AN: There had to be an ending to this saga, though not the circumstances I'd have chosen. ... As usual, this is for entertainment, no infringement intended. And comments, reviews are always welcome.
Kathryn awoke, still exhausted from nearly 24 hours on duty. Tom was still sleeping, snoring softly, and she gently moved the arm thrown over her hip. She quietly slipped out of bed so as not to wake him, grabbed her robe, and padded into the bathroom.
"You look like hell," she muttered to her image in the mirror. Maybe she could get a nap later. Morning routine finished, she headed to the kitchen as the dogs wound around her legs, begging for breakfast. She obliged after starting the coffeemaker; she needed a cup of something that wasn't replicated.
In her 40 years of Starfleet service, yesterday had to be the weirdest day ... and that was saying something after seven years in the Delta Quadrant. The Borg queen reappeared; only it wasn't the queen that her doppelganger killed 20-plus years ago. It was a member of Picard's group assimilated by the previous queen. "Someday," she heard Kirsten Clancy mutter, "we need to figure out how the f- those Borg queens reproduce."
But apparently, they came in peace: That rip in space turned out to be a transwarp conduit, creator unknown, and the Borg — the Borg for God's sake — was deputized into Starfleet to guard it.
But something was nagging at the edges of her memory ... random images: the lake ... Q ... Junior ... Miral ... being protected from something … A thought occurred, and she slipped upstairs to peek into Miral's room: Nope, no sign that anyone had been there, except the dogs.
Back to the kitchen; the coffee was ready, and she gratefully poured a mug. She'd taken the first sip when Zia's low woof drew her attention to the patio. A familiar young man was sitting out there, seemingly lost in thought. She tightened her robe against the anticipated chill and opened the door.
The dogs reached him first, and he smiled as he dispensed head scritches and pats. "A little early for visitors," she teased gently, "but coffee's on if you're interested." He answered with a sad smile and shook his head.
"It happened, didn't it?" she asked as she sat on the edge of the chaise lounge. "The lake house, your father taking us away to avoid ..."
"What Earth had become," he finished softly. "You and your family are safe now. Miral made it to her hoverball game."
"Picard," she said as the memory snapped back. "I take it things have been resolved?".
A quick nod, but his demeanor signaled that something was very wrong. "Junior, what's happened?"
"He's dead."
She was momentarily confused ... "Picard?" He shook his head. "My father."
She nearly dropped the mug. Q dead? She knew that the Q weren't immortal: they could be killed, or kill themselves, she'd learned. But Q? Surely, his sheer force of personality would have given him an extra eon or two.
"Holy hell," she managed. "What happened?"
Junior shook his head. "His illness, whatever it was. He was dying all along."
"I'm so sorry," she replied as she gently laid a hand on his forearm. "How's your mother taking it?"
He chuckled softly. "I think she wants to resurrect him so she can kill him for not telling us sooner."
Kathryn smiled wryly. That wasn't an unheard-of reaction. Before Daddy's memorial service, Mom locked herself in his office to spew out her grief and anger in a tirade they probably heard in downtown Bloomington. Phoebe hustled her out of the house. "It's not about you, Kath," she assured her. "This had been building between them for a long time."
"You'd think," Junior continued, "that if you were dying, you might spend your last days with your family. But he spent his last bit of energy on Jean-Luc Picard."
"Why Picard? What was this ..." she searched her memory, "trial he was talking about? Or did he not tell you?"
"He did, finally," young Q said. "It was never about humanity. It was about Picard; a personal lesson he needed to learn." Kathryn raised an eyebrow but didn't reply.
"He asked me to tell you," Junior continued. "He said ... he said that you and Picard both have, 'A propensity to hold yourself responsible ... to punish yourselves for events that are out of your control.' He said that you learned to forgive yourself, to allow yourself to love and be loved. He was happy for you, said he knew that you'd be fine. He wasn't so sure about Picard, so he stepped in."
Kathryn opened her mouth to speak ... twice ... but couldn't articulate anything. "That ... that's a rather stunning statement," she finally said. "To be honest, I didn't realize he was that invested," though she wasn't surprised that he'd delved into her psyche. But in any case, this was more than she ever wanted to know about Admiral Picard. "Speaking for myself, I'm not sure about the forgiveness part," she added. "Maybe it's Midwestern stoicism: You keep going, no matter what."
"He asked me to give you something," Q said. He snapped his fingers, and an Irish Setter puppy appeared, sporting a red ribbon around its neck. "He said you'd know what it's about."
Kathryn wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry, but the tears took over. She blinked furiously as she rescued the pup from Sophie's and Zia's curious sniffs. "I do know what it's about," she managed to say. He just smiled. "I'm surprised my mother didn't turn you into an amoeba over it."
"Know about that, do you?" she said. "Well, I suspect she wanted to, though I think it all worked out as it should," she finished with a wink.
They were quiet for a moment ... "I'm going to miss him," Kathryn finally said.
"I do miss him," Junior said, "even if he could be a pain in the ass." The admission set them to laughing until they both cried. "Well," Kathryn said as she wiped her eyes, "your father always had a flair for the dramatic."
They were quiet for a few moments more, then Kathryn reached over to squeeze his arm. "You are family, you know," she said. "You're always welcome here."
"Thank you, Aunt Kathy," he said as he leaned over to kiss her cheek. "I probably should go," he sighed. "Maybe knock a planet off its axis, or explode a star in his honor."
"Make it an uninhabited planet," she mock-ordered. He just smiled and saluted her before he winked out of sight.
She sat, absently scratching the puppy's head until she heard the patio door open. Tom walked out, mug in hand — he looked like hell, too, though he always looked disheveled in the morning.
"What gets you up so early?" he called. "You have weird dreams, too?" He walked over to her chair, only to stop short at the sight of the dog.
"Who's this?"
"A gift from Q ... Q senior," she said, and Tom frowned. "This isn't another try at seducing you, is it?" he asked warily.
"No, it's a ... final gift," she said. "Though I have to admit, it's typical Q ... a cheeky bastard to the end."
"End? Final gift?" Tom asked as he plopped into the seat that Junior had just vacated. "Kate, what the hell is going on?"
"Well," she sighed. "Let's start this way: Do your weird dreams involve being snatched out of Headquarters and being dumped at the lake house? And Miral being pulled off her ship to join us? And both Qs showing up?"
"Ah ... yeah," he admitted apprehensively.
"Yes, well ... I had the same dream. Trouble is, they weren't dreams."
"It really happened?" he asked incredulously.
She nodded, then sighed. "You'd better just sit back, honey ... this is going to take a while to explain."
