Snow Falling Softly XIX
Allie stood in front of her brother's bedroom door. "Come out," she said.
"No," came Andrew's reply.
Gracie sat coloring at the dining table. "Leave him in there," she said.
"No," Allie told her. Then she banged on Andrew's door. "Come out."
"No." Same tone, same answer.
"He'll just be mean if he comes out," said Gracie, now turning around to watch as Allie continued to bang on Andrew's door.
"Hush," Allie said. "Andrew, I'll keep knocking until you come out. And you know I'm not bluffing." She was going to get information out of him even if it killed the two of them. He'd fought with Wesley today and she wanted to know why. Wanted to know why Andrew refused to talk to anyone aside from daily pleasantries. Even those pleasantries were anything but pleasant. They'd been given the task to watch Gracie tonight while their mother had dinner with their father. Instead, Andrew had ensconced himself in his room and left Allie to be the responsible one. And Allie had grown tired of his bullshit.
The door opened and Andrew stood in front of her. Apparently he'd grown tired of her continual harassment. "What?" he said. That even tone, like he was nearly emotionless.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" she asked.
He didn't say anything, just looked at her with those cold gray eyes.
She was going to chip away and break through that ice. "Why won't you talk to me?"
He looked at her.
Allie pushed him in the chest. "Say something."
"No." Even tone, eyes unchanging.
Some stranger had replaced her twin. Two days ago he'd been a warm, fun-loving guy. A great brother most of the time. Now he was worse than a Vulcan. She'd rather have a Vulcan at this point. She pushed him again. "Tell me."
"No."
"Is that all you can say?" There, an opening, something offered to him so he could at least joke around a bit. Make light of things, change the mood, go back to an old pattern. Anything but this. She wanted him to love her or hate her. Not ignore her and Gracie and everyone else like this.
And he looked at her. Nothing. Not a damn word. No humor in his eyes.
Allie decided she'd go for the jugular. "I know about your nightmares," she whispered so that Gracie couldn't hear.
His eyes widened ever so slightly at the corners. A reaction. She'd gotten a reaction.
So she continued. "I know you dreamed about the Borg. About our father."
Andrew's hands gripped the door frame, white knuckled, as if squeezing the bulkhead could stop Allie from talking, get her to go away, make everything disappear.
It didn't work. Allie could see she was breaking him, getting through that wall he'd built up. Could see it in his eyes, no longer cold, but with fear moving through them, anger racing through them. Could see panic playing its pipe in her brother's head as he reacted to its music on the realm of his face. His whole body was taught, a reflection of his white knuckled grip. A bow held at the end of its pull, vibrating. "Shut up," he said, the volume not even reaching that of a whisper.
Allie reached out and snapped the tension, put her hand on her brother's shoulder. She felt the tremble, however small it was. "About you killing him," she said so softly that she could barely hear it herself.
Andrew took a step back, making Allie's hand drop away from his chest. Then he reached for the panel to key his door shut. She grabbed his wrist before his fingers got to the panel. It was her turn. "No," she said.
"Let go," he said.
"No."
His eyes met hers, the gray now entirely enveloped in panic. "Let me go," he whispered.
She looked at him, saw the pleading. But she'd started to break through, had gotten emotions out of him, she wasn't going to stop now. "No," she said.
He leaned forward. "I know you hate me," he whispered.
Allie was so shocked at his words, that her brother could think that, that her hands went slack. The moment she let go, he brushed past her, stalked through the living room and out the door. Watching the main door shut behind him, she wondered where he was going. Then she realized she didn't care.
"Told you," Gracie said from her spot at the table. "You should just ignore him."
Allie ignored Gracie's commentary and looked over at Conal, now sitting by the door Andrew had just gone through. The large dog seemed as perplexed as she did. Allie sighed, glanced at the chronometer. "Time for you to go to bed," she told Gracie.
Gracie made a face, but got down from the table anyway. As the little girl changed and washed up, Allie watched as she fought her sleepiness. She had to hold in laughter when Gracie tripped on the way to her bed and tried to pretend she hadn't. Once in the bed, Gracie seemed to remember where her parents were. "Mom and Papa are on a date?" she asked.
Allie smiled. "Yeah," she said. "Their first date."
Gracie yawned. "Maybe soon, Papa can tuck me into bed every night."
"I hope so," Allie said.
"I miss Andrew," Gracie mumbled, then she was asleep. Me too. Allie shook her head. The kid always dropped off so fast. Allie left her sister's room, keyed the door shut behind her, programmed it to open if anyone came within a certain proximity. She'd already programmed it to recognize Conal. Sighing, she sat down hard on the couch. Conal padded over from his post next to the door, laid his head in her lap. "I know," she said.
Conal snuffled.
Allie still wanted to know what had made her brothers fight like that. Wesley obviously had gotten through Andrew's walls more successfully than she had. Either that or it was equal, and it hadn't gotten to blows because Andrew wouldn't hit girls unless attacked. As she thought, she tapped her fingers on Conal's head. She felt the dog's eyebrows shift and looked down: he was glaring at her. "Sorry," she said, and rubbed his head. His tail thumped. Dogs were so easy. Unconditional love, given and gotten. She needed to talk to Wesley. "Computer," she said. "Location of Cadet Wesley Crusher."
"Wesley Crusher is in Shuttlebay Three."
She decided to go. Quickly, she instructed the computer to notify her in Shuttlebay Three if Gracie woke up. Finding that biosign monitoring program helped a great deal. "Keep an eye on Gracie," she told Conal and left in search of her older brother. Shuttlebay Three wasn't a restricted area, but it also wasn't generally an area people wandered to. The crewman standing outside the door gave her an odd look but said nothing as she walked in. Wesley squatted next to what looked like a probe, an access panel popped open and his head stuck inside a hatch.
"Do they normally let folks just released from the brig into shuttlebays?" she asked when she'd stepped behind him.
Wesley jumped, smacking his head on an inside panel. He swore and pulled his head out. "That wasn't nice," he said. "Sneaking up on me like that."
"You should've been paying more attention," she said.
"It's not like I expected visitors," he said, tapping some notes into a PADD. Then he looked up at her suddenly. "How did you get in here?"
She shrugged. "Charm."
Wesley snorted and stuck his head back into the access hatch while saying, "You don't have any charm."
Frowning, Allie walked over to the cadet and hauled him bodily from the hatch. "What did you say?" she asked.
"You're the most charming person I ever met," he said. "Can I go back to my work now?"
Allie pretended to dust off her older brother's shoulders. "Of course." She took a walk around the probe. "So what exactly are you doing, anyway?" The probe looked rather beat up. Scorch marks, gashes, dents. She heard Wesley mutter something from inside the hatch as she came back around to where he was. "What?" she asked.
The cadet came back out, added more notes to his PADD. "I said I was trying to decrypt the navigational systems for this probe. It's the one Bok sent that carried the threat. If I can decrypt this thing, we can at least figure out where it was launched. It'll help us track Bok, at least."
The name sounded familiar, but she couldn't place it. "Should I know who this guy is?"
Wes crossed his arms, a slight frown formed on his face. "You haven't heard?"
"Obviously not."
"Bok is a Ferengi, used to be a DaiMon. His son was on the Ferengi vessel involved in the Battle of Maxia. Bok blames Captain Picard for his son's death. Six years ago, he set up some elaborate plan using the Stargazer and a mind-altering device to get the captain to destroy the Enterprise by reliving the battle. The plan didn't work, Bok was arrested by Ferengi officials. Except now he's gotten himself out of prison somehow. He sent this probe to project a message to Captain Picard that he's going to kill his son just like the captain killed Bok's son." Wesley looked at her, waiting for her reaction.
"Andrew."
"Yeah, Andrew," he said. "Anyway, Bok encrypted the nav system on this probe so we can't figure out where it came from. Like I told you, I'm trying to crack it. Wesley turned back to the hatch, now keying information into the control panel on the door.
Allie stood behind him, drumming her fingers on the probe's metal shell. She couldn't decide what to approach first. His fight with Andrew, her fight with Andrew, Andrew in general, Wesley's whole angsty bit lately, or her parents. She could start there, with Nana's journal. She decided on non sequitur. "My parents are on a date," she said.
"Fantastic," Wesley said.
Her eyes narrowed. "Is that sarcasm?"
"Actually, it wasn't," he said. Then he held a PADD over his head and back towards her. "Can you hold that?" he asked.
The floor was perfectly capable of holding the PADD. She told him so.
"I'm trying to get you to stop drumming your fingers." The cadet finally stood up and turned to face her. "Why exactly are you down here? Are you trying to pick a fight with me too? Because I won't fight you. I've heard you fight dirty."
"What made you fight with Andrew today?" she asked, her voice quiet and entirely different than the teasing earlier.
Wesley's face dropped, became sad. He sat down on the floor, leaned up against the probe, then patted the ground next to him so she'd sit down next to him. Allie did and waited for the explanation, watching her brother closely.
He sighed first, as if to give himself strength or relax. "I don't know, really," he said. Then he changed his mind. "No. I do. Part of it anyway. Andrew acts like he hates everyone." Another change of mind. "Shit, no, not that either. I thought it was hate, at least I did right before we ran into each other. But as I sat in that cell, after the captain came in and read us the riot act--which, by the way, he's exceptionally good at--I thought about how Andrew reacted to what Captain Picard told him. The entire time, Andrew didn't say a word. Nothing. Then he went to his bunk and completely ignored the captain. How weird is that? That's when I realized, it's exactly what he's doing. Ignoring everyone. I can't seem to figure out why."
Allie knew. "So he doesn't have to involve any emotions. So he doesn't have to deal with them."
Wesley gave her a puzzled look. "How do you think that?"
She shifted, the shuttlebay floor wasn't designed to be a chair. "Nana used to have this saying, I don't know if you ever heard it. She'd say, 'Love me or hate me, but please don't ignore me'." Allie chewed the inside of her cheek, trying to remember how Nana had worded it. She and Andrew had gotten into some fight over how one of Andrew's books had gotten lost. It'd been that book he absolutely loved, that universe book their mother had gotten him. Well, cousin, at the time. They had a huge argument in the kitchen. Allie got pissed because Andrew didn't believe she hadn't taken it or destroyed it or lost it and ended up throwing a platter at him to make him shut up. Nana got upset over the broken platter and had scolded Andrew. After that, he refused to speak to her, even acknowledge she was around. She'd let it go for one day, then Felisa had taken them both aside and explained her little aphorism.
Allie gave the explanation to Wesley. "When you love somebody, there's an emotional connection. With love, that's also a completely obvious thing. However, the same is true for hate. Even if you hate someone, there's still emotions involved, and fairly strong ones at that, on par with the intensity of love. When you ignore someone, you cut off emotional ties by pretending they don't exist. That's what Andrew is doing. He thinks that we must hate him, that he must be an awful person for what he dreamed about, so if he ignores us, it'll hurt him less."
The cadet frowned. "Do you think it's working?"
Allie shook her head. "Not by the look on his face earlier today. I confronted him about it, told him I knew. Bit by bit, I told him, first that I knew about the nightmares, then the Borg, about our father. As I talked, you could see all the emotions he'd been sitting on racing across his face. First he was afraid, then he was pissed. Then he panicked. When I told him about him dreaming about killing our father, he bolted. Told me he knew I hated him and left."
"Shit," Wesley said.
She gave him an odd look.
"That was my fault," the cadet said. "I'm an asshole. I told him that earlier, except I left it open ended. I told him 'She hates you. She wishes you were dead.' I figured it would bother him, get under his skin."
Allie punched her older brother in the arm. "You are an asshole. Like it wasn't bad enough before."
"I'm sorry."
She sighed. "And you can't talk to him now. He'd just as soon punch you in the nose over taking a heartfelt apology."
Wesley resumed his explanation from before. "So when I thought he hated everyone, I was mad at him because he was throwing away something good. I mean, he has this opportunity to have a family. Two sisters, both parents alive and well. And he was throwing it away by hurting everyone. Gracie adores him and he's been awful to her. And then way he's been with Mom and Captain Picard, he's giving them more pain when he should be giving them sympathy."
She smiled. "So you did read the journal."
He nodded. "I did. I also threw it across the room."
Allie gave him a sharp look. "You hate the idea of them being together that much?" she asked, not anger but sadness slipping into her tone.
"No," he said. "I threw the book because I was frustrated with my mom for rejecting the captain over and over again. I had no idea he'd tried so many times to get her to see reason. I was frustrated with myself, too, because I was part of the reason she kept rejecting him. She didn't want to hurt me and it ended up hurting her. Both of them." He hit the side of the probe, a solid thud. "They should be together. We should be a family."
"I think we are, technically, but well under the category of dysfunctional at the moment." She hadn't expected Wesley to come around this quickly and the depth of the emotion caught her off guard.
He laughed with a half smile. "Solidly under that category." He looked up from the piece of floor he'd been studying as he talked. "What's this about them being on a date?"
"Their first date," she said, then grinned wickedly. "And if it went well, they could be started on another one of us right now."
Wesley let out a yelp and covered his ears. "Stop! Stop right there. I said I'm okay with them being together but that is not an image I want in my head. Ever. Ever."
She paid no mind to his agony. "Probably in his quarters--."
He cut her off. "I wasn't finished with my explanation."
"I'll have to remember that torture method to get information out of you in the future. It worked rather well." She smiled in light of his glare.
His feet tapped a mindless pattern on the deck. "The other part of it has nothing to do with Andrew. Well, not entirely."
"Does this have to do with you failing classes at the Academy?"
He nodded. "Maybe. I think I'm lost."
"I can replicate you a compass." That earned her another glare. It was nearly as fun as antagonizing Andrew when he was in a good mood.
"That isn't what I meant and you know it." The frown came back to his face. "I've always wanted to be a Starfleet officer, for as long as I can remember. Shaped my whole life around it. I've always done what everyone expected of me. Right before Mom and I came aboard the Enterprise for the first time, Andrew and I talked about it. He's the only one that's known how long I've been wondering if I'm doing the right thing. Told me it'd be good of me to figure out before I went to the Academy. I guess I should've taken his advice."
Allie turned to study him. She'd seen pictures of Wesley's father Jack. Knew how much Wesley looked like him, how much he stood out against the rest of his family, him with brown eyes and all of them with light eyes, him with chestnut hair, most of them with some shade of red, except for Allie. It had made her feel close to him, that she had dark hair as well. "Why do you want to be a Starfleet officer?" she asked. She knew the answer, at least his standard answer, that he was following in his father's footsteps.
As he studied the floor, he quietly said, "I don't know."
"Maybe you need to figure out what the right thing is for you," she whispered. He gave no answer. Allie saw that he needed to think and left him in the shuttlebay. She stayed deep in thought herself as she made her way back to her quarters. Wesley really had helped her in figuring out her twin, even if he didn't realize he'd helped. After her confrontation with Andrew earlier, she also knew she couldn't push that hard again. She'd have to be slow and steady with reminders. Using Nana's aphorism whenever she could, try to get him to see exactly what he was doing.
Conal greeted her when she entered her family's cabin. Allie checked on Gracie, the kid was completely out. Looked in her mother's room. Empty. Allie smiled. "She's not home yet," she told the dog. "Could be good news." The wolfhound licked her hand and wagged his tail a bit harder. Then he went over to Andrew's door and scratched at it. Allie went over and let him in, the dog immediately jumping onto her brother's bed. She went back out into the living area and settled herself on the sofa, book in hand. Her mother came in awhile later, treading quietly as soon as she got through the door. Allie smiled. She must think I'm asleep. "I'm not asleep," she said, sitting up.
Beverly blushed.
Allie burst out laughing, smothering the sound into the pillow she grabbed so she wouldn't wake up Gracie. When she finally got herself under control, she said, "Went well, huh?"
Her mother lifted an eyebrow and crossed her arms. "Yes. As a matter of fact, it did." Despite the obvious flush of embarrassment, she managed to make her voice serious. "And your father told me what you told him this afternoon."
Nonplussed, Allie said, "I hope you took my advice."
Beverly sighed. "You're impossible."
Allie grinned. "Nana always told me I was a lot like you."
"No wonder her hair went gray," the doctor said. "And you really should be in bed."
"I was just waiting up for you. I'm headed there now." Allie said goodnight, still smiling. At least something seemed to be going in the right direction.
Jean-Luc Picard heard a voice as he slept. "Picard, can you hear me?" The captain came fully awake, sitting up in his bed and seeing Bok standing in front of it. The voice had been no dream. The damn Ferengi had gotten onto his ship. Bok continued speaking. "I will kill him, Picard. And there's nothing you can do about it."
Without addressing the Ferengi, Picard slapped the comm panel close to his bed and said, "Security to captain's quarters!" When he turned back, Bok had disappeared. The captain slid out of bed and donned a uniform. When a Security team led by Lieutenant Worf showed up five minutes later, he was dressed. He explained to Worf what had occurred.
The Klingon glowered. Picard knew why--Bok had somehow defeated all of Worf's security measures. "Our shields were up," he said. "How could he have beamed through them?"
"I want you to assign a security detail to Andrew," he said.
"And yourself, sir?" Worf asked.
Picard sighed. "I'm not the target, Lieutenant. Andrew is."
"Computer," Worf said. "Current location of Andrew Howard."
"Andrew Howard is in the gymnasium."
The captain frowned. "He should be asleep in bed. Lieutenant, I'm going to go down there and tell him what's going on while you get that detail together."
Worf gave a curt nod. "Sir," and left to attend to his duties.
Picard followed, then went in the opposite direction. He had his own duties to attend to. He was going to have to try and connect with his son much sooner than he thought. As he walked down the corridor on Deck Twelve towards the gym, he wondered what the boy was doing up so late, and if Beverly knew he wasn't in their quarters. When he entered the fencing area, he heard the repeated buzzing sound of someone practicing lunges on a target box. For a moment, he studied his son, the fluid movements of his lunge, each lunge nearly identical. The boy had broken a sweat, his reddish hair sticking up in odd directions from it, his breathing was sure and controlled. The captain understood why Andrew was here, working on a task familiar to him, a task that was all muscle memory. It got the body under control with something to do and left the mind free to wander and try and untangle whatever problem it had. He hated to interrupt, but it had to be done.
"Andrew," he said.
The boy didn't turn at first. He walked forward and shut off the target box, then turned around, eyebrows raised. His question entirely nonverbal, yet as effective as saying 'what' aloud.
"I have to tell you something," Picard said.
Andrew picked up a towel from the bench, rubbed it on his hair to take off the excess sweat. "Which is?"
The captain realized that those were the first two words Andrew had spoken to him since...since Andrew had told him about his nightmares. "I've had Lieutenant Worf assign a security detail to you."
"I don't need a security detail. Is this about the fight? Because I don't have any plans on fighting Wesley again. There's no point in assigned a detail to me, I'm sure those officers have better things to do," Andrew said evenly.
"This isn't about the fight."
Andrew dropped the towel on the bench, picked up a water bottle. As he unscrewed the cap, he asked, "Then what's it about?"
"Someone's made a threat against your life. His name is Bok, a Ferengi whose son was killed in the Battle of Maxia. He wants to take revenge on me by killing my son in return." He waited for a reaction.
The boy drank some of the water, buying time to compose his thoughts. Then he set the bottle back down on the bench. "I should be safe enough on this ship. Why a detail?"
"Bok just appeared in my quarters. We're investigating if it was him or an image of him, but while we're unsure of which, precautions are being taken." Something was different with the boy. Picard couldn't place it.
Andrew nodded, saying nothing.
The captain decided to try something else. "Do you often fence in the middle of the night when you have insomnia?"
The boy looked down at the floor, then back up at Picard. "Not if you're going to tell me that you often fence when you have insomnia." His face went neutral again.
That was it. Just before Andrew had looked at the floor, he'd allowed emotion on his face. Then he'd realized it and broken eye contact, come up with something meant to push Picard as far away as possible. So it wouldn't happen again. Picard decided he wouldn't give ground. "I wasn't going to say that. I was going to ask if you'd like to fence sometime, as long as it wasn't in the middle of the ship's night."
The captain saw it. He would have missed it if he hadn't been looking for it, if he weren't so familiar with the process of masking himself. Surprise had registered, ever briefly, on Andrew's face. Surprise at the rebuff not working at all. The surprise was followed by what seemed like frustration as Andrew spoke. "Look, Captain--." He paused, brought his gaze directly onto Picard. A half smile as he shook his head, voice rising from the even tone he'd managed to keep so far. "Captain, Father, Dad, Papa, Jean-Luc...I don't even know what to call you."
"Whatever makes you feel comfortable," Picard said. When the boy frowned, not fighting any of the emotions that hit him, Picard knew he'd reached him, even if it was only a chink in the boy's armor. A start. It was a start.
"I don't know what that is," Andrew said. Discomfort came between them, as palpable as any physical blockade.
Not wanting to risk losing any of the ground he'd made with his son, Picard changed the subject. "The security team will be outside. I'd recommend you go back to your quarters before your mother wakes up and finds you gone."
Andrew nodded, his brow furrowed. The captain turned to leave, deciding to let the boy be and think things out some more. That much, he understood. When emotions you've been sitting on for awhile start to come out, you needed time to sort yourself into control.
"The nightmares," Andrew said behind him. "About being assimilated. They were nightmares because I was made to do things I'd rather die before doing."
Picard turned around to face his son. Andrew's hands worked over the grip of his epee, his voice the most unsure the captain had heard from him. His gray eyes were clouded with hurt and uncertainty. His son was offering him something and he wasn't sure what it was.
Andrew bit his lip when he saw his father turn back to him. Then he continued. "And you had to live through that, without dying, but you must have felt like you died a thousand times over on the inside. It must have been very hard, afterwards."
"Yes," Picard said, surprised by how rough his voice was.
"Did my mother help you get through that?" Andrew's question carried another layer of uncertainty, almost fear.
"As much as I let her," Picard answered honestly. She had been able to help him only once he allowed her in, past his defenses. As he would only be able to help his son.
Andrew nodded. "I guess that's how it is," he said, this time with strength that had been missing before. Then the boy picked up the rest of his gear and strode into the locker area, out of Picard's sight. His son had offered him a small insight, had shown Picard that he had indeed managed to create a crack in his armor.