A/N: Overall, thank-you everyone for the well wishes. I will be okay :-). As for this story, there are only three more chapters after this, then I'll be picking back up with my other episode, "Where the Heart Is." It is especially in times like this that I'm so grateful to all of you who enjoy reading these stories, because I certainly enjoy writing them!
Omelettethemusical-Aww thank-you. Wow, what a good, long life your cat had! Thanks for the encouragement. I was indeed worried it was too soon, but animals have a way of nestling into our hearts, don't they? I don't mind telling what happened. We had actually just dropped Scout and our other dog off at the public kennels because we were about to go on this big vacation that we booked months ago. A few hours later, they called to inform us that Scout had escaped. We spent just about all night searching for her. The kennels were out in this small country town, so we had to search miles and miles of big, dark fields. We went home to sleep for a couple of hours and wait til it was light so we could see better. Got a call just before dawn that a farmer had seen her on his property. So we drove out there, but we were too late. We found her on the side of the highway. She'd been hit by a car :-(. Didn't even go on our vacation, we were too upset. It was just a bad situation all around. But I named our new puppy Harper, after Harper Lee, who wrote To Kill a Mockingbird. I named Scout after the main character in that book. So it's kind of my way of honoring her :-).
Bnewall1-Thank you 3
Cubbiesfan1-Thanks for the condolences. It's been rough. Especially for my daughter, since we already had Scout when she was born so she's never known life without her. But by and by, we are doing much better. And thanks for your reviews! I just love the way you look at things and see exactly what I was trying to convey.
Zara08-Haha yeah I always pictured Will getting karma with his own kid being just like him. Fortunately, the new puppy is nothing like young Carmen. Yet. Maybe once she starts teething...lol! I really like what Picard said in one episode, I think it was "Pen Pals." Something about how animals fill spaces we never knew were empty.
Rose-gold light floated over the field. As afternoon drowsed into evening, a chorus of crickets and bullfrogs started up to keep the sunset company. Their vocalizations joined the steady humming of a pitching machine. At regular intervals, it spat out a small white ball that sailed over home plate.
Carmen licked her lips, tasting the dust of the infield, as she swung again. Thwack. The baseball popped high into the air, its flight unheralded by the young girl. Mechanically, she hit ball after ball until her hands ached, which were still swollen and throbbing from her fight with Reynold Clancy. She wasn't sure how much time had passed before she spied a figure strolling towards her from behind the backstop.
"You're keeping that foot flat again," Will called.
As the next ball shot towards her, Carmen lifted the heel of her back foot and pivoted into the swing.
"There you go. Home run!"
Carmen made no acknowledgment of her father's praise. She merely dropped the bat glumly and stepped away, wiping a sleeve across her dusty face. "There's too much dirt in the air," she mumbled. But Will noticed the dried trail of tears on her cheeks.
"Then let's try something with a little less dirt," he said, smiling patiently. "Computer, end current program and run Riker-McRae One."
The evening light and the neatly trimmed grass and the pitching machine all faded away. Soon, Carmen found herself in front of a wooden stage adorned with soft, crimson curtains. While a band strummed their instruments upon this stage, swanky music and cigar smoke saturated the air. Couples sat at little tables for two, fruity drinks in hand. A few of them danced together nearby with the murmur of intimate conversations.
"What is this place?" Carmen asked, stepping closer to her father amidst the rush of foreign sights and sounds.
"It's a club," he answered. "Somewhere in Chicago, 1940s. Come on, have a drink with me."
He pulled out a chair and helped her climb in. Then he waved down a waiter as he took the seat across from her.
"Yes, sir?" the waiter asked. Carmen admired his white gloves and strange attire. She especially liked the bow that been fixed to the top of his buttoned-up shirt.
"I'll have a scotch on the rocks," Will ordered. "And an apple martini for the lady."
"Coming right up, sir."
As the waiter walked away, his polished shoes clapping against the wooden floor, Carmen played with a napkin on the table. "What's an apple martini?" she asked.
"Just something to sip on. Back then, you wouldn't have been allowed to drink one. But this is the holodeck, so it's harmless. Still-don't tell Ms. Gleaves about it."
"Why wouldn't I have been allowed to drink one?"
"Because of something called alcohol. Our replicators make a fake version, but you can find some form of it in every corner of the galaxy. Promise me you'll never touch the stuff."
"Yeah sure," she said, her eyes wandering about the club as she continued to play absent-mindedly with the napkin.
The band finished their song just as the waiter returned with Will's order. After a scatter of applause, a woman in a black strapless gown took center stage. The man sitting behind the piano struck up a melody. A double bass joined in. The woman let her caramel-colored shoulders roll in time with the music. Her hair was as dark as Carmen's, but she wore it short with sassy little curls. Her tongue flicked across her bright red lips and then she began to sing softly. Her sable eyes closed and the room grew a little quieter, each patron turning an eager ear towards her silken words.
No more blues, I'm goin back home,
No, no more blues, I promise no more to roam,
Home is where the heart is,
The funny part is my heart's been right there all along
She sang the lyrics as if those were the only words she knew. All the while, she caressed the mic as she would the face of a lover. Carmen looked over at her father with a grin. "Hey that's your song, isn't it?"
Will nodded. "Yep. That's her. That's Carmen."
The young girl's brows drew together in confusion. "Her name is Carmen, too?"
"It was actually your mother's idea to name you after her."
At mention of her mother, the child felt a familiar flutter in her belly. She wanted to press him further, but recalled how Ms. Gleaves had asked him something about her mother earlier, and how upset it had made him. Casting her face downward, Carmen slowly slid her hands off the table and back into her lap. "So um...why are you doing all of this? Aren't I supposed to be in trouble?"
"You are in trouble," he quipped. "Don't for a second think I'll forget about this Reynold business. You can't just go around starting fights because someone called you a name, you know."
"I know, I know," she mumbled. "He just-he made me so mad! I'm no cheater! I just played the hand I was given, like you taught me. And when I told him that, he said I was lying. Even though he knew I wasn't lying."
"How would he know that?"
"Because I wasn't lying!"
The commander leaned back in his chair, slowly sipping on his scotch. "Carmen...you can tell when people are lying, can't you? You can...feel it?"
She shrugged. "Yeah, of course. Can't you?"
"No." He shook his head. "Not everyone has that ability. I'm sorry that I haven't...that I never noticed."
"Noticed what?"
"That you're different." He cleared his throat and set his drink on the table. "See, the other kids...they can't feel things the way you feel things. They can only feel what they're feeling, because they're not empaths like you. Like your mother."
The young girl fidgeted in her seat, her mind grasping for understanding. "Mother was different, too?"
"Yes. In many beautiful ways," he said with a wistful smile. Carmen tilted her head to the side. Instead of the usual anger, she could sense something gentle and sad stirring beneath the surface of that smile. As Will's eyes drifted towards the stage, a connection clicked in the child's mind.
"Mother used to come here with you, didn't she?" Immediately, Carmen regretted asking the question. She felt a sharp stab of pain run through him, and it were as though she held the knife. "I'm sorry," she added quickly, her eyes returning to the table.
Will's gaze softened, though she failed to notice. "You felt that, didn't you?" he asked. "You felt me remembering." Biting down on her lip, she nodded. "Well it's nothing to be sorry about. This kind of pain, it's because of something good. It's because of the love your mother and I once shared. Please...don't be sorry that you reminded me of that. The truth is, you've always reminded me of that."
"Really?" She despaired at his confession.
"Yes," he continued. "I thought I had lost everything when I lost her. And then I remembered-I still had you. You pulled me out of hopelessness, Carmen. I wish I had told you that sooner. I wish you could feel how much I love you, and not just my pain."
She bit down on her lip again, this time because it had begun to tremble. "I do feel it," she said tearfully. "And...I love you, too."
Will reached across the table with an upturned hand. "I want you to remember that feeling, okay? No matter what happens. Even if it hurts to remember one day. Promise?"
"I promise."
"Good. Now then..." As she placed her own tiny hand into his palm, he examined the still-fresh bruises across her knuckles. "What do you say to a dance? Just a quick one. Then we'll let Beverly check you out."
Carmen smiled through her tears, and for a moment, Will could see Deanna in the curve of her cheek. "Okay," she agreed. "And dad?"
"Hmm?"
"Can we do this again sometime?"
His smile waxed brighter, dulling the jagged edge of his pain. "Of course."