She was just in time to see Picard disappear into one of the two-story homes on a quiet residential street less than half a kilometre from the park that he'd beamed into. It was no longer raining, and she could just make out the red rain slicker he'd removed and draped over one forearm. However, she hadn't been quite fast enough to see if the person on the other side of the door was indeed, Beverly Crusher.

At that point, she'd had no choice but to wait, so she'd blended into the shadows on the opposite side of the street, taking up a position where she could see both ends of the road and the front door of the house Jean-Luc had entered. There was no way that she could monitor the adjacent properties nor the backyard, but a quick message to Zhaban, and all possible vantage points were covered.

The neighbourhood was characterised by historic and traditional dwellings, the homes lining the streets obviously geared towards families. Everywhere she'd looked as she'd shadowed him from the park, she'd seen obvious signs of children; toys dotted backyards and porches, several small bicycles could be seen leaning against the sides of sheds or houses and there was definitely a school nearby if the cacophony of childish voices and laughter were any indicator.

Having followed him to the transport station in Labarre, she'd merely lingered close enough to overhear his coordinates, then requested a beam-in spot close by. She'd been able to easily pick up his trail. Jean-Luc Picard was a very identifiable figure, even to those who hadn't spent the last several months observing him, but the red coloured rain slicker had allowed her to keep a larger-than-usual distance between herself and her target.

Leaning further in the shadows she shook her head in disgust. Even if he hadn't been so obviously attired, he still would have been easy prey. He'd advanced at a quick then quickening pace, only to stop abruptly, head cocked at an angle as if honing in on some internal navigational beacon.

As she followed him from a distance, she couldn't help but compare him to a dog, a bloodhound, or Terran beagle, some breed trained to track. He had the same disjointed movements, quick advances then periods of stillness as if he were casting about for some faint or elusive scent. But he kept moving forward, away from the park, always in the same general direction with only minute adjustments to his course.

He had no idea at all that they tracked his movements every time he left the vineyard. Considering how exceedingly rarely he did so, it wasn't a massive undertaking. Given this morning's revelations, however, things were going to have to change.

After he'd left, she and Zhaban had exchanged a knowing look and Zhaban had silently gone to the closet to fetch her another rain slicker, this one an uninteresting and therefore discreet dark blue. As she was gathering her things, she saw her husband head through the living room towards the château's security hub, knowing that he would monitor both herself and Jean-Luc from there.

Movement at the far end of the street closest to the school but in the opposite direction of the park caught her attention and brought her wandering thoughts to an end. She could see two individuals, one adult and the other obviously a child. She'd heard a school bell not that long ago and had wondered if the street was going to be inundated with children going home for lunch and compromising her position.

She kept her eye trained on the small boy, probably five or six years old, and the tall blond woman accompanying him. He could be the right potential age for Crusher's child - if Crusher even had a child… The boy could be no more than five years old given the date when she'd disappeared from the Enterprise. The pair slowed in front of the house Jean-Luc had entered no more than ten minutes before, then climbed the steps onto the porch. The woman deactivated the security system and both woman and child disappeared into the house.

For a full three minutes, she kept her position, furiously mentally evaluating possible next moves and discarding each one. Finally, she saw the door open and moved quickly to cross the street and mount the steps, so quickly that neither Jean-Luc nor the unknown blonde conversing in the doorway were aware of her presence until they turned fully in her direction.

The blonde startled somewhat but quickly recovered her wits, she was satisfied to notice. The stance her body immediately fell into spoke of at least some defensive training and perhaps even a Starfleet security background - all of those people had a similar 'look.' Jean-Luc peered out at her, his mouth flattening in disapproval and irritation but showing no signs of surprise whatsoever.

"The babysitter has arrived," he announced in resignation.

—

"Are we going to Caldos, Mum?"

"What?" Beverly asked somewhat dazed. She was still slumped against Jack's bedroom wall.

Ana had offered to stay but she'd pulled herself together long enough to assuage the other woman's fears that there was some sort of crime or attempted abduction in progress. Ana was not only Jack's nanny but also acted as personal security when Beverly was working.

Jean-Luc had gently disengaged from Jack and offered to walk the nanny downstairs to the door. Beverly could only imagine what nonsensical story of familial reunification he was spinning her, all while extracting guarantees of secrecy and discretion. He needn't have bothered. Ana had always been the soul of discretion. Her line of work demanded it.

"Mum?" Jack repeated impatiently. "Are we going to Caldos?" When she continued to look at him somewhat blankly, he explained, "My case is out. We only ever need a case if we're going to Caldos."

"I…" She couldn't think of an adequate response. That had been her first thought earlier this morning when she'd started packing. Caldos had been their occasional bolthole for five years. The colonists there were loyal and trustworthy. They protected their own, even if she had barely set foot on that planet in decades. And her Nana's small community had immediately claimed Jack as one of their own as well. He had honorary Aunts and Uncles and Nanas and Papas who adored him.

"You're coming to France, Jack. To visit my home. Would you like that?" She hadn't even heard him return. Everything was moving so quickly. She sent him an alarmed look.

"Yes, if Mum is coming too…"

"Of course, she's coming." The two adults stood there, facing off, silent messages flying back and forth between them. Except they weren't so silent. He could feel, hear-

"Père?" Jean-Luc's eyes immediately widened in reaction. He pulled his eyes from Beverly and turned towards Jack. "Isn't that what you called your father?" Jack asked, now a bit uncertain that he hadn't blundered.

"Jack, how did you-"

Jack merely touched his index finger to his temple. "It's stronger now than in the dreams," he said simply. Jean-Luc lifted his eyes to Beverly's.

"I can't call you 'Papa,'" Jacked declared firmly.

"Why ever not?" Jean-Luc felt himself being drawn into this surreal conversation despite himself, all the while wondering just how effectively Jack was reading his mind. Because that was essentially what they were talking about here.

"Because silly! That's for grandfathers. Like Papa Charles and Papa Joseph," he smiled lopsidedly and tilted his head in a way that was utterly Beverly.

Jean-Luc turned to Beverly who seemed to finally be following the thread of the conversation. "On Caldos," she murmured, "some… some of the elders, the entire community have adopted Jack as one of their own." He felt a spike of jealousy wash over him at her words, jealousy of these nameless men who had had a hand in raising his son over the past five years.

"You don't like them?" Jack asked anxiously, his smile faltering, small face falling.

"No, not at all. I simply… envy them the time that they have spent with you and your mother while I have been unable to do the same." This was going to be a very delicate balance, navigating a situation full of emotion and hurt while coming to terms with this unique connection they seemed to share.

He wondered abruptly if Beverly was sharing the connection and if so, to what extent. 'Beverly!' he projected loudly and saw her flinch. One question answered then it would seem. The rest of the 'hows' and 'whys' were sure to be much more unpleasant to uncover and unravel, but for the moment he tucked them away lest Jack pick up on his worries. He turned his attention back to the boy.

"Yes, Jack. But Papa is less formal and is used for father in French." He waited to see the boy's reaction.

"Alright," he said with equanimity. "Mum, can we have lunch now?"

"Right, I forgot th-"

"Actually, there is someone I would like you both to meet. She's waiting downstairs. Then perhaps we might all have lunch together. I seem to have missed breakfast." He felt a ripple of curiosity from Jack and a wave of anxiety from Beverly. He wondered if she was aware of the extent of the communication flowing between the three of them. Suddenly her eyes met his and he could feel her force the turbulent emotion aside.

As they descended the main staircase and caught sight of Laris waiting in the foyer, he felt that anxiety return and saw Jack pause and turn to his mother, his hand gripping hers tightly.

"Beverly, Jack. I'd like you to meet Laris." Beverly sent him a startled look. No doubt she was recalling their conversation last night.

"You didn't tell me they were Romulan," she accused, her voice unsteady.

"I honestly didn't think to. I should have." He paused and Jack shifted even closer to his mother, leaning into her body. "You can trust her, Beverly." Still, she hesitated.

"It's a pleasure to meet you. And you as well, Jack. Your father tells me that you are coming to visit."

Jack nodded; his excitement tempered by the reaction of the woman he was clinging to.

"There is no safer place than the château," Laris added quietly, now addressing Beverly directly.

"It's…. It's been a while since I've been."

"I'm certain that you'll find it much as you left it," Laris assured her, a peace offering to show that no offence had been taken. She understood very well just what her people's cause had cost this woman. Probably even more so than the man who'd been at the centre of the difficult decisions she'd been forced to make. Beverly Crusher's wariness was born of experience, not prejudice.

"I heard someone say something about lunch," Laris broke the tension with a smile. "Like Jean-Luc, I too missed breakfast this morning."

—-

Lunch was an interesting experience with a constant flow of questions from Jack, mostly directed, surprisingly enough, at Laris who took it all in her stride. Beverly had to ask him twice to stop bouncing around in his chair, his little body reflecting his excitement at all of the changes occurring in his normally very sedate life.

"Is it true you've got green blood?"

"Yes."

"Really?" he asked, amazed.

"Would you like to see?" Laris asked him deadpan.

"Laris…" The Romulan woman merely looked back at Picard, her expression the picture of innocence.

"Can I?" Jack asked excitedly.

"No, you may not. Sit." Beverly said firmly.

"Perhaps another time," Laris told the boy and the two shared a conspiratory look.

"Can you do a mind meld? My father did one-" Jean-Luc sent Beverly a look of surprise as she cut the boy off. They would still be here at lunchtime tomorrow if she didn't.

"Jack, have you finished your lunch?" He nodded as he pushed a last grape into his mouth. "Clean up the table, then go play in your room, please."

He turned immediately to Jean-Luc. "Can you-"

"I need to talk to your father. Adults only." His enthusiasm dulled at that and as if sensing the tension to come he moved this gaze between them both, his hand moving up to capture his bottom lip.

"I would like to see your room, Jack. If that's alright," Laris suggested.

"You won't argue?" he asked his mother, communication that Jean-Luc could just feel the shape of, silently taking place between the two.

"We won't argue, Jack. I promise."

Jack's gaze went to Jean-Luc. "You won't leave, will you?" He looked at Jean-Luc with Beverly's eyes, tinged with his own intense and sombre seriousness.

"Of course not, Jack," he returned just as seriously.

"You promise?"

"I promise… In any case, Laris certainly wouldn't let me leave without her." He felt a whisper of Jack's mind in his and the boy smiled mischievously.

"She's your Ana," he giggled.

At first, he didn't understand what the boy was talking about but then, "Well, she's supposed to be my housekeeper, but yes, nanny is probably a more fitting title."

After the table had been cleared Laris and Jack left the room, Jack looking back one last time, his worried gaze travelling between the two of them. They could hear footsteps moving up the stairs then Jack's voice, "Do you want to see my fort?"

Beverly had already moved to the replicator and ordered herself a mint tea. He saw her hesitate then finally in a low voice she commanded "Tea, Earl Grey, hot."

"I suppose that's not something you order very often anymore…"

"No," she answered, settling herself in the chair opposite him.

"But it's in the files?"

"Yes," she said just as curtly. "I don't want to argue right now."

"We promised Jack."

"It's not just that. He'll feel it. He'll know." And all of a sudden, the temperature seemed to plummet. The elephant in the room looming so large that it was impossible to see anything but.

"We weren't fighting last night," he teased, desperate to break the tension.

"No. No, we weren't." She tried on a small smile, but her heart wasn't in it.

Her hands were clenched tightly together in front of her on the table and he had the most overwhelming compulsion to touch her, to ease those fists apart. Her head snapped up and he felt a tingling awareness slide across his body. Not unpleasant, familiar but… foreign.

She looked down at her hands and, prising them apart, reached over to clasp his, squeezing tightly. "That's what you wanted," she husked. "Somehow, I could feel exactly what you wanted."

He closed his eyes tightly and concentrated. When he opened them again, she was looking at him warily, a slight blush staining her cheeks.

"Well, you're not getting that."

"I could have gotten even more last night…" he observed dryly, relieved to see a spark of the old Beverly.

"Yeah, well…". Her slight smile faltered. "Jean-Luc, what's going on here?" she breathed.

"I don't know exactly… I had a doctor's appointment yesterday." Funny how the word, forbidden only yesterday, now came so easily to him.

"Oh?" she asked and he could feel her confusion at this non sequitur.

"They found a defect in my temporal lobe and evidence of-"

"Irumodic Syndrome." She swallowed hard, her eyes wide and fastened on his face. "Jean-Luc-"

"I thought the dreams were a direct result of the illness."

"Thought, past tense…" He could see the dominos lining up, then the first one falling over and creating a ripple effect as dozens, then hundreds, then thousands- "Dominos," she breathed. "It's not Irumodic Syndrome."

"I no longer think so, or perhaps not simply Irumodic Syndrome," he shrugged.

"What time did you arrive in London?" she asked randomly, but he found that he could follow her logic perfectly, in fact, they didn't really need to be having this conversation aloud at all, and only comfort and habit made them continue it.

"Around 11h00…"

"I knew you were here," she said softly. "I… I somehow just knew… I could feel it. What exactly are we dealing with here?"

"I wish I knew."

"Merde," Her eyes shot to his as she caught a wave of amusement. In return, she received a brief mental image of Jack, his almost perfect pronunciation of the French expletive resulting in a shared feeling of pride and chagrin.

"Sorry," she smiled sheepishly.

"It could have been worse, I suppose. You could have taught him 'putai-'"

"Jean-Luc!" She reached over and smacked him lightly on the shoulder. Gradually the smiles faded and the worries they'd momentarily pushed to the side crept back in, stealing even this simple moment of contentment. "So… Not IS. I'll need-"

"To see my records. Of course. But Beverly," he reached out to take both her hands in his again, squeezing tightly. "I think… No, I know-" An image of a red door, silent and menacing appeared fully formed in her mind and she instinctively tried to pull her hands back, the intrusion of an alien presence, something so-

"...that there is something far more sinister…" Vines bursting forth from beneath the door, slithering rapidly along the ceiling, the walls, the floor… Panic fluttered in her breast.

"...going on here." The door opened; an eerie, malevolent green light cast over everything in its path… She ripped her hands from his, breathing hard then stumbled towards the sink. Bending over she tried to quiet her stomach, breathing in through her nose and out through her mouth until she felt his hand at her back.

"I'm sorry. Beverly, I'm so s-"

"I've been using an inhibitor on Jack to block the nightmares," she said too loudly as she strained against her rising gorge. She grabbed a glass and filled it with water.

"I was prescribed the same."

"But you haven't used it."

"No. I only had the appointment yesterday, in San Francisco." She looked at him sharply and he saw the easily identifiable entryway to the main building at Starfleet Medical appear behind his eyes. Before he could deny it, he sensed her mind still, then he was bombarded by a flurry of mental activity he had no hope of following.

"Jean-Luc… how did you get here?"

"Transporter."

"Not Starfleet transporter," she verified.

"No. I used the public transporter station at LaBarre and transported into our park. I followed my nose… Well, not my nose exactly-" He felt what he could only describe as a benevolent but determined hand rifling through his mind.

"But you have been using Starfleet communications, transporters…" she accused as she made her way into the entryway and grabbed his raincoat. She returned with it moments later and began searching it, finally pulling his Starfleet communicator out of the pocket.

She set the communicator on the counter and dumped the remaining water from her glass into the sink. He saw just a flash of what she was planning to do before she brought the heavy glass smashing down onto his comm badge, causing him to wince.

"Why in the hell do you still have this thing?!"

"Beverly, calm-"

"Don't tell me to calm down! How do you know they're not tracking your movements?" She was beyond caring that she sounded paranoid and irrational. "This! This is exactly why-" She broke off abruptly as she felt a wave of anxiety and upset coming from upstairs. They looked at each other guiltily.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to…. It's just… I've spent the last six years keeping him safe and-"

"I show up and everything goes to hell." She looked at him silently. She didn't need to confirm what was clear to both of them. He turned away from her, his eyes moving towards the staircase. "We should leave. Finish packing and-"

"I can't just leave, Jean-Luc. We have a life. I have responsibilities!"

"Responsibilities that are more important than this situation in which we find ourselves right now?" he challenged, his voice rising slightly in spite of himself. They both felt the fight drain out of her. "I can protect you at the château. The damned place is like a fortress!" She looked away from him, defeated.

"I'll have to notify Jack's school and Ana."

"The nanny?"

"She's not just the nanny. She's ex Starfleet… She was in Security at HQ before resigning her commission… Worf recommended her," she admitted.

"Worf?"

"Yes. I didn't tell him why I needed someone, and he didn't ask." He could well imagine the scenario she was painting. They stared at each other, the argument that had flared between them only moments ago still lingering in the room with them. Jean-Luc broke eye contact first, running a hand over his pate as he contemplated all of the reasons why his five-year-old had his own personal security detail.

"What else?"

"My work… I'll have to contact them-"

"You've gone into private practice?"

"Not exactly, no… I work with the Mariposas." Seeing that the name meant nothing to him, she elaborated. "They're a group dedicated to providing medical care to those in need. It's fulfilling work and less…"

"Dangerous."

"Yes," she breathed. "Less dangerous. Plus, I set my own hours for the most part and have been able to stay local until…" She looked away from him then. "Until Jack is older and can travel more easily." There was a long moment of dead silence as he processed all that she'd said and all that she hadn't.

Finally, he asked, "Crusher? Are you still-" She was shaking her head.

"No, I went back to Howard almost immediately… after. It seemed prudent."

"And Jack?" he asked hesitantly, uncertain if he wanted to know the answer.

"He's listed as Howard on his record of birth… I left the paternal history section blank." Her gaze was apologetic. "He's been exposed to the system as little as possible. I gave birth to him here-"

"In this house?" he asked, surprised.

She nodded. "Yes, and no tricorder scans. I entered the essential data into the record manually and of course, have acted as his physician ever since. I know it's irregular, but it seemed-"

"Safer."

"Yes."

"Are there any other-"

"He has a personal mobile transporter on him at all times, in his shoes and concealed in his clothing. He just has to give the codeword and he's transported away to a safehouse in central London." Regret coloured his features. No child should have to be aware of life's dangers on that level. His next question died on his lips at her follow-up.

"Geordi made it."

"Geordi knows…?" He said slowly, his mind trying not to jump immediately to betrayal and failing.

"Not why I needed it, no."

"But you've been in contact with him?" he asked.

"Only the once, when Jack started school last year. Before that, he was with Ana full time while I was working… I asked him not to tell anyone," she reluctantly admitted.

"So," he said after a long pause, "Jack's school, Ana, the Mariposa group… Does that cover it?"

"Yes, we live very quietly here, stay off the radar."

"Out of necessity… Because of me."

"Jean-Luc-"

"I'm sorry, Beverly. This isn't the time. I shouldn't have… I'll have Laris request that Zhaban arrange a secure beam-out to the vineyard."

"And you're certain that it's safe?"

"I promise you that you'll be safe there." She dropped her eyes before heading out of the kitchen towards the stairs. He didn't have to be able to read her mind nor her mood to know what she was thinking, that when it came to making promises to her, he'd broken more than he had ever kept.