Stardate 48742.14

(Tuesday, 28 September 2371, 9:13 PM, local time)

Chateau Picard, LaBarre, France

An arc of lightning outside the windows brightens the softly lit living room where we are all keeping a sort of quiet vigil with Captain Picard, and it startles my mother from where she's fallen into a light sleep on one of the big, deep couches.

"What time is it?" she asks.

"A little after nine," Data and I answer her at the same time.

Mom sits up and stretches, then catches Ed's eye. "We should go. The boys have school tomorrow."

Ed glances over at his sons, and then back at my mother. "Do you think they'll be up to it?"

"Remy said he wanted to try," I inform him. "I told him he could always leave if it was too much." I touch Data's shoulder. "I also promised we'd take him to lunch tomorrow, whether he wants to go back for afternoon classes, or not."

I hadn't bothered to check with my partner before committing us, but I knew he wouldn't object, and he doesn't disappoint me. "I have often observed that a return to routine after a traumatic event can be beneficial, and I am certain lunch will be enjoyable."

"I should have asked you first," I tell him softly. "He needed something to look forward to."

"It is fine," Data tells me, leaning close to nuzzle my hair. "You are a good sister to them, and I am glad to participate."

"Made of awesome, wrapped in gold," I tease quietly. Then I realize that my parents are standing up, and ushering the boys toward the door, and I leave Data's solid warmth and move to hug them, then step aside so he can say goodbye as well.

"Zoe, are you sure you're okay staying here?" my mother asks. But we're staying because the captain requested it. I suspect Data's calm rationality is something of a balm after so much emotion, but Marie wasn't wrong when she referred to Beverly and Data as 'Jean-Luc's adopted family.' And me, I think. She meant that to include me. Aloud, I assure her, "We'll be fine. There's this clawfoot tub in our bathroom and I'm looking forward to using it." I'm only partly kidding.

I exchange a few words with Michel – we make plans to do something on Thursday – and Remy hesitates, then asks me for a hug. I'm a little surprised, but I go with it. He's family.

I know that Ed and the captain spent much of the evening in conversation. I see them exchange an embrace as well and note that as my mother leaves she murmurs something to Beverly, and kisses Picard on the cheek.

"I should go, too," Wesley says. "I don't go to a cushy university that lets students skip classes whenever they want." He's teasing me with that remark, but there's something bitter underneath it.

"I'll still have notes to catch up on when I get back," I say. "Comm me, your next free weekend? We'll hang out." Translation: you'll tell me what you don't want your mother or Captain Picard to know.

"Sure," he says, and I'm not sure if he means it or he's blowing me off. No matter; I'll comm him.

And then it's just the four of us, and I wonder if I should offer to clean up and let the Starfleet types bond.

Beverly beats me to it. "Data, would you mind helping me clear away the dishes?"

"Do you need my help?" I ask, mostly to be polite.

"No, Zoe. You've done enough today," the doctor is quick to tell me. I suspect she really wants to discuss The State of the Captain with Data, but if it means I don't have to put on the shoes I'd kicked off three hours before, I'm good with it.

(=A=)

There's something slightly awkward about being alone with the captain in the living room of his familial home. Data and I had arrived two days prior, but there'd always been other people – Marie, Wes, a few other stray family members – this was different.

"Stop trembling, Zoe, I'm not going to bite you." It's uttered in his teasing voice, but he still sounds scratchy. Probably that's not going to change any time soon.

"I wasn't trembling," I insist. "Just trying unsuccessfully to be invisible."

"Hmph." His snort combines amusement and mild irritation. "I suppose this is a new dynamic for us. No boxing ring, no tea paraphernalia." His steel-gray eyes regard me. "Join me at the game table," he says, gesturing to a table in the corner of the room.

I notice that there's a Tög set waiting for someone to play, and I think it's somehow appropriate that this private man has continued to play a game of building walls. A game I'd introduced him to. "You brought a set here?"

"It was a gift for my brother and nephew to share, last Christmas. Rene challenged me to a match on my next visit." Softly he adds, "We never got to play. Do me the honor, young woman, of distracting me for a while?"

"Of course." I took the seat across from him, and he indicated for me to take the white pieces. The opening move of the game involves placing one of the opposing player's pieces, so I did that.

"You were very good with Remy earlier," he observed as he countered my move by placing one of my pieces. "He looks up to you."

"You think?" I ask. "I think it's more than I'm closer to his age, so I'm more accessible. I'm a friend, not an authority figure."

"You're his sister," Picard corrects.

"I try to be. I'm not sure… I'm never sure if I'm overstepping or not involved enough."

"I wouldn't over-analyze it, Zoe. You have good instincts; follow them. It's your turn."

I moved another piece onto the board. Years of playing this game with Data had improved my strategy a lot since the first – and only – time I'd ever played against the captain. That amount of practice had also given me the ability to carry on a conversation. "May I ask you something, sir?"

"I'm not 'sir' when we're here, Zoe. A captain without a ship is…"

"… still a captain," I finish for him, with a bit of challenge on my voice. "What else am I supposed to call you?"

"You could use my name."

I freeze. I don't want to ruin the moment, but I also know how I have to answer. "Thank you," I say. "But I don't think I can. Not yet." I think about it for a moment. "Maybe when I'm thirty."

He seems vaguely amused by this. "I'll hold you to that. But, you had a question."

"More an observation. I didn't know you were Catholic. I mean… I know you attend the Christmas Eve services on the Enterprise, but lots of people do that out of habit, or a need for community and ritual."

I expect him to retreat into his customary reserve, but he doesn't. He moves his piece, and asks, "Are you familiar with the expression 'there are no atheists in foxholes?'" I nod, and he continues, "There are no atheists on starships, either."

"None?"

"None. You might not recognize every form of faith or spirituality people observe, but everyone believes in something. Commander Worf, for example, believes that if he dies with honor, his soul will enter the Klingon afterlife known as Sto'Vo'Kor. Deanna follows Betazoid practices more than people realize. Beverly, as I think you saw, also received communion today."

"And Geordi did, as well."

"Indeed."

"You forgot someone."

"Did I? Not everyone is comfortable with public expression of their beliefs. If you are wondering about Will, you can ask him, but for all his jocularity and gregariousness, there are parts of himself he keeps very private."

"Actually," I say, "I meant Data."

"Ah." For half a second, I wonder if Data's non-verbal noise is a habit he picked up from this man. "Allow me?" I nod, and Picard reaches across the board to turn my left hand so that my palm is on the table. My ring, woven strands of gold with a diamond nestled among them, catches the light of the fire I don't remember anyone starting. "Data's view on religion is one you must ask him yourself, especially since you've got a wedding to plan. But when it comes to faith, Zoe, the ring you wear speaks volumes."

"It's a conversation that's long overdue," I admit. I don't reveal that Data mentioned faith when he officially proposed. As the captain just reminded me, some things are truly personal.

"Funerals tend to bring out the inner philosophers in all of us," Captain Picard observes. He taps my hand. "Place your last piece, Zoe; I'm aware you'll take the game."

I set my piece in the final square on the board, and my wall is now complete. He's right: I've won the game. But I feel like I've won something else as well. Not respect, I don't think. Acceptance, maybe. I'm not quite in the inner circle, but if there's an anteroom to a person's sanctum sanctorum, I think I've been invited to hang out in Captain Picard's.

"Thank you for the game," I say. I don't add 'sir' to the end of it, but I don't use his name, either. I see a small smile flit across his face as we share the job of putting the pieces in their bag.

"We'll play again before Data returns you to Connecticut," he says. "Best of three."

"Count on it," I said. I leave the table only to find that Data and Beverly have settled onto opposing couches and are each absorbed – or pretending to be absorbed – in their padds.

"Are you ready to retire for the evening?" Data asks as I move to stand in front of him, casting a shadow over the device in his hands.

I tell him that I am, and we bid the captain and Beverly goodnight, and head upstairs were I do make use of the antique, claw foot bathtub.

NOTES: "Sanctum sanctorum" is typically translated as "holy of holies" and originally referred to the most sacred inner chamber of a Jewish temple or tabernacle. It's used here as a play on the concept of an inner sanctum, as well. Tög was introduced in chapter 12 ("The Stormy Present") of Crush III: Sostenuto. It's based on the game Tak that Patrick Rothfuss invented in his Kingkiller Chronicles.