His dreams did not seem like dreams; they seemed like his life. Waking on the Enterprise, pulling on the familiar cranberry colored uniform, sharing a breakfast of croissants and Earl Grey with Beverly Crusher, discussing Wesley's latest accomplishments at the Academy. Then up to the bridge, where everyone and everything was in its proper place: Will Riker to the right of him, his cool blue eyes belying a sharp wit; Deanna Troi to his left, soft-spoken and intuitive; Data at ops, ever ready to impart information on any given subject; and Ro Laren at navigation, talented, unique in her individualism. All was as it should be until a cube-shaped object appeared on the view screen and his pleasant life-like dream became a nightmare. The security of the bridge vanished and he was surrounded by the Borg.
He jolted awake, sitting straight up in bed, covered in a cold sweat. He was shaking uncontrollably, and every shadow, each dark corner, was inhabited by a non-existent horror. Eline stirred beside him, turning over in her sleep, sighing softly. Not wanting to wake her, he stumbled into the bathroom, closed the door, switched on the light. He leaned against the sink, stared into the mirror. It was his face looking back at him, and he touched the smooth surface of the glass making sure for the millionth time that it was real, solid, not a dream. The Enterprise was the dream, and the Borg a nightmare that had followed him into this other world.
He felt too weak to stand, and he sank down to the floor, leaned against the wall. He was never going home, he knew that now. He would never wear that uniform, never eat a leisurely breakfast with Beverly Crusher, never sit in the command chair of the Enterprise, never be among the stars again. He was bound, unshakably, to this world, this life, and the hopelessness rose inside him, the frightening, helpless feeling that there was not a damned thing he could do.
Tears came, racking, choking sobs that he couldn't control. He drew his knees up to his chest, pressed his cheek to the cool, tiled wall. He wanted to go home; he wanted to read his books and sit in his ready room, watch his tropical fish swim lazily in their aquarium. He wanted to argue with Beverly over his annual physical, play chess with Guinan, discuss warp technology with Geordi LaForge.
He wanted to stand at the viewport in his quarters, watch space unfold around him. He wanted his life back, and he cried with the knowledge that what he wanted, he could not have.
"Kamin?" The voice was gentle, the hands on his shoulders soft.
He gasped for breath, trying unsuccessfully to stop the tears, wiping hastily at his eyes with the back of his hand.
"Shh," Eline soothed, sitting on the floor beside him, taking him in her arms.
Normally, he would have pulled away, never had he allowed her to comfort him after a nightmare. But he was so tired, so frightened. And he let her hold him, rock him gently, his head resting on her shoulder. "It's all right, darling."
She held her cheek to the back of his neck, her skin warm on his.
"I miss them," he sobbed. "I miss them so much." He drew in a shuddering breath. "I keep... I keep dreaming about them. They were real, and now they're just a dream. And I can't reach them; I can't touch them!"
She tightened her hold on him. "I'm real, Kamin, I'm not a dream. I'm real."
Long minutes passed, and his breathing became easier. Eline ran her fingers over his face, brushed at the tears.
He stared up at her. "This is my life now," he whispered, accepting what he could not change.
She held her hands to his cheeks. "This has always been your life."
He shook his head slowly. "No. I had another one, and now it's gone."
"But I'm here. And I love you." She pressed her lips to his and kissed him. And for the first time, he returned the kiss.
The knock at the door woke him, and he opened his eyes, looked around. It was the bathroom in his cabin, and he was sitting on the floor, his head leaning against the wall.
The knock came again, accompanied by a voice. "Jean-Luc? Are you all right?"
"Yes. Yes, I'm fine, Beverly." He braced his hand against the wall, pushed himself to his feet.
"Are you finished with your shower?"
He realized he was holding a damp towel, and he answered affirmatively. "Yes, I'm all finished."
"Good." He could hear the relief in her voice. "I laid your uniform on the bed. I'll be in the next room."
"Thank you. I'll be out in just a moment."
He stared at his reflection in the mirror above the sink. Even now this life seemed like a dream; he vaguely remembered taking a shower, and yet he clearly recalled his memory of Eline.
They held each other close the rest of the night, Eline's head nestled in the hollow of his shoulder, her breath warm against his neck. With her arms around him, he was safe, and it felt right lying beside her. He didn't pull away from the touch of her skin on his body, the rhythm of her heart beat against his chest.
Gently, he ran his hand along her arm, and she stirred awake.
"Why aren't you sleeping?" she murmured.
"I'm watching you." He could see the faint shadow of her smile in the early morning light.
"You need your sleep, Kamin."
He sighed, pulled her closer. She was his life now, and he held on to her for all he was worth. "Don't worry," he whispered, brushing his fingers through her hair, "I have what I need."
~vVv~
"I want you to know that this is against my better judgment." The pronouncement was made with the best "doctor voice" Beverly Crusher could muster after only a few hours of restless sleep. But still it carried an official tone that definitely had to be heeded.
"So noted," the captain replied as the turbo-lift moved almost imperceptibly through the ship.
"I just don't think you should be going back to work so soon."
He looked at the woman standing beside him. "Doctor Crusher, correct me if I'm wrong, but weren't you the one who laid my uniform out on the bed for me this morning?"
"Only because I knew you would insist upon wearing it."
He nodded. "Yes, I would have. Just as I insist upon reporting for duty."
A worried frown creased her face. "You need rest, Captain. In fact, a few days of shore leave wouldn't be a bad idea," she added hopefully.
"Beverly, in my mind I have had over thirty years of shore leave. And on a very nice planet." He smiled. "But now, I think returning to the bridge would be the best thing for me. If only to further ground me in this reality. Don't you agree?"
She hesitated, then sighed. She hated it when he did that. The ability to find logical points of reasoning in order to defend one's position was a highly useful skill for a starship captain to possess. And Picard not only possessed it; he'd mastered it, actually raised it to some sort of higher art form.
And much to the doctor's dismay, he used the ability to his benefit. In other words, he could talk himself out of any situation he deemed undesirable, and Crusher knew when she'd lost an argument. The lift stopped and the doors opened.
"I believe this is your deck," Picard informed her, a wry grin on his face.
She reluctantly stepped out. "You call if you need me," she firmly instructed.
"I most certainly will, Doctor. Happy day." And the doors slid closed.
Crusher's concern shifted to confusion. "Happy day?"
~vVv~
It was like the dream. They were all there: Riker, Troi, Data, Ro. Picard stepped off the turbo-lift and strode down the ramp to the lower bridge. His first officer vacated the command chair.
"As you were, Number One." He headed toward his ready room. "I'll be in here if I'm needed."
"Sir?"
He looked back at his first officer.
Riker smiled. "It's good to see you here."
"Thank you, Commander. It's... good to be here."
The door to his ready room slid open and closed behind him, and he stood for a moment, studied his office. It, too, was as he remembered. The case that held his antique copy of Shakespeare's plays, the model of the Stargazer, his lion fish. Even after he'd fallen in love with Eline and his other life, there had been times when he'd longed to be back here, in this room, with these familiar things around him.
He crossed over to his desk, sat down in the chair. I'm home. The thought kept repeating itself in his mind. Reflexively, he picked up the crystal from the table behind him. It still fit perfectly in the palm of his hand, its facets cool and smooth. He'd found a rock in the front yard of his house in Ressick to take the crystal's place. It had been about the same shape, and when he'd needed to think, and he wasn't playing his flute, he would hold it, shift it back and forth between his hands. Oh, how Eline had laughed at him and his "thinking rock," as she called it. But the solid weight of it had helped to solve many a problem.
"You're thinking again," Eline smiled as she folded the laundry. Her tone intimated that his thinking was sometimes a dangerous thing.
He looked up, her words interrupting a convoluted thought. "Guilty as charged." He set the rock on the table.
"And what are you trying to figure out now? The amount of rainfall we've had in the past ten years in proportion to the population increase here in Ressick and the surrounding communities?" She was trying not to laugh at him. At times, her husband and his rock drove her absolutely crazy.
He shook his head. "No, no, nothing really. Just thinking." He took a shirt out of her hands and helped with the folding. He was surprised at how domesticated he'd become. Even more surprised that he enjoyed it.
"I know you better than that, Kamin. You don't play with that rock unless you're giving serious thought to something."
He sighed. She had come to know him very well. "All right. I was thinking of building a telescope."
"A telescope?" She wondered daily at some of the words he used.
He leaned toward her, eager to explain. "It's an instrument that's used to look at the stars. It's really very simple. You see, it consists of-"
She dropped the towel she was folding, held her hand up, and sighed. "Kamin, you spend most of your evenings outside looking at the stars already."
"Yes, but a telescope would allow me to see them much more closely," he rationalized.
She shrugged. "Well then, I suppose you'd better build one."
He picked up the rock again, turned it over in his hand. "I'll have to draw up some plans, diagrams. But I think I can do it." There was an edge of excitement in his voice, despite his wife's disinterest.
Eline gathered the folded laundry in her arms. "I'm sure you can." She headed toward the stairs.
"When I'm finished, I'll let you look through it," he called after her, even as he began to rummage through the cabinet drawers looking for paper and pencil to begin his project.
"That's all right, dear. The stars are your hobby. Everything I love is right here on the ground."
Picard set the crystal on his desk, the overhead light glinting off the edges and angles. How many times had he inadvertently hurt her feelings? So wrapped up in his own interests that he'd failed to see what was truly important. He got up and walked over to the viewport, stared out into the blackness of space. All those years he'd spent looking for new stars to explore, and now, the only ones he wanted to see were the ones that had hung over Ressick.
"I'm going to name that one." Meribor pointed up at the starlit sky.
"It's my turn to name one," Batai argued.
"You can name that one over there."
"But I want to name that one, Mer."
"Pick another one."
"No!"
"Here, here." Their father interrupted. "Let's not quarrel over it." He looked to his left, where his daughter sat cuddled next to him. "Meribor, why don't you let Batai name that one, after all, you've named quite a few already."
"But he's only four," she complained.
"I can still name one," Batai leaned over his father's legs and shouted at his sister.
"Oh, all right," she gave in, "but give it a good name, Batai. It's a pretty one."
"What's pretty?" Eline appeared at the top of the stairs, and walked across the roof towards them. She held a plate of cookies in her hand.
"The stars are, Mother. Don't you think so?"
Eline set the plate on the table and sat down beside her in the large patio chair. She smiled at her daughter. "Yes, they are pretty."
Meribor reached out and picked up a cookie, took a big bite. "We're naming them."
"Don't talk with your mouth full," her father reminded.
She swallowed. "See that pretty one right there. Batai's going to name it."
"Just as soon as he finishes eating," Eline laughed, watching as her son scrambled off Kamin's lap, snagged a handful of cookies, and resumed his place on his father's knee.
"I named that one over there," Meribor said.
"And what did you name it?"
"Ariel."
Eline nodded. "Your father's been telling you stories again."
"He tells wonderful stories, Mother."
"Oh, I know he does." She smiled over at her husband. He sat there silently munching on a cookie.
"Batai, have you decided yet?" Meribor demanded.
"Uh-huh. I'm going to name it Puck," he said proudly.
Eline laughed again. "He has been telling you stories."
"Is it a good name, Mer?" Batai looked at her, eager for his older sister's approval.
She nodded. "Yeah, it's a good name."
"I like Ariel, too," he yawned, laying his head against his father's shoulder.
"They're both pretty."
"I think I like the stars almost as much as like the mountains," Meribor whispered as she climbed into her mother's lap.
Eline folded her arms around her daughter, and moved closer to Kamin, resting against him. "So, I guess tomorrow we'll have to go for a walk and name the mountains?"
"Mother, they already have names," Meribor informed her with all the wisdom of a nine-year-old.
"That's right. I forgot." She smiled at Kamin. "So, dear, did your children let you name a star?"
He nodded.
"Father named that one." Meribor pointed to the brightest star in the night sky.
"And did he get the name from one of his stories?"
Meribor shook her head. "I don't think so."
"Well, what did he name it?"
"Enterprise," Batai answered sleepily.
Eline stared into her husband's eyes.
"I thought it was appropriate," he murmured.
She laid her head on his shoulder. "It is."
"I don't want to reach it anymore," he assured, wrapping his arm around her and pulling his family close. "I have everything I want right here."
~vVv~
"We could meet in your ready room if you'd prefer," Troi offered, looking at the captain.
He sat nervously on the couch across from her. "No. No, this is fine." He placed his hands on the cushions beside him. "It's, uh... very comfortable."
Troi smiled knowingly. "You don't really want to be here, do you?"
"No... yes." He rubbed his eyes, exhaled a deep breath. "I'm not sure what I want."
"Why don't you tell me about your life in Ressick?"
Picard shook his head. "It wasn't really a life. It was just an illusion."
"But it was real to you."
He lowered his gaze from the counselor, stared at the coffee table that separated them. "Very real," he murmured.
"You were married?"
He nodded.
"What was her name?"
"Eline."
"Tell me about her."
"She was... a good person. Very kind, gentle."
"And you loved her?"
He shifted uncomfortably. "Deanna, I don't think-"
"And you loved her."
"Yes," he admitted, his voice barely a whisper. "I can't remember the actual moment that I fell in love with her, but... I did love her. Very much."
"And you miss her?"
"Yes. I miss her."
"He's still not eating, is he?"
"No. He just sits there. I knew that Mother's death would be difficult for him, for all of us, but... Mer, I've never seen him like this before. It's like he's lost."
"He is, Batai."
"I can hear you talking about me." The gruff voice came from the next room.
Moments later, Kamin appeared in the doorway. He walked slowly over to a chair and sat down. "You see, Batai, I don't just sit in one place all the time. I move around occasionally."
Meribor knelt on the floor beside him, took his hand in hers. "Won't you come and stay with me and Danic for a while?"
He sighed. "I'm just fine right here."
"But Batai says you're not eating."
He cast an accusatory look at his son. "I'm not hungry. Besides, I'm not as good a cook as..." His voice trailed off.
Meribor squeezed his hand. "Father, we know you miss Mother. We all do. But she wouldn't want you to do this."
"And what is it that I'm doing?"
"You've stopped living, Father." She took a deep breath. "When Mother died, you just stopped. You don't go to council meetings, you don't work in your laboratory. Batai says you've stopped playing your flute. You don't even look at the stars anymore."
"Meribor," he reached out and touched her cheek, "I loved your mother very much. I just... I just need some time."
"We understand, Father." Batai took a step closer. "We just want you to know that... we love you."
He smiled up at him. "I know that."
"And I think it will take some time."
He lifted his eyes. Troi sat across from him, talking.
"You have a lifetime of memories, Captain. And I know that right now they seem overwhelming to you, but they will eventually find a place in your subconscious mind. And then you can choose to remember them when you want to."
He nodded; he heard the words, but he wasn't sure if he believed them.
~vVv~
