Chapter Three: The Second of the Spirits

Back on Picard's own bed, he still brooded about his mistakes.

"Why was I so foolish?" Picard asked himself. "Why? Why?"

Suddenly, a light shone in through his curtains, and he looked on in surprise.

"What's this?" Picard asked as he looked through the curtains to see a shaved black man in a black and gray outfit with a red collar.

"Hello." The man said.

Picard quickly closed the curtains, and when he opened them again, he was still there.

"Hello again." The man said again.

"Please, let me go!" Picard called out in fear. "Don't hurt me!"

"Why would the Ghost of Christmas Present, that's me, you can call me Benjamin, hurt a distasteful little miser like you, especially when there are so many good things to enjoy in life?"

Picard came out, and he then noticed that the room was full of food.

"Oh..." Picard said in awe. "Mince pies. Turkeys. Suckling pig. But where did all this come from?" Picard asked.

"From the heart, Jean-Luc." Benjamin explained. "It's the food of generosity which you have long denied your fellow man."

"Generosity?!" Picard asked angrily. "Nobody's ever shown me generosity!"

"You've never given them reason to." Benjamin explained calmly. "And yet, there are those who still find enough warmth in their hearts even for the likes of you."

"No acquaintance of mine." Picard said coldly. "I assure you."

"Oh, you'll see." Benjamin said as he took Picard's hand, and walked out, trying to find the right house.

()()()()()

Eventually, Benjamin stopped and showed Picard an old, extremely modest farm.

"Here we are." Benjamin said calmly.

"Why did you bring me to this old shack?" Picard asked.

"This is the home of your overworked, underpaid employee, Will Riker." Benjamin said, pushing Picard up close to the window.

Picard looked in the window and found a brown-haired woman, who could only be Riker's wife, cooking an extremely small bird.

"What's she cooking, a canary?" Picard asked rhetorically. "Surely they have more food than that. Look on the fire."

"That's your laundry." Benjamin pointed out as they looked at a bubbling pot.

()()()()()

Inside the Riker home, Will's middle child, Tommy, was trying to get at his presents, only to be stopped by his oldest child, Natasha. She looked perfectly like her mother, though younger.

"Oh, I don't think so." Natasha said with a smile as she picked the eight-year-old up.

"Now kids, we've gotta wait for Joshua." Riker said calmly.

"Daddy." Riker's youngest son, a black haired four-year-old named Joshua, said. "I'm coming, Daddy."

Riker walked up quickly to his son, hobbling down the steps on his cane, as Riker picked him up.

"Hey little buddy." Riker said as he set Joshua down while Natasha helped Riker's wife, Deanna, set Tommy down as well.

"Wow, look at all the wonderful things to eat!" Joshua said excitedly. "We must thank Mr. Picard."

"Right." Riker said kindly. "To my employer, Mr. Picard, the founder of the feast."

"'Feast' indeed." Deanna said sadly, so only Riker could hear. "With a goose barely bigger than a canary."

"Come on Deanna, it's Christmas." Riker said kindly.

"Oh alright." Deanna said. "To Mr. Picard."

Joshua smiled. Then, seeing that his father only had a little bit of goose, he offered Riker his piece, but Riker kindly refused and hugged his son.

()()()()()

"Tell me, Benjamin." Picard said with a pain in his heart, he'd never felt before. "What's wrong with that kind boy?"

"Much, I'm afraid." Benjamin said. "If these shadows remain unchanged, all I can see is an empty chair where Little Joshua Riker once sat and a little crutch without an owner carefully preserved."

"Then that means..." Picard said weakly. "Joshua will..."

Picard turned around, and Benjamin had completely disappeared.

"Benjamin, where are you?!" Picard called out. "Don't go! You must tell me about Joshua! Don't go!"

Suddenly, an odd black fog covered his vision as Picard coughed and when the fog cleared, he found himself in a graveyard.

"How did I-?" Picard began before looking up and his eyes widened in fear. "Who... Who are you?"


Aw, poor Joshua.