Author's Note:
I forgot my password, yes I'm very embarrassed about that. Better late than never I guess (?). I'm uploading a few tonight to account for the horrific backlog, so please let me know what you think, reviews are greatly appreciated as always.
In the distance, far beyond the stars and subspace, there is a ship on fire.
There are men of calm hands trying to stem the flames, trying to rebuild the systems one by one, all the while fretting over a boy they cannot be sure is even alive, all of them cowering beneath a cloak that threatens to crack in two.
Captain Picard cannot know this, on the bridge of his ship, clean and scouring every inch of the universe for a father they cannot be sure is even alive.
"Sir,"
Worf, from behind his station, finally has something to report. The captain turns to face up at him.
"Long range sensors are picking up a series of faint carbon emissions at the edge of the Tli-Alpha system, it is possible they are of a distressed vessel, though I am receiving no indication otherwise that there is one in the area,"
Picard stands, pulling firmly on his uniform tunic, relieved at last that he can finally do something in this tedious search, to feel as though he has not dragged his crew to the neutral zone for war, and found an orphan already on the way.
"It may be hidden beneath a cloak, Mr Worf,"
He says, walking the ramp to reach the man's shoulder and follow the readings on his panel.
"What evidence do we have to suggest these emissions are not the same random fluctuations in subspace as the rest,"
Worf takes a second to swallow his feeling of inadequacy that he has provided them so many false positives before this one, but there is a confidence this time, and he acts without order.
"If I may Sir,"
His whole panel lights up in a sector graph of the area they discuss; he turns to the Captain, pointing to the numerous clouds of carbon matter surrounding an area that seems to be scrubbed clean almost, clear and defined boundaries at its edge where the emissions disappear abruptly.
It forms the rough outline of a sub-light cruiser.
"That appears to resemble a vessel to me,"
Picard smiles widely, nods to the Lieutenant his appreciation, and taps once on the bessel of the panel before moving swiftly back to his seat.
"Well then, what are we waiting for helm?"
He asks after a moment of familiar silence.
"Engage,"
In a terrible moment of blurred stars and hyperspace, the whole vessel is moving with such speed unmatched, and from the front of the bridge, an unassuming voice calls back.
"Maximum Warp Sir,"
Ensign Leong says, only a hint of uncertainty to her, and her small head is barely visible above the back of the chair; another somebody too young for space travel.
Picard wishes, not for the first time, that he could protect them all, that only the well-lived and 'of a certain age' individuals would be permitted to explore space, because no matter how safe they make it, there are never any guarantees.
Tasha knew that, Deanna probably knows it too, as does Ensign Leong - but these are thoughts that will not serve him well now.
So he stops - thinking - and looks around at all the bright lights, the starship dreams and the stars themselves, only just blurs as they move too quickly by them.
Commander Riker remains aboard the Tiberius, overseeing the repair teams and working under their Captain for the time being, and perhaps it is better that way, so certain they all are that the man would have something to say about Deanna's involvement here.
He stands, maybe too abruptly, but turns purposefully towards his ready room nonetheless.
"You have the bridge Mr Data, I expect to be informed the minute we have a confirmation on the status of that vessel, Klingon or not,"
Picard orders, and though he can't see with his back turned to them all, he can feel how the two men move in their respective positions, Worf nodding behind his panel, and Data standing fast from the secondary con panel, both of them speaking in unison.
"Aye Sir,"
" Do you know what makes people big ?"
A crayon playing between the fingers of his left hand, the boy looks up and across at her.
They are sat at the low sofa of her office, in front of that one large table that now is sprawling with large sheets of paper and loose, rolling logs of colour.
" Big? "
She responds, setting down her own crayon and turning her body out towards him, a curious smile growing of her face.
" What do you mean?"
They are still speaking in one of the generic Bajoran dialects, and she can't quite identify the province his mother must hail from.
" Father tells me I will grow and be tall like him and the man who worries about you,"
"Worf,"
Ridoll nods, but there is a crease of confusion made of his heavy brow.
" But I don't know how, "
" How what? "
Deanna's voice is soft and smooth, and perfectly counsellor like - it is a role she finds much comfort in.
" How will I get to be that big too?"
She finds herself taken aback for a moment, but there is a sincerity to the boy that is endearing.
" Ohh, "
Her breath drags out in some emphatic enthusiasm.
" You want to know what makes people big,"
Ridoll nods again, the crease gone from him, replaced now by a slight eager smile, and she wonders why this is a question that plays on his mind.
" Well ,"
She starts, not sure that she has words enough to describe this to him, not sure that she quite has the vocabulary to express it; they speak together like children.
Ridoll drops his crayon too, in anticipation.
" People grow bigger because- "
Her mind turns to Worf, how unfathomably gentle he is, the dedication and care he holds within himself something which is well-hidden, but there for those who are willing to see it.
" Because of their hearts."
The boy's face turns further upwards in awe, and he shuffles his small body even tighter in to her side, pushing himself onto the edges of all the cushions she has stacked behind her back.
" To be big, you have to have a big heart, "
A story begins to weave itself in her mind.
" What does that mean? "
Deanna moves to put an arm around his shoulders, tentatively, but he seems to enjoy her comfort.
" It means that sometimes, the people with the most in their hearts have to grow to be really big, so that there's room for all their love, "
" Like my father? "
She nods at him, but there is something creeping upon the boy.
" Why aren't you that big then? "
There is nothing that she can do but frown in response, turning in to her own mind for a moment, wondering if she is speaking to help him, or he is speaking to help her.
It is a very peculiar dynamic.
"Uhm, gods how do I -?"
She voices aloud, his curiosity grows.
" It's because I - well, I keep my love in my head, "
Will, and all the hard decisions she has had to make on behalf of her heart.
" Your head? "
" Yes, because I am a Betazoid, I can feel other people's love, but I feel it in my head instead of my heart, "
She tries her hardest to make some kind of sense, but it seems words have started to fail her more and more lately, to the point that no number of foreign languages are enough to express what she has started to fill her insides up with.
" Okay ,"
Ridoll responds, very suddenly void of all his previous curiosity, as though she had answered his question enough that he needs no more explanation. But there is that same familiarity that bubbles up under him, and he has started to dig his head into her side.
She winces, but he is so gentle that there is no way to justify telling him that he has hurt her, where her ribs are moving it seems by the moment.
Instead, she bends her body around the ache to rest her cheek against the top of his head, and a short, sharp and hot glow of sadness resounds in the boy, as though he wants her to be somebody else.
It is gone so quickly that comfort can only replace it, and his thoughts are so quiet that she cannot hear them even as a whisper, and he is falling so drastically from one extreme to another.
He is falling asleep.
