A few months later...
Once the summer arrived, after a long and hard winter in more ways than one, the first shoots of hope were starting to make themselves known to the Howard-Picard house.
Jean-Luc was gaining strength, confidence, some of his essential self. He'd regained some much-needed weight, was able to exercise gently, and some of his musculature was coming back. Deanna was no longer a daily or even a weekly presence – he was finally learning to live again.
Since warmer weather had arrived a few months prior, Deanna had suggested he begin touch-therapy. He'd endured weeks of the first tentative steps involved in the ground-breaking treatment. Slowly, surely, week by week, he had broken his aversion to being touched. He no longer flinched every time Beverly put her hands on him unexpectedly and found he was even beginning to enjoy the exercises they were instructed to undertake together.
He had built up to a morning with a massage specialist who was to administer a back massage for the first time. Deanna had arrived with the specialist and they'd set up a bench in their garden room, somewhere he felt safe, and as relaxed as was possible. He had felt somewhat calm as she worked at his back, could appreciate that his tight, painful muscles needed the release it would bring – at first. After five minutes however, he had put an abrupt end to it. As the massage had gone on, images from his incarceration had begun to bombard his mind with increasing frequency until every movement of the poor specialist's hands had felt like a physical attack.
He'd stalked up to his bedroom and hidden away until he'd got himself back under control. He'd sat on the edge of the bed and waited until his skin stopped stinging, until the area where he'd been branded had stopped burning. He knew these weren't real sensations but it hadn't made it feel any less painful. He'd been unable to move until he felt the pain lessen and drop away, finally able to take a deep breath.
Since then, each day, he could feel the progress he was making. Touch started to feel less like the prelude to a viscious beating and more like a way of communicating with the people around him, particularly Beverly. He knew she'd found it hard, she'd always been so tactile, especially with him. He knew it was a matter of time before their physical relationship would resume and suddenly, that didn't fill him with fear.
One particular warm, sunny morning a few weeks after his first massage, he found himself standing in the kitchen absent-mindedly munching his morning croissant and sipping at a mug of tea. From the living room, he could hear Louis humming the tune of a popular song he'd been listening to, a sure sign that his son felt happy, relaxed, content. Ted was en route to Earth ready for the summer break and by all accounts, was very much looking forward to coming home. He took another sip of his drink and thought through his plan for the morning once again. He was going to San Francisco to meet the other sixteen survivors and he had to admit, that when he'd agreed to do so, he hadn't really thought it all through.
His mind started to turn each of the logistical steps it would take to get all the way over there into a potential nightmare that all ultimately ended with him being holed up in his cell on Xhandria. The walk to the transport station on the island, re-materialising outside the Starfleet campus, walking through the campus openly and without disguising himself... every step was fast becoming a catastrophic event.
Beverly interrupted his musings when she ambled into the kitchen, "Ready?" she said, announcing her presence so she could kiss him without him recoiling.
"For..?" he hedged, forcing images of Xhandria from his mind's eye.
She ran her hand down his arm and he did his best not to pull it away, "San Fransisco, silly..." she smiled, amused. "I thought I might tag along?"
"You did? Uh... well..." he stuttered. With a fresh resolve, realising that she had purposefully solved his predicament. "Beverly, the pleasure of your company this morning would be wonderful."
It occurred to him later on, that Beverly had never intended for him to go alone. She seemed to have developed a sixth sense when it came to him, awlays anticipating what he might be feeling.
And so, after the journey from France to San Fransisco, he found himself hovering outside the main entrance to the Fleet library where the meeting was to be held. There was something stopping him from taking those first steps but he couldn't quite put his finger on it.
"Hey, one foot in front of the other... remember?" she said quietly so only he could hear. "Will you be okay?"
He turned to her, unsure if he was ready to be left on his own. He nodded his head slowly, his eyes locked to hers, "I must admit to feeling a little less certain about this idea, now that I'm here."
She gestured for him to take a seat on the bench outside the building, "Jean, there really isn't anything for you to fear here. The others want to see you, want to know how well you're doing. And you are – you're doing great."
"I... uh, I..." he stuttered. He didn't really have any reason not to go inside, he just felt the residual chill of fear, like muscle memory. He'd become so used to being scared, to his small life, this all felt like a step too far.
"I'm going to be right here, in the café. Whenever you're ready, I'll be right there." He swallowed, searched her eyes for the courage he needed. She nodded at him, held his hand and squeezed. "You can do this."
He nodded, telling her silently that he was ready. He rose from his seat and set off for the library.
An hour later, he found her gazing out of the huge windows of the library café, lost in her own thoughts. "Penny?" he said, breaking her reverie.
"Jean-Luc," she began, smiling fully at him. "How did it go?"
He took a seat and she pushed a pot of tea toward him, "Thank you..." he poured his tea absent-mindedly, trying to organise his thoughts before he spoke. "It was... good, actually."
She watched him as he poured his tea and took a sip, trying to guess at his mood. "And?"
"And uh... I'm not sure I can explain... the last time I saw any of them was a very long time ago. We weren't in the best of conditions... I suppose..." he was having real trouble trying to formulate what it was he wanted to say. He stopped, focused on the cup and saucer before continuing. "I suppose it proved to be cathartic. It gave me a sense of closure..."
As he tried to explain, he caught the rest of the group leaving the library complex through the doors behind Beverly. He waved at them as they departed, and knew he wouldn't ever see them again. Beverly turned to see who he was waving at and caught the tail end of a young woman she presumed must be Surahna. She bore a striking resemblance to the sister who had advocated for her so well during the court martial.
She turned back to Jean-Luc, "That's good? Right?"
"You know, I think it is. I actually feel... lighter somehow. I suppose it was good to see the bond they had... So much of my... experience was spent alone... I realise now that my recovery... well, let's just say I don't feel the need to join the group." he shuddered involuntarily at the sharp memory of loneliness. "I feel a sense of closure I suppose. Like, this was hanging over me... I needed to see them, see that they were safe and well. And also that, I needed to understand that they aren't a condition of me finding myself again. Does that make sense?"
He left the question hanging and turned to look out across the plaza outside the library, his eyes distant and unfocused.
"You know... Jean?" she said, pulling him back from his thoughts. "You are allowed to handle this in whatever way feels right to you – what happened on Xhandria is in the past. You are allowed to move on and have your own future. And the Xhand cannot take that away from you."
He took her hand across the table, "I think I know that, now. I think coming here today... has really helped me to see that there is life beyond what happened."
She smiled at him, and took a sip of her drink. "That's so good to hear. I've been so worried about you."
He looked down at his plate, a sad expression washed over his face, "I'm sorry–" he put his hand up, thwarting her attempt to interrupt him. "What I mean is... I've been so consumed by it all... and you've been so patient, all of you. I'm ready, I want to focus now on you, our family. I'm so tired of the Xhand..."
She laughed. "Well, as it happens... I do have something of a proposal for you," she said playfully.
"You do?" he asked, intrigued, delighted.
"I thought we might take a trip to the beach, sometime later this week? Just the two of us?"
"Beverly, I would love nothing more." he said, reaching across the table to kiss her.
They'd taken food down to the beach, a parasol, and a blanket. It was the first time he'd really gone anywhere so public without a specific reason, just to relax, enjoy Beverly's company, spend a little time on his relationship with her, building it back up to where it should have been all along.
They lounged together on a blanket, and he revelled in the delightful but forgotten sensations he'd experienced so many times in his past. The feeling of the sun on his skin, the vibrant taste of the strawberries and chouquette they'd bought on the way, the bottle of good rosé she'd grabbed at the last minute... all of it was wonderful. They lay together, in their private cocoon under the parasol face to face. He'd reached for her, run his hand through her hair tentatively. Then he placed a hand on her hip, leaned forward and kissed her. He could taste the strawberries she'd just eaten. It had been a long time but the kiss felt natural, wonderful, loving.
He loved her… god how he loved her.
When they went to bed later that night, they made love gently, lovingly. It had been too long…
And then he'd woken, pulled her into his arms and held her as the sun had risen and a new day began.
Later that day, they were to attend Louis's lycée graduation but for now, he ran his hands over her, reacquainting himself with her body, enjoying the sensation, enjoying her.
Later that afternoon, Beverly, he and Ted took their seats on the back row of a large outdoor congregation, nearest the exit. He fiddled with the collar of his shirt, it was far too baggy around his neck but it was still irritating him. Ted was to his left, Beverly to his right. She had tight hold of his hand, and he could feel Ted's body close to his own. He was okay… he could do this. He felt strong, finally growing somewhat used to large crowds after his isolated confinement.
Ahead of them, in front of the rows and rows of proud parents, siblings, and assorted family members, sat the gowned graduates of Lycée Îl de Ré. He couldn't make out quite where Louis was, but he'd see him soon enough, when his name was called.
"Is that him?" said Beverly, craning her neck for a glimpse of her youngest son.
"Where?" said Ted. "Is he on the first row?"
Jean-Luc remained quiet. He was on his guard, his eyes darting about the field upon which the invited parents and siblings were sitting. It was a beautiful day, the sky clear, the odd seagull cried overhead. Deanna had reminded him of the grounding technique…
Soon enough, a woman he'd never met stood and introduced herself as the principal. He realised, not for the first time, that Beverly and the boys had done all this without him. He'd missed Ted's graduation, missed the entirety of Louis's time here…
He wasn't really listening to her words, couldn't allow himself to fully turn off his red alert status. He couldn't stop himself responding to every sound, every movement, his head turning to each new sensory input in his immediate vicinity.
"Hey… doing okay?" she said quietly.
He tuned into her, focused for a second on her hand still holding his and nodded. He was vaguely aware of an unending procession of graduates making their way across the stage to collect their diplomas. His attention briefly drawn forward when he heard Louis's name being announced.
Once there had been a few more speeches, he felt Beverly shift beside him, and then draw to attention as the gathered crowd started to stand en masse. "What is it?"
"Oh my god…" she said, standing.
"And so, this year's recipient of the Châtelet Award for outstanding fortitude, personal courage, and academic achievement, can only be awarded to Louis Etienne Hypollite Howard-Picard. Younger brother to Theodore Howard-Picard, our recipient from two years ago. Louis, please come forward." She said as the audience clapped enthusiastically.
"What's happening?" he whispered, still in his seat, suddenly completely confused as to what was going on.
"Louis won the Châtelet! He did it! My god… both of them…" said Beverly clapping her heart out, beaming with pride.
The name of the award didn't mean a thing to him, but he could tell from the reaction of the crowd that this was the big prize. He stood then, saw Louis climb the last step. He walked across the stage with his shoulders drawn back, his head held high, he was proud of himself. Jean-Luc was struck then by the image of his son as a grown man. He'd missed the boy's final years of childhood and somewhere along the way, he'd become the confident young adult he saw on the stage. He felt tears prickling his eyes, but unlike more recent encounters with his emotions, these tears were born only of happiness, and pride. His son…
He stood hesitantly clapping softly at first, then harder and harder as Louis turned to the lectern. Ted whooped and shouted his brother's name drawing attention to them. He sat down quickly, didn't want to be seen.
"Wow…" Louis began, raising a chuckle in the crowd. "This is so… unexpected. There was a time when I didn't think I'd be graduating at all – right Madame Beulieu?" He said, turning his killer smile to the principal who had given him a second as well as a third chance.
He looked down for a second, then right back out to his family, "I did this for my father… I wanted to make him proud." He stopped, looked into the crowd for Jean-Luc.
Beverly nudged his leg, gestured to the stage and for him to stand. He turned to look at her, fear in his eyes. He shook his head, he couldn't do it. Instinctively, Ted shouted his brother's name, winked at him, then nodded his head for him to continue, taking the focus of the gathered audience away from their father.
"So Papa, this is for you. I love you." He finished, lifting his prize up for all to see.
Louis's friends were the first to start the cheering. Three of them rushed the stage and hauled him off lifting him and the prize high up.
Jean-Luc laughed… his son… Beverly squeezed his hand and wiped at the tears falling freely down his face before tending to her own.
Ted stood too, cheering again. "Papa?"
"Go ahead Ted. I'm fine," he said as Ted dashed toward Louis.
"Are you?" she asked him.
He turned to her, smiling, that old familiar grin. "Look at him…"
"He's wonderful…" and she kissed him. He kissed her back, pulling her towards him. He was home…
