Hi all. Sorry for the long wait... I had a hard time figuring out how to write the first part of this. (Rediscovering Diablo II probably didn't help, either.)
Thanks for all the reviews and favoriting! It's much appreciated : )
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Picard sat at the center of the bridge, overseeing the everyday running of the ship and the comings and goings of shore leave parties, trying to look like a captain. He didn't feel very much like one. Everything that was happening was simply out of his control.
He hadn't exactly been pleased about the news of Counselor Troi's engagement-- it would be a pity to lose an officer like her, and on a personal level, Picard found the arranged marriage custom stifling and outdated-- but if Troi consented to it, and it was the will of both families, he was obligated to see it through.
By the same token, if Wyatt truly did wish to break off the engagement, he couldn't be forced into it. If he spontaneously decided to elope with a woman he'd never met, that was his decision to make.
If it was his own, spontaneous decision. It didn't help that Riker was back on the bridge, acting as if nothing was wrong.
At the back of the bridge, the turbolift doors opened, and Worf stepped out. "Captain," he said, "the Millers have arrived."
Picard wasn't surprised. Wyatt's parents had asked to speak to Wyatt and Picard, and Worf had been sent to bring them to the bridge. "Very well." He stood up, turning to face the turbolift. "Welcome to the bridge, Mr. and Mrs. Miller."
Victoria Miller strode forward to meet him, brushing Worf aside, something which few humans would dare to do. She looked at Picard with a furious glare. "What sort of captain are you?!" she demanded. "How could you let this happen to our son?"
Steven Miller cautiously moved to his wife's side, glancing between Worf and Picard. Although not as livid as Victoria, he was clearly unhappy.
"Now, now," another woman's voice cut in, and Picard was not surprised to see Lwaxana Troi also stepping out of the turbolift. "I'm sure Jean-Luc didn't mean for it to happen. There was nothing he could have done about it, anyway."
"Nothing?" Steven said testily. "The man has an entire starship at his command, and Wyatt managed to knock out a crewmember and hijack a transporter, which doesn't sound like our Wyatt at all, and there was nothing you could have done?"
Picard wasn't sure how much to tell them. He couldn't reveal his suspicions about the actual culprit; that would lead to a discussion of things he'd much rather not discuss with strangers... "We are investigating what happened," he said stiffly. "There is the possibility of alien influence--"
"Why, Jean-Luc, now you're just being silly," Lwaxana interrupted. "How could Mr. Riker possibly be responsible?"
Of all the times for her to show off her telepathic powers... Picard only hoped she hadn't overheard anything that might explain how Riker could have done this. "You're right, of course," he said with exaggerated nonchalance. "It was a silly idea. I was only trying to... consider all the possibilities." He cleared his throat, knowing how lame that explanation must have sounded. "If you have any ideas on what could have inspired Mr. Miller to undertake this course of action, I am open to suggestions."
He turned to Deanna, hoping that she might have learned something of use during her time with Wyatt, but she didn't seem to be listening. She was looking at Riker, her expression somewhere between shock and anger.
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The rest of the afternoon on the bridge felt like an eternity, Riker thought-- although he didn't know that, not yet. He knew he'd have plenty of time to get personally acquainted with eternity.
The Millers spoke to their son, the government of Haven called again to ask when the plague ship was going to leave their orbit, and Deanna... there was no telling what she was thinking, but that look she'd given Riker had made him nervous.
When the duty shift ended, Riker tried to casually make his way into the same turbolift as Deanna, but she walked briskly off the bridge before he could get up. "Deck six!" she said as soon as she entered the turbolift, and the doors promptly closed.
When she reached Deck Six, Riker was there waiting for her.
"I didn't do it, Deanna," he said, frantic to get the words out before she walked past. "I know how it looks, but I had nothing to do with it. You've got to believe me!"
Deanna stopped and turned to face him. "I don't know what to think," she said hesitantly. "The thought never crossed my mind until Mother brought it up... and I..."
"You know I wouldn't lie to you," Riker insisted.
"I know you never have," Deanna said, "but now... I can't sense you anymore. I can hear your words, but I can't feel anything behind them."
"And you think I'd take advantage of that?"
"No," Deanna said, looking into Riker's eyes as if searching for something. "I just..." She broke off eye contact and looked down. "I'm sorry, Will. I don't know." Her voice sounded slightly choked.
She turned around and started walking down the hall again. This time, Riker made no move to follow her.
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In his quarters, Picard was reading one of his Dixon Hill books, trying to take his mind off his troubles. It was working, too. Something about the hard-boiled detective from the 1930s struck a chord with Picard, even centuries later and light-years away; maybe he should try simulating these stories on the holodeck one of these days...
His reading, though, was abruptly interrupted by an all-too-familiar flash of light.
"Mr. Riker," Picard said, slowly looking up from his book, "now is hardly the time to--"
It wasn't Riker.
"Q!!" Picard stood up immediately, nearly dropping his book in his haste. "I do not want to deal with you tonight." He met Q's eyes with an angry glare.
"I assure you, the feeling is mutual," Q said, creating a large and ornate chair for himself and sitting down in an authoritative pose. "Unfortunately, I have a duty. And my sense of responsibility could hardly--"
Picard scoffed.
Q frowned sharply. "A-hem. The point is, you're mistreating one of my fellow Q, one who has done nothing to deserve it. I can't allow you to do that."
"Mr. Riker is an officer under my command," Picard said. "If you intend to interfere with how I maintain discipline among my crew--"
"Oh, nothing of the sort," Q said airily. "I wouldn't dream of depriving you of the fun of playing petty dictator."
"Something you understand all too well," Picard said bitterly.
Q leaned forward. "I understand a lot more than you realize. And I understand that how you feel about Riker has nothing to do with your notions of 'crew discipline.'"
"I can not allow a member of my crew to manipulate people's lives for the sake of his own personal interests!"
"Oh, I'm not just talking about the whole debacle with the Tarellians," Q said, idly leaning his head on his hand. "As much of a travesty of justice that was. No, that's just the most recent manifestation of the real problem." He narrowed his eyes and grinned. "The real problem, Jean-Luc, is that you're jealous."
Picard's jaw dropped. "Me?! Jealous? Of Riker?"
"Well, that or a raging anti-Q bigot," Q said, as if stating something perfectly obvious. "Or quite possibly, both. And here I thought that your species had 'evolved past such things...'"
"I am not jealous of Riker," Picard said firmly. "I don't want your power, and I have absolutely no wish to join your Continuum!"
"Sadly enough, that's probably true," Q said. "Even if you had the power, you don't have the imagination to do anything useful with it." He rolled his eyes. "Although if you dread having power so much, your life as a starship captain must be constant agony."
Picard stared straight at Q, not rising to this jab.
"No," Q continued confidently, "that's not what you're jealous about. What really has your knickers in a twist, Jean-Luc, is that we made the offer to Riker and not to you. After all, if cosmic forces should take an interest in anyone on this ship, you'd expect it to be you, wouldn't you? But we overlooked you in favor of one of your underlings. We were more impressed by Riker than by you, and that must be absolutely tearing at your ego."
"There are many things by which I judge my self-worth," Picard said in a barely restrained voice. "The approval of the Q Continuum is not one of them."
"Oh, you can tell yourself that," Q said, "but it still burns you up that someone else got it instead of you. No, you don't want the power, but what you do want is the opportunity to prove that you're somehow better than us. That's why you wish we'd made you the offer. So you could have turned it down, no doubt with some pompous speech, and fulfilled your sense of moral superiority over the Q and Riker and whoever else. But you didn't get the chance." Q tsk'ed and shook his head. "So you tried to get Riker to do it for you, so that you could take the credit and gloat in my face anyway. But he was too smart to pass up an opportunity like this just so you could score your superiority points, and that is what you're angry at him for. Not this little inconvenience with the Tarellians, which incidentally neither he nor I had anything to do with."
"If I'd wanted someone to lecture me on my own thoughts," Picard said witheringly, "I would have sought out the far more pleasing company of Mrs. Troi."
"I haven't been reading your mind. If I did, it would probably put me to sleep." Q smiled. "But I'm right, aren't I?"
"Q, I see that I will accomplish nothing by continuing to debate this with you," Picard said. "Kindly conclude whatever business you have with me and leave."
Q stood up. "Very well. I think it's already been concluded." He leaned in close to Picard's face. "We'll just see if you've been paying attention."
With that, he vanished.
Picard glared intently at the chair Q had been occupying. First thing tomorrow, he was going to find some way to remove that tacky thing from his quarters.
