Author's Note: I'm glad you guys got a good laugh at my take on the cliche. I know I had a case of the giggles when I wrote it.

Snow Falling Softly XXV

Captain Jean-Luc Picard pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers as the admiral on the small viewscreen in front of him began to speak. "I am en route to Dorvan V on the Adelphi right now and shall arrive within hours, Captain. What is the current status of your mission?"

Dorvan V. The mission on Dorvan V. "The colonists are diametrically opposed to being moved." The most succinct answer he could come up with, as the fires had been stirred on the planet below by a certain former cadet. He had to consciously make himself put strength into his voice. With the admiral's sudden communication, he even had to delegate the task of telling Beverly about Andrew to Commander Riker. She would be up here at any moment.

Necheyev frowned. "Then you will have to move them by force," she said. "I know that you find this action distasteful, as do I, but we must do what has to be done."

Picard couldn't get the argument he'd just had out of his head. Everything both boys had said rang true. This mission did violate the Prime Directive. Following the orders to move the colonists by force was morally wrong. Andrew's remarkably clear question. "Are we the next link in a chain forged seven hundred years ago?"

"Pardon?" Necheyev said. "What chain?"

The captain started. He'd said the words aloud. "Admiral, it's been brought to my attention that the orders given to move the colony on Dorvan V violates the Prime Directive. We are interfering in the matters of another culture, an action directly against the guiding principle of the Federation. Tell me, how am I supposed to act in this instance? I realize I have broken the Prime Directive before. Yet in each of those instances, I sought to preserve a way of life that our inaction or action would destroy. Each of those times, I could sleep at night after making the decision and carrying it out. If I were to forcibly evacuate these colonists, I would negate every action I have made thus far for or against the Prime Directive." Wesley and Andrew had been exactly right.

The admiral sat back in the chair on her side of the comm channel, her face growing dark. "You've just complicated matters."

"I realize that." Would the last words of his son to him be "I have nothing more to say to you until you've done what's right?" He would have to act in the best interests of the mission, in his duty as captain. But he also had to act in his duty as a father, rescue his son from the clutches of a vengeance blind Ferengi.

"Do you have a solution to your little moral complication?"

Picard frowned. "I'd hardly call it little, Admiral."

"I'm sorry," Necheyev said. "It's a fault of mine. I tend towards sarcasm when caught in a tough situation." As of late, Alynna had become much more human to the captain.

"Understood," Picard said. Beverly tended to do the same, as did Allie. And Andrew. Andrew. "The solution requires you to answer a question for me. My question is this: were the colonists presented with the option of leaving the Federation and joining the Cardassian Union?"

Necheyev leaned forward. "I think you're the last person I ever expected to mention that. And no, they haven't been. It never came up in the negotiations. I would think the Federation assumed the colonists would want to remain in the Federation." Her brow furrowed. "If we move these colonists by force without informing them of all of their options, we would be violating the Prime Directive. They must be informed, Captain and you must be the one to do so."

"Yes, Admiral." It would be his responsibility to do so. Andrew was also his responsibility. The two duties wrestled one another, neither one willing to bend to the other, no compromise offered.

"Captain?"

Picard looked up. "Yes?"

"That's the second time I've tried to address you with no answer. You're preoccupied, something that's rarely seen in Jean-Luc Picard. Has this to do with your son and the threat made on his life?" The admiral's question held no accusation, held no note of scolding. Her concern was genuine.

The captain glanced at his hands gripping the edge of his desk. "Andrew was abducted not five minutes ago from the Enterprise." No matter how many times he said it, whether it was to Will, to Data, to Geordi, it didn't get easier. The sentence had barbs that tore as it traveled outward. "He has been using a subspace transporter, undetectable until it's been used, able to penetrate our shields. My chief engineer and second officer are currently tracing the course of the last subspace transporter beam in order to find the exact position of Bok's ship so that we can retrieve Andrew." Or his body. He would bring home another body to Beverly. The quickness of the decision startled him, he hadn't been aware of it until that thought. He would go and bring back his son.

Necheyev leaned forward again, propping her elbows on the desk, resting her head on her hands. "Jean-Luc," she said quietly. "Tell me you aren't going to be the one to try and get him."

Picard looked back at her, his face blank.

"Captain, you are the only one who can defuse the situation on Dorvan V. It's threatening to become a galactic incident. I am giving you a direct order for you personally not to be the one to retrieve your son."

"Admiral, I can't just leave him."

"I'm not finished. While you are not to go yourself, I do order you to mount a rescue effort. No one can expect an officer to perform his best when a member of his family is in danger and nothing is being done. And I would not want anything happening to Andrew, as I look forward to meeting him." She studied him again with her piercing eyes. "Captain."

He looked back at her. A direct order. If he went to get Andrew, he would be throwing away his entire career. But what was more important, his career or his son's live? It wasn't even a question.

Necheyev sat back, sighing. "I trusted you with this mission at the outset because I had faith in Jean-Luc Picard to find a way out of this moral morass. I will trust you again to choose the right thing. Necheyev out."

Picard found himself staring at the Federation symbol. He stood and went to the lone window in his Ready Room, stared at his reflection instead. At the communicator on his chest, the four pips of his collar. His power as captain meant nothing in this, it gave him no more power or leverage than any ordinary man. If anything, it reduced any power he might have, given his duty was in the opposite direction of his endangered son. He went back to the communicator. Wesley had found the courage to do what needed to be done for himself and for those about whom he cared. He had taken off that communicator, that restriction, and placed it on the table in the conference room, black against gold. Except even if he wasn't a Starfleet captain, he had a duty to the colonists below to inform them of all their choices, to keep them from dying for nothing, when they could have chosen another path. He could delegate it to Riker. Will could handle things down there. Or Deanna, both, as a team. Going to retrieve Andrew would be throwing away his career, but in the long run, that meant nothing. The colonists would have the truth and he would bring home his son. His fingers traced his communicator.

The chime made him jump. "Come," he said, more force in his tone than he intended.

Beverly practically threw herself through the door. "Where is he?" she asked. "Jean-Luc, where is he?"

Picard turned to her, placed his hands on her shoulders, his grip a deep touch, one meant to calm. "I don't know. I suspect Bok has him. Geordi and Data are working on it right now."

The doctor broke free of his grasp, began to pace the room like a caged animal, like any mother of any species would be in this situation. "He could die. Die at Bok's hands. He and I never finished talking to one another, he never told me how I had hurt him, what he was so angry at me for." She spun and looked at the captain again. "I never even got the chance to tell him I loved him."

"He isn't dead," Picard said. He wasn't. He couldn't be. The captain wrapped Beverly in his arms, each laying their heads on the shoulder of the other. "It's all we have right now, the hope that he's still alive. If we give that up, we have nothing left."

She said nothing, only held him more tightly. The chime sounded again, breaking them apart. "Come," Picard said.

Data and La Forge entered. If they noticed anything off about either the captain or the doctor, they made no mention of it. "Captain, we've traced the position of Bok's ship. It's holding position approximately three hundred billion kilometers from here," La Forge said.

A long way from Dorvan V. In his head, Picard cursed.

"It would take twenty point four minutes to reach Bok's position at warp nine," Data said. "Do you wish to plot the course?"

He couldn't. He couldn't take the ship away from the planet, the ship had to stay, the negotiations had to be finished. But it would take a couple hours to reach Bok in a runabout. "No," Picard said.

Beverly looked at him sharply. She thought he was choosing his career over his son.

He wasn't. "Data, the modifications you made to ourtransporter. Is there any way you could try a subspace transport from here and get me aboard Bok's ship?" the captain asked.

Beverly's look became a needle.

Data said, "It may be possible, but I would advise against it."

The doctor voiced the reasons why. "Subspace transports can wreak havoc on your cells. Remember the early days of transporter technology? The sludge that ended up on transporter pads from botched transports? That's what subspace transport can do to a living being. It's incredibly dangerous and unstable."

Ignoring the doctor, Picard looked at Data. "Go make the modifications." Then he looked at Geordi. "I want you to go equip a runabout to make the run to Bok's ship. Fastest you can get."

"Yes, sir," La Forge said, then followed Data out of the room, leaving Picard and Beverly alone again, now facing off.

"I'm going," Picard told her. "I have to bring him home."

"Absolutely not," Beverly said, arms crossing. "Using subspace transport? Jean-Luc, that could get you killed, and then I'll have lost two people."

She had a point, but he wasn't willing to lose his son and live with the knowledge that he didn't try everything in his power to retrieve him. "Nevertheless, I'm going." He traced the contours of his communicator again, reached for a PADD to type out instructors for Riker and Troi for their role in the negotiations on the planet. "I'm going to have Commander Riker and Counselor Troi replace me in the talks with the colony. Deanna has been working with me the entire time, she and Will should be able to pull this through. I've spoken with Admiral Necheyev about the situation, it turns out the colony wasn't fully apprised of all their options--no one told them they could withdraw from the Federation, join the Cardassians, and remain on their planet."

"And Necheyev is going to just allow you to assign your first officer to this critical mission after she specially selected you?"

He looked up from the PADD, he knew he'd been hiding his eyes behind it, unwilling to meet her blue ones. Meet their anger, their fear. "No."

"So you're deliberately disobeying orders?" she asked, the shock resonating in her voice. "You're throwing away your career when you could send someone else, anyone else, in your place?"

"Yes." His hand moved to the communicator, removed it, placed it on his desk. Gold on black.

Beverly immediately reached out, picked it up. Brought it up to the level of her face, studied it. "No," she said. "You can't--."

The chime sounded. "Come," said Picard. Beverly replaced the communicator on the desk.

His first officer hurried in then came to a quick stop as he hit the wall of tension in the room. The commander's eyes narrowed a bit at Picard and Crusher, then he spoke. "Captain, there's been a change in the situation. A Cardassian survey team has arrived on the planet. The leader, Gul Evek, is requesting your intervention with the colonists. He says they are taking up arms against them."

It didn't seem the way of Anthrawa's people. The Cardassians were a survey team, had not engaged in any military offenses, the communique from Starfleet had assured it. "Did he give a reason for the uprising?"

Riker cast a sorrowful look at Beverly. "Sir, the Cardassians have taken Wesley as a captive, claiming he interfered with their survey team and must be removed--."

"Wesley?" said Picard. "How did he get down there? He was ordered confined to quarters and certainly not allowed off this ship."

"We don't know, sir. But the colonists have taken two of the Cardassians hostage in return. They're at a standoff. I don't think powder keg can even begin to describe what's going on down there."

Picard knew from the slight edge of panic in Riker's voice that he believed the situation beyond his diplomatic abilities. He felt Beverly's fingers brush his, turned to look at her. Her statuesque face had hardened to granite, but her eyes were searching his, looking for strength to keep her resolve. Now both of her sons were in danger.

"La Forge to Captain Picard," came Geordi's voice over the comm.

"Picard here," said the captain.

"Sir, I've got good news and bad news. Data wasn't able to modify our transporter coils to use subspace. However, I've tweaked a runabout with enough warp power to get to Bok's ship in an hour," said La Forge.

"Understood," said Picard. He made snap decisions every day, decisions on the fly during a battle. And still he couldn't decide where to go, he felt like he was being split in two, and half of him would do neither place any good at all.

"I'm going," Beverly said.

Both Riker and Picard looked at her sharply. "No," Picard said, the reply automatic.

The glare Beverly gave the captain was razor-sharp. "You're the only person who can defuse the situation on that planet. Wesley is down there. The Cardassians have him. If everyone is to come out alive, you have to do it. That's your place, that's where your duty is. I've done covert ops, I'm as trained as anyone else. I'll take a team in the runabout and find Andrew."

She was right and he knew the look he saw in her right now--she wouldn't take no for an answer. "I don't like it," he said.

"You can not like it all you want," she replied. "But you have to accept it. It's a solution and the best one for everyone involved."

He nodded, looked at Will. "Number One, I want you to stay on the bridge and coordinate between the runabout and the planet. Tell Mr. Worf to assemble a Security team to accompany Dr. Crusher on the runabout."

Will nodded his agreement. "Sir," and exited to the bridge.

The captain felt Beverly's fingers lacing through his, her free hand reaching out and take his other hand, making him face her. She rested her forehead on his. "Tell me we'll get through this."

"We'll get through this. They'll come home," he whispered. Then she kissed him, soft, reassuring, and left for her mission. He watched her go. "Come home," he said to the closed door. The captain took a moment, composed himself, picked up his communicator from where Beverly had placed it on his desk. He had a duty to fulfill and he had to be the captain to do it.

Captain Picard stepped onto his bridge and addressed Riker. "Commander, have you contacted Gul Evek?"

"He is expecting you in the village square, Captain," Will said.

Picard nodded. "Have a security team meet me in transporter room three." He was on the turbolift before he heard Riker's acknowledgment.

The scene they transported into held at the very edge of a riot, the mob playing chicken with the precipice to chaos. Picard surveyed the area as the security team spread out. The Cardassians had stationed themselves in front of one of the adobe structures. Guards stood in a perimeter, phaser rifles trained on the colonists. In the center, two Cardassians had Wesley on his knees, hands tied behind his back, a phaser rifle held point blank to the back of his head. A crowd of colonists surged around the perimeter set up by the Cardassians, shouting, jeering, moving back and forth over the slight line of no return. Not long enough to incite a violent reaction, but long enough to irritate the Cardassians further. In the center of the colonist mob were their two Cardassian hostages, held in the same position as Wesley. Picard could hear the hum as the mob began to take on its own life. Off to the side stood Lakanta, leading the angry cries for the Cardassians to leave. When Lakanta saw Picard looking at him, he moved through the crowd, the way parting before him. "Picard," Lakanta said.

"Lakanta. Why have you taken these men prisoner?" the captain asked as quietly as the noisy mob would allow. The two of them drifted towards the middle of the confrontation and into no man's land.

Lakanta glared in the direction of the Cardassians, then glared at Picard. "They were invading our homes, violating our privacy. This is not their world. They have no right to be here. They took Wesley captive as soon as he beamed down. That's when we fought back, that's when we took our own captives. They wouldn't even let us speak with a Federation representative!" His last comment was shouted towards the Cardassians.

"You mean Wesley?" Picard asked. He noticed a Cardassian Gul heading in their direction. Picard surmised it to be Evek.

"Yes. I assume that's why he came down here, to give me news of what was going on. He said it was very urgent that he speak with me. Then he ran into this survey team, questioned them, and they beat him and took him captive," replied Lakanta.

Gul Evek's deep voice clarified. "He resisted arrest and my men had to use necessary force in order to detain him. Your cadet interfered with my survey team. He would not allow them to pass by until he had spoken with this man." Evek pointed to Lakanta. "We have a right by the treaty to survey this planet and that is all we were doing. These colonists and your cadet have blown this entire thing out of proportion."

Lakanta spun to stare at Evek. "We don't recognize that treaty.We're not going to let the Cardassians have Dorvan Five. No matter what the cost."

Evek looked away from Picard, down at Lakanta. "We will not be chased away from this planet by some unruly crowd," he said.

The captain resisted the urge to wipe the sweat from his brow, the sun of this planet reminding him of Kataan. He shifted his gaze back over to Wesley, seeing the evidence of the beating he'd gotten from the Cardassians: blood ran from a cut running down the side of his cheek, a split lip, one of his eyes blackening. "Gul Evek, we could defuse this situation simply by beaming away our respective parties and reconvening at a negotiating table."

"I will not allow you to take away our prisoners," Lakanta said. "You have no authority here, Picard."

The captain turned towards Lakanta again, giving him the full force of his frustration. This boy had done as much damage as Wesley, the two of them together. And now Wesley had left the ship without permission, gotten himself taken hostage, and the boy in front of Picard held a book of matches to the growing tinder of the mob. It seemed the boy liked to play with fire. The captain would give him plenty of fire. "You are Federation citizens and I am sworn to protect you. In that duty I have to your people, I have authority to disallow any violent actions that may cause interstellar war. In taking your two hostages, you have done exactly that."

"They took Wesley first," said Lakanta.

"Wesley interfered with the Cardassian survey team. He had no authority to be here. He was here entirely without permission and not as a representative of Starfleet," said Picard.

Lakanta frowned at Picard. "He is a Starfleet cadet!" he said.

"He is not," the captain said. "He resigned this afternoon."

The colonist gaped. "He didn't mention anything about that."

Dust swirled between them, shouts of the crowd growing louder, chaos beginning to swirl its own way through the crowd, covering more than the dust. A wrist communicator on Gul Evek notified Evek that his strike team was ready.

"Gul," said Picard. "If your troops attack the village, my security forces will respond."

Evek replied in a tone matching Picard's. "I hope you realize the consequences of Federation officers firing on Cardassian troops."

Two veteran generals, each having served their countries in war, each knowing the horrors of war and wanting to avoid it, stood in no man's land, dancing around the land mine between them. The boy named Lakanta had been forgotten. "I do. That's why we need to stop this, before it's too late," Picard said.

There was a shout from the crowd. Evek and Picard turned at the same time to see Lakanta, having snatched a phaser from somewhere, rushing into the Cardassian perimeter. He fired blindly, obvious to every soldier on the square that he had never fired a weapon before. His shots puffed up dirt from between the stones of the street, put scorch marks on the whitewashed adobe walls, then one hit at the foot of a Cardassian. The trooper raised his weapon and squeezed off one shot. The beam knocked the boy backwards, off his feet, and he landed with a thud on the ground between the two groups. He didn't move. The wind carried the smell of burned flesh, the smell of battle, the smell of death.

The rest of the Cardassians raised their weapons and trained them on the colonist mob. The colonists saw they had the advantage of numbers and they began to press forward, towards Lakanta's still body. Picard and Evek made eye contact, saw that their eyes reflected the same fear--that they had come to war in the seconds of Lakanta's charge. Their shouted orders had no power over the volume of the mob, feet crushing the pebbles beneath them, arms raised holding makeshift weapons.

"Evek," Picard said. "Beam your men away. Stop this now."

"My people?" asked Evek. "What about yours? These Indians are your citizens. Beam them away."

"You knew as well as I do that it would take much longer to beam this crowd out of here." Picard stared hard at the Gul. "Evek, the last war caused massivedestruction, took millions of lives. Don't send our two peoples back down that path, not like this. History is in your hands, right now. Give us one last chance for peace."

The colonists moved forward, knuckles white from the grips on their few weapons, hands shaking, voices shouting. The Cardassian soldiers maintained their positions, adjusting the grips on their rifles, sighting the colonists along the barrels. The trooper left next to Wesley hauled him up halfway, so that Wesley couldn't support himself with his legs, the phaser at the boy's temple. Wesley's face was ashen, his eyes empty.

"Evek to Vetar. Lock onto our troops on the surface and beam them aboard. Leave me here," the Gul said into his communicator.

Picard regarded him, allowing the surprise to show in his eyes.

Evek looked Picard in the eye, allowing his remorse, his sadness to show. "I had three sons, Captain," he said. "I lost two of them in the war. I don't want to lose the last one." The Cardassian reached out, grasped Picard's shoulder, a gesture of sincerity from one man to another. "We will make this peace work."

"Yes," Picard replied. "We will." I don't want to lose my son either. The captain looked over to where the Cardassian soldiers stood, watched as they dematerialized. Wesley dropped slowly, down to his knees, sitting on his feet. Nor do I want to lose my stepson. Picard started moving towards Wesley.

But when the Cardassians had beamed away, save for Evek, the mob churned away from where Wesley sat, where Lakanta's body lay, and towards the lone remaining Cardassian. Picard moved between Evek and the crowd. He would not have the peace broken now, not when they had come so far. "Stop!" Picard said.

The mob paid his command no mind. He had power in name only, but had no true authority over these people. When rational, they would listen to him, but irrational, they would not hear any of his words. The captain found himself inches from the start of the mob, having nowhere to go, Evek just behind him. One colonist raised the axe he'd found. There will be a war after all, Picard thought.

Behind him, Gul Evek had the same thought.

"Stop!" came a strong voice from a porch, a strong voice from the colony's leader, a strong voice from the man whose son lay on the cobbled street. The crowd stopped. The hum went away. Silence fell over the square, the only sounds were Anthrawa's feet on the wooden steps, then on the stone of the street. The leader stopped before Lakanta's body. Motioned to his son. "One boy has already died. These men have agreed to peace and we would break that peace? Our history, our tradition, has been once of peace, moving only to war when threatened with harsh rule. These men who came, they were surveyors. The mistakes of two boys left one dead, the other injured. War between the Federation and the Cardassians would bring many more deaths. I will not allow this to happen. Not here. Disperse."

And they did. Within moments, no evidence was left of the near-massacre, except for Lakanta and Wesley.

Both Evek and Picard looked at Anthrawa with awe. A leader, a true leader, the kind that comes along only once a generation, if that. Anthrawa knelt to touch his son, traced the contours of his face, kissed his forehead. Picard walked quickly over to Wesley, unbound his hands. Wesley rose on trembling legs, went over to his friend's body, to his friend's father. Tears tracked through the dust and blood streaked across Wesley's cheeks.

"I'm sorry," Wesley said to Anthrawa, reaching out to touch Lakanta's hand, to assure himself that his friend was truly gone. Picard had done the same with Jack, had to touch his hand, feel that the life had left his friend before he would admit it was true.

Anthrawa lifted his hands from his son's face. Placed his old hands on Wesley's cheeks, traced the contours of Wesley's face, ignorant of the sweat, dust, and blood. Then as he had done with his son, he kissed the boy's forehead. A kiss of peace. "You are forgiven," Anthrawa said, his voice rough and gentle. "It is the way of life." The colony leader stood. "Wesley, help me carry my son's body to my home."

Picard and Evek saw that between Anthrawa's age and Wesley's injuries, they would not be able to carry Lakanta alone. "Fathers should not have to die before their sons," Evek said. "Nor should any man have to bear his son's death alone."

In silent agreement, Evek and Picard stepped forward and helped Anthrawa and Wesley carry Lakanta to his home. A woman, Wakasa, Lakanta's mother, met them at the door, having been told of what had happened. She shed the tears that Anthrawa had not let fall, her hands cupping her dead son's face. Anthrawa bid them to leave, that the negotiations would resume tomorrow, after Lakanta had been buried. The door shut, leaving the three off-worlders outside. Evek and Picard nodded to one another, then Evek beamed to his ship.

Picard walked back onto the stones of the street, Wesley followed. Night had fallen, the wind had died. The village oddly silent, in mourning for their actions, in mourning for their thoughts. "I came here to help," Wesley said.

"I know," replied the captain, turning to face him.

"I thought you would go after Andrew. Someone had to tell these people what they could do instead of dying." The boy's brown eyes flicked back to Anthrawa's home. "Someone died anyway." Eyes back to the captain. "I'm sorry."

"Wesley," Picard said. "Anthrawa has already forgiven you. Now you have to forgive yourself. That will be the hardest thing of all."

"I was trying..." Wesley trailed off. "Captain, if you came here, who went after Andrew?" He was beginning to struggle to remain standing.

"Your mother," Picard answered, putting his arm around Wesley's shoulders to help him stand. His other hand moved towards his communicator. "Come on, let's bring you home."