Snow Falling Softly XVI
Captain Jean-Luc Picard resisted the urge to shift uncomfortably in his seat at the head of the table in the main observation lounge. There were already enough of his senior staff shifting in their seats, and as he had to be the example, he needn't shift himself. He would be the paragon of control, all while his mind ran the gamut of the reactions that would come after this appalling silence. Beverly's words hung over them, her soft explanation of Andrew, Allie, and Gracie's presence on the ship.
"You are the senior officers on this ship, and my friends, and you deserve to know what's going on. My grandmother was the guardian for three children. When she died, the guardianship was left to me as their only adult surviving relative. However, these children are not my cousins, as you may have heard. They are my children and for many reasons, I kept that fact hidden from them, from everyone, including Starfleet, and including their father. They know who they are now, and their father also knows who he is. Their father is Captain Picard. I know you'll have questions. Feel free to ask them and I will answer as best I can."
As the silence formed, Beverly had slowly lowered herself back into her seat, her eyes unable to hide the worry. Picard wanted to reach out to her, let her know that it would be okay. He couldn't think of a way that wouldn't be completely overt to the rest of the staff, something out of kilter for himself and Beverly. The captain had never been one to share details of his personal life. Vash's presence on the ship some years ago had disrupted his carefully constructed facade, indeed her intrusion had ultimately ended their relationship. Then there had been the short-lived relationship with Nella Darren and his inability to separate sending a crewman into danger and sending a loved one into danger. His crew had to know their captain would always be the captain. Yet they, his senior staff, knew he was a human being as well. A person as flawed as any of them. His supposed death at the hands of mercenaries earlier that year had rocked the entire ship, shaken them to the very core. He was more than a commanding officer to them now. As a crew, as a senior staff, they had been together a long time. The captain knew he hadn't always been this way. On the Stargazer, his officers had become his friends. Ben Zoma, Pug, Greyhorse, Jack.
Jack, it had been he who caused Picard's shift in command temperament. His death, rather. The captain had taken Jack's death hard, too hard, and thought he had to separate himself from his crew afterward. So it wouldn't happen again. Had to be the infallible captain. Somehow in that measure, within the last seven years, he had failed. These people had become his friends. These people in front of him. Riker, just to Picard's left. His blue eyes were contemplative, his hand stroking his beard as he tended to do while in thought. Deanna, next to Will. A friend who often gave invaluable advice, her nearly black eyes now watching the crew, looking out for emotional difficulty. All while glancing at Picard, and especially at Beverly, offering support. Geordi, following Deanna, his eyes hidden behind his visor, his bewilderment communicated by his ever-expressive eyebrows. Data, giving his normal look of confusion at human interaction. But Data somehow also gave support near the level of Deanna. Data had become more human than he would ever be able to admit to himself. Worf, the Klingon, glowering at the others. Then Picard saw Worf's eyes change. Worf, of all of them, had gone through an experience similar to Picard's and Beverly's. When Worf's mate K'Ehleyr had been killed, he had been left with a son he hadn't known existed. Like Beverly, K'Ehleyr hadn't been ready to divulge the paternity of her son to the boy's father. Like Picard, Worf had been blindsided by the knowledge once it was revealed and struggled between anger and love at the mother of his child.
Worf was finally able to resolve that struggle and accept the boy's mother entirely as his mate. Then she had been killed, taken from him by Duras, and with her death their future together had ended. The captain looked at Beverly, reached out with his hand, took hers into his, giving it a squeeze. She turned to him, surprise in her eyes, then came a small smile meant only for him--she understood. Her posture straightened, her confidence regained. Picard noticed Worf give a short nod of approval towards them. Worf also understood.
Then the Klingon security chief spoke, pushing the silence away with his resolute words. "I believe it is our responsibility to welcome these children aboard the ship." He turned again to Picard and Beverly. "I would welcome the duty myself." And with those sentences, Worf managed to dissipate the discomfort.
Riker broke into a grin first directed at Worf for his honesty, then to his captain and Beverly. "I agree," he said. "I admit, I had no idea what to say. I was uncomfortable. Not because I've lost respect for you captain, doctor. But because I had questions and every single one of them seemed like I was trying to pry. I don't think I need details. If either of you decide I--or any of us--should know, you'll tell us. Otherwise, we've three more people to welcome aboard the Enterprise."
Deanna graced Will and Worf with an approving smile. The others nodded enthusiastically. They had all met the children before, when the three of them had toured the ship. "There may be some problems," Deanna said. "Specifically with Andrew. He's having great difficulty adjusting to his changed identity. I felt you all should be aware of that, in case you notice, and I think you will, that he's acting much differently than he did when he came aboard ship the first time."
Almost like a stranger, Picard thought. His senior officers gave their acknowledgments of Deanna's observations. The captain stood, the day needed to get underway. "If there are no more questions or issues?" he asked. Heads shaking. "Then you are all dismissed." The officers filed out of the room. Deanna took Beverly by the arm and spoke with her in low tones as they left together, Beverly giving Picard one last look of comfort. When he saw it, he felt a warmth inside, one that he had missed. The captain looked out the observation port, at the stars streaking by. Someone cleared their throat behind him. He turned.
Worf. "Yes, Lieutenant?" Picard asked.
"Sir, I would like to offer any," the security chief fished for the right word, "support you would need during this time. My own son had great difficulty adjusting, as yours is right now. If you have a need for insight, I may be able to provide it." Unlike moments before, Worf now looked distinctly uncomfortable. It was one thing for Worf to have great insight and proclaim it, it was another to so personally offer his commanding officer emotional support.
"Your help would be greatly appreciated," Picard said. "Thank you."
The Klingon nodded. "They would have the hearts of warriors," he said.
The captain raised an eyebrow.
Worf explained. "You are a warrior. Dr. Crusher is a warrior. Your children would also be."
Picard smiled. "Thank you, Worf."
Another curt nod. "I have...advice." Again, Worf's voice suddenly became unsure.
"What is it?" the captain asked.
"It might be too personal," Worf said. "I do not wish to overstep my bounds."
Picard looked directly at Worf, right at his eyes. "Worf, I served as your cha' Dich. Right now, we drop ranks and speak, one man to another."
"Very well," said Worf. "Klingons are much more romantics than others seem to think. This I say to you as a man who lost his mate, who lost time with his mate due to his own obstinacy. Do not waste time. I have seen what is between you and Beverly, I am familiar with it, as I once had it myself, and had to mourn its passing." The large Klingon placed a heavy, firm hand on Picard's shoulder. "Do not make the same mistake as I did. Make Beverly your mate." Then Worf withdrew his hand, gave another short nod, and headed out of the room to leave Picard to mull over this new information.
When Worf was just short of the door, the captain spoke to him. "Thank you," he said.
"Sir," Worf said, and left.
"Computer, time," Picard said.
The computer's female voice replied, "The time is oh eight thirty."
He had less than half an hour before the rendezvous with the Adelphi and subsequent meeting with Admiral Necheyev. No time to ponder over Worf's sage advice. The captain moved over to the replicator and set to work. He had done his research and sought to mend the rift that had formed between himself and the admiral. It did no good to anyone for a Starfleet captain and admiral to continue to be adversaries. The lounge's door opened to admit his first officer as Picard was carrying a teapot to the table.
Riker surveyed the table, studying the food Picard had already replicated and set out. "Earl grey tea," he said, his eyes shining with humor, "Watercress sandwiches, Bulgarian canapes." The commander finally looked over to the captain. "Are you up for a promotion?"
I hope not. The last thing he wanted was to be ousted from the command chair. "I'm trying to establish a new relationship with the admiral," Picard explained. "In the past, there has been a certain amount of tension between us." A tension that needed to cease, especially in light of his new personal situation.
Riker continued his sly humor. "Tension's not the word I would use."
The captain ignored his first officer's dry remarks, keeping his tone serious. "I'd like to get things started on a better note this time. Make her feel at ease, that she's welcome aboard the Enterprise."
Will didn't give up, now playing the innocent. "I don't know why she wouldn't feel welcome here."
The captain relented and gave Riker an annoyed look. "Maintaining an atmosphere of conflict serves no purpose." He crossed his arms. "Did you have a purpose in coming in here other than to harass your commanding officer?"
"Yes, sir," Riker said. "However, when I saw the chance to harass you, that took precedence and now I've forgotten my original reason for being here."
Somehow, the captain doubted Riker had forgotten. He studied his first officer, seeing a sudden discomfort and he knew why Will had claimed forgetfulness. "I appreciate you not asking, Number One. But you have the right to know." He let out a long breath. "Beverly and I...we had had a few moments that could have led to a relationship, but we chose to run away from them and never act on them. I never suspected other ramifications of what had happened between us."
Riker cocked his head. "And she never said anything about being pregnant?"
Picard shook his head almost mournfully. "No. Frankly, I'm wasn't terribly surprised that she hadn't told me. You're familiar how she's very independent, very strong willed."
"Very familiar, sir," Will said, the smile returning.
The captain's communicator chirped. "Data to Captain Picard."
Necheyev must have arrived. "Picard here."
"Captain, Admiral Necheyev has beamed aboard and is being escorted to the observation lounge by Lieutenant Worf. She will arrive shortly."
"Acknowledged. Picard out." The captain held in a sigh.
"What are you going to tell her, sir?" Riker asked.
He let the sigh out. "I've no idea, Number One." And he hadn't. He'd spent the better part of the night before trying to figure out how to explain the situation and had come up with nothing that wouldn't cause Necheyev's ire. There was the matter of the resignation that had disappeared, about letting his personal matters interfere with his command, about his relationship with Beverly. No regulations had been broken. Starfleet had nothing in the books against fraternization between officers close in rank or in the command structure of the ship. The rules written were to provide guidance in separating personal matters from duty. As long as they kept things separated, they would be fine. They had managed to do so thus far, in their odd friendship-relationship of the past seven years. They should be able to continue.
The door opened to admit Worf with the admiral. "Admiral Necheyev, sir," Worf said, and stepped aside. Necheyev, short in stature, managed to convey a much larger presence than her petiteness belied. Her blonde hair was bound up tightly to the back of her head, her red and black admiral's jacket perfectly arranged, PADD in one of her hands.
Picard took his cue to move forward, proffering his hand. "Admiral, welcome aboard the Enterprise," he said as warmly as he could muster.
On her part, Necheyev gave Picard's hand a quick perfunctory shake. "Thank you." All business, she dismissed Riker and Worf from the room.
Picard caught Riker's wide smile as he left, letting Picard know Riker felt he had the better end of the deal. With Necheyev standing in front of him, the captain had no recourse to communicate his displeasure at Riker's insinuation. Right to matters, he could play the gracious host to his best ability. He motioned towards the food on the table. "Admiral, would you like some--."
She cut him off. "I'll cut right to the point, Captain. A situation has developed on the Cardassian border that--." Her eyes had finally followed Picard's motion and she noticed the food. "Are those Bulgarian canapes?" she asked.
"Yes, as a matter of fact," he answered. "I took the liberty of speaking with your aide, he said you were quite fond of them."
The normally frosty admiral took this information in. Picard watched as her expression changed and she saw Picard's motives in smoothing things over. She returned the overtures and settled herself in a seat, a gesture in kind. "That was very thoughtful, Captain," she said. "Thank you."
Once the captain had finished pouring tea and taken a seat himself, Necheyev handed him the PADD she'd brought in with her. As he read, she briefed him on the situation. The treaty with the Cardassians had been finalized with the agreement upon the designated borders of each power. As the borders had been moved with this new treaty, some Cardassian colonies and some Federation colonies found themselves now on the wrong side of the border. Necheyev explained that those colonies would have to be moved. The idea caused Picard concern. He raised his concerns with the admiral, but she said the negotiations were final. "Your mission is to evacuate the colony on Dorvan V," she finished.
He frowned. "Dorvan V." The colony sounded familiar. He remembered. "That's the colony where the North American Indians settled, isn't it?"
The admiral confirmed his suspicions. "Yes, they settled there about twenty years ago. They have a small village on the southern continent."
Picard sat back in his chair, frown growing deeper. The parallels between this particular colony being forcibly removed from their homes and the history of their people being continually forcibly removed from their homes, indicated that something here was amiss. "This group originally left Earth two hundred years ago to preserve their cultural identity," he said.
Necheyev, obviously fighting her own frustration, explained the steps of the past three years with the Federation's negotiating council. An Indian representative had been brought in, history had been discussed, the original dispute over the planet brought up. "In the end, the moving of the colony on Dorvan V was a concession that had to be made in the name of peace," she said. "There is always a price."
The captain nodded. "Indeed," he said. "What if the colonists refuse to evacuate?" he asked. It was a situation he didn't want to have develop.
Necheyev placed her teacup quietly on the table, her actions grim. "Then you are ordered to remove them by any means necessary," she said.
Picard stared at her, at the gravity of the order, at the astonishing parallel to history. A history that should never be repeated, and yet had, time and time again. It seemed the galaxy held no regard for the Native American culture and would continue to chase it, hunt it down, extinguish it. He wanted no part of it.
The admiral continued. "I understand your moral objections, Captain," she said. "If you wish, I can find someone else to command the Enterprise for this mission."
Whatever he might want, he had his duty to attend. He was the captain of this ship, and he would captain it. "That won't be necessary," he said.
Necheyev gave him a direct look. "I don't envy you the task. But I do believe it's for the greater good."
"I understan--." Picard's reply was cut off by a call from the ship's comm system. "Captain Picard to the bridge." With a look towards the admiral, Picard stepped out of the room and onto the bridge, the admiral close behind. "Report," he said, making he way down to the command center.
Will rose from his chair. "There's an object of some kind closing in on our position," he said.
His face unreadable, Picard said, "On screen."
As the small object appeared on the viewscreen at the front of the bridge, Data reported the object's specifications. "It appears to be an unmanned probe, approximately half a meter in diameter. It has no identifiable armaments."
From his position at tactical, Worf said, "You are being hailed, sir. By name."
Picard blinked, then exchanged glances with his first officer. Being hailed by name from a probe was certainly unexpected. "Open a channel."
"The message is pre-recorded holographic image projection," said Worf.
"Allow it through, Mr. Worf," said the captain.
An image of a Ferengi DaiMon appeared in front of the viewscreen. Picard recognized him immediately. "Bok," he said. The last time he had encountered Bok, the Ferengi had sworn vengeance after his attempt was thwarted when the mind-control device was destroyed. The other people on the bridge stared at the image, as mystified as Picard. Necheyev in particular, standing just outside the conference room door.
The image of Bok spoke, his eyes filled with hatred. "I trust you remember me, Picard. I haven't forgotten you. Or how you murdered my son. For fifteen years I've thought about how to avenge his death. But nothing I could do to you could equal what you did to me, until now." Bok's fake broke into a grotesque smile. "You thought you could hide him from me, didn't you? But I found out about him. Andrew Howard is as good as dead. I'm going to kill your son, Picard, just as you killed mine." The taunting mockery of a smile was the last thing to disappear as the communication stopped.
The captain allowed himself a moment to be baffled. Then he gave orders. "Lieutenant Worf, put a tractor beam on that probe and determine if it's safe to bring on board. I want to know where it came from." Turning to Riker he said, "I want you to contact the Ferengi Government. Bok was wearing a DaiMon's uniform. If he's regained his rank, I want to know why." His crew in motion, Picard walked into the refuge of his ready room to figure out how he would tell Beverly, how he would protect his son.
It would be a very short refuge. He had just sat down behind his desk when the door chimed. "Come."
Admiral Necheyev strode in, her mouth a thin line of determination. "Captain, I would like to know exactly what's going on, especially in light of this threat being one that also affect the mission to Dorvan V."
Picard rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Of course, Admiral." He motioned for her to take a seat. The hope that his personal life wouldn't affect his professional life had just been wickedly smashed by a revenge-bound Ferengi. Once Necheyev had taken a seat in one of the chairs placed in front of his desk, Picard launched into an explanation. "I recently came into the knowledge that I have three children."
Necheyev raised an eyebrow. "Three, Captain? Different mothers?"
The captain did his best to keep from allowing the annoyance he felt to show. "No, Admiral. They all have the same mother. Dr. Beverly Crusher."
Necheyev crossed her arms, sat back in her chair. Picard suddenly felt like squirming and sympathized more with how Beverly must have felt this morning. "This does explain the ship's logs I was reading this morning," the admiral said. "I must say, these children do make me curious. And that your doctor kept them a secret from not just you, but Starfleet as well. Seems almost impossible, one would think."
"I wouldn't be one to underestimate the capabilities of Dr. Crusher." If anyone could have accomplished what Beverly did, it would be her.
"Almost as impossible as a doctor accidentally getting pregnant," Necheyev continued. "Wouldn't you say?"
Picard placed his hands flat on the desktop. "Are you saying she did it on purpose?" he asked the admiral, the challenge unmistakable in his voice.
The admiral's reaction of true bewilderment showed she had only been speculating. "No, of course not, Captain. The doctor has an exemplary record and has shown exemplary character in her duty to her patients. I highly doubt she would ever do such a think. I was only thinking out loud, how impossible it seems, and yet here it's happened." She met his gaze. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you."
Yet he had been. He nodded. "Of course."
Necheyev sat forward in her chair. "Captain, you must understand that the mission to Dorvan V cannot be compromised. You have permission to do whatever is necessary to protect the boy, but you cannot allow this DaiMon Bok to jeopardize your primary mission. Understood?"
All too clearly. "Yes, admiral."
The admiral relaxed into her chair. "Captain, you look as if you expected more of a scolding."
"In all honesty, I did."
Necheyev smiled, something Picard wasn't sure was possible, much less had ever seen. "Everyone's human, Captain. Or whatever species they might be. Everyone makes mistakes, everyone does things that can be embarrassing. Eventually, things catch up with you. You're an adult, the doctor is an adult, and whatever you do, as long as it doesn't interfere with your duty, is between the two of you."
Though Picard knew the regulations, hearing an admiral tell him the same thing with the knowledge of what had happened, made relief wash through him. He nodded to the admiral.
She smiled again, more than before. "What are they like, Captain?"
And Picard did something he never thought he would do while in the presence of Alynna Necheyev--he smiled warmly. "I don't know if I can explain," he said.
The admiral stood. "The look on your face tells me enough," she said. "I'm heading back to my ship. Keep in close contact with me over Dorvan V. And keep me updated on your son's safety, as well."
He nodded. As she moved out of the room, he followed her. They entered the turbolift together. "Are you transferring to the Adelphi, Captain?" Necheyev asked after telling the 'lift her destination.
"No," he said, pausing to tell the computer his. "I have to tell my son's mother about Bok's threat."
"Understood," Necheyev said, and they rode the 'lift in silence.
Jean-Luc Picard entered Sickbay, still surprised at Necheyev's reaction to the entire thing. The woman had even seemed...warm. If at all possible. He found Beverly in one of Sickbay's adjoining labs. At first she didn't notice him standing there and he took the moment to watch her. Her jaw set in determination as she worked with a specimen, brow furrowed in though, her lovely blue eyes intent on her work. He loved the way her lips pursed when she was figuring out a puzzle, as they were right now. She tucked an errant bit of her copper hair behind her ear as she adjusted the microscope. At some point she had shed her lab coat and tossed it onto the unused chair well behind her. His eyes traveled down, appreciating her curves, her long legs.
When she cleared her through, he realized he'd been caught. He looked up, knowing his cheeks were burning. He met her look despite his blushing, at her lips being tugged by amusement. "Jean-Luc," she said.
"I have news," he said, making sure to make his tone serious, despite the previous amusement.
Her smile dissipated, she had caught the tone. "What's going on?"
He explained to her what had happened on the bridge and afterwards with the admiral. As he explained, he saw the worry creep into her face, throughout her body as she crossed her arms.
"How safe is he?" she asked.
"As long as he's on this ship, he shouldn't come to any harm from Bok," Picard replied. He was certain of it. As long as they were wary and Security did their job, Andrew would be in no danger. But it didn't make him feel any better, not with a threat as direct as the one Bok had leveled, not with the mission that lay before him. As he looked at Beverly, he saw his worries reflected in hers. Though they both knew intellectually that Andrew would be safe, they would still worry until Bok was caught. There was also the issue of Andrew himself, his emotional difficulties continuing, and if those difficulties would prove to do more damage than the renegade Ferengi ever could. As he lost himself in thought, he felt Beverly's arms wrap around him.
"Thank you for coming down here to tell me," she said.
"How could I not?" he asked.
"You could have easily told me over the comm system."
"And you would have easily thrown me out an airlock for being such a coward," he said.
She swatted him on the arm. "Jean-Luc, I would do no such thing."
He gave her a dubious look. He had been witness to her becoming a she-bear over any threats to Wesley. The captain imagined that tendency extended to her other children as well. "I've seen you react to threats to your children. I've also seen you react when you think someone is being a coward. I doubt that you wouldn't do such a thing," he said.
Beverly smiled. "I wouldn't throw you out an airlock," she said. "I'd so something worse." She glanced at the chronometer. "You should go pick up Gracie. Because of your meetings, Deanna took her to register for school. They should be done by now."
Glancing around to see if anyone was looking into the lab, he found no one paying any attention. Opportunity given, he kissed the doctor quickly. "Okay," he said. "See you tonight."
"Tonight," she echoed. Yet by the time he'd reached the doorway, she was immersed back into her work, her lips pursed, her brow furrowed. Picard recognized the coping strategy. The more she put into her work, the less she would worry about her son.
The captain went down to the school and found Gracie waiting with Counselor Troi. When the little girl caught sight of him, she released Deanna's hand and went running for him, saying, "Papa!"
Hearing the girl, his daughter, call him that still made him feel warm, a warmth he'd never felt before having a child and a warmth he never wanted to lose. He knelt to her level and allowed her to nearly knock him over with a hug. "Hey," he said. "I'm sorry I couldn't bring you myself."
"It's okay," she replied. "Deanna explained."
"Good," he said, standing up. Gracie kept ahold of his hand. "What shall we do now?"
"I'll leave you two alone," Deanna said. Picard had forgotten the counselor was there. When he looked at Troi, she was smiling at him. He suspected why. "Captain, I'll meet with you and Beverly later about school placement." The Betazoid turned to Gracie. "And I'll see you later," she said.
Gracie told her bye, then brought her attention back to her father. "I want to learn how to fence," she said.
She was only five. "Most fencers don't start until they're seven or eight," he told her.
At his words, the little girl crossed her arms, her jaw set, her lips pursed, and her gray eyes flashed determinedly. Picard felt like he faced a tiny version of an angry Beverly, one angry with Picard for underestimating her capabilities. "I can do it," she said. "I'm sure."
He relented. She was his own child, perhaps she would take the sport as he and her older brother and sister had. "All right," he said. "Let's go."
Just outside the entrance of the gym, they ran into Allie. She had her fencing whites on and carried her bag. They entered the gym together. The fencing area was empty, as were the rooms storing fencing gear. "No partner?" Picard asked Allie.
She shook her head. "No. Andrew's..." she trailed off. "I can't think of a single nice thing to say about him."
"I'm sorry," he said.
Allie gave him an odd look. "It isn't your fault," she said. "He's the one choosing to act like this. He needs to grow up."
Picard glanced down at Gracie, hoping Allie would catch on, and they could continue this conversation later, without the youngest child present.
Allie understood. She knelt down to her sister's level. "Speaking of growing up, what's this about you wanting to fence?"
"You think I can't do it either?" Gracie asked, the determination coming back into her voice.
"I didn't say that," Allie said. "Who said that?"
"Papa," Gracie said, shooting Picard an accusing look.
Allie turned to him, lifting an eyebrow.
That damn look. Beverly did that. "I only said that most people normally take it up at seven or eight," he said. He needed to change the subject or he'd get himself in deeper trouble with Gracie. "I need your help," he told them. "I have a project that I need your help with."
"Why us?" Allie asked.
He knelt down, gathering them closer. "Which one of you managed to get the pictures from your house on Caldos?" he asked.
"That would be me," said Allie.
"I need them," he said.
"What for?" both girls asked in unison, eyes narrowing in suspicion.
"A surprise," he said.
"Not unless you tell me what it is," Allie said. "Those are important pictures."
"I know," he said. He did know. The photographs from Caldos were as important to him now as they were to them. His family as well as theirs. Something he wanted to make sure stayed that way. "But I can't tell you. One of us hasn't yet mastered the ability to whisper and keep a secret." As Picard fixed his gaze on Gracie, Allie did the same.
"It's not my fault," the little girl protested.
Picard sighed. "Well, if you're going to be that way." He stood up. "Let's get you some fencing gear to wear," he told Gracie.
Once Gracie was in a changing booth putting on her new jacket and trousers, Allie spoke up. "I'll get them for you," she said quietly.
"Thank you," he said.
She put an arm around his shoulders, pulled him close. "This better be good," she said, "Whatever it is you're planning."
"It is, I promise," he said.
"And we'll talk about Andrew later?" she asked.
He nodded. "Yes." Even as he watched his youngest step out wearing fencing whites that would be that white only once in her life, as his oldest daughter hugged him for the first time, the worry invaded him, cutting the warmth with the cold of winter.