The crackling of his comm-badge has him shaken from his stupor, even the cold tea in the bottom of his mug cannot tell him what he had been thinking of.
It is probably better that way.
"We are dropping out of warp sir,"
Data's voice fills the room, and he wonders when he had even had the presence of mind to acknowledge the message.
"Thank you Mr Data,"
He stands, fumbling against his chest and all the chirping sounds that ensue. Across from him, the zebra-fish does another round of its tank, pressing itself up into a rock in amongst all the pebbles.
Picard straightens himself out to the backdrop of this strange tranquillity.
Out on the bridge, yellow alert is lighting up the panels, and along the walkway that leads to Worf, the ambient LEDs are pulsing lightly. Data is moving to sit instead in the first officers seat, and the position seems to suit him.
Somewhere, in a cynical part of his mind, Picard thinks maybe it would be better to have the man as his first officer, at least he wouldn't have to worry about him screwing his way through the crew.
"What's our status Lieutenant Worf?"
The seat is not warm when he sits.
"Weapons and shields at maximum Sir, the vessel's coordinates remain unchanged,"
The Klingon responds, his voice only slightly marred by whatever trepidation he is feeling towards the situation, and perhaps they are fortunate to remain only at a yellow alert.
"Open a wide-band hailing frequency, see if we can't get them to lower their cloak voluntarily,"
Captain Picard suggests, craning slightly to speak over his shoulder, but not turning his body away from the viewscreen, where the stars have screeched to a halt around their ship, and they are facing into a series of smoke clouds, suspended in the vacuum.
"Hailing frequencies open,"
He nods to nobody in particular.
"This is Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the Federation Starship Enterprise to any distressed vessels in the sector, do you require assistance?"
There is a deep hush as the message runs through, and he turns back to Worf once again, who shakes his head lightly.
"We are appealing for information regarding a young boy found not far from here, we have reason to believe he was ejected from a Klingon ship, if you can provide us any-"
His voice is cut off abruptly as the space in front of them morphs into the shape of a battle-cruiser, much older than those in current commision, and leaking flames and plasma fuel into all the clouds around it.
"We are being hailed Captain,"
Worf says with apprehension.
"On screen,"
Picard stands and makes his way to the centre of the bridge, tugging once again at the bottom of his tunic, an unfounded ball of nerves working tightly at his centre.
In one instant, there is a hive of activity on the viewscreen, the image slightly distorted by a bad connection, and the buzz of overtaxed systems almost louder than the single man crouched before a console.
He is not grotesque, but he is Klingon, wearing a peculiar expression, desperate almost, his face covered in soot and his hair falling from a knotted mass of woven locks atop his head.
"You found my boy?"
The man asks urgently, and Picard tries to hold on to his diplomacy, reign in his shock at the sight of a Klingon man in engineers overalls, hunched down and creased in worry.
"Excuse me, to whom am I speaking,"
And maybe he even sounds too brusque to himself.
"I am Ko'lek, I Captain this vessel, we come on a mission of mercy,"
"Mercy?"
The day continues to become stranger.
"My crew and I are ferrying the escaped prisoners of a Cardassian labour ship to a colony in this sector, we were caught in a skirmish with another Klingon vessel who would call me dishonourable,"
There is a certain lack of distaste in Ko'lek's voice, when he speaks of honour, and it is possible to notice that those individuals working on the consoles behind him are not the same as him.
"Your crew is not Klingon?"
Picard questions, but somehow he is not filled with suspicion.
"We are of many worlds, some are Bajoran, as is my wife and my son,"
It seems he is holding back a bite of impatience.
"Please, tell me, is he safe?"
"He is,"
The Captain cannot help but blurt, feeling that there is something sincere, something unusual but certainly not hostile of the man - he wishes Deanna were at his side.
"We found him a few sectors from here in a cloaked escape pod, my Counsellor is Betazoid and she sensed him before we could collide, he is safe and well with her at the moment,"
A beaming smile of white, flashing teeth erupts on Ko'lek's face, and one of his large hands sweeps upwards to conceal it, the relief more than palpable amongst the joy.
"We can return him to your -"
"NO!"
The man's hands moves quickly away, the smile gone, and Picard tries hard not to be too stunned by this outburst. He seems to be quick to calm himself.
"He cannot be aboard when there is so much smoke, he is only young it will damage his lungs, his mother will never forgive me,"
Picard smiles softly at this, finding the Klingon to be a very human kind of man.
"Is that why he was placed in an escape pod?"
"We had no choice, there were fires more than we could control, our engines were at critical,"
The smile leaves him.
"You thought you were going to die?"
Ko'lek nods solemnly, his eyes filled with terrible regret and downcast slightly in shame.
"Very well,"
Picard begins, his mind just now made up at the sight of a good man caught in a storm, no matter the preconceptions attached to his race.
"Unfortunately my engineering department is already aiding another vessel not far from here, and we cannot spare any more men, but our systems are capable of replicating the parts you may need, and I will ask my Chief Medical Officer to put together a team to see to your injured,"
Behind him, Worf does not seem too pleased about this, and even as a Klingon raised by humans, he finds the lack of fire in the new man to be distasteful, and he has to swallow it down harshly.
"And as for your Son, you can beam aboard to see him as soon as you wish, and you and I can discuss the nature of what it is you do out here, maybe we can be of aid in some way?"
Ko'lek animates upwards, his eyes glowing and grateful through the fog on the viewscreen, his voice all of a sudden less restrained than before, booming.
"I cannot thank you enough Captain, I had been so worried for him, my crew, the ship - just, thank you!"
It is a rare thing to witness: a grateful man who seems to have nothing to be grateful for, his ship old and rusting and falling to pieces around him. A less rare thing to witness: the love of a father for his child, that overcomes the flames, and the rust, and whatever else may be falling slowly down.
Worf, for not the first time this day, is standing at the back of someone he wishes to protect, with skin itching against the alloy of his phaser. Deanna had summoned a protective desire in him that was unprecedented, and had been as difficult to swallow down as Romulan Ale, but for the Captain, this desire is dutiful.
Chief O'brien even seems nervous, and he hadn't been on duty when the boy had been beamed in, now that it is much later in the afternoon that even another shift rotation has taken place, though not among the Command Staff.
He takes a moment to wonder how much longer he has to wait for dinner, given that lunch was so long ago; the thought leaves him very quickly.
"Energising,"
O'brien calls out over him, and the Captain turns around from where he stands a few feet in front of them both, nodding his acknowledgement. A familiar whirring noise fills up the room, and soon, there is a single figure materialising on the transporter pad.
It is a peculiar Klingon that travels alone.
Worf tenses in anticipation of the weapons alarm, but it never sounds, and he revises his view of the man, as a greater occurrence than one without lieutenants, to one without armament also.
"Captain Ko'lek?"
Picard reaches out a hand first, his palm flat and kind in offer of his friendship; and they have only really just met the man, less than 20 minutes ago, without even time to comm Deanna for the status of the child.
Worf huffs.
"Please, I consider myself no Captain aboard a ship such as this, simply Kol will suffice,"
They are fast shaking hands, and a wide smile is spreading itself across the man's face, uncharacteristic and disarming in its charm.
"Very well, how are the repairs going on your end?"
The Captain turns inwards to face back at the other two members of his staff, Ko'lek following widely at his side as he steps down from the transporter platform.
"My crew tells me they will take much less time now that we have your aid, I cannot begin to thank you enough,"
He tells them all, addressing, it seems, the whole room as they approach the door. It is surprising to watch how his tunic flows lightly when he walks, the fabric loose and soft where it hangs from him, and it is not an armour they might expect - not the costume his boy had been dressed in.
Picard waves away Worf at the transporter room doors, and nods in the opposite direction, off towards the bridge, signalling that he will be fine alone.
The security chief bristles, but he has seen enough of their interaction to be satisfied.
"You have a Klingon in your crew?"
Ko'lek notes once they are alone, walking at a slow pace down the winding paths of the ship.
"We do, he was orphaned as an infant and raised by a Human couple, so he might not be what you'd expect,"
Captain Picard explains in response, but the man is smiling as though he has found something amusing.
"I'm sure he must think the same of me,"
They pause at the engaged doors of a Turbolift.
"I was brought up in a farming colony in a system close to Bajor, when the occupation began we became a safe haven for those fleeing the Planet - that is how I met my wife,"
A sparkle comes about him when he speaks of her, and he tucks his hands into his pockets before continuing.
"I wasn't raised to be a brute, Captain Picard, it is a terrible misconception that all Klingons are,"
The 'lift doors open suddenly, and Picard motions the man inside ahead of him, swallowing around a formality.
"I'm sure Mr Worf would agree with you, but that doesn't explain what you're doing in the middle of a war-zone,"
Ko'lek continues to smile fondly, still lingering on the memory of his wife, the excitement of seeing his son.
"I couldn't continue to watch life be brutalised, especially when I have bound myself by blood to it - I have to be a good example for the sake of my son,"
The lift stops, and Picard nods along his approval, settling his feet against the floor to steady himself again.
"My wife's name is Leilani, she is a spectacular woman who I often feel I do not deserve,"
They turn down into another corridor together, the whole place strangely quiet for the evening time.
"Are you married, Captain?"
Kol asks, walking just a step behind him and craning his head slightly to address him more directly than he had been. It gives Picard a pause, and his pace slows in his thought, but it is not sustained and quickly he has recovered his composure.
"Unfortunately not, but someday,"
He tells him, really hoping to mean it, even though he has been saying someday for too many days, and even he is getting tired of the sound of it.
"Ah, you must!"
The man pats him lightly on the shoulder, a small display of the nature of a Klingon, only rather more jovial than people may think, and minus the alcohol.
"Falling in love and building a family is the greatest achievement I have,"
He is beaming his pride for them, and the Captain can only nod once more, awe perhaps for a man who can balance the archetype of his genome with the desires of a simple world.
It is impressive to say the least.
They round a bend in the corridor, and suddenly, the space opens out into something much wider, with double doors flanking it's either side. Picard knows the section well, and the last time he had been here he found Deanna lost among her own feelings, drowning without oxygen. Desperately, he hopes not to be met with the same image.
He presses the door chime gently, smiling at Ko'lek to indicate they have reached his son, and also to fill the awkward moment of silence that waits for an answer. It's not what he might expect, given how she is usually one step ahead of a caller, the door usually opens just a second before he can press the chime.
Today though, he has to throw another glance at his guest, nervous, and then sidestep him a little to activate the panel on the wall.
"Compute, locate Counselor Troi,"
He orders.
"Counselor Troi is in her Office,"
The voice he has associated with her mother responds, crisply, and he steps back in-front of the doors with authority, trying not to appear too dithering to Ko'lek; he seems not to be phased in the least, eyes still lingering fondly over the memory of his wife and child.
"Computer, override door lock,"
This catches the Klingon's attention, and he seems to shift perhaps a little uneasily, further away from the Captains side so as not to become an intruder.
"Authorisation sequence: Picard - epsilon - 7 - 9 - 3,"
Dutifully, the computer responds with a series of clicks and beeps, a final puff of air as the hydraulics open the door in front of him. For longer than a moment, he is worried about what will await him inside.
Ko'lek comes to stand at his side again, when it is clear that Picard's face has creased itself into an expression that cannot make up its mind. He gazes within the space for himself, and surprise tries not to grip onto the man to tightly.
His boy sits within the low light, body small and redressed in a blue cotton shirt, tucked up tightly to a woman who, in a striking moment, he might mistake for his wife. She is, herself, striking, and her body is reshaped in a way he recognises well, but had not expected at all of the situation; later, he will find time to laugh at the tactlessness of his boy.
"Counselor?"
Picard calls inwards at his side, and they have been motionless for less than a second, each surveying whatever of the situation is most important to them. It is admirable, he thinks, that they neither have rushed onward and inside, like the art making animals they are.
There is no response, and the Captain undertakes to enter her office, his guest tightly now at his side, both walking with a slight trepidation; Ko'lek hangs back as he moves passed the low table, taking a moment to survey the scribblings there.
"Counselor?"
Picard whispers again, coming ever closer to where she is slumped into the side of the sofa, her back held up by a mountain of cushions and her arm thrown with care around the young boy's shoulders. He had not even seen him until now, trusting Worf when he said that everything was okay, knowing the man to be overprotective and certainly over-cautious even in the best of times.
She stirs a little, and for the minute, Ko'lek is distracted by the sleeping face of his son, and maintains that terrified distance of a parent still, wanting more than anything to not wake him.
"Deanna?"
He tries a third time, using now her name as though he is calling upon his friend, and not his crew-member, wishing it could be that way more often. A slow and dragging breath sucks itself into her lungs with urgency, and he touches where her leg folds into a bony knee beneath her dress, and she is tucked tightly into herself.
She groans the breath out, as though she wishes simply to fall back asleep for another 100 years, just to wipe away the fatigue that fills her up.
"Captain?"
Her voice is barely even a murmur, and if she didn't say it enough on any given day, then he wouldn't recognise the word at all, as she speaks into the end of the sofa where her face rests. And then, her eyes bulge open slightly, seeking past the Captain's head and over to the man who still lingers respectfully at his back. She tries immediately to straighten herself out for the guest, but her body refuses her efforts on account of Ridoll leaning heavily into her, and all the frozen muscles she is made up from. Deanna whimpers the strain, and it is an alarming sound to hear from her, distressed and in pain; the Captain leans further in, a hand on her knee still.
"Deanna, it's okay, calm down,"
He whispers to her, mindful of the boy still, and his fingers have begun to move gently up and down over her skin, a perhaps vain effort to keep her calm, as he instructs. It is cold somehow, just the pimpling surface of her skin and the downy peach fuzz that tickles slightly under his thumb, enough to provide some sensation that is distracting from how the child is trying to move to sit more awkwardly inside her.
"I am Ko'lek, and you saved my son's life,"
From behind Picard, the Klingon man speaks, a perfect recap of events, only she can feel the surge of true gratitude within him, and it is terribly clear that he is no stereotype of a warrior - he is just a father.
Deanna tries again to sit up, her eyes darting from Ko'leks to Picard's, then back into empty space in concentration of all her efforts, so self-conscious that they are watching how she has become less than, how she is just now less capable than she has been. With another wince, one which tightens all her muscles and sends a sharp pain along the underside of her stomach, she is sitting more upright, and Ridoll has not been jostled so much as to wake.
Her arm remains around his shoulders protectively.
"I was just doing my job,"
She tells the boy's father, feeling overwhelmed by his level of gratitude, and even the way he smiles at her like a madman, as though he sees in her something that he has not yet told his mind, and so she cannot fathom it either. Their minds, his and his sons, are similar enough to be endearing in innocence, but different enough to set her on edge.
"You're Betazoid?"
Ko'lek asks her, still at a distance, somehow sensing her strange resistance.
She simply nods affirmative.
"Deanna Troi?"
He presses, and she nods again, more warily.
A wide smile suddenly spreads across his face, and he has made a connection she still cannot steal from him, but somehow, he shares a recognition that has no foundation.
"Lwaxana must be so proud of you,"
Picard's head snaps up from where he has been just watching her movements for further discomfort, and he turns incredulous eyes upon Ko'lek, but he is one waking moment away from chuckling at their expressions.
"You know my mother?"
She asks him, a hand travelling to her head as the room starts really to come alive before her, and she is woozy: a kind of hungry dizzy.
"I knew her, once,"
The man tells them vaguely, and then finds himself sticking out so much that he comes down to crouch at the level of the Captain, everybody low down to accommodate her.
"But your reputation precedes you, as a daughter of the fifth house - you didn't tell me there was royalty in your crew captain?"
He turns his expression more on Picard, who suddenly has become thoughtful, and maybe a little shocked at himself, having known on some logical level that she is something greater than them all, but choosing not to linger. Now, he lingers, and it is clear now that she is a terribly special kind of person, intelligent, independent and strong-willed. If he has never thought before of her as royalty, then it is because she didn't want him to.
Picard turns back to her with fresh eyes, regards her as if he is finally seeing her as a new person, seeing her complete but more broken than before, how she is small and hurting on a sofa in his starship: and he ought to have protected her.
Deanna sighs - he always comes back to that.
"I - I never thought to mention it,"
The Captain tries to respond, but it is not worth very much at all.
"There are stories across the galaxy about the Troi's, what their lineage means - you are a very special individual indeed,"
Ko'lek continues to address Deanna only, and a blush has risen in her cheeks at the flattery; she is proud of her heritage, but she has always been their weakest link, always been considered the end of their line - nothing special at all.
"Your mother was told breeding with a human would never work, but the mythology says something very different,"
And how is it he seems to know more about her than she does?
Deanna wants to know more, and she is perhaps even a little eager, but something has come over the man now that is other, that is removed from stories and rhymes told to children on planets much further than his own.
Ridoll stirs at her side.
"You know what it means to me that you found my boy,"
His father says, knowing better than most how she does not need to be told how he feels, and there is just one split second of understanding between them, before her head it seems, is splitting open with joy. Fireworks go off behind her eyes.
"Papa!"
Ridoll's eyes have flown open in the one moment he spotted his father, and he wriggles against her body to sit himself up straighter too, to grab his free hand out into an open palm; his other remains still against her stomach, pushing himself up.
The feeling is terribly sudden, and resounds something like ecstasy as Ko'lek rushes over to Picard's other side to kneel now infront of his son, a hand clasping the open palm in his own, desperately, as though it is a lifeline.
Bombs are exploding in her chest, and for a second, she has forgotten how to breathe. She has been so blank for so long, there has been no joy, and now she is so full up on the feeling that she could die this way, if she wished.
The reunited are tightly embracing now, and she has become dizzier, spinning on a world that is not her own; Picard's hand stops moving against her knee, and squeezes her attention instead.
"Counselor?"
And then, there are no fireworks, and no bombs, and every stray molecule of oxygen is hauled up into her lungs - stars are clouding her vision. Deanna finds herself nodding, despite whatever else may be happening in her head, and somehow this is worse than shared pain.
The pair beside her separate, but continue to clasp each others hands, and Ridoll continues to dig back into her side, his words Bajoran now, even for the presence of his father.
"Papa I made a friend!"
He exclaims, and the Captain cannot understand, but finds himself wondering where this sudden energy has come from, as he was soundly asleep only moments ago.
"Deanna!"
She finds herself jostled a little, as the boys grabby hands pat her side and tug on her arm to get her attention again, and so she turns her head in a wild swing that has her regarding him from beyond the fog she's been clouded behind.
There is a pain growing in her temples.
"What did I say?"
Deanna asks him in jest, and an even greater beam makes itself of his smile, turning back to his father with glowing eyes.
"That he would be here when I woke up,"
Ko'lek is smiling widely too, and then looks into her eyes with that same measure of awe as he had spoken of the Troi's with, something deeper within him that is unfathomably amazed by her.
"And I always keep my promises,"
She tells them both, pointedly, and she's not entirely sure if that's the truth, but she tries her hardest to make it truthful that it must be, but for the empty promises she has found herself dishing out lately. It is a terribly hollow pursuit.
Picard turns from one face to another, listening only to how the comm badge translates what Deanna says, giving her the voice of her mother in such a jarring way, but not scrubbing over the two guests. He is hopelessly lost.
"Well,"
He starts, his sudden use of Federation Standard shocking the two who speak it, and Ridoll is simply watching his father for reaction.
"There's guest quarters available for you to stay in with your son, Kol, while your vessel is being repaired, maybe the two of you can get some sleep and a good meal,"
Deanna is intrigued by this, thinking they would simply leave, and having a feeling she knows where the Captain is going with this - but she is so tired.
"Really Captain Picard, that is too kind of you, I couldn't possibly -"
"For your son,"
The two regard each other, and it seems the decision had been made already, so Ko'lek just nods gratefully, his son's hand still clasped in his own like a lifeline. Then, Picard turns to Deanna, with some kind of expectation made up of him, and it is already late, nearly the end of their shift's, the evening they neither can physically see.
"I'm sure Counselor Troi can show you there, I believe her own quarters are in the same section,"
He offers on her behalf, and has not thought to check if she is okay, even though there are still small creatures of light exploding in her eyes, in front of her vision so that there is always something to distract her attention. Deanna can only nod, because three smiling faces are turned upon her expectantly, and she always keeps her promises.
