They gathered in the living room and listened as he played his flute. Eline stood beside him holding Batai; Meribor came running in from outside. The music was a blessing, a song of thanks for what they'd been given, for what they shared as a family and a community. When the last note faded, their friends applauded. The sound startled Batai, and Eline kissed him, whispered softly in his ear.

Kamin held up his hand in gratitude. "We name this child for a dear friend who died a year ago. But now, his memory will live on in his namesake." He looked over and smiled at his son.

Eline held the baby a little higher. "We name you Batai. In his honor."

"And he's starting out in the warmth of friends," Kamin added sincerely. "Thank you."

They applauded again.

"Please," he indicated the food with a wave of his hand, "help yourselves to something to eat."

They began to serve their plates, and Eline handed a sleepy Batai to a friend who'd graciously volunteered to put him down for a nap.

Kamin made his way further into the room, placing his hand lovingly on Meribor's head as he passed by her.

"Congratulations, Kamin," a neighbor offered, shaking his hand.

"Thank you," he returned.

Eline walked over with Meribor and joined him as he leaned against the stair railing. She smoothed her hands over the child's shoulder length blond hair, held her by the arms. "Seems like only yesterday we had Meribor's naming ceremony."

Kamin smiled lovingly at his daughter.

"Go on," Eline said, sending her to play with a gentle push.

"I remember." Kamin watched her go. "I was so nervous I was afraid that I would drop her. And now look at the little lady," he said with pride as Meribor played with their friends. She was so grown up now.

But Eline laughed at him. "Oh, she's no lady. Tromping through the hills with you all day." She smiled at the man she loved so much. "Digging up those soil samples you insist upon collecting." She rolled her eyes slightly, touched him on the arm. "No, she's her father's daughter." The prediction she'd made at Meribor's birth had definitely come true.

"I always believed that I didn't need children to complete my life," he looked back at Meribor, "now I couldn't imagine life without them." He took a deep breath, and then tried to take another; his features tightened.

Eline's smile faded. "Kamin? What is it?"

He gasped, and drew his hand to his chest, his body beginning to shake with convulsions. Reaching out, Eline tried, yet failed, to catch him as he fell forward onto the floor. She knelt beside him, her hand cradling his head. She looked up. "Get the doctor. Hurry."

~vVv~

Beverly Crusher had finally managed to relax. Almost. She still felt a bit uneasy, but the hot fudge sundae Deanna Troi had ordered for her, to replace the first one that had melted a slow death, was beginning to help her unwind. There was something very therapeutic about chocolate. She and Troi agreed upon that even when they disagreed on other things.

"Perhaps we should get one for the captain," Troi suggested.

"He likes strawberry," Crusher replied.

They stared at each other for a moment, then both shook their heads.

"No wonder you're so worried about him," Troi whispered as if stunned by the revelation.

The doctor nodded. "Yes." She sighed. "I've tried prescribing chocolate in the past, but he refuses. Claims there's absolutely nothing wrong with him, and even if there were, he doesn't believe chocolate would help."

Troi frowned. "You wouldn't think a captain could be so misguided. It's truly a wonder he's made it this far in his career."

"I remember when I first met him." She punctuated the air with her spoon. "He and Jack and I went out to dinner one night, and when it came time for dessert, well, he ordered strawberry shortcake. I tell you, Deanna, I was shocked. But, Jack seemed to like him, so I gave him another chance."

"Beverly, that was... that was simply magnanimous of you. I don't think I could have been so understanding. Oh, I'm willing to accept other species, other lifestyles, but strawberry versus chocolate, now that's serious. You have tried to reform him over the years, haven't you?"

Crusher tried to keep a straight face, but she couldn't any longer, and she began to giggle. So did Troi. And their laughter rose louder until some of the others in Ten Forward turned to stare at them discreetly. It was then that Crusher's communicator beeped. A laugh turned into a gasp as her fingers automatically touched it.

"Doctor Crusher?" Troi recognized Ogawa's voice.

"Yes, what is it?" Her tone was all business now, despite the anxiety that flooded back over her.

"It's the captain. He's had some trouble breathing, but he's fine now. I just wanted to inform you."

"I'm on my way," she replied as she pushed her chair back from the table and stood up. She took a hurried step toward the door, felt Troi touch her arm. She looked at the counselor.

"He's fine now, Beverly," Troi said calmly, repeating Ogawa's words. "They've got it under control. Don't go rushing in there like this. Your concern for him could do more harm than good."

Crusher hesitated, drew in a deep breath, then let it out slowly. "You're right, Deanna. Thanks." And her resumed pace toward the door was just as quick, but much less frantic.

~vVv~

Ogawa briefed her as soon as she entered Sickbay. Picard had awakened suddenly from a deep sleep, the medical monitors alerting the staff that he was having trouble breathing.

"His respiratory system seemed to be in a mild spasm," she informed Crusher, handing her the captain's medical file. "I gave him a shot of trioxyen. It worked almost immediately. I haven't been able to ascertain a cause, however."

Crusher headed toward Picard's room.

"He's resting comfortably now," Ogawa called after her.

Crusher paused a moment, looked over her shoulder. "Thanks, Alyssa."

Then taking a deep, calming breath, she walked into the room.

He lay propped up in bed, pulling restlessly at the front of the medical gown he was wearing. He glared at her. "I want my clothes back," he demanded. "Your staff practically ripped my uniform off, then gave me this..." he looked down at the gown in disgust, "this thing in return."

"I apologize for them," Crusher said evenly. "They were simply trying to save your life, and I suppose the uniform got in the way."

"Save my life? Hah!" he grimaced. "My life was never in danger. I just had a little trouble catching my breath."

Crusher stepped over to the side of the bed, studied the medical monitor above him. "Why?" she asked, taking a tricorder from her pocket and running it over his body.

"Why what?"

"Why were you having trouble catching your breath?"

He blinked at her. "How should I know? Besides, I'm fine now."

She pocketed the tricorder and stared down at him. "Then explain to me why you're as white as a sheet and still shaking?"

He groaned slightly, then a flicker of a smile crossed his face. "Sickbay sheets are blue, Doctor," he reminded her.

"Which is what you might have been if Alyssa hadn't given you that shot of triox."

"Oh, Beverly. Must you be so melodramatic?"

The expression on her face hardened. "Look here, I got called away from one of the best hot fudge sundaes I've had in a long time because one of my doctors informed me that the captain of this ship was having trouble breathing. So don't you dare accuse me of being melodramatic."

He was silent for a moment, looking up at her contritely. Then he grinned, almost like a little boy. "Hot fudge?" he whispered.

"Yes!" Crusher was exasperated. "It was a hot fudge sundae, and..."

"Could I have one?"

"What?" She stared at him in disbelief.

"Could I have a hot fudge sundae?"

She sat down heavily on the side of his bed, shaking her head in confusion.

"What's wrong?" he asked, touching her lightly on the arm. She could feel him trembling.

She looked into his eyes. "Jean-Luc, you don't like hot fudge."

"I don't?"

"No." She smiled slightly. "You like an occasional chocolate chip cookie, but you usually prefer something with fruit in it."

"I do?" he asked hesitantly.

She nodded.

He swallowed. "I... I ate hot fudge sundaes in Ressick." His eyes stared past her, focusing intently on the opposite wall. "Eline would make them for us. The children loved them. I did too." He sighed, reached up and rubbed his eyes. "I'm not sure who I am anymore. Am I Jean-Luc? Or am I Kamin?"

Crusher ran her hand along his arm. "You're Jean-Luc. I assure you of that."

"But how many other things will be different." His eyes met hers. "Which memories are mine? And which are his?"

"They're all yours, Jean-Luc." She said his name firmly. "And it's all right to have those other memories." She tightened her fingers on his shoulder. "It's all right to love those other people."

He looked away from her, embarrassed by her words. "They weren't real," he mumbled.

"Stop denying them. They were real. As real as I am. As real as Deanna and Will. They were your family." She felt his shoulder twitch, knew that he was crying.

She almost let go, but changed her mind and wrapped her arms around him. He started to pull away; she held him firmly. "It's all right," she whispered. "It's all right to remember."

~vVv~

He remembered, and she held him until his memories turned into dreams, and he fell asleep in her arms. And then, Eline was there, lying beside him, listening as he talked long into the night, telling her stories, describing his other life, introducing her to people she could never meet.

"I think I would have liked this Beverly Crusher," she murmured.

"You would have. She was very..."

"Very what?"

He smiled self-consciously in the darkness, shifted uneasily, unsure of the long dormant emotions he still felt for Beverly. He was glad Eline couldn't see him, for his cheeks were flushed with embarrassment.

"Very what?" she asked again with a gentle nudge of her elbow to his ribs.

He could hear the laughter in her voice. Could she tell? Had she come to know him so well that she could even sense the feelings he'd kept hidden from himself for so long?

"She was a very good friend," he answered, hoping that he sounded convincing.

"And that's all?"

He drew away from her in the bed, stared at the shadowed outline of her body next to him. Had she been able to see the expression on his face, she would have been met with mild shock. "Yes, that's all," he said loudly. He had the ridiculous feeling that he was somehow defending his honor.

Eline sighed. "Don't sound so offended, dear. It's just that it's taken you years to really talk about her, and now that you do, I always get the feeling that there was something more to your relationship than just friends."

"There wasn't." But he said the words almost remorsefully.

Eline moved closer to him, and he felt the brush of her lips against his neck. "I understand."

He remained silent, not sure of what to say, if anything needed to be said at all.

"We have a lot in common, Beverly Crusher and I." She stroked her hand over his chest, settled her head on his shoulder.

"What's that?" he breathed.

"We're both in love with you." She sounded relieved that there had indeed been someone in that other life who'd cared for him.

"No... no," he started to disagree.

"Shh." She placed a finger to his lips. "Don't you see? Men are always the last to know." And then, she kissed him.

~vVv~

Crusher insisted that he stay the night in Sickbay. He protested vehemently to no avail. She simply employed those two little words that he hated with a passion: "doctor's orders." Oh, what a multitude of sins they covered!

He glared at her as she crossed over to his bed, a tray in hand. She smiled encouragingly despite the expression on his face. "It's a little bit late for supper, but I thought you might like something to eat."

"What I would like," he replied, "is to return to my quarters."

"That's not what I suggested," she said with a shake of her head.

"No, but that is what I want."

She pulled a table over to the bed and placed the tray on top of it. "Jean-Luc." She found herself using his first name more, almost like an affirmation of who he was. "I will release you in the morning, barring any complications."

"Complications?" His eyes widened. "I'm not sick!"

"Perhaps not," she responded coolly, "but you need some rest."

"I just slept for six hours."

"With or without dreams?"

Their eyes locked for a moment, and then he looked away.

"Here." She pushed the tray table closer to him. "Try to eat something."

"I'm not hungry," he said stubbornly.

She sat down on the edge of the bed. "If you don't eat, you really will be sick."

He glanced back at her, frowned slightly, but then picked up a spoon from the tray and took a bite of soup. He swallowed. Why were they always giving him soup?

"I ran some tests on you while you were asleep."

"And?" He held his next bite of soup midway to his mouth.

"I could find no physical reason as to why you suffered a respiratory spasm."

A smile spread over his face, and he lowered the spoon back to the bowl. "There. No reason. I told you I wasn't sick."

"I said no physical reason, Jean-Luc."

"Meaning?"

"I think the attack was brought on by whatever emotions you were experiencing at the time."

"I was asleep at the time."

She nodded. "Yes. But you were dreaming, weren't you?"

He took a deep, ragged breath. "Your saying that it was psychosomatic?"

"The reason, yes. The spasm itself was very real. In fact, it was very similar, although not as severe, as the spasm you experienced when we tried to break your contact with the probe."

His eyes shifted away from her, and seemed to focus inward, on a long ago memory. "That's what happened," he breathed.

"What?" Crusher touched his shoulder.

He swallowed. "Nothing."

"Jean-Luc, what were you dreaming this afternoon? Before the attack."

"Eline thought I was dying," he answered, his voice low. "I thought I was just leaving. Coming back here, or going somewhere else."

Crusher pushed the tray table away and moved closer to him. Her fingers on his shoulder tightened reassuringly. "Tell me."

It hurt. The pain lanced through his chest with every gasp, and he struggled to stay conscious, his eyes fastened to Eline's face. There were other faces peering over her shoulders. And there was Meribor, tears trailing down her cheeks. He tried to reach out to her, but he couldn't move, couldn't raise his arm, could only lay there, shaking convulsively on the floor of his living room while friends and neighbors looked on. They'd sent for a doctor. He'd heard Eline. She knelt beside him, so calm, controlled, except for her eyes. There he saw panic and fear. And it scared him. He tried to speak her name.

"Shh, Kamin. The doctor's coming."

In the distance, he could hear a baby crying. It sounded like Batai, but he wasn't sure. He searched the faces above him looking for Meribor again, but she wasn't there. Someone had taken her away, just as the other faces were beginning to move back and scatter. The edges of his vision were growing darker, and the pain in his chest intensified. He was afraid he was going to pass out, and if he did where would he wake up? Would he still be here with Eline and the children, or would they be gone, like Beverly and Will and Deanna were gone?

He felt as if her were suffocating, and he gasped for air, each breath shallow and painful. And then, the village doctor was leaning over him, placing something over his nose and mouth. He struggled against him, for as his breathing eased, his vision dimmed until he could only see Eline's face, and then he could see nothing.

~vVv~