Author's Note: Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!
You are all simply the best readers. 3
I want to give a HUGE shoutout to charlotte84mishima for their amazing piece of fanart inspired by our companion piece Lullabies and Goodnights. All y'all best get over to Tumblr and check it out – I literally had happy tears.
Majel Barrett's voice: Where we last left off….
"You did all of this for me?" Deanna asked.
Before Will Riker could respond, the door to Ten Forward opened. Lwaxana and Wyatt swept into the room.
"Ah! Here we are," Lwaxana said.
Deanna sniffled, fighting back tears.
When she turned, Lwaxana could see her daughter was misty-eyed. In reading the emotional states of both Will Riker and her daughter, Lwaxana had a fairly good idea that she had interrupted a private moment.
Curses. She lamented.
Lwaxana invited Riker to stay and help Deanna and Wyatt with the planning.
For Deanna, this brought on a series of mixed emotions. In a way, she was grateful that Riker was there with her. She valued his input and appreciated including him in the process. They were dear friends, and she had asked for his support.
At the same time, it felt bittersweet.
For years she had imagined taking these steps with Will Riker.
Choosing table runners and appetizers, cocktails and music. This was supposed to be something they did together as lovers.
And it hurt knowing that in this capacity Will was only there as a friend.
Lwaxana could sense this pain. She had hoped it would be enough to convince Deanna to call off the wedding.
Yet as the afternoon wore on, it become more and more apparent that Deanna was sticking to her guns.
Lwaxana realised she would have to resort to plan C. She would have to go lower.
I'll just have to get diabolical. Lwaxana thought.
Wyatt was already dressed and ready for the engagement dinner by 16:00 hours. He'd decided to use the extra time to sketch and relax.
With his charcoals in hand, he sat down on the sofa near the edge of the window and set to work.
It was the same image he always drew – a woman that he'd known for as long as he could remember. He could see her clearly in his mind.
He felt like he knew her.
And yet, Wyatt had never actually met her.
With nimble fingers, he delicately traced the edge of her wispy blonde curls.
Anytime Wyatt was depressed or lonely, he turned to his sketchpad. Wyatt had always called her Deanna. But now that he had actually met Deanna Troi, Wyatt knew that name did not suit her.
There was a soft knock at the door.
Wyatt quickly closed his sketch pad and leapt up. He straightened his shirt and smoothed his hair before answering.
The door slid back to reveal Lwaxana Troi.
"Wyatt!" she cried as she slipped inside without waiting for an invitation.
She made herself at home on his sofa. Lwaxana pat the spot next to her, indicating Wyatt should join her there.
"I just wanted to drop in and have a little mother-in-law to son chat," she explained.
"Of course," Wyatt said as he took a seat.
"We're going to be awfully close. I can sense great depth in you," Lwaxana commented.
Her last statement had been the truth. She was merely putting on airs. There was a deep empathy in Wyatt, deeper than most humans were capable of reaching.
Lwaxana couldn't help but sense she had interrupted him. Her eyes fell on the sketch pad on the table.
"What's this?" Lwaxana inquired.
Wyatt pulled it back before she could open it. He cradled it in his lap, one hand resting protectively over the top.
"Just sketches," Wyatt said. "A hobby."
"An artist! My my," Lwaxana exclaimed, impressed by his interest.
"Nothing serious," Wyatt replied.
He hoped that she would drop the subject. Wyatt had never shown anyone his sketches. They were far too personal. And he feared no one would understand.
But Lwaxana was nothing if not tenacious.
"Is your replicator working properly?" she asked as she pointed to the replicator on the wall.
"I think so," Wyatt said as he turned to follow her line of sight.
Lwaxana snatched the sketch pad out of his hands and flipped it open to a random page.
It was one of the more recent charcoal sketches he had completed of the woman from his dreams.
"Who is she?" Lwaxana asked with a grin.
Wyatt shrugged.
He honestly didn't know how to describe his relationship to this mystery woman.
"Someone I sketch," Wyatt admitted.
"An old flame?" Lwaxana inquired.
Wyatt shook his head in the negative.
"And you have practiced hands," Lwaxana commented as she flipped through the pages.
As she admired his work, Lwaxana could sense Wyatt's conflicted feelings over his muse. He was honest in that he did not know her.
Yet, Lwaxana could sense there was more.
"She's lovely," Lwaxana said.
"Yeah, she really is," Wyatt said strangely.
At 18:00 hours, Data and Geordi stepped off the lift.
"Wait a second," Geordi said as soon as they were in the corridor.
He tugged at the collar of his shirt and shook his arms out to release the pre-dinner jitters. Then he ran his hand over his chin.
"Maybe I should head back down and touch up my shave a bit?" Geordi suggested.
"Geordi, I have observed that you seem distressed about attending the event. May I inquire as to why? You are not the one getting married," Data said.
"It's the first time Sonya and I are well, you know, going out together to a function," Geordi explained.
This was no mere coffee in the canteen or dinner date at Ten Forward.
They were attending a function together as a couple and Geordi wanted to be sure everything was perfect.
"I just want to look my best," Geordi confessed.
"And you do," Sonya said, coming up behind them.
Geordi blushed at having been caught.
For a few seconds, Geordi said nothing as he took in her presence.
She was there.
At the dinner.
With him.
Data cleared his throat to prompt a response from the tongue-tied Chief Engineer.
"Oh, uh, hey," Geordi said.
Sonya simply stepped up next to him and offered him her hand.
"Shall we?" she said.
Geordi swallowed hard.
"Y-yeah," Geordi nodded.
On autopilot, they stepped into Ten Forward.
Data was few steps behind, shaking his head in amusement.
"What's got you in such a good mood?" Riker asked as he spied Data.
"Lieutenant La Forge. Humanoid courtship can be quite entertaining, particularly in the early stages. He was momentarily stunned by the sight of his date and seemed unable to-" Data paused as he caught sight of Tasha.
From across the room, she smiled and waved.
"Excuse me," Data said quickly.
Riker sighed as he watched Data make a beeline for Tasha, utterly captivated by the person he adored.
"I know what you mean," Riker said in a low voice.
His own gaze shifted to the front of the room where Deanna was smiling and talking politely with Lieutenant Astor and her date.
"I know exactly what you mean," Riker mourned.
Lwaxana was lounging at the bar when she overheard the Miller's approach Captain Picard.
"We've talked it over, Captain. The ceremony will be tomorrow if you agree. And Captain, would it be possible for you to perform the ceremony?" Victoria Miller requested.
"Yes. Of course, if that's what the couple want," Jean-Luc replied.
Lwaxana saw that Victoria had presented her with a window of opportunity and decided to strike.
"All parties do not request it," Lwaxana said, inserting herself into the conversation. "It's simply out of the question! I'm sorry, Captain. But unfortunately, you are not practiced in the ways of Betazed joining."
"Well that's quite true," Jean-Luc agreed.
"Therefore you are totally unqualified," Lwaxana huffed with a dismissive wave of the hand.
She had really dialled it up to eleven in an effort to break up the wedding.
Victoria Miller appeared completely taken aback by Lwaxana's haughty attitude.
"He is qualified to lead a traditional Earth ceremony," Victoria said, coming to Jean-Luc's defence. "Which is what this wedding will be!"
Lwaxana threw her head back and laughed.
"And here I thought you had no sense of humour. An Earth wedding?" she exclaimed. "Ridiculous!"
It was obvious to everyone that the tension in the room was beginning to grow.
Wyatt and Deanna had picked up on it too.
They shared a disappointed look before stepping in to smooth things over.
"Mrs Troi, I was wondering if I could introduce you to my friend Janus. He's fascinated by Betazoid music," Wyatt said as he led her away.
Simultaneously, Deanna walked the Millers to the other side of the room to meet Beverly.
One crisis averted. Deanna thought.
Only Lwaxana wasn't giving up that easy.
From the far side of the bar, Data was watching the whole thing with rapt attention.
"Data," Tasha whispered as she tugged on the seam of his shirt.
"Yes?" he replied without tearing his eyes away.
"Data, you're gawking," Tasha informed him.
Data blinked a few times, resetting his attention.
"I apologise. Was it noticeable?" Data asked quietly.
"A little," Tasha responded.
He appreciated her honestly and the way she subtly assisted him in navigating social situations.
Data gave her hand a quick squeeze. Tasha smiled at him over the rim of her drink.
"Deanna, I wanted to ask you about the ceremony," Victoria said as they sat down at the table.
"Are you still on about that backward ritual?" Lwaxana asked in a loud voice.
It was loud enough that the whole room could hear her comment.
Everyone paused, listening carefully to the latest disagreement unfolding around the family table.
Lwaxana seemed oblivious to her own rude behaviour. But of course, that was what she wanted everyone to think.
"You're so out of touch, my dear. Shame to see a person decline like that in their golden years," Lwaxana remarked.
"Mother!" Deanna snapped.
She was mortified.
"Decline?" Wyatt inquired in a heated voice.
"Golden years?" Victoria exclaimed, equally appalled.
Victoria took a breath to compose herself.
"Need I remind you, Lwaxana, that you're nearly thirty years older than I am?" Victoria asked coolly.
"But you'd never guess it," Lwaxana said as she swirled the wine in her glass.
She smiled and made a small noise of mock approval.
"Mister Homm will conduct the ceremony," Lwaxana announced.
"But Homm can't even talk!" Steven Miller said as he set his fork down.
"No matter," Lwaxana said dismissively.
"Yes matter," Deanna replied slowly.
She wasn't about to let her mother ruin this.
"Wyatt and I have agreed to a joint Betazed-Earth wedding," Deanna said, asserting her position.
Lwaxana's face dropped. She looked as if she had been slapped.
Deanna lifted her chin, refusing to back down from her position.
Surprisingly, Lwaxana chose to respond verbally rather than telepathically.
She turned on the waterworks and did her best to convey the hurt mother.
"You're my only little girl," Lwaxana said as her lip trembled.
She sniffled and grabbed her napkin.
"My baby," she went on as she dabbed at the corner of her eyes.
Deanna grumbled, wordlessly pleading with her mother to knock off the act.
"The kids have agreed to a joint wedding. Who are you to tell them what they should do?" Victoria posed, challenging Lwaxana directly.
Lwaxana's demeanour instantly changed.
"Your ignorance is astonishing," Lwaxana remarked.
She sat back and straightened her posture.
"I am Lwaxana Troi, Daughter of the Fifth House, Holder of the Sacred Chalice of Rixx, and Heir to the Holy Rings of Betazed," she declared with an air of authority. "Who are you?"
Humiliated, Deanna brought her hand to her forehead in an attempt to bury her face.
Wyatt's heart went out to her.
He gave Deanna's shoulder a reassuring squeeze.
Jean-Luc was doing his best to keep his attention focused on his salad. At the insistence of both Lwaxana and the Millers, he had been seated at the family table.
Although he had no wish to involve himself in this internal matter, he felt he had no choice. Everyone in Ten Forward had their attention fixated on the argument – even if they were pretending to be oblivious.
"Folks, it is a Starfleet tradition that at social gatherings, disputes are not permitted. I hereby declare therefore all disagreements resolved," Picard announced.
"This isn't over," Lwaxana vowed.
"Then you may resume your discussion after the dinner has concluded," Picard countered.
Lwaxana glared across the table.
This was certainly not helping her cause.
"A toast," Riker said, stepping in to save the day.
He was just one table over and knew how stubborn Lwaxana could be.
Riker stood up and raised his glass.
"To the happy couple," he began.
He hadn't been planning on making such a toast, now that the moment was there he felt there was so much to be said.
And yet, words escaped him. Rather, Will Riker found himself overcome with emotion.
He cleared his throat before proceeding.
"Deanna, you have been my colleague, my counsellor, and my…friend," Riker settled on, carefully avoiding 'companion.' "For many years. I know what a supportive and vivacious person you can be."
Deanna had stopped sulking and turned to watch his speech.
"Your sense of humour has brought me comfort during my darkest of days. You've been a shoulder to cry on and a sympathetic ear. And when I've needed it most, you've been the push to get me moving again," Riker continued. "I wouldn't be standing here today, were it not for your constant friendship and unrelenting love."
For the first time during his speech, Riker's gaze fell on Deanna.
"Wyatt, you're gaining one incredible woman. May we all celebrate such a union while the universe mourns the loss of such a flower," Riker said. "To you."
Imzadi. Riker finished in his head as he nodded to the couple.
Everyone raised their glasses and clapped politely in response.
Deanna wanted to respond, but her attention was called back by Wyatt's hand on her shoulder.
"You're very lucky to have a friend like him," Wyatt said.
Deanna nodded as she looked down at her lap with a strange, faraway look on her face.
With things back on track, Will Riker assumed he had fulfilled his duty. He had seen the way Deanna looked at him and was having trouble separating what he wanted from the reality of the situation.
"If you'll excuse me, I need to check on the Tarellian situation," Riker said as he got up.
Sneaking out of the reception would be the best thing for everyone - or so he thought.
As the evening wore on, Data had abandoned his table in favour of studying the room. He had said little as he wandered about, keen to absorb all of the conversation and social customs of such a gathering.
There were so many different people and customs intermixing that it was like a social buffet.
Data paused to observe the Gong of Gratitude. Mr Homm maintained a stoic demeanour, but Data had seen him knock back a whopping nineteen cocktails since the start of the event.
"Considering the weight at which you imbibe, is your lineage at all mixed with humans?" Data inquired.
The question had been burning on his mind.
Mr Homm appeared to be offended by the very notion and responded by turning his nose up in disgust.
Despite her best efforts, Lwaxana felt totally outgunned. She was in a foul mood. It seemed everyone was doing their best to keep the peace.
"Captain, is it true there is a Tarellian ship headed for Haven?" Wyatt inquired.
"Yes, it is true," Picard answered.
He only had a few hours left to make a decision on the matter. Between Lwaxana's antics and the Tarellian situation, Jean-Luc wasn't sure which subject was worse.
In the distance, Mr Homm struck the Gong of Gratitude as Lwaxana nibbled on her spring rolls. Truthfully, Lwaxana wasn't feeling particularly gratefully. But she had telepathically communicated to Homm to bang that gong repeatedly until it drove someone up the wall.
She knew it would stir up annoyance among the crowd.
"That's amazing. I've read everything I could about the Tarellian plague. Biological virus analysis is my expertise," Wyatt shared. "I never thought I'd actually see a Tarellian ship."
"Wyatt's primary area of study at medical school was on the Tarellian plague," Victoria informed the table.
Beverly, who was one table over, leaned in close.
"In that case, I'd very much like to confer with you," she said.
"Would it be possible to prepare some medical supplies in the event there is anyone left aboard. Geared toward their probable needs?" Wyatt inquired.
While incurable, they could help mitigate the symptoms and make the Tarellians more comfortable.
That is, if any of them were left alive.
"I think that's a very considerate idea. Our Sickbay is at your disposal, Doctor Miller," Beverly said, throwing her full support behind the plan.
"Thank you," Wyatt smiled.
It was the first genuine smile he'd had since coming aboard. He felt good doing something useful and the idea of helping the Tarellians just felt right.
"Mister Data," Picard said, catching his Second Officer by the arm as Data strolled past.
Data stopped and leaned down by the table.
Though he was physically close, Data's eyes continued to scan the room as he absorbed every detail.
"Sir?" Data asked while watching two residents of Haven flirt with Lieutenant Richards.
"You're circling the room like a buzzard," Picard cautioned.
The pair from Haven appeared to be locked in a battle of one-upmanship as they attempted to win over the affections of the winsome Lieutenant Richards.
"Perhaps being human yourself, sir, you do not find them as intriguing as I," Data replied.
On cue, Mr Homm hit the gong again.
"Must he do that?" Victoria inquired.
The constant banging was beginning to grate on everyone's nerves.
Lwaxana suppressed the urge to cheer.
Finally! She thought.
"As you well know, it is the Betazoid way of giving thanks for the food we eat," Lwaxana said as she pushed an uttaberry back and forth on her plate.
Victoria scoffed in astonishment.
"You? Giving thanks?" she remarked. "You never did this before."
That one hit a nerve.
"I do it now," Lwaxana explained quickly.
She stabbed the berry violently with her fork.
"Unlike some people, I am in growth!" Lwaxana barked before stuffing the berry into her mouth.
Lwaxana had to remind herself that this chaos was good for the plan.
As she chewed on a mouthful of food, Lwaxana's pet vine shook. Sprout was a telepathic plant that Lwaxana often kept wound around her arm and wore for social occasions.
The Daughter of the Fifth House suppressed a giggle as she was hit with a truly wicked idea.
"Victoria, I've forgotten whether you enjoy pets or not," Lwaxana said.
"Love them, of course," Victoria replied.
"Mmmm, good," Lwaxana purred.
Sprout wiggled its way off Lwaxana's wrist and around Victoria.
As soon as she felt something crawling on her, Victoria screamed and tried to bat it away.
"Gently, gently," Lwaxana said as Sprout retreated to the safety of Lwaxana's arms.
Victoria shuddered.
"Aw, poor baby. Did she hurt you?" Lwaxana asked.
Victoria closed her eyes and prayed for patience.
Out of nowhere, Victoria pushed her plate forward.
"Well this has just put me right off my dinner," Victoria declared.
"All the better. Those heavy human foods won't do you any favours for the ceremony," Lwaxana said.
Victoria looked outraged.
"You're one to talk!" Victoria snapped.
Lwaxana picked up her wine glass and took a long, slow sip.
"I have no problem going unclothed. It honours the act of love being celebrated," Lwaxana said loud enough for everyone to hear. "Oh you needn't worry too much, dear. Your husband quite likes the idea of seeing me unclothed."
"That's not true!" Steven protested.
Deanna had reached her limit.
She threw her napkin down and rose from her chair.
"Stop this petty bickering. All of you!" Deanna shouted. "Especially you, mother!"
Without another word, she stormed out of Ten Forward, knocking over the Gong of Gratitude for good measure on her way out.
Wyatt shook his head at his parents in disappointment before following after her.
The room fell silent.
"Could you please continue the petty bickering? I find it most intriguing," Data requested from the bar.
"She's still in her quarters," Beverly said.
"And Riker?" Worf asked.
Data shook his head.
After the abrupt end to the engagement party, the senior officers had stayed behind to help Guinan clean up. They still had to convert the space over for the wedding ceremony.
"I don't want to be the one to say it but, uh, are we sure this is all still necessary?" Miles asked.
"While their parents do not seem to get along, it would appear Counsellor Troi and Wyatt have no such hostility," Data commented.
Tasha and Beverly exchanged a knowing glance.
Sure, there was no hostility between them. But they both thought it was obvious Deanna was heading into the marriage with lukewarm feelings for her betrothed.
With that said, Wyatt had followed Deanna out of the dinner and was still in her quarters. The team had sent Data in search of Riker – only he was nowhere to be found.
Over at the bar, Lwaxana and Victoria Miller were sharing a drink.
"Do you think it worked?" Lwaxana said out of the corner of her mouth.
"They left together. I fear we may have driven them closer than ever," Victoria lamented.
Their plan to split up their children was falling apart before their eyes.
In spite of the theatrics, the two mothers shared a common goal. The Millers had been shocked when Wyatt had come to them out of the blue, voicing his intentions to follow through on his old bonding ritual.
"We could fistfight," Lwaxana suggested.
Victoria arched an eyebrow.
"Desperate times," Lwaxana said.
"Hey," Wyatt said in a soothing voice.
Deanna had gone from enraged Betazoid to sobbing wreck.
They were seated on her sofa as Wyatt rubbed small circles on her back in an attempt to soothe Deanna.
"I'm sorry," Deanna sobbed.
"For what?" Wyatt asked. "Your mother? My mother? We can't control that."
He was terribly calm given that their engagement dinner had been one of the most humiliating experiences of her life.
"Why don't we get them together in the morning and lay it all out. We'll offer a compromise. On our terms," Wyatt suggested. "We'll tell them this is the way it is and if they don't like it they can stay home."
Deanna could help but chuckle.
The thought of anyone giving Lwaxana Troi an ultimatum was too amusing.
"Hey, I know this isn't what either of us was expecting," Wyatt confessed.
He reached up to cup Deanna's face. He was trying his best to make an effort. After all, he had initiated this whole thing based on a feeling.
Now that she'd agreed, he had to see it through.
"But it can be what we make it," Wyatt said softly.
He thumbed away the tears on her face and smiled.
"Regardless of what our mother's think," Wyatt grinned. "In any case, they'll be off the ship in a few days. What are they going to do? Send a nasty subspace communication?"
Deanna laughed.
"You really are sweet," Deanna said as she covered his hand with her own.
"I'll always try to be," Wyatt promised.
She may not have been the woman he'd dreamed of, but Deanna was a beautiful soul and Wyatt was committed to treating her with kindness and respect.
All of sudden, Deanna's combadge pinged.
"I'm sorry to bother you, but I need you on the Bridge, Counsellor," Picard requested.
Deanna sniffled and wiped her face.
"Right away, sir," she responded.
She cleared her throat and nodded to Wyatt.
On the way out, he caught her wrist.
"May I come?" he requested.
He figured his knowledge of Tarellian medicine could be useful – and Wyatt was desperate to fill his calling.
"How can you be certain they're receiving us?" Picard inquired.
It was shortly after midnight and the Tarellian vessel was about to reach orbit around Haven.
Most of the senior staff were assembled on the Bridge.
"Our sensors are showing a responder echo, sir. It is on the frequency they once used," Data advised from the Operations console.
There was a responder echo but no communication.
"If their communications array is damaged, it could explain the echo," Tasha suggested.
Captain Picard growled.
He needed Deanna to get up there to confirm if there were lifeforms or not. Before firing on the ship, Jean-Luc wanted to be sure they weren't about to kill the last of the Tarellians.
All of sudden, the communications array blinked.
Tasha's heart skipped a beat. To her dismay, it was a message from the surface of Haven.
"We have a message coming in from Haven," she reported.
"Main viewer," Picard ordered as he waved his hand.
Electorine Valeda appeared onscreen. She was terrified.
"Captain, the plague ship is approaching transporter range!" Valeda cried.
Jean-Luc nodded.
"We are monitoring the situation," he assured her.
Valeda was not convinced.
"Do you realise they can turn this lovely world of ours into a graveyard?" Valeda questioned, hoping to convey the urgency of the situation. "Please! Please, take action before it is too late!"
"We recognise your concern and will do everything possible to stop the ship," Commander Riker promised.
"Destroy them!" Valeda pleaded. "Before they destroy us. You must!"
Captain Picard shifted his posture.
"We will stop them, Electorine. However, we will not fire on that ship until we are assured there is no one aboard," Picard explained.
After some terse back and forth, Captain Picard finally felt compelled to cut the transmission with Haven.
"You are safe," Picard repeated for a third time before motioning for Tasha to cut the channel.
He could sympathise with Valeda's position. She was only trying to protect her planet. But Jean-Luc couldn't, in good conscience, destroy the Tarellian ship if there was even a chance of survivors.
"Sir, the vessel is in transporter range," Data notified the Bridge.
"Then we cannot delay any longer. Ready the tractor beam, Lieutenant Yar. Target the ship. Activate on my command," Picard instructed.
Tasha keyed in the appropriate command and powered up the graviton beam.
"Tractor beam ready," Tasha announced.
"Engage," Picard ordered.
Tasha tapped the console and locked onto the other ship's signal, immobilising the vessel.
"Got them," Tasha reported.
For the moment, the situation was safe. There was no way the vessel could approach any closer nor could anyone beam off the ship.
Everyone waited on pins and needles to see if there would be any response.
"Anything?" Picard asked after a few tense moments.
"They can receive us. At this distance they could respond with running lights if necessary," Geordi commented.
The turbolift door slid open and Wyatt and Deanna stepped off onto the Bridge.
"Ah! Excellent," Picard said.
"Their ship could have been brought in via-" Data trailed off as the viewscreen began to crackle.
"Captain!" Riker said.
Without warning, the screen came to life.
Wyatt's jaw nearly dropped through the hull.
For the first time in his life, Wyatt stood face-to-face with the woman from his dreams.
She's real! He thought.
"Wyatt," she said.
Everyone froze and turned to look at Wyatt.
Wyatt shook his head.
"Captain, I-I don't understand," Wyatt confessed.
A middle-aged man stepped into view on the screen.
"My name is Wrenn. May I inquire as to why your tractor beam has locked onto us?" he asked.
"It doesn't matter, father. He's here," the woman said.
She smiled.
"Wyatt, you've come just as you promised," she said.
"Tea. Earl Grey. Hot," Picard ordered.
A steaming cup of his favourite tea appeared on the replicator tray.
Jean-Luc snagged it and sat back in the chair at his desk.
The Tarellian leader's words echoed over and over in his mind.
We are all that is left. We don't ask to make contact with those living below. All we ask is to be on the edge of some sea, some unpopulated island or faraway peninsula.
The legend of Haven's healing waters was known far and wide – and for the Tarellians this was their last hope.
They had exhausted their options when it came to modern medicine.
And if we cannot be healed, then we intend to die here. If we must die while caged by your tractor beam, then so be it.
"We can make them comfortable. I did some checking at the USS Novello is only three weeks away," Beverly advised. "I know Doctor Lenwood. We may find some breakthrough."
"The Enterprise will lose power before then. We can't sustain the tractor beam long enough," Picard said. "In any case, Mr Data believes the Tarellian ship won't last that long. It is far too damaged. Ten days, perhaps two weeks. Then the life support system will fail."
In the years since their journey, the Tarellian vessel had sustained heavy damage from various other ships trying to destroy it.
Jean-Luc couldn't even begin to imagine what these people had gone through – traversing the galaxy, alone, watching all of their friends and loved ones die.
There were less than thirty of them left out of ship that had fled Tarellia with nearly a thousand passengers.
"Doctor Miller is preparing a care package that we can beam over," Beverly advised.
"Wyatt," Picard said absentmindedly.
Beverly nodded.
They still didn't have a satisfactory explanation for the strange incident on the Bridge earlier. The Tarellians had known him. In fact, the woman that called herself Arianna, claimed some telepathic link to him.
Wyatt had shared privately with the Captain and Deanna that he had sketched this woman for years – not knowing who she was or how he knew her.
It had been an uncomfortable conversation. Jean-Luc got the impression that Wyatt was honest but attempting to tiptoe around Deanna's feelings.
Jean-Luc didn't understand any of it.
"I wish we had another option," Jean-Luc confessed.
"Why can't we put them on the shuttles?" Beverly asked. "If their ship is going to break down, split them between the shuttles until we can move them somewhere."
Jean-Luc couldn't help but laugh.
"What?" Beverly asked defensively.
Jean-Luc shook his head, grinning. He had always admired her ability to get creative under pressure, her unwillingness to accept defeat.
"You're incredible," he chuckled.
"And you've seen her all your life?" Deanna asked.
She traced her fingers over the soft, soulful eyes in the sketch.
"Yes," Wyatt confessed.
Deanna could sense that Wyatt seemed rattled. It had been a jarring experience for the young Doctor, and it threw everything he thought he knew into question.
He felt conflicted.
How could he possibly marry Deanna tomorrow now that he had discovered Arianna was real?
Yet, Wyatt couldn't shake the feeling that he had to.
For weeks he had felt like he was being called to a higher purpose. He had a compulsion to heal. Clearly, the universe wanted him here.
He was considered an expert on the Tarellian plague. It could be no coincidence that the very last Tarellians had found him.
Wyatt assumed this was a sign that he was meant to be here, to marry Deanna, and to work on the Enterprise.
"Wyatt, do you want to talk about what happened?" Deanna offered.
"No," he said, plastering on a smile.
He reached up to caress her face.
"We can worry about that later. We have a wedding to prepare for," he said.
With the help of former Ambassador Miller, Jean-Luc had broken the news of the Tarellian request to Haven's Electorine Valeda.
She had been less than thrilled – and with good reason.
As a compromise, they were hoping to negotiate an agreement to transport some of Haven's water aboard the Enterprise and then beam it over to the Tarellians.
They were now awaiting a decision by Haven's government. It was expected they would formally answer in the morning.
As he couldn't sleep, Jean-Luc decided to go for a stroll.
Even if they were to move them to the shuttles, the Tarellians were in dire straits. The shuttle air filtration system wasn't designed to hold that many people for so long.
It would be cramped – hardly the type of conditions conducive to end-of-life care.
The shuttles were merely a short-term solution. Jean-Luc had fired off a series of desperate subspace requests asking for any possible vessel that could be given to the Tarellians.
He wanted to find them something comfortable with housing. But even a decommissioned Starfleet ship was a far cry from the fresh air, sparkling seas, and sunshine that Haven offered.
As he watched the clouds swirl on the blue planet below, Jean-Luc thought it was terribly unfair. They had travelled so far, survived for so long.
And now heaven was dangling just out of reach.
They deserved to die with dignity.
"Uneasy lies the head that wears the crown," Lwaxana said as she approached him.
"I thought you would be preparing for tomorrow," Jean-Luc said.
Lwaxana fell silent.
Longing to satisfy his curiosity, Jean-Luc resorted to a desperate move.
"Mrs Troi, with your telepathic abilities. What do you make of all this? A woman suddenly appearing from a dream? On a ship where an expert on the Tarellian plague happens to be aboard?" Jean-Luc asked.
"Wyatt is a unique young man," Lwaxana admitted. "I sense great empathy in him."
"Are you saying he's some kind of telepath?" Jean-Luc asked. "That he called the ship here?"
Lwaxana shook her head.
"No, no," she assured him. "I'm saying he's a healer."
Jean-Luc frowned. He didn't quite understand.
"The universe speaks to all of us, Jean-Luc. Everyone has a calling," Lwaxana said. "Some people just listen better than others."
"Jean-Luc?" Beverly asked for the third time.
He'd been staring out the window in his ready room for the last ten minutes.
"Hmm?" he asked.
"I said you either need a bigger collar size or a smaller neck," Beverly grunted as she tried to affix the collar of his dress uniform.
"Oh," Jean-Luc replied absentmindedly.
"What has gotten into you today?" Beverly asked.
The universe speaks to all of us, Jean-Luc. Everyone has a calling. Some people just listen better than others.
Beverly took a step back and smoothed Jean-Luc's uniform down over his shoulders.
She was so close. Right there.
Dangling just out of reach.
Had the universe been trying to tell him something? Screaming at him for years? Was he so focused that he had shut his ears to the obvious signs?
They had been friends at the Academy – briefly lovers until Jean-Luc had let her go.
Fate had brought them together again in service on the Stargazer. Then Jack had died, and they had grown closer than ever before.
Jean-Luc had let go again only to find themselves thrust back together on the Enterprise.
And Jean-Luc was stuck in neutral.
Was this the universe calling to him? Telling him not to let her go this time around?
The door chimed and Will Riker poked his head inside.
"We're ready for you, sir," Riker reported.
"Jean-Luc?" Beverly prompted as she eyed him carefully.
He'd been staring at her for the last few minutes.
There was a pregnant pause.
"Duty calls," Jean-Luc said.
Down in her quarters, Tasha was sitting on the edge of her seat. She had one foot perched precariously on the table at an angle that Data believed most humans would have found uncomfortable.
With her tongue stuck out in determination, Tasha was doing her best to carefully apply nail varnish to her toes.
Shoes were a no-go for the ceremony. It may have only been nail varnish, but it made Tasha feel slightly less exposed.
"If it is your attempt to distract from your lack of attire, might I suggest a more vibrant colour?" Data teased.
Tasha sighed and flopped back against the chair.
"I can't believe I'm doing this," she confessed.
After hours of internal wrangling, Tasha had agreed to honour her commitment to Deanna.
Wyatt and Deanna had agreed to a joint human-Betazoid wedding. As a compromise, only some people were required to go in true Betazoid fashion.
Tasha's stomach had been in knots. She was mortified at the thought, but the notion of letting down one of her dearest friends felt worse.
"You look nice," Data said, hoping to buck up her courage.
Tasha paused and shot him a look.
"The colour is most becoming," Data said.
Technically, Tasha didn't have to disrobe until they were about to start the ceremony. In true spartan fashion, Tasha had been planning to wear nothing more than her dressing gown.
So Data had gone to ship's stores and found something slightly more appropriate for the gravity of the occasion.
Tasha had been impressed with the silky blue wrap he had produced.
"You chose this on purpose," Tasha teased when she saw it.
It was the same shade of blue as the garment she'd worn during the polywater incident, and the fabric was of a similar texture.
"I will admit I may have been inspired by your previous fashion choices," Data confessed.
"I wish I wasn't so chicken about this whole thing. There's no reason to be embarrassed," Tasha said aloud.
Data bent over and kissed the top of her head.
"I believe you are the bravest person I know," Data said.
"It should only take a matter of minutes," Captain Picard explained. "Our Transporter Chief will beam our crew off the shuttles. Then we will beam you onboard."
Wrenn put his hand up.
"Thank you, but that will be unnecessary," Wrenn said.
"We have medical supplies waiting. Pain relief, sleep aides, and food," Wyatt explained.
For years the Tarellians had been carefully rationing their own supplies in order to make the journey. It had been an age since they'd had a decent hot meal.
"I do wish to sound ungrateful," Wrenn declared. "But if we are to die, then we would prefer to die together. In the ship that has been our home."
The planet of Haven had agreed to send water up in hopes that it might cure the Tarellians. While they were grateful for the gift, they were not willing to leave their ship.
"Wrenn, your ship's life support system is failing. You have ten, maybe twelve days before it is gone," Picard advised.
Wrenn put his arm around his daughter.
"We thank you for your generosity. But we will not be separated," Wrenn asserted.
Jean-Luc rubbed the back of his neck.
He had not anticipated this.
While they were still chasing down leads, they weren't having much luck securing an alternative vessel big enough for all of the Tarellians.
Worf had been up since 04:00 negotiating with various merchant vessels – a task made difficult by the Federation's use of credits rather than the currencies of most traders.
With a promise that they would beam over supplies and the water samples from Haven, Jean-Luc disconnected the channel.
"My team will begin immediately, sir," Miles said. "We should have it wrapped up before the ceremony is over."
As he left the Bridge, Wyatt was shaking.
He stepped onto the turbolift, completely consumed with his own thoughts.
Why now? Why here?
He couldn't fathom why he had been compelled to come aboard, to make good on the bonding arrangement – to upend his very life – for this.
It seemed so cruel that he should finally meet Arianna and her people so shortly before their deaths.
None of it made any sense.
Surely there must be more? Wyatt thought.
He felt like he had been cheated from some destiny.
"Wyatt?" Deanna inquired.
She reached out and took hold of his trembling hand.
With each passing moment, the anxiety he felt grew. Deanna had sense all of it and his growing trepidation about the ceremony.
She couldn't be sure if this was due to the Tarellian situation or their impending vows. After all, this was his life's work.
Deciding she needed to ask the question, Deanna found the courage to broach a subject they had danced around for the last two days.
"We don't have to do this," Deanna said.
For the first time since leaving the Bridge, Wyatt took a breath.
"There is no reason for us to rush into anything. Even with the job and housing situation," Deanna assured him.
He visibly relaxed. This was not lost on Deanna.
"In fact, if you don't want to get married. Or if you need time to figure this out, I understand," Deanna said.
She had been a ball of nerves too.
"I'm willing to work with you on this if this is what you really want. If you want to stay on the Enterprise," Deanna went on.
If you want to stay on the Enterprise.
Of course he wanted to stay on the Enterprise. It was his only option if he wanted to help the Tarellians.
"Get undressed. I'll see you down there," Wyatt smiled.
"You're not undressed," Lwaxana said as the door slid open.
Wyatt was still wearing his clothes from earlier.
He'd been in front of the mirror brushing his hair and feeling wretched when he'd caught sight of his sketchbook.
In that moment, he was reminded of the feelings he had shared with Arianna. Despite being separated by lightyears, they had formed a close bond. Wyatt knew he was here to help these people, to help her.
Like him, she was an artist.
The Tarellians were a rich culture. This would be the final opportunity to preserve that – and they were working against the clock.
Wyatt had been so fixated on staying on the Enterprise that he had failed to see the most obvious solution.
He had set his hairbrush down and stepped back from the mirror.
From the minute he reached his decision, Wyatt was struck by how right it felt.
Scary, but right.
It was what had brought him now to Lwaxana's door.
"You're not undressed," she repeated.
Wyatt stepped into her rooms and then stopped. He was carrying a large, silver box.
"Mrs Troi," Wyatt said.
Silence fell between the pair as Wyatt looked pleadingly at his would-be mother-in-law.
He didn't ask. He didn't need to. She understood.
"Of course I'll help," Lwaxana said.
Less than ten minutes later, Wyatt was on his way down the corridor with his sketches in hand. Lwaxana had only asked two things of him – the first was that he bring his sketches along.
After all, you spent a lifetime creating them. Lwaxana had said.
It was true. And, in a way, Wyatt thought these images might be able to convey his deep connection with Arianna better than words could.
One more thing. Lwaxana had requested. Tell me something seriously. Which of these hairpieces do you think looks better on me?
Of course she hadn't meant him to take it literally, but Lwaxana wanted to see him smile once more. She could tell how nervous he was, and Wyatt needed some reassurance he was making the right choice.
As soon as he was gone, Lwaxana had put in the suggested hairpiece and queued up her video communication link.
A gruff looking Benzite with an eyepatch appeared on screen.
"How would you like to make a trade?" Lwaxana asked with a wicked grin as she held up a handful of jewels.
On his way down, he ran into his parents who were running late. He paused at the end of the corridor to watch them for a moment.
"Hold still," Victoria said as she adjusted Steven's corsage.
"Ow," Steven said.
"Oh! I'm sorry," Victoria apologised.
Steven laughed heartily.
Victoria grinned, realising she'd been had.
"You old fool," Victoria said as she gave him a quick kiss.
For Wyatt, the moment was bittersweet. He wasn't sure what to say.
"Wyatt?" his mother asked, noticing him down the corridor. "Shouldn't you be undressed?"
He wanted to tell his parents what they meant to him, but words failed him.
"Pre-wedding jitters," Steven said.
"I have to take these supplies to the transporter room," Wyatt said carefully.
Technically, it wasn't a lie. Although he didn't feel great about deceiving his parents.
"You'll be late for the ceremony," Victoria said.
"I'm so glad you're here," Wyatt said as he stepped over to them.
He pulled them both into a big hug and held them there. Victoria and Steven were initially confused. After a few seconds, they figured that their son just needed some reassurance. It was a wedding after all, and emotions were running high.
"I love you both very much," Wyatt confessed. "I'm not going to be around anymore."
"Oh son, we know that," Steven said, assuming he was referring to his move to the Enterprise.
"I know this is sudden. But I'm so glad you are here to support me," Wyatt went on. "Please take care of each other."
When they broke apart, Victoria paused to look at her son.
"Wyatt?" she asked, sensing there was something he wasn't telling her.
"Go on, you need to get down to the ceremony," Wyatt said. "I just need a little more time."
"I figured Deanna would be the one running late," Riker whispered.
"Maybe he's busy doing his hair?" Miles teased quietly. "You know."
He sat up and pretended to flip back feathery hair.
Geordi coughed to cover his laugh.
"Stop it," Keiko said under her breath.
With each passing minute, the four people waiting at the front of Ten Forward grew increasingly nervous.
Captain Picard had tugged at his collar several times. He felt sweaty and stifled.
Deanna seemed like a statue, waiting patiently. But she could sense there was something wrong.
Her mother wasn't there yet - and neither was Wyatt.
Reg Barclay looked as if he were ready to shake apart. He was white as a sheet and kept dabbing his forehead with a handkerchief that was, by this time, drenched.
He was doing his best to keep his eyes fixated anywhere but Counsellor Troi and Lieutenant Yar.
They were still technically clothed – Deanna sporting a loose, off-the-shoulder wrap traditional of Betazoid brides.
Tasha had her blue silky number wrapped tight around her shoulders. She crossed her arms across her chest for good measure, not keen for any prelude to the main event.
Tasha glanced down at her bare feet and wee glossy toenails, reminding herself that she would be wearing something.
The door slid open, and Tasha braced herself.
She was dreading the arrival of the groom.
But it was only Ensign Jae slipping into the back row.
Riker leaned in close next to Data.
"Is it true T's got a Starfleet symbol on her-" Riker began to ask.
"Captain Picard to the Bridge. We have a security situation," Lieutenant Hawk's voice rang out.
Saved by the bell! Tasha thought, relieved.
"Go," Deanna nodded.
Jean-Luc made a beeline for the door. Tasha was less than half a step behind him.
"I will go," Worf said, catching her arm at the door.
Tasha shot him a stern look that said, 'not on your life.' Worf got the message loud and clear.
As the lift doors closed, Captain Picard glanced over at his Security Chief.
"Lieutenant, I am sure Mr Worf could-" Picard began to say.
"Sir, I would fight a gorn in hand-to-hand combat if it meant keeping this on," Tasha said, cutting him off.
"You can just set that shipment on the transporter pad," Ensign Reeves said. "The coordinates are all set. Just waiting on the Captain's orders."
"Thanks," Wyatt nodded.
"Sure glad we can delivery," they joked.
Wyatt set the materials down the surface of the transporter pad and then stepped back.
Before Reeves knew what hit him, Wyatt had immobilised them with a hypospray. They fell to the floor and Wyatt stepped over their body to reach the console.
Activating the transporter controls, he raced to reach the pad in time.
The familiar shimmering sound activated, and Wyatt took one last look at the Enterprise.
When he rematerialised, Wyatt was standing in a small, rounded room. There were blue panels on the wall and soft lighting. To his left, there was a sketch of himself hanging on the wall.
Although Wyatt had never set foot in this room before, he felt like he was somewhere familiar - like a dream.
He felt like he was home.
"Situation?" Picard asked as he stepped onto the Bridge.
"Someone had beamed over to the Tarellian ship. We couldn't stop it," Hawk reported.
The viewscreen activated and Wrenn stepped onscreen – followed by Wyatt.
Tasha put her hand over her mouth and gasped.
"Captain," Wyatt nodded.
"What do you think you are doing?" Picard barked.
Wyatt wasn't sure where to begin.
"Captain, I'm sorry. I had to do this," Wyatt said.
Tasha's head reeled.
What would this mean for the wedding? For Deanna?
"You know you can never come back," Picard said in astonishment.
Wyatt nodded.
"You can turn off your tractor beam, Captain. We will not be going to Haven," Wrenn said.
Tasha's sensor console began to blink.
"Sir, I'm detecting an approaching ship. Appears to be a Benzite transport ship," Tasha advised.
Jean-Luc tapped his combadge.
"Senior officers report to the Bridge. Steven and Victoria Miller, please report to the Bridge," Picard said.
From the instant she had heard the page, Deanna had come to terms with the fact she would not be getting married.
Though as she rode the turbolift to the Bridge, she wasn't quite sure exactly why.
Most of the senior officers had opted to ride in the first lift. Out of courtesy, Deanna had taken the second lift with Steven and Victoria.
Thankfully, Will Riker had opted to stay behind and ride with them so that Deanna wouldn't be alone.
"Not to worry, dear," Victoria said as she patted the back of Deanna's hand. "I'm sure this is just a minor hiccup."
"We'll be dancing in no time," Steven smiled.
Deanna locked eyes with Will, wordlessly communicating that her wedding was over before it had begun.
When the lift doors open, Tasha rushed in, trying to prevent Deanna from stepping off.
Riker spotted Wyatt on the viewscreen and tried to hold her back.
"Deanna, wait," Tasha said.
But it was too late, she had already spied Wyatt onscreen and understood.
She wasn't mad – only surprised.
And sad.
Mrs Miller cried out as soon as she saw her son. She was horrified.
"What is he doing?" she shrieked. "Beam him back!"
"He can never come back," Deanna lamented as she stepped forward.
Steven looked around in hopes that someone would offer an explanation for what his only son was doing on a plague ship.
"Mother, Father, I'm sorry. Please forgive me," Wyatt asked. "But I have to continue the work to cure these people."
He shrugged.
"I knew I was coming aboard the Enterprise to meet my destiny. I'm sorry, Deanna. I thought it was you. I never imagined this would be this," Wyatt said as he took in the Tarellian Bridge.
Deanna's eyes were wet, but she smiled.
"Please forgive me, I never meant to deceive you," Wyatt confessed.
"I know," Deanna assured him.
Wyatt shifted uncomfortably.
"I'm afraid I must also ask your forgiveness. I used our bonding gifts to purchase a Benzite transport ship," Wyatt explained.
"With a little help," Lwaxana said in a sly voice as she threw her arm around her daughter.
Deanna flashed him a brilliant smile, empathically communicating that she harboured no ill will.
"I'm happy for you," she said.
"I knew you would feel that way," Wyatt replied as he could sense the warmth that radiated off her. "You are a beautiful person. I'm sorry that our time together was so short."
"Me too," Deanna admitted.
It was a poignant moment as the mixed feelings of fear, shock, and pride emanated throughout the Bridge culminating a bittersweet aura.
"Captain, the Tarellian transporter function is not active. May I make a request that you beam off the Benzite Captain to your own ship and return him to Haven before beaming us aboard?" Wyatt inquired.
"We would be only happy to," Picard answered.
"Goodbye," Wyatt said, taking one last look at his parents.
"Wait!" Beverly cried as she hopped up from her chair.
She was overcome with excitement.
"The USS Novella is only a few weeks away. They want to come," Beverly informed them. "I don't see any reason why the government of Haven wouldn't permit you to remain in orbit while you work for a cure."
They were no longer a danger in orbit. And having secured a ship, it meant they had time to await the arrival of the Novella. The vessel would be able to keep Wyatt supplied as he worked toward a cure.
"I'd be happy to lead the negotiations," Steven Miller said, stepping up.
Not only would such an offer aid his son's research, it meant Wyatt would still be in video communication range – even if they had to remain isolated.
"Oh I just love a happy ending!" Lwaxana exclaimed as she clasped her hands together.
"You want to save time and just do it right here? Right now?" Miles asked.
They were all down in Ten Forward helping Guinan clean up and rearrange the furniture.
Keiko put her hands on her hips and laughed.
"I mean it! Everything's set up," Miles said as he gestured around the room.
"It would save me having to select another outfit," Geordi teased as he helped Worf fold up a tablecloth.
Worf grumbled and eyed the lumpy fabric. His Babushka would never tolerate such sloppy work.
"Like this," Worf said as he showed Geordi for a second time.
"You keep joking like that Miles O'Brien and I'm going to call your bluff," Keiko warned.
"Can I help you with those tablecloths Lieutenant?" Miles asked, quickly making himself scarce.
Guinan figured there was no sense in letting the food go to waste. Once they had finished cleaning up the venue, she'd laid out a spread for the team.
"It's a shame," Keiko said while running her fingers of one of the Betazoid Butterfly Orchids. "These arrangements are gorgeous."
"Commander Riker put them together," Data said.
Everyone was simultaneously surprised and yet not shocked at that news.
"Speaking of our First Officer, has anyone seen him since?" Geordi asked.