To The Journey
Disclaimer: If you recognize it, it's not mine. This is an AU story.
Chapter Eight: Roads Not Taken
"All right, what's bothering you?"
"What makes you think anything's bothering me?"
"Come on, Deanna. You're just not acting like yourself. In fact, you're acting like you were when -" she cut herself off suddenly. "You broke up with Worf, didn稚 you?"
Deanna turned to stare at her blonde friend. "How -"
"What I was about to say was that you're acting just like you did when you broke up with Tom back in our last year at the Academy. So what happened?"
"He's been acting strange since we came back from Veridian. Withdrawing, not talking to anyone. Anyway, that separation helped me see what's been in front of my nose all along."
"Which is what?"
"There's only one man in this world for me. And as kind as Worf is, it's not him."
"I don't suppose I need to ask?"
"No." Deanna smiled. "It's hardly a secret."
"Does he know?"
"Not yet. I don't want to put this on his plate. He's got enough trouble with Starfleet all over him."
"What's happened?"
"You haven't heard? Well, since Will was Acting Captain at the time of the Enterprise's destruction, all the questions are directed straight at him. And it being the Federation's flagship, they're not letting him off easy."
"But it wasn't his fault! The Klingons -"
"You don't have to tell me. I was there too, you know."
"Yes, I know. It's just -"
"Just what?"
"Come on, Deanna. Don't go into counselor mode on me."
The Betazoid laughed. "Okay, fine. But what were you going to say?"
"You know about my history with Starfleet. How they saved me, and how all I ever wanted was to be a part of them. But after spending so many years in Starfleet - let's just say I'm seeing things I didn't notice when I was busy hero-worshiping."
"Oh?"
"Think about it, Deanna. People like Pressman getting away with breaking the law for years, while someone who did the best he could under impossible circumstances will be questioned relentlessly for not doing as well as Starfleet thinks he should have. Don't get me wrong, I'm not thinking about quitting or anything drastic like that. I'm just feeling mixed up."
"Understandable."
"On a separate note, have you noticed anything - off with the Captain lately?"
"No?" But her tone belied her words.
"Since when have you said facts so uncertainly? Come on, Deanna."
"Okay, yes. But you know I can't tell you what's going on."
"No, I suppose not."
"On the other hand, there's no rule that says he can't tell you himself. I think it might be a good idea to go talk to him."
"Really?"
"Yes. I can't tell you why, but trust me."
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"Come in." Picard's voice was soft from the other side of the door. Tasha entered slowly, almost afraid of what she might find.
Fortunately, it wasn't as bad as she'd feared. The place was well kept up, and her Captain appeared well, if tired. But his eyes, now that he wasn't trying to keep up appearances, were full of impossible pain. He looked lost, and it frightened her.
She pushed her fear aside and joined him on the couch, perching carefully between the holo-pictures strewn across it. "Captain? What's wrong?"
"Natasha. I'm sorry about the mess."
"Forget the mess. What is it? What's bothering you?"
"It's Robert. Robert and Rene."
"Robert's your brother, isn't he? And Rene is - his son," she said, remembering. "What happened? Did you have another fight with him?"
"No - I wish I had." His voice was tight with pain. "There was a fire, my father's old house - Rene and Robert - they didn't make it out." His eyes were bright with tears he wouldn't let fall.
"Oh, Captain." She reached out tentatively and pulled him to her. He began to weep soundlessly, leaning forward against her. For a long time they sat like that, silent except for an occasional soft whimper from Picard.
He finally straightened up, pushing her away slightly. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be. You've done nothing wrong. Is that your family?" She lifted the picture he'd been staring at from the armrest.
"Not exactly."
Not exactly indeed. The picture showed the Captain maybe ten or fifteen years younger, much as he had been when she first met him, though it was difficult to tell. He was dressed in civilian clothes, and he held a small child, maybe five or six, on his lap. A small child that was certainly not Rene, because in addition to the fact that Picard did not resemble the child at all, Tasha was almost positive it was a girl.
"I told Counselor Troi that I'd come to feel that Rene was as close as I would get to having a child of my own. That was my one other chance for a family."
"Who was she, Captain?"
"Her name was Rachel. Rachel Jessica Akman." The name rang some sort of distant bell with Tasha, but she didn't know why, so she ignored it.
"I called her Jessie, everyone did. Only her father called her Rachel." There was no question, his face took on an edge when he mentioned the girl's father. "It's something of a long story."
"I have time."
"Very well. It really all started with a series of coincidences. I was in San Francisco on leave, staying in this very apartment as a matter of fact, and I was visiting some friends in a residential area nearby. As I was walking back to the transport station I heard some odd noises from a yard I was passing. It sounded like some sort of animal in distress so I thought I'd look into it and see if I could help whatever it was. I had no idea what I was about to get myself into.
Jean-Luc approached the source of the noise, wondering if he shouldn't have woken the homeowner after all. But it was very late and he didn't want to disturb them if it was something he could handle himself.
He saw something move in the dim light. Yes, this was definitely some sort of animal. He closed the distance between them warily, aware that an injured animal might very well fight him even as he tried to rescue it. He cautiously peered around the brush that separated them, trying to get a look at the creature.
What he saw almost made him vomit. It wasn't an animal at all. It was a child.
Her tiny body was covered in blood and dirt. She was barely clothed and shivered in the cool night air. Matted blonde hair, streaked red with blood, stuck to her face. All trepidation forgotten, he hurried over, dropping to his knees by her side.
"My God." The girl looked even worse up close. He could see her battered body through her clothing, a body so emaciated that he could see where one of her ribs was broken. And around her neck - he swallowed back his nausea. Around her neck was a metal dog collar, spiked so that it dug into her neck at the slightest pressure. These collars had been deemed unfit for all but the most unruly dogs centuries ago. Who the hell thought it was okay to use one on a little girl?
His fingers scrambled for the release. As he touched her, she flinched, and her eyes flew open.
"Easy, little one," he said softly. "I won't hurt you." He finally succeeded in releasing the collar and it fell away, revealing abrasions where it had dug into her skin. "There, isn't that better?"
She nodded slightly, terrified eyes still fixed on him.
"How long have you been chained up like this?"
"For two days." Her voice was raspy, dry. She was probably dehydrated. He frantically thought back - had it rained at all in the past two days? No, the weather had been perfect. Perfect, it seemed, for everyone but this poor little girl.
"Who did this to you?" he asked softly, dreading the answer.
"Daddy," she whispered, confirming his fears.
He opened his mouth to ask where her mother was, but closed it again just as quickly. It was clear that talking was causing her pain, and that was the last thing he wanted. He slowly reached out to her.
"Come on. I'll take you somewhere safe."
She shrank away from him, and he couldn't blame her. He wondered if she'd ever had a man reach out to her for any reason except to inflict pain. "Don't be afraid. I won't hurt you."
Slowly, very slowly, she reached her own hand out. The tiny fingers pressed into his palm. He inched closer to her until he could gently slide his arm around her and pull her against his chest. "I've got you, little one. You're safe now."
She was shivering, and he knew it wasn't just the cold. The poor child was terrified. With the precious bundle cradled in his arms, he walked to the transport station. The operator was stunned into silence.
"Where's the nearest hospital?" he asked, and when the operator blinked as though coming out of a deep daze, he repeated his question more urgently. "The hospital. Where is it?"
"Uh, I can transport you there."
"Please."
Tasha was staring at him, wide-eyed. "My God. How can people do those things?"
"I've never understood." He sighed. "Anyway, at first I needed to be there. She didn't trust anyone but me.
"She's awake, sir. But she won't say a word. I was hoping maybe you could get her to talk. I need a statement from her if I'm going to keep her away from her father."
"I'll see what I can do. At the very least, you're welcome to a statement from me about the conditions I found her in."
"That might be helpful. Come on."
The girl was sitting up in bed, wide eyes surveying the room. The moment she saw Picard, her gaze locked onto him.
He sat down on her bed so he wouldn't tower over her. "Hello, little one. Are you feeling better?"
She nodded shyly.
"Do you need anything? Are you thirsty?" He remembered her voice, harsh through a dry throat. It would probably be easier for her to talk if she drank something first.
She nodded again, and he ordered a juice from her replicator and brought it to her. Tiny hands took hold of the cup and she gulped at the liquid as though he might take it from her before she was finished. It occurred to him that she probably had had food and water taken from her before. Anger flared up again and he forced it back. He didn't think she'd react well to a display of anger, even if it was on her behalf instead of against her.
He waited until she was done and then carefully took the cup from her, placing it on a bedside table. "Listen, I need you to answer some questions for me, all right?"
"Okay."
"What's your name?" Best to start simple, and anyway he genuinely wanted to know. He couldn't keep thinking of her as 'the girl.'
"Rachel Jessica Akman. I can spell it too," she said with a tiny, shy smile, and for a moment she seemed almost like a normal child, proud of her abilities. "R-A-C-H-E-L J-E-S-S-I-C-A A-K-M-A-N."
"How old are you?"
"Five."
"When's your birthday?"
"November fifteenth."
He glanced over at the woman in the law enforcement uniform. She nodded, signaling to him to continue.
"Can you tell me why you were outside?"
"Because I did a bad thing. Daddy made me go outside."
"While you were out there, did he bring you any food or anything to drink?"
"No. Sometimes it rains while I'm outside and I can drink the water, but this time it was sunny. I really, really wanted it to rain."
"Some- are you telling me your father has put you outside before?"
"Yes."
"Did your father make those bruises and cuts too?"
The silence stretched on so long that he thought she wouldn't answer. And when she did, he barely heard her. "Yes."
He glanced over at the woman, who nodded, her meaning plain. I have what I need. She left, but he couldn't bring himself to leave.
"Do people call you Rachel, or do they call you something else?" he asked, just for something to say to her.
"Most people call me Jessie. Only Daddy calls me Rachel."
"Jessie it is, then." He had no intention of calling her by a name she'd associate with that monster.
She stared at him as though she wanted to say something but was afraid to ask.
"What is it, little one?"
"What's your name?" she asked shyly.
"Jean-Luc Picard." Quickly, he realized that might be a bit much for a small child to remember. "My friends sometimes call me Johnny." Really it was only three friends, one of whom was now dead, but it would be an easier name for her to pronounce and remember.
She hesitated a moment, but apparently emboldened by his kindness, she spoke again. "Will you stay with me, Johnny?"
His eyes filled with tears at this earnest request. "Of course I will, little one. Of course I will."
Picard had tears in his eyes just remembering, and he wasn't the only one. Tasha was crying too.
"Please tell me you put that - thing - away where he can't hurt her anymore."
He nodded somberly. "He's in a maximum security prison for the rest of his life. No chance for parole. Though to be fair I had very little to do with it. It was Jessie herself who found us our ace in the hole."
He sat up slowly, wondering what had woken him. Yes, the hospital cot was uncomfortable, but he'd been sleeping on it for the past five nights and it had never woken him before. But he quickly realized what it was. Jessie was whimpering in her sleep.
"Jessie." He sat on her bed and shook her firmly. "Jessie, wake up. It's only a dream."
Her eyes flew open and she stared at him.
"There, see? You're all right. Everything is going to be all right."
She nodded slowly, and then did something she'd never done before. She reached her arms out to him.
Choking back tears, he took her into his lap, holding her close, rocking her. "There now, little one. I'm here. I'm here."
He realized suddenly that she was crying, so silently he might never have noticed if her tears hadn't been soaking through his shirt. He felt sick. No child should ever have to learn how to hide her pain like that.
"Do you want to tell me what you were dreaming about?"
"Mommy," she sobbed into his shoulder.
"What about your mother?" He realized that in all the chaos, he never had asked her what had happened to the woman.
"She woke me up and told me to be very quiet. She gave me my doll and told me to hold the doll and then she picked me up and carried me down the stairs, and then I heard Daddy and he was standing on the stairs, and she put me down under the table and told me to just hold my doll and be quiet. Daddy started screaming at her and she yelled too and he started hitting her and just kept hitting. She was crying and trying to hit him back and then he hit her in the head with a pan and she fell down and stopped fighting and he kicked her and then he walked away and I looked at her and she wasn't moving, it was like she was sleeping but her eyes were open and she was staring and she wouldn't wake up."
"Merde," he gasped. "Did this really happen?"
She nodded, but he didn't really need confirmation. He doubted a five-year-old, even one who'd been through everything Jessie had, could imagine up such a scene.
"Then what happened?"
"He came back and told me to go upstairs and back to bed and that there would be people in our house asking me questions but if they asked me anything I was supposed to say I had been asleep the whole night. He said if I said anything else he'd hit me, so I did what he told me, but then he just started hitting me for other things."
"He killed his own wife?" Tasha was horrified.
Picard nodded. "Anna-Rose Carter Akman. The next day, I told law enforcement what she'd told me. Turns out Jessie's father had called her in missing the following morning, claiming she'd never returned home. Mrs. Akman's body was discovered in San Francisco Bay a month later. From what I was told, it was clear she'd been beaten and then killed by a blow to the head, but having been underwater had washed away any DNA evidence that might have pointed to the identity of her killer. They'd questioned Mr. Akman and his daughter, but of course he wasn't going to tell what really happened, and Jessie was too terrified to say anything but what he told her to say. Well, once that was out, they were pretty sure they had what they needed to lock him up for life, but to get such a case through the system takes time, and no one really wanted Jessie kept in the hospital indefinitely. So we came up with another option - it was my idea, really.
"I'm sorry it's so small." He'd always been quite independent, and since the mess his last relationship had turned out to be, he'd lived alone. His apartment had had one guest room, but it had always been intended as just that. He hadn't thought he'd have anyone living in that apartment, let alone a child. He could almost see Walker Keel's face if he heard about this.
But that face was overshadowed by the one staring up at him. Blue-green eyes locked on his gray ones. "That's okay."
"Come on in." He took her hand and led her to the guest room. "This is where you'll be sleeping."
"It's so big!" she gasped. He smiled at her and was rewarded with a very shy smile back, the first one he'd ever seen from her.
"Look on the bed. I think there's someone there to welcome you."
She obliged, and her eyes widened even further when he saw the huge stuffed rabbit he'd replicated for her. She'd told him that her father had destroyed the doll she'd been clinging to the night of her mother's murder, and he wanted her to have something to hold at night.
"Do you like it?" he asked, half afraid of her response.
But he needn't have worried. She threw herself at his legs, hugging him tight. "It's the best room ever."
For the first time, he could begin to understand why humans chose to have children.
I was going to write more, but I decided to break it here and put the rest in the next chapter, since once again I have neglected you all for far too long, and this was a good chapter-end line. My excuse is finals. There were a few days in there I could barely remember my own name.
I created Jessie for a story I was planning to write in the far distant future, but once I decided it was going to be Picard who saved her, and I re-watched his bit in Generations about Rene being his last chance for a family, I decided to introduce the story here. I based a lot of this chapter's flashbacks on other stories (fan and otherwise) about abuse.
Why a rabbit? I'll explain that in the next chapter.
This is also only my second attempt to write flashbacks from the perspective of any character other than Tasha. How did I do?
Please review.