first time he'd hugged her since he had appeared on the doorstep on Caldos.

It had been the right thing for her to say. Hugging her son, she knew that it would be okay between him and her. "What makes you fight with Andrew still?"

The cadet took a step back, shaking his head. "I don't know. I wish I did. I see him and something just sparks off in my brain, and I'm angry, and trying to make him just as mad."

Beverly thought it was probably much the same with Andrew when he saw Wesley. She said so.

Wesley shrugged. "Maybe it's because we're brothers," he said.

"You could talk to Captain Picard," she said. "I know he fought with his brother for a long time."

The look Wesley gave her was pained. "I don't think I'm ready for that. To talk to him." He motioned with his hand. "For any of this, I mean. You and him." He sighed. "Now I'm sorry."

This time it was Beverly who reached out hugged her son. "It's really good to have you home, Wesley. Really."

He nodded. "It's good to be home. Really." He smiled.

Beverly said her goodbye and headed back to finish settling in. If Wesley wanted to talk more, he'd come to her. That he wasn't comfortable with her and Jean-Luc didn't sit right either. Before, when he was younger, she knew Wesley had hoped she would get together with the captain. But the knowledge he had now, it wasn't even something he could think about anymore. One more issue to deal with. She sighed and boarded the turbolift. "Deck Eight." The 'lift had only been in motion for a few moments when it stopped to allow another passenger to enter. The doctor looked expectantly at the door and Deanna Troi stepped through. "Fancy meeting you here," Beverly said.

Deanna gave her a knowing smile. The counselor had known exactly where she was. "I have no idea what your sarcasm is insinuating," she said.

"Mmm." The doctor concentrated on the now-closed door.

"Mind if I accompany you back to your quarters?" Deanna asked, in a not-so-innocent lilt.

Beverly gave her friend a sidelong glance. "Do I get a choice?"

Deanna smiled. "Of course you do. You get to say 'yes' or 'no' and I come visit you and your family anyway."

"That's not much of a choice," Beverly said.

"I didn't say it would be a good choice," said the counselor. She paused, changing her tone to one more serious. "How's everyone handling things?"

Beverly got an idea. "Since you're coming to my quarters anyway, how about you stay for dinner and see for yourself?"

Deanna raised an eyebrow. "That bad?"

The doctor gave no reply as the 'lift doors opened and the pair exited. She hoped her friend could give some insight into Andrew.

Deanna Troi walked into Beverly Crusher's quarters and they were met by no one. The living area was completely empty. Deanna could see a few empty packing bins shoved to the sides of the room, PADDs scattered across a coffeetable, stray bits of clothing someone had dropped. The cabin already looked more inhabited than when Wesley had shared it with Beverly. As they made their way into the living area, they caught a strong baritone voice telling a story. Deanna recognized it as one of the many Arthurian legends from Earth. The two women walked to the doorway, finding the captain reading to Gracie from a book. The little girl heard them approaching and said hello when they appeared.

The captain turned around quickly and Deanna saw the tips of his ears turning red, an outward sign of his embarrassment. "Doctor, Counselor," he said, nodding. Bringing his attention back to Gracie he asked, "Can we finish this later?"

"Of course," she said, and slid off the bed, heading towards the living area with perfect dignity.

Deanna had to resist shaking her head in amazement at that tiny phrase and action from the five year old. She made eye contact with the captain. "She's your daughter," she said. "After seeing that, I wouldn't even need a DNA scan."

"Seeing what?" he asked, standing and tugging the bottom of his tunic straight.

"Nevermind," she said. "Beverly said something about dinner?"

His eyebrows shot up. "Did she?" He glanced at Beverly, who crossed her arms.

"Yes, Captain, and you're replicating," the doctor said.

With an annoyed look towards the doctor, Picard strode out of Gracie's bedroom. Deanna turned back to Beverly. She studied her friend carefully, noting the minute changes in her facial expressions. For many days past, there had been overriding worry scribbled across her brow. Her emotions during those days had been much the same, worry jumbling up everything, crashing over all other feelings, overtaken only by those moments of absolute fear. While the worry had dissipated somewhat, the fear had gone entirely and softened the features of her face again. Deanna also sensed something else, that the tension driven between the doctor and the captain like a glacier had sublimated. She suspected it had sublimated into the beginnings of a solid relationship, nothing quite resembling what had occurred between the two before. The counselor reached behind her and triggered the door shut. "What's going on?" she asked Beverly as soon as it closed.

The doctor frowned. "I don't know yet."

"Well, something's changed."

Beverly nodded, moving back towards the door. "When I figure it out, you'll be the first to know," she said and left the room.

With a frown, Deanna followed her out of the room. The captain and Gracie had managed to rope Allie into helping and dinner sat on the table. Beverly watched the door of the room where Andrew had retreated, then looked at the captain, and back again. Gracie noticed the looks and ventured to retrieve her brother. The tall boy that walked into the living area was nothing like the boy Deanna had met only a couple days before. Gone was the caring regard for his younger sister, the caring respect for his twin sister. His face showed none of the playful mirth it used to hold. The Andrew whom Deanna had met was a young man with a witty retort at the ready, a facetious story ready to be told. This Andrew held none of that. The boy's face was bland, entirely void of any true emotion. His gray eyes were hard flecks of stone, his face a stony reflection of his eyes. As an empath, Deanna was granted a view behind the mask the boy wore and the emotions there buffeted her best defenses with hurricane driven breakers. Shame. Anger. Sadness. Pain. The counselor realized why Conal kept so close to Andrew's side. The dog could sense something as well, could sense how Andrew drew up the mask of stone to protect himself.

Andrew noticed Troi studying him and fixed a glare in her direction. Deanna shifted her gaze, watching the rest of the newly formed family interact. Gracie, her auburn hair resting against her shoulders, feeling contentment at being with her papa. Allie surreptitiously glancing at her twin, entirely confused about the boy's current mood. Beverly, at once content with finally having her children with her yet troubled by Andrew, by Wesley. However, whenever Beverly looked at the captain, Deanna recognized the emotion projected for anyone to feel. Love. The same emotion the captain projected when he looked at Beverly, at Gracie, at Allie, at Andrew. The counselor smiled. It would work out.

Gracie saw Deanna hanging back in the shadows. "Are you going to come eat?" she asked. "You can sit next to me."

The smile still on her Grecian features, Deanna went over to the table and sat next to the little girl. The group settled in to eat.

"Are there any animals aboard this ship?" Allie asked. "Or are they all holodeck animals aside from pets?"

"There's a small zoo of sorts," Beverly answered. "The biolab has many different species of animals, though mostly smaller ones."

"No horses," Allie said. "I knew it."

"You'll only find those on the holodeck," Picard said.

Beverly spoke up. "There is a vet aboard ship," she said. "With the crew's pets aboard, someone has to take care of their medical needs. I'll introduce you tomorrow. Perhaps you could intern with him. Would you be interested in that?"

Allie's eyes lit up. "Absolutely," she said.

Deanna broke in, one duty that needed to be attended was the schooling of each child. "They all need to be registered and placed in the ship's school," she said.

"Other kids!" Gracie said. "Andrew and Allie are boring."

"I am not," said Allie. "You just don't like the things I do."

Gracie crossed her arms. "Reading the latest journal articles on veterinary medicine isn't fun, no matter who you are."

Deanna sensed the mischievousness in Picard before he spoke. "Actually, I find the latest in veterinary medicine a scintillating read."

Beverly looked at him, a barely hidden smirk on her face.

Gracie turned towards Picard, her arms still across her chest. "You're lying," she said. The girl leaned in, studying her father closely. Gray eyes met gray eyes, Gracie trying to read the deception, Picard giving no ground in allowing her to find out. The captain had many years of straight face while playing the diplomat. "You're doing what Andrew does," Gracie declared, sitting back, a triumphant look on her face. "I know this game."

At the mention of Andrew, the table's occupants looked in his direction. His face remained the same, but he did stop eating, looking up to meet their gazes. When Picard locked onto Andrew's look, the haunted feeling from the captain nearly knocked her over. She hadn't sensed this from the captain in over a year. Then she realized why it had nearly bowled her over. It wasn't because she hadn't felt it in a long time, it was because the emotion was mirrored by Andrew and the mirroring amplified the already powerful emotion.

What problems did Andrew have with the Borg? Deanna wondered what had transpired between father and son in the last day. From Beverly, the troubled feeling ramped up to worry as she watched Picard and Andrew stare each other down, one challenging the other.

Gracie spoke, "This isn't the same game," she said. "This isn't straight face. Andrew's just being mean."

The girl's comment, her voice changing from the strong assuredness to a fragile almost gossamer tone, caused Andrew to break the stare from Picard and flicker quickly over to his sister. For a moment, Deanna caught the look in his eyes break, the concern about his younger sister allowed to surface again, then it was quickly shoved back down, and the steel doors slammed shut over them. No apology would be forthcoming. Gracie stared at him as the boy refused to make eye contact. "What did I do?" she asked, her voice having regained its strength. When Andrew didn't answer, the girl got out of her seat, went and stood next to him. "What did I do?" she repeated. With no answer a second time, she reached out, placed a small hand on his arm. "What did I do?" Fragile again, easily broken.

The contact made Andrew jump from his seat, knocking Gracie over in the process. Ignoring the girl on the floor, Andrew stormed off into his bedroom.

Gracie got to her feet. "I hate you!" she shouted to his retreating form. She picked up a pillow from the sofa and threw it in the direction of his room. The pillow thumped harmlessly against the shut door, a throw as futile as any attempt to break through Andrew's defenses. The little girl turned, saw the others watching her, her eyes got wide, the flush racing up her cheeks. "I hate him," she said. "He is not my brother." And she ran into her own bedroom.

Rising from her chair, Allie said, "I'll talk to her." Then she followed her younger sister, leaving the adults at the table.

A profound silence had fallen over them. Deanna knew then exactly why Beverly had declined to explain everyone's reactions and had instead invited her to dinner. As they stood, the reactions defied description. Allie, mainly content with the idea, having come to some sort of understanding deeper and faster than her siblings. Andrew, so upset that he couldn't face himself, much less his family. Gracie, happy that she had her mother and her father, thrilled to be on a starship, and heartbroken at her brother's actions. Deanna sensed that it would be best to leave Andrew alone for the night, let him try to sort himself out, at least so he didn't feel threatened.

"He should be left alone for awhile," the counselor said. "He feels threatened."

Picard nodded. "I can see that."

Beverly's eyes glanced over at the closed door of Gracie's room. "I think she does, too."

"Yes, she does," Deanna agreed. "But she doesn't feel threatened about letting other people know she feels that way. Even now, I can sense her calming down just by talking to Allie. She has that ability--she can talk through her emotions, be open to others with them. Right now, Andrew doesn't. Acknowledging any negative emotions to anyone makes him feel incredibly vulnerable." Deanna looked at the captain. "Much like his father."

Picard grimaced. "I'd like to think I've gotten better," he said, giving Beverly a significant look.

The doctor reached out, grasped his hand, held it. "You have," she said.

"But Andrew hasn't learned yet and it's going to be a difficult road," Troi said and turned her attention to the captain. "He'll need to spend more time with his father. Actually, all of them do. They need to get to know you as their father, and continue to bond and form a relationship with you. They should spend time with you both individually and together. I suggest starting with Gracie, I think it would be the least painful for both of you. She already looks up to you a great deal."

Picard nodded. "I've noticed." And he couldn't keep himself from smiling, his own look tracking to the closed door. "And at the same time, Andrew needs to be reached."

"Yes," Deanna agreed. "And that will be the most painful, for the both of you. Yet at the same time, it would be the most beneficial." The counselor sat back. "Have you decided what you're going to tell the staff?"

"No," Picard said, frowning.

"I'm not sure," Beverly said. "While I don't want the general crew knowing all the details, about exactly what's happened, I do think the senior officers should know most things."

Deanna agreed. The entire situation was awkward for all involved, yet the children and their parents had assumed their true identities, and any further attempts at keeping it secret would hurt the progress being made within the family. She said as much to the two people with her.

"I agree," Picard said. "I suppose we could explain the situation at the senior staff meeting tomorrow morning. Although how, I'm not certain." He looked at Beverly.

The doctor sighed, dropping her chin into her hands. "I think it would be best to come clean," she said. "Otherwise there will be questions on questions."

The captain's eyebrows raced towards the bald crown of his head. "I hope you aren't considering all the sordid details," he said.

Beverly glared at him and straightened up. "Of course not." She paused, obviously mulling over exactly what to say.

The counselor broke into Beverly's thought process. "Perhaps I can help with that. I don't know the details at the moment. All I know is that none of the children nor the captain knew who they were or about each other. Depending on what you're comfortable with, you could explain..." Deanna trailed off, frowning. "You know, there is no easy way to say it." And there wasn't. Even with all of her psychological training, to explain this situation, to even fathom this situation occurring, seemed near impossible without a lot of discomfort among all involved.

"I'll just tell the truth," Beverly said, resigned. "That they aren't my cousins, they're my children, and the captain is their father, and I hadn't told anyone about it except for my grandmother."

The counselor was the one to sigh this time. "I wish there was a better solution."

Beverly gave her a sad smile. "I created a nice mess." Then her gaze went to the closed doors and back to Picard. "Deanna, I'm going to walk with the captain back to his quarters, so we can talk a bit. Could you stay here and make sure my children don't kill one another?"

Troi nodded. The least she could do. She watched them go.

Beverly Crusher said nothing as they made their walk from her quarters to the turbolift, from the 'lift to Jean-Luc's quarters. Once they had entered the cabin, the silence remained. Then Beverly felt him move closer, lift her chin up with his hand, his other hand sliding to the small of her back.

"Hey," he said. "It will work out." His eyes sought out hers, seeking to reassure.

She wrapped her arms around him. "If only I could be as positive as you."

"One of us has to be a realist," he said, releasing her and leading her to the couch. "How about I bring Gracie to the meeting with the school tomorrow and then spend some time with her, as Deanna suggested."

Beverly nodded. "I think for the time being, I'll let Deanna try and get Andrew settled into school, I can work with Allie." When she said Andrew's name, she saw the moment of haunting on Jean-Luc's face. Sitting down next to him, she caressing his cheek, getting his attention. "You'll be able to reach him," she said.

"I thought you were the cynic," he said with a slight smile.

"No, I'm the realist," she said. "I know Andrew and I know you. It will work out. It won't stay like this."

The captain's gray eyes grew distant. "I don't want to be estranged from him. It happened between me and my own father. And I always told myself, if I ever had a son, I wouldn't allow the same thing to happen between myself and him."

Beverly moved her other hand to his other cheek, cradling his face. "You underestimate yourself," she said. "And you underestimate him. He's deeply troubled, and more angry at me than he is with you. With you, it's something else, the anger is hiding it. It's a gap you can bridge, I'm sure of it. You'll make a good father." She'd known he would, once he could accept the role. Once she offered him the role instead of deciding against it for him.

The captain's reply was to draw her into a kiss, one starting out as comfort, then growing deeper. She eased into his arms, allowed it to happen. Then she pulled away. "Jean-Luc, I have to get back to my quarters. Deanna is there. I can't make her wait that long."

Picard nodded, though looking as if he'd like to disagree, to say the hell with it, and ravish her on the spot. But he was a considerate and kind man, and he wouldn't take more Deanna's time on his own whim. Beverly reconsidered. It would be both her own whim and his. "All right," he said. "How about dinner tomorrow? Nineteen thirty? Just you and me. I'll speak with Allie about watching Gracie."

"Are you asking me on a date?" she teased him.

"I believe I am," he replied, straightening into his captain's dignity. "Would you do me the honor?"

She stood. "I would be delighted, Captain." With one parting kiss, she left him, knowing that if she stayed a moment longer, it would be much longer afterward that she would finally leave. In the turbolift, she allowed herself to smile again. A date. It seemed they were doing everything completely the wrong way. Not even quite backwards. They had three children, yet had never gone on a date, much less married.

Married. Marriage. Crusher had completely forgotten what Jean-Luc had said that morning. "There's no way I could ask you to marry me and come back aboard the Enterprise by rights of being my wife." The words hadn't registered with her consciously, not with everything else going on in that moment. Now she remembered, wondered if he had been serious in any way. She knew that if she had declined to withdraw her resignation, if she wanted to be on the ship with Jean-Luc, they could marry. Regulations stated that immediate family was allowed on the ship, including spouses joined in whatever matrimony their culture deemed legal. But she had agreed to staying in Starfleet, so the conversation about marriage hadn't progressed past the brief mention. The memory remained with her as she walked, of the sunlight of a clear day behind him, a morning without a hint of snow.