ROLLERCOASTER

-x-

Something Changed

-x-

Three

-x-

It was with a touch of trepidation that Picard stepped onto the USS Pasteur. It had been quite some time since he had last seen his former wife. It had been longer still since he'd been aboard a Starfleet vessel. The woman and the ships were all part of a life he'd left behind – that he'd come to accept being without now… but sometimes he wondered if they would be able to entice him back… the smile of the woman he'd loved… the excitement of being amongst the stars, venturing into the unknown. He recalled the sensation of boarding the Enterprise for the first time… had that been days ago, or decades? Had things really changed so much since then? Had he changed so much?

He caught sight of his reflection in a smooth panel as he was escorted towards the Bridge. An old man, twisted, hunched and senile stared back at him. Of course, he had changed. Didn't time change everybody?

Beverly greeted them all with a warm smile and a hug, but something was obviously playing on the Doctor's mind. Well, thought Picard to himself, was it any wonder? It had been a long time since they'd seen one another, and all of a sudden here they were, asking her to take them on a dangerous mission into Klingon territory, against the will of Admiral Riker. Besides which, he was aware that his condition had worsened since they'd last met. Perhaps Beverly found that hard to witness. And then, there was the terrible business with Tasha. The last time the former senior Officers of the Enterprise D had all been together had been at Deanna's funeral, and now another of them was gone – and, since Data refused to admit that she was almost certainly dead, they couldn't even have a funeral to say goodbye. Tasha's disappearance left them all bereft, without closure.

Yes – it seemed to be Tasha's absence that was troubling Beverly the most. Picard noticed as they briefly exchanged notes on the plans in place to travel to the Devron system that his former wife concentrated largely on Data – noting the ring still on the android's wedding finger and giving him sad, sympathetic smiles. As soon as a lull fell in the conversation, she placed a hand upon his.

'Are you all right, Doctor?'

Beverly pressed her lips tightly for a moment. 'It's about Tasha.'

Data's eyes widened as he grabbed hold of the Doctor's arm, nervously. 'You have information.'

'More than just information.' Beverly gave him another small smile. Picard knew that smile. Beverly was about to impart something big – something that wasn't entirely good news.

'We found her,' Beverly announced. 'Alive,' she quickly added.

Data sighed deeply with relief. Picard noticed, however, that nobody was yet rejoicing at the announcement of Tasha's most recent evasion of death. Perhaps there was something about Beverly's tone that was perturbing to everybody – not just him.

'Is she all right?' Data asked.

Beverly held her gaze. 'Maybe you should be the judge of that.'

'She's on board?' Geordi interjected. 'She's right here?'

'In Recovery Bay 2…' began Beverly, but Data had already turned and started running towards the Turbolift.

'Wait,' cried the Doctor as they all hurried after him. 'You don't know where it is, yet!'

-x-

The room in question was only two decks down from the Pasteur's Bridge. It couldn't have taken them more than a minute to get there, but it felt to Picard like an age. The four old friends remained tensely silent throughout the short Turbolift ride, and as soon as the doors slid open, the android was off again; heading down the corridor far faster than the others could have hoped to have kept up with even back when they were young.

'Data,' warned Beverly as she ran after him, 'don't get angry. She's been through a lot.'

Data had stopped at the doorway to Recovery Bay 2. Beverly and Geordi managed to skid to a halt next to him within a couple of seconds as Picard straggled along behind on his old legs.

'Besides which,' added Beverly to Data, 'there's a lot of delicate equipment on this ship, and I've noticed things have a habit of getting broken when you get mad…'

Data was paying the Doctor no attention. As soon as Picard managed to make it to the doorway, he could see why. There was the sight he'd lost all hope of seeing again – Natasha Yar, sitting up in bed, alive and smiling.

'Hi, Honey,' she beamed with a slight slur to her voice, 'I'm home!'

Data didn't reply.

'Miss me?' Tasha added in the same odd tone.

This was wrong – there was bravado, there was using humour as a defence mechanism... but Tasha had been missing from her husband and adopted son for almost a year. It wasn't like her to be so wilfully insensitive. Picard frowned his concern at Beverly.

'She's on some heavy medication at the moment,' Beverly explained to the assembled group. 'It's made her a little giddy and...'

'How long has she been aboard?' Data interrupted, quietly.

'We received a distress signal from a civilian vessel four days ago,' Beverly told him. 'It was an old cargo ship from the Pakir Project – full of refugees. Imagine my surprise when I found Tasha in amongst them.'

'Like a bad penny,' interjected Tasha with a grin.

Data kept his attention fixed on Beverly. 'Are we not friends?'

'Sorry?'

'Are you not my friend? For four days, you have known that my wife is alive, and kept it from me?'

Beverly shook her head, apologetically. 'Believe me, I wanted to let you know. But my first duty is to my patients, and if a patient doesn't want me to contact their next of kin, I have to respect that.'

'I'm sorry,' Tasha added from her bed. 'But it'd been so long, and we'd parted on such bad terms, and since then, things have been pretty crazy, so… I guess I just needed a little more time…'

'More time,' repeated Data in the same worryingly calm tone. 'More space…'

'Hey.' Geordi took his friend's arm. 'You're losing the big picture here, Data. Forget about the little things for now – she's alive! Aren't you glad to have your wife back in one piece?'

Tasha began to giggle. 'One piece…'

'Tasha was injured on the Pakir Project…' began Beverly, but Tasha quickly interrupted her, cutting the Doctor off.

'See, now,' Tasha slurred, 'Dr Captain Crusher Picard Crusher here might be taking a little too much credit in claiming to have found your wife, Data…'

'Tasha!' Beverly warned.

'…No,' continued Tasha, unabated, 'what Beverly actually found was most of your wife.'

Tasha unceremoniously pulled the blanket away from her legs… or, what was left of them, at least. Her right leg was scarred but intact. The left leg, however, now ended in a bandaged stump halfway down the shin.

Picard found himself speechless at the sight. It was Geordi who was able to give voice to the obvious question.

'What the Hell happened?'

'Darnedest thing,' beamed Tasha, addressing neither Picard nor Geordi, but concentrating solely on her unmoving, unspeaking husband. 'Somebody shouted that the bad guys had rockets, we ducked into shelter, next thing I knew, I was covered in rubble and my foot had fallen off.' She shrugged, with a drunken air of laissez-faire. 'Guess that explains why I'm doped up to the eyeballs on pain meds, right? And maybe it explains why I needed more time before telling you what had become of me, too.'

Data just stared at her.

'Are you gonna say something?' Tasha prompted, 'do something? Get mad, get miserable… anything? Or are you just gonna stay in that doorway all day?'

Data stared at her for a moment longer, before finally finding his voice again. 'You are damaged.'

'Yep.'

'You are… an invalid.' Data paused. 'Is that the only reason that you returned from the Project – because you could no longer be a soldier?'

'They sent me back,' Tasha replied, growing more serious. 'The people I was working with – it wasn't exactly easy getting me a space on a refugee ship, but they did it – they stopped at nothing to make sure I'd get back safe…'

'Once the damage had already been done,' interjected Data.

Tasha nodded, looking down at her amputation. 'It was worth it.'

'Was it?' Data snapped, raising his voice for the first time. 'Was it worth a limb? Was it worth abandoning your family; causing us to fear for your life every day, never knowing your whereabouts or whether we would ever see you again? Was it worth robbing your child of his mother?'

'Nik's not a child,' retorted Tasha, 'he's sixteen.'

'Seventeen,' Data corrected. 'You missed his birthday.'

'My point's the same,' Tasha replied. 'Nikolai's a young adult. When I was his age I'd already fought my way off Turkana and started making my way in the universe…'

'Your childhood is now something for Nikolai to aspire to?' Data asked. 'Was the point of adopting Nadia and he not so that they could avoid the legacy of your youth?'

'So that they'd have a loving home, yes…'

'…and a mother who abandons him is "loving"…?'

'He doesn't need a mother to hold his hand any more,' Tasha shouted. 'He doesn't need to be sheltered or coddled. He needs to go out there, start having adventures like he's always wanted to do.'

'And how would you know what our son wants any more? You have not seen him for over eleven months.'

'Not gonna round up to the nearest second this time?'

Data made a sudden, furious dash towards Tasha's bed, catching all of the onlookers unawares.

'Eleven months, nine days, fourteen hours, five minutes, thirty three seconds, during which I have waited and worried and cared for our son alone, and now I have finally found you, you mock me?'

The others had hurried in after Data as fast as they could manage. They would never have caught him in time if he had intended to cause his wife any more physical injury, nor would any of them have had the strength to stop him. It was fortunate, then, that as ever, Data only vented his fury verbally, albeit inches from Tasha's face and at high volume.

'Our son has wanted to see the universe all his life,' Tasha replied, matching her husband's loud, enraged tone. 'Don't you dare try to tell me the last few months without me has changed all that. Don't you dare try to tell me he's not applying to the Academy…'

'You still wish for him to join Starfleet? After they took you from us?'

'Nobody took me anywhere!'

'And after he finds out how you lost your leg in combat – do you believe he will wish to join Starfleet then?'

'We'll just have to ask him,' shouted Tasha, 'won't we? Or has this stopped being about what he wants?'

'What are you implying?'

'You're smothering him, Data. You always have done, and my leg's just gonna make you do it even more.'

'I am trying to protect our son.'

'Protect him from what?'

'I am trying to protect him from becoming another Turkanan Soldier – another emotionally absent, insecure, over-compensating warrior always looking for a battle, just like his mother.'

'Rather that than another small, frightened little person hiding away behind dusty books and choosing safe mediocrity over the brilliance he's capable of, like you!'

'How dare you accuse me of hiding away, when you would clearly go to any lengths to escape your family…'

'I couldn't do it any more, Data! I couldn't tend another flower, bake another cake or hold another book group. It wasn't my life. And it was killing me to see it becoming your life.'

'What is that supposed to mean? Am I supposed to believe that there is something shameful in being amongst the greatest academic minds on Earth?'

'But we're not academics.' Tasha indicated about the room, acknowledging the people present besides her husband for the first time. 'None of us. We're explorers – adventurers. Even those of us who've given up the stars still hold them in our hearts. And I see that same love for adventure in Nikolai's eyes – I always have. But you…? You're letting that adventurer in you die. You're becoming the sort of person who's rather read an account of something in a report, months after it had happened, than go out and witness it with your own eyes. That's not the Data I married.' She paused, watching him. 'What happened to you? What made you so afraid of the universe?'

'You happened to me, Tasha,' Data replied. 'You demanded that I care, and I was foolish enough to imagine that you might also care in return. Evidently, I was wrong.'

Before Tasha could get in another word, her husband turned and swiftly left the room.

Tasha gave the others in the room a bitter smile.

'I knew he'd be mad at me.'

'You fell out of contact for nearly a year,' Geordi reminded her with an uncommon sternness. 'He was out of his mind with worry - where did you go? What happened to you? What was that talk about rocket attacks – who uses rockets in this day and age?'

'Will you guys cut my patient a little slack?' Beverly argued. 'She just lost a limb – she nearly died!'

'Exactly,' countered Geordi. 'It's huge relief to see you alive, Tasha, but you just took off, and look at the damage that's been done – to you, and your family…'

'And what about you, Jean-Luc?' Tasha demanded, suddenly fixing her attention to Picard. 'Am I to expect a ticking-off from you, too?'

'It never used to be like this,' Picard murmured, sadly. 'Always at each others' throats, bearing grudges against one another, being ruled by anger and spite. I used to command a crew that was the envy of the Fleet. We worked so well together; we communicated; we enjoyed each other's company so much. But something changed. And now look at us. Look at…'

'Look at what, Sir?'

Captain Picard frowned. Seven expectant faces stared at him from their usual positions around the Observation room. Seven people – people who worked and socialised well together - waited for him to finish his sentence. It was seven years in to his command of the Enterprise, and they were his crew – his friends – practically his family.

'Look at what?' repeated Tasha.

Deanna blinked at him. 'It happened again, didn't it, Captain?'

Picard nodded. 'I was in the future. Heading towards the Devron system, although it was much more difficult to do so in that time period than it is now.' He paused. 'Everything then is more difficult than it is now.'

Riker grinned. 'Sounds ominous.'

'You have no idea how true that is, Number One,' breathed the Captain. 'No idea.'

-x-

By the time he arrived back in the future… or, the present… or whatever moment of time it was that saw him travelling into Klingon space aboard the Pasteur; he was walking down a corridor, alone. He appeared to be following a strange, metallic crunching sound issuing from a doorway. He stopped at the door. Data was sitting at the desk of a small, unused office; his forehead sunk into one hand and an uneven metal sphere being worried in the other.

'Mind if I join you?'

The android shook his head without speaking or looking up.

Picard found a small, uncomfortable metal stool on which to perch.

'Upsetting business,' he announced, purely as a means to breaking the tense, awkward silence. 'If it's any consolation, I'm not sure I would have been able to handle it any better than you have.'

Data muttered something that Picard couldn't make out.

'Beg your pardon?'

Data finally looked up. 'This is my own fault.'

Picard sighed. 'Oh come on. How can it be your fault? Tasha was on a covert operation to a dangerous colony…'

'Do you know why she took the mission – why she left?'

'Because they asked her to,' Picard hazarded. 'Because Starfleet's in her veins. Because she's lived with action and danger all her life and can't do without it…'

'Because I told her to,' Data added. 'I told her to go.'

'But you didn't mean it.'

'We were arguing every day,' Data replied. 'She had become miserable in Cambridge – that was obvious. It was I who first suggested her contacting Starfleet again. I thought that would satisfy her, without being called away from home. When she was offered the undercover mission, we fought and fought and fought until neither of us could stand it any further. She could have just left at any point – I never forced her to stay, but it was as though she needed dispensation from me to take the mission. So I told her to go, and that it was no concern of mine what became of her while she was away.'

The android buried his head back into his free hand. Picard leaned over and patted his old friend on the shoulder.

'She would have known you didn't mean it. You are terrible at lying.'

'And yet, she went,' replied Data with a weary tone. 'She left, and she stayed away until she was injured so badly that she could no longer fight. Would she have done that had she not felt so desperately repressed in Cambridge? Will I find, in a few years' time, my son reacting to his sheltered life at the University in the same way?'

Picard had no answer for that.

'I suffocated Tasha for years,' continued Data, toying again with the crumpled metal sphere in his hand. 'And I do not need her, nor Geordi, nor you to tell me that I do the same to Nikolai. I am aware that I am over protective of him, to the point of obsession. Tasha was right – I am scared. I am so scared of losing what remains of my family, and my fear has diminished me.'

Picard sat back a little on the small stool. 'Data, I can't imagine the pain of losing a child. I don't know if I'd have the fortitude to ever recover from that sort of loss. You've lost three. Three! And I've watched you grieve for each of your daughters – I was there when you lost Lal, and when the full horror of her death finally hit you after installing your emotion chip; I was there that heartbreaking day when Abigail went into cascade failure; I walked alongside Nadia's coffin…'

'It was so small,' added Data in little more than a whisper. 'We should have evacuated Turkana when we had the chance. We knew that they would make that planet uninhabitable within a matter of years. All those sick children. All those little coffins.' He crunched at the metal sphere again, visibly fighting back tears. 'Is this supposed to be making me feel better?'

'I'm saying that nobody can blame you for being scared. It's a perfectly valid fear. They will die, eventually – it's the fate of all biological beings.'

'And it is my fate to watch them die, and remain alone…'

'Not necessarily,' replied Picard, with a forced cheer. 'In case you didn't notice, we're about to cross over the Klingon border in a woefully under-defended ship. We could all be blown to smithereens in a few hours, taking you with us.'

Data stared across at him, incredulously. 'We can but hope.'

'I'm not exactly Deanna Troi when it comes to counselling, am I?'

'I have received better counselling from Worf.'

'Ouch.'

Data smiled - slightly, but at least genuinely.

Picard nodded at the metal ball in the android's hand. 'What is that thing?'

Data looked at the crumpled sphere, then across at Picard. 'It used to be the back of your chair.'

Picard glanced down at the jagged edge at the back of his stool. At least that explained why the damned thing was so uncomfortable. As if to prove his statement, Data began easily pulling the metal out flat.

'Worf's counselling?' Picard asked.

'Worf's counselling,' confirmed the android. 'If you are angry, break something. If you are miserable, break something. If you are distressed… you get the general idea.'

Picard smiled back, getting to his feet. 'Speaking of our Klingon friend, I should really check to find out whether we've been able to locate him yet. We'll be crossing the border soon, and the sooner we contact him to see if he can help ease our passage, the better.' He paused. 'It was a good idea of your son's to call in a favour from Worf. I'm glad he talked me into it.'

'How much persuasion did you really need?'

'I'm just saying that I appreciated Nikolai's input, Data.'

'I know.' Data stared down at the re-flattened backrest. 'What am I to do with that boy?'

'What do you mean?' Picard asked.

'You saw the look on his face when we were discussing the possibilities of a mission to the Devron System – danger, difficulty, riding roughshod over rules and regulations to reach forbidden territory – I had not seen him so excited for months. He tells me that he will be happy to study at Cambridge, but I know my son. He used to ask for tales of our adventures with Starfleet when he was two years old, and the concept has thrilled him ever since. I do not know how much longer I will be able to keep him in Britain.'

Picard sat down once more. 'Then don't try. Take it from somebody whose own father tried to keep him on the same small patch of land he'd known all his life – if he wants to explore the universe, then he will explore the universe, and attempts to stop him will only lead to bitterness between the pair of you. I know you still hold a lot of resentment towards Starfleet, but I think you know in your heart of hearts that you've exaggerated the negative impact it has had upon your life recently, and deliberately ignored the positives.'

'I thought that if Nikolai believed everything to be the fault of Starfleet, then he would not blame me.'

'Nikolai's not looking for anyone to blame for what's happened to your family,' Picard assured him. 'The only person who seems keen to attribute blame to anybody for that seems to be you – and you can't seem to make up your mind as to who you feel is truly fault.' Picard paused. 'Let him apply to the Academy, Data. You know they'd welcome him. They need youngsters like him – brilliant, courageous, questioning…'

'Chronically ill due to exposure to toxic weaponry in the womb and as a baby,' Data continued, 'brittle bones, fatigue, difficulty breathing, partially deaf, seventeen different incurable allergies that we know of… he has an artificial kidney, an artificial lung…'

'Geordi's VISOR never held him back in Starfleet,' Picard argued, 'nor did my artificial heart.'

'Nikolai is different!'

'Of course he's different. He's your son.' Picard got to his feet again. 'I really have to contact Worf. But promise me, you'll think about what we've spoken about. If you're worried about Nik's physical health, maybe you should encourage him to do more energetic pursuits… his strength might surprise you.'

'If that is an allusion to his fondness for rugby, I already know that he plays.'

Picard stopped at the door. 'I thought he was keeping it a secret from you.'

'So does he,' replied Data with a small smile. 'If he is to secretly rebel over anything, it may as well be a relatively harmless sport, so I put up a pretence that I have no idea. It makes him happy to believe he can outwit and deceive his father.'

'And isn't that what love's supposed to be all about?' Picard asked. 'Wanting to make them happy.'

Data grunted again, and turned his attention back to the mangled metal backrest. 'Tell that to my wife.'