3.

He knew, as soon as he left the shuttle bay, that the crewman would contact Will to say he was aboard. He walked down the corridors of the Titan, his home now of almost five years, and they looked somehow less familiar, as if he had been gone a year, or two, instead of only three weeks. He wondered if this was because he had already begun the process of distancing himself, in preparation for what he had told himself to expect. He was surprised, then, to find Will not in their quarters, waiting his arrival. The nanny was there, a crewman named D'jali, and he placed his case down on the floor and took Sascha in his arms.

"Bonjour, mon petit oiseau," he said into Sascha's dark blond hair, causing Sascha to giggle. "Tell me why you are not at school."

Apparently they'd had a very special field trip, and as Sascha told him all about the wonders of stellar cartography, he took Rosie from D'jali's arms and held her, and he'd realised that somehow he must have gone quite mad. He had no explanations to give; no justifications; no excuses. He had left his family and now he had more than likely lost them. He didn't ask D'jali where Will was; he knew. He talked with Sascha and cuddled Rose, and then he took his case into their bedroom and set it on the closet floor.

"Will you play with me, Papi?" Sascha asked, and even though the child's eyes were dark, he could see an echo of Will's anxiety in them.

"Of course," he said, kneeling down so he was eye level with Sascha. He stroked his son's face and kissed his forehead. "Let me go see Daddy, first."

"He's at work."

"He is the captain," Picard said. "The captain is always at work."

Sascha sighed. "I know."

"Perhaps I can convince him to come home," he offered. "We can eat supper together, and then we'll play with you. Would you like that?"

"And Rose? You'll play with Rose too?"

"Of course," he answered. "We would never leave out Rose."

"Okay. You're dismissed," Sascha said imperiously, and Picard wondered whose voice it was, his or Will's.

"Yes, sir," Picard said, straightening, the sound of Sascha's laughter following him out the doors.

Will was on the observation deck. It's where he went, always. Picard was just a little surprised that the doors were not privacy-locked, but then, Will knew he would find him here, and perhaps that's why they weren't. The lights were low, and he could see Will standing dark against the retreating of the stars as they warped by. They were on their way to Starbase 135; he only knew that because of the logistics involved in flying a shuttle to meet them. What the mission was he didn't know; sometimes Will could tell him and sometimes not. He stepped inside and then he hesitated. He'd never been a man who couldn't find the right words to say. It's why he'd spent years in the diplomatic corps; it was his trademark as a captain; it's why he was appointed a Federation ambassador. And yet – what exactly was he to say? He could only, he thought, say the obvious.

"Permission to come aboard, Captain?" he asked.

Will did not turn around. "What will you do if I say no?"

"Beg your indulgence until I can disembark at Starbase 135," Picard said.

"You always have an answer for everything, don't you?" Picard could hear the exhaustion in his voice. "Permission granted."

"Thank you," Picard said. He found himself walking, quite helplessly and against his own will, until he was standing as close to the observation deck windows as Will was, and so they stood there, silently, watching the stars. He could feel how rigidly Will was holding himself, and he thought perhaps he should just touch him, lightly, on the arm, but there was a distance of three weeks and a lifetime between them, and it was a gap he did not know how to close.

"I've said hello to the children," he said, when he could no longer bear the silence. "I'd thought you would be there. I'd wanted to see you first…."

Will said nothing.

Picard had not prayed, even when he was with the Borg, even when he was with the Cardassians, but he had the urge to pray to his grandmère's benevolent God now. "I told Sascha we would have supper together," he added. "I'm sorry."

Will said, "For telling our son we were having supper together?"

"It was a presumption," Picard said.

"Oh?"

"Will." He felt the silence begin to close in again, and he said, "You are exhausted. I told Sascha we would have supper and play a little, with him. And then if you want me to move into guest quarters, I will."

"And how," Will asked, turning to look at him, "are you planning to explain that to our son?"

"I don't know."

"You are a selfish bastard," Will said, turning back to the window.

"Yes," Picard agreed. He tried to remember how he'd felt on the planet, with Helen, but it was gone, to be replaced only by an aching helplessness. He had made a mess of his personal life before, many times, but this was beyond his comprehension. He hadn't understood at all why he'd done what he'd done, and now he didn't understand what he could do. Will's pain was a physical presence in the room, and he was – he was afraid.

"What is it you want, Jean-Luc?" Will asked.

Oh, Will, Picard thought. You are still the bravest man I've ever known.

"I want to come home," he said. And then he added, "Please."

He could hear Will breathing, and he took Will's hand.

He said, "I won't ask you to forgive me, Will. But I would like you to take me back, if you can find it in your heart to do so."

"You asked me to trust you," Will said.

"I know."

"And I did, trust you."

"I know."

"How am I ever to trust you or anyone else again?"

Will's hand was still in his. He said, quietly, "We must start over, and I will have to earn your trust. It won't be easy, Will, not for either of us."

"I should hate you," Will said. "I want to hate you."

"You couldn't even hate your father, Will," Picard said. Still Will's hand was in his.

"No," Will agreed. "I'm not crying," he said. "I won't cry."

"No," Picard murmured, and he took Will's hand and kissed it. "Sascha is waiting for us, I think," he said.

"You can never do this again, Jean-Luc." Will's voice was firm.

"I can't lose you, Guy," Picard answered. "I won't lose you."

Will said, "There's no need for you to move to guest quarters. I don't think – I don't think it could work, if you did."

"No." Picard waited.

"I haven't been eating," Will said.

"Or sleeping," Picard replied. "Deanna told me."

"Is that why you came home? Because she comm'd you?"

"No, Will. I didn't know how to come home. When she wrote me, she showed me how."

"You were afraid of me?" Will sounded incredulous.

"I was afraid you would tell me to go to hell," Picard answered.

"Which is what you would have told me," Will said, "if this shoe were on the other foot."

He took that blow. "Yes," he said. "But you are the better man."

"Not because I want to be."

"Will you let me hold you?" Picard asked. "Guy?"

"Yes," Will said.

"I can come home?" Picard wanted to be certain.

"Yes."

"Je t'aime, Guy," Picard said, and felt himself enfolded in Will's arms.

Will rested his head on Picard's shoulder. "I love you, too, you stupid old man," he replied.

"I am indeed," Picard agreed, "a stupid old man. Shall we have supper, now?" He felt as if he should hold his breath, because he knew he didn't deserve Will's answer.

"I'm not cooking."

"Of course not." He smiled into Will's tunic. "I told Sascha we'd play with him, after. And Rose. He wanted to make sure we'd include Rose."

"Rose has been too cranky to play," Will said. "Sascha doesn't understand the concept of teething."

"I think," Picard said, "he understands far more than we might want him to."

Will said, "Then you need to tell him that you have come home." Will paused, and then said, "Just as you always do."

They walked to the doors, and Picard answered, "And just as I always will." He took Will's hand and together they walked home.