Chapter 32

Jean-Luc Picard reluctantly drew away from Beverly, but the other responsibilities in his life had finally starting knocking at his consciousness once he knew that his wife would be okay. Already, he could feel the trembling in her body subsiding, her breathing resuming a steady, normal pace. His hands went back up to hold her face between them, thumbs resting on her cheeks, and his other priorities began to fall into line. He caught her eyes with his, knowing his question showed plainly within them. "Are they—"

She answered before he even finished. "They're all okay."

The captain couldn't help it and he found himself kissing her again, then a chuckle interrupted it, and he rested his forehead against Beverly's as they smiled together. "I think the others might be getting somewhat impatient," he said. "I can feel Will looking at me right now."

"Go easy on him," she said.

He pulled his head back, lifting an eyebrow. "Beverly, he crashed my ship."

"Technically, it was only half your ship. He blew up the other half."

The captain closed his eyes, catching Beverly's attempt at humor, but too concerned about the toll on his crew to laugh. "Were there any casualties?"

"Ten so far." She glanced back at the saucer section as she finished. "We still have forty-eight members of the crew unaccounted for. Considering the amount of damage done, we've been lucky to have such a low casualty rate. Even most of the injuries have been minor." The doctor took his hand as they started their walk to where Will and Deanna waited with Worf and Geordi. "Will's been setting up a makeshift camp for the survivors as we continue to search the hull. We've also got a field hospital fully set up and running now. I want to give you a full workup before I let you start talking ship's business. Once you get going, you'll be hard to pin down."

He nodded, acquiescing because he knew it was true. It would also allow Beverly to let some of her worry go, because she'd know he wouldn't keel over in the middle of a search.

Worf spoke first once they got within earshot of the others. "Captain, I believe that Dr. Soran should be kept under guard until another Starfleet ship reaches our coordinates."

Picard nodded shortly at Worf, but his attention turned straight to Riker, giving him a hard look. "Number One."

Will looked right back at him, eyebrows slightly raised. "Captain."

"Would you care to explain?"

With a look back at the ship, then to the captain again, Will took the opening and said, "Not particularly."

Beverly derailed the conversation, starting to head back towards the camp as she did so. "How about Will explains what happened while I'm scanning you, Captain. That way we can get two things done at once." Since she was already walking towards the camp, it wasn't a suggestion so much as it was an order from the Chief Medical Officer.

The small group followed Beverly's lead, while the two security officers and Worf brought up the rear as they continued to escort the El Aurian. Picard reached out and traced the contours of his ship's hull as they walked, fingertips trailing on the cool metal looming beside and above them. He could already see that the Enterprise would never fly again under her own power. Instead, she would be dismantled by one of the Fleet's salvage and recovery ships and brought back to Earth for inspection and parts recycling. It would be a relatively inauspicious end of a flagship's era. The captain was already visualizing the piles of paperwork he would have to fill out, so much bureaucracy went into final reports when you lost a ship. He wondered if they'd give him another one after this, especially with the Stargazer's destruction on his record. The Enterprise was supposed to have lasted far longer than its seven years.

The captain saw that Will had done a good job of organizing rescue operations so far, the ramps set up to go inside the saucer section had come into view, now he saw at eye-level the crew members going in and out with stretchers and pallets of materials needed at the camp. Ten casualties thus far, forty-eight still missing, not bad numbers out of a crew complement of over one thousand, but that would still be ten families who would receive bad news, with possibly more to be added. A scowl began to form on his face, but was interrupted when the group came around the final bend and into view of the camp and field hospital, and Gracie caught sight of her father.

The five-year-old dropped the container she was carrying, bringing out a scolding from Nurse Ogawa that the girl ignored, and bolted in their direction. "Papa!" she shouted, and proceeded to propel herself into his arms.

A grin lit his face, the same as the one that lit hers, and he kissed her forehead and hugged her to him tightly. "Good to see you too," he said. The others around them also had smiles warming their faces, happy at seeing another reunion amongst the surviving crew. There was only one face among them all who didn't smile and it belonged to Soran. The security officers had escorted him to one of the far cots in the corner of the camp that was the field hospital and from his seat there, the El Aurian had witnessed the happy reunion between father and daughter. The reunion he had wished for himself, the one that had been so very close to happening. Desolation draped over his face, his eyes, everything about him slumping in hopelessness. He'd lost everything long ago, but only now did he face that reality.

The captain glanced in the other man's direction and felt a twinge of unhappiness touch him, then he put it out of his mind. Soran had willfully chosen his path and he would have to live with the consequences. No longer would he allow Soran's emotions affect his own. Other people could choose to help the man, but he would give him nothing other than what he would need to continue living—punishment enough.

Before he looked away from Soran and back at the small daughter in his arms, he took note of Guinan making her way across the camp with that floating walk of hers, intent on Soran. So she would help him and he was okay with that. It was Guinan's way.

"Ensign Kai was right," Gracie said as soon as he looked back at her.

"About what?" he asked.

"She said you've got more lives than a cat."

He couldn't help it. He laughed.

Gracie frowned at him. "It's what she said!"

He kissed her forehead again. "I believe you. I'm not laughing at you."

She smiled. "You're laughing at Ensign Kai."

"Perhaps."

Then Beverly was close to them, holding out her hands to Gracie. "All right, young lady. You need to let go of your father so I can make sure he hasn't hit his head hard enough to addle his mind."

"It's already addled," Gracie replied, but wriggled from her father's arms anyway, taking his hand as they finished the trip to the cots.

"Someone has been hanging around her brother too much," Beverly said, taking a medical tricorder from one of the containers, then motioning for the captain to take a seat on a free cot.

"Someone needs to help me pick up all the things that spilled out of the container that she dropped," said Ogawa, fixing a glare on the five-year-old.

"I got distracted," Gracie replied.

"Distraction or no, you're coming with me," said the nurse.

Gracie turned to the captain, eyes plaintive.

"Go," he said, trying to keep the smile from his face and be serious for a moment.

"Fine," she said, whirling on her heel and stalking away towards the mess she'd created. Ogawa followed after she smiled at the captain, telling him without words that she was happy to see him as well, like the rest of the crew.

Beverly placed her hand on his chest as she started her scan. "That didn't last very long," she said. "Happy with you, then unhappy with you, happy with you, then unhappy with you..."

"Sounds like her mother," he said.

Beverly stopped her scan and glared at him before going back to it. "Ha. Ha." But her hand stayed on his chest, reassuring herself that he was indeed right there in front of her and not disappearing anytime soon.

Halfway through her scan, the schoolteacher approached, carrying Gabriel with her. "Dr. Picard?"

The doctor looked up, and the captain found himself smiling again at the smile that immediately flashed across Beverly's face when she caught sight of her youngest son. "Yes?" she asked.

"Three of the engineers have gotten two replicators working and I don't know how long it's been since your son last ate. The engineers tell me that they need the chemical schematics for your son's formula so they can program it in," said the teacher. As if the infant had suddenly remembered that he should be cranky and hungry, Gabriel began to fuss in the teacher's arms.

Realizing that the infant's father was right in front of her, the teacher immediately handed the boy off to him, obviously hoping that Picard would be able to settle him. The captain was dubious at the prospect, but the boy's weight in his hands was reassuring, and even his fussing made him smile, because he was there, alive, healthy. He cradled the boy against his chest and shoulder, resting his cheek lightly against his son's soft one. To his surprise, the infant ceased his fussing and turned his attention to where his father's was, on Beverly and Selar rifling through odds and ends of medical equipment and padds, hunting down the elusive schematic.

Then Beverly raised a hand clutching a padd triumphantly. "Found it!" she said, then handed it over to the teacher. She looked at her husband holding their child. "You'll have to give him back," she said.

The captain was loathe to do so, but knew it had to be done. There was too much work to do for both of them and they would have to let someone else watch their boy just as they were allowing someone else to keep charge of their daughter. "Right," he said, and reluctantly handed the infant back to the teacher, watching them walk away until they'd gone out of sight.

"I know," Beverly said as she resumed her scan. "I felt the same way." Then she paused in her scan and frowned. "Lift up your shirt. You've got several contusions along your ribcage."

He glanced around, balking at the idea of baring any part of him while out in the open. "Right here?"

"I'm not asking you to strip down," she said, pulling at the hem of his shirt herself. "I can't heal you properly if you've got material covering the wounds. Stop being so modest. Honestly, you're worse than your son."

Feeling silly, he acquiesced, holding up his uniform top while Beverly finished up with the plaser. She stood back and gave him one final look up and down. "Okay, I'm satisfied," she said. "Just don't overdo it."

He frowned as he looked around for his first officer. "Where did Will go? Did he run off?"

"He said something about a communique coming in on the emergency beacon," said one of the med techs, not looking up from his task.

"And he didn't tell me?" asked Picard, indignant.

"He tried to," said Beverly. "I scared him away."

He felt the annoyed look come over his face at her protectiveness, but knew her actions were warranted, and left the look as the light-hearted annoyance he so often felt with her and the other members of his family. Before he could give her a rejoinder, a larger group caught his attention, a group carefully treading down one of the taller ramps, with a wolfhound loping amongst them.

"Oh, good. They got Conal off the ship," said the doctor. "Andrew wasn't very happy about having to leave him behind."

"He had to leave him behind? Why?"

He saw the bemusement lighten her face. "We had to rappel down the side of the hull to get off the ship, that's why," she said. "Last I checked, Conal wasn't able to rappel. But when Andrew's fencing team found out that Conal was still on the ship, they got together and devised a way to get the dog here on the ground with the rest of us. Looks like it worked."

Along with the wolfhound, the team had also found another member of the crew and carried the man between them on a litter. The young men worked their way over to the field hospital as Beverly moved forward, scanner out again and already working on the lieutenant laying on the stretcher. As the captain watched, the team noticed that he was standing there, glanced back at Andrew, and slowly began to subtly switch places among themselves so that Andrew was left without anything to carry. Then they left him behind, obviously so that he could see his father.

Scowling after his team, Andrew stood uncomfortably in front of the captain. Their last real conversation lay between them, unfinished. "Hey," said Andrew. "Good to see you alive."

The discomfort rolled off his son in such strong waves that Picard felt like squirming himself to get away from it. He felt the impulse as well, to simply return the hello, assert that he also felt good to see his son alive, even when that would be one hell of an understatement. He was as elated to see this boy alive and well in front of him as he had been to see that Beverly, Gracie, Gabriel had also survived the crash.

His brother's words came to him, the stark seriousness of Robert's voice. "He's you, he's me, he's our father. He's every moment of silence any of us have had with one another and every moment where we didn't say what we should have." He recognized the silence between himself and his son, recognized why he heard his brother's voice, recognized that his brother had given him advice on how to be a good father, recognized this as one moment to take advantage of that. Except he still didn't know how to say aloud all the things he felt inside.

Andrew shifted, quickly glancing in the direction of the hospital cots, then back to his father. "Well, then," he said, shifting again. "I guess I'd better get my team back together and go up in the ship again." Then he started to walk away.

The boy had only taken one step before the captain reacted on instinct alone, reaching out, taking a handful of Andrew's shirt, hauling him back, pulling him into a tight hug. Actions could speak as loudly and effectively as words. Andrew was frozen for a moment, caught entirely by surprise as the outward display of emotion from his father, something that wasn't in either of their natures. But it was a time of shock for them all, they had lost so much in so little time, the wrecked half-ship looming above them not withstanding. Finally, Andrew reacted, holding his father just as tightly, reassured by the safety of his arms, even as an adolescent.

Around them, people found many more things to do, granting father and son a modicum of privacy amid the bustling activity of the camp.

"I don't understand," Andrew whispered, blinking back tears that he thought he was rid of after the conversation with his mother earlier.

The captain was blinking away his own tears, just as surprised at his actions as his son. "It's time things changed," he said. "I'm not going to just let any of you walk away like that any longer."

"Does that mean you're sticking around?" the boy asked. "I thought, if you came back...when you came back..." and words failed him and he struggled to continue as the words continued to flee. "I thought I'd lost you too...even if you came back, that you would leave, because things were so awful. And I didn't want to lose you, too..."

Picard realized the fear that had gripped his son. He'd thought he was losing his father, either through death, or by his parents separating over the death of his twin sister, that he was going to lose everything he loved in his life, one by one. "I'm not going anywhere," he said. "And I wasn't planning on it before, either. All of you mean too much to me to run away when things got a little tough."

Andrew gasped out a short laugh. "A little tough." Then his laughter was fighting tears, just as Beverly's had before.

Footsteps sounded behind them. "Captain," said Will Riker, his reluctance to interrupt evident in his voice, but his news having too much urgency to set aside.

Andrew quickly jumped back from his father. He was willing to show his emotions now, but only for so long, as it would be for any boy his age. Picard turned to his first officer, waiting for him to continue.

Will did. "The Farragut has sent a message that they are underway to our position and should arrive within sixteen hours. A salvage and rescue ship has been dispatched from the nearest starbase, as well as a Fleet transport ship to pick up whatever survivors that the Farragut can't hold. The salvage ship should arrive within two days, the transport should be right behind the Farragut."

Picard nodded. "How far along are we in the rescue operations?"

Riker grimaced. "We've recovered five more bodies, bringing the casualty total to fifteen. However, we've found twenty-six additional members of the crew, bringing the number of missing down to seventeen. Night is going to fall soon though, sir. We should start arranging shifts for the teams to search, alternating between active searching and rest."

The captain nodded again, then started walking with Will towards the command center to plan out the schedules. Andrew stayed by his side and Picard understood why and didn't mind it at all. He felt the same way, reassured that the boy was there. He also valued his input, considering he'd been leading a search team himself and would have an idea about the reactions of the crew as they worked on searching the ship for crewmates. The hours passed by quickly, planning and searching by the light of Veridian Three's two moons, catching bits and pieces of sleep, eating either emergency rations or whatever food the engineers could coax out of the jerry-rigged replicators. Picard found that the snatched bits of sleep weren't near enough to rid himself of the exhaustion that filled his entire body, but it was a type of exhaustion that would take weeks of rest to recover from it.

A hand on his chest brought him out of his light slumber. He recognized the touch as Beverly's, hers was distinct from any other person's. "Jean-Luc," she said, her voice kept soft as to not wake the others their their own fitful sleep.

His eyes came open immediately. "Is everything okay?"

She nodded, her exhaustion clearly showing in the dark areas under her eyes, tiredness seeming to draw the very color out of her normally bright blue irises. "All of the crew is accounted for now, we just got the last person out. Final casualty count is seventeen."

"Seventeen," he repeated.

"I know," she said. "On one hand, we're relatively lucky to have such a small number. On the other hand, that's seventeen families you'll have to notify that their loved one has died." The doctor leaned down and kissed him. "I'm sorry," she said as she pulled away.

He pulled her back down to him, returning another kiss. "It's enough that you understand," he said. And it was true.

"I should get back to the hospital," she said.

He shook his head. "No. If the crew's accounted for and you came over here to let me know, it means that whatever doctor is awake can take care of the wounded for a few hours while you get some sleep." The captain stood up, casting away the emergency blanket he'd procured. "You can even take my cot."

Beverly gave him a crooked smile. "In the old days of the navy, when they had submarines and scant space for bunks for the crew, they shared them. One crewman went on shift as another came off and took the newly abandoned bunk. They called it hot racking."

He raised an eyebrow. "Is that so?"

"If I weren't so tired—" a yawn cut her off, then she continued. "I'd show you some hot racking myself."

Laughing quietly, he kissed her again, then watched to make sure she did indeed crawl onto the cot and sleep. Once she lay down, she was out within seconds. Picard made his way to the makeshift latrine setup and washed up enough to feel somewhat human, then went back to the command center. Will and Andrew were already there, looking over the ship's schematics. "I can't remember where he would've put it," Andrew said. "The last time I saw it, it was in our quarters, but that was days ago."

"Put what?" asked the captain.

Andrew and Will looked up, a faint mark of guilt in their eyes. "The family album," Andrew said. "Since we've found all the people, I wanted to see if we could find anything of value that could be salvaged. Sentimental value, I mean."

"Last I recall, the album was in my ready room," he replied, then caught his first officer's attention. "Have we managed to establish a safe route to the bridge?"

Riker nodded. "A few hours ago, sir. Mind if I tag along?"

"Not at all." Once Picard had answered, the three of them strode up the gangway and made their way to the bridge. The walls that had separated the captain's ready room from the bridge had been entirely destroyed, but the frame of the door remained. Out of habit, the three of them chose to walk through the doorway instead of stepping where the walls used to be, then commenced sifting through the rubble in search of the old leather-bound book.

Minutes passed in silence before anyone said anything. It was Andrew who spoke up first, giving no lead-in at all to his statement. "I was accepted to the Academy," he said, not even looking up.

Both Picard and Riker stopped what they were doing and stood up straight, eyes focused on Andrew. "What?" they asked, in unison.

"You know, took the entrance exam, passed, was offered a place in the next matriculating class," the boy said, still not looking up.

"You didn't say whether you accepted the offer or not," said the captain.

Andrew finally looked up, giving Riker a pointed look. "Well, someone went and crashed the ship, making it pretty hard for me to send an acceptance notification."

"For the record, I would like to state that Counselor Deanna Troi was at the helm at the time of the crash," Will said, busying himself by looking down into the rubble once more. "Hey, I think I found it." He looked up again, this time holding the large album.

Andrew and Picard made their way through the debris to the first officer. The captain plucked the book from Will's hand, dusted it off, then cracked it open to flip through some pages. "Yes, thank you," he said. The album fell open to a photograph that the captain had added a year ago, from the collection Allie had procured for him. It was a photograph of her and Andrew as infants, sharing a bassinet, asleep, the two tiny bodies hugging one another as they must have been in the womb. Knowing how hard seeing the photograph hit him, Picard glanced quickly at his son and saw him biting his lip and looking away.

Will saw it too and recognized that there might have been enough deep emotional conversation between everyone to last for awhile. "I'm going to miss this ship," he announced.

Both Picards were grateful for the diversion.

Riker looked through the empty space that used to be bulkheads and out at the remains of the bridge. "She went before her time."

"It's not how many years you've lived, Will. It's how you live them," said Picard, thinking not of his lost ship, but his lost daughter, knowing that she was happy with the life she had lived, despite knowing the life she would miss out on after she'd departed. "Someone once told me that time is a predator that stalks us all our lives. But maybe time is also a companion who goes with us on our journey, and reminds us to cherish the moments of our lives...because they will never come again." Feeling the close proximity of his son, the captain placed his arm around the boy's shoulders and brought him closer, a side-hug. "We are, after all, only mortal."

A quiet, contemplative moment passed between the three of them. Andrew, however, wasn't going to stand for it and cracked an impish grin. "Speak for yourself," he said, looking at his father. "I kind of planned on living forever."

Will laughed at the boy's comment, then they all looked towards the doorway again when they heard more laughter. Deanna Troi poked her head through what used to be the doors. "If you three have had enough fun digging for treasure, perhaps you'd like to beam to the Farragut. I hear they've got actual beds," she said.

"And showers," Beverly added.

Out of courtesy, the three others joined the two women on the bridge. Will found his way to the command chair laying on its side, running his hand over it. "I always thought I'd have a crack at this chair one day," he said.

Andrew looked immediately at his father. "Told you so," he said.

Will frowned. "What? What'd I say?"

The captain decided he should keep the peace. "You may still," he said, addressing his first officer. "Somehow I doubt this will be the last ship to carry the name Enterprise." He tapped his communicator. "Picard to Farragut, five to beam up."

Their arrival on the ship only heralded another phase of long hours at work and before anyone knew it, another six hours had gone by and they couldn't recall what they'd done in those six hours. The transport ship arrived, and on it was Admiral Necheyev, immediately requesting a meeting with Captain Picard. The captain of the transport was all too happy to hand off the admiral's audience to Picard so that he could escape himself. Picard envied him, especially as he seated himself across from a scowling Necheyev.

While his relationship with this woman had become bearable, even friendly, she still wielded a formidable amount of power and temper and he knew that after destroying the Fleet's flagship, he wouldn't be on her good side. "Admiral," he said.

"Captain," she replied, tapping the edge of a padd on the table between them, studying him intently with her cold, determined eyes.

He willed himself not to squirm.

Finally, she deemed it acceptable to speak. "Starfleet Command has already meticulously gone over the logs and the accounts on the events that led up to the destruction of the Enterprise. Suffice to say it was a complicated task and required an incredible amount of deduction and insight into figuring out exactly how a top-of-the-line Fleet vessel could be so easily defeated by an ancient junker Bird of Prey."

The captain opened his mouth to begin a protest, but the admiral cut him off with a raised hand.

"Don't interrupt me," she said. "In the end, we did figure it out, and it was a rather ingenious tactical move on the part of the Duras sisters to implant a device in Commander LaForge's VISOR that was undetectable by Starfleet scans and allowed them to see what Geordi could see. So that's how they were able to key into your shield's frequencies. Your first officer reacted impressively despite the circumstances and did manage to defeat the Klingons. However, the warp core breach was inevitable and he correctly executed the ship's separation sequence. It was the explosion of the stardrive section that sent the saucer section down to the planet and Command has concluded that nothing could have been done to avoid it. Therefore, the inquiry at Headquarters will merely be a formality to record the findings that you nor your crew was at fault, and in fact will be commended on escaping the situation with only seventeen casualties."

He started to reply and she held up a finger. He closed his mouth and listened as she continued, even as he felt relief wash through him that no one would be court-martialed or drummed out of service.

"You, Captain Picard, are being placed on leave effective as soon as you exit this room. I will represent you at the inquiry so that you won't have to be present."

His heart dropped. Perhaps even though his crew had escaped with both their lives and careers intact, it seemed he may not have his career left to him.

The admiral continued to speak. "Under normal circumstances, you would be placed in command of the salvage and prime directive operations in recovering the saucer section from Veridian Three." Her voice changed, dropping the cold formality it had contained and taking on a gentle tone. "But you, Captain, have suffered a loss greater than your ship and members of your crew. I'm placing you on leave for at least two weeks, if not more. Even when you're put back on duty, I'm assigning you to Headquarters until myself and Command decide otherwise. I have placed Dr. Picard on the same leave." She leaned forward and looked him in the eye. "Your place right now is with your family, Jean-Luc. I know that nothing I can say would be enough to communicate the right kind of sympathy for your situation, but I can at least take care of things here for you, leaving you free to other, more important duties. I once held you to a hard line in regards to your family before. This is my way of making up for that. Dismissed." Necheyev sat back in her chair and went back to reading the padd she held.

Dazed, the captain stood and left the conference room, vaguely heading back in the direction of the temporary quarters he and his family had been assigned for the four-day trip back to Earth. Entering the turbolift, he found Worf already inside. "Captain," he said.

"Commander," Picard replied.

Worf handed him a small container. "I believe this is yours. You asked me to hold onto it when we brought you into the shuttle on Veridian Three."

Picard took the container and studied it. The pendant. The pendant was in there. He looked at Worf. "Thank-you," he said.

Worf nodded. Nothing else needed to be said.

When the captain stepped through the doorway to his quarters, Beverly immediately made eye contact with him and placed a finger on her lips, inclining her head in the direction of the sofa. Andrew lay there, Gracie snuggled up under his arm, a book splayed open on the floor next to them. Picard arched an eyebrow at his wife as he walked in her direction.

"She asked him to read her a story," the doctor explained quietly. "She said you couldn't read her one since you weren't here and she wanted to hear your voice and said that Andrew's was close enough. I'm not sure which one of them fell asleep first, but they can't keep sleeping there, they'll wake up sore."

He nodded and walked over, carefully extricating Gracie from under her brother's arm and hoisting her into his own. She stirred momentarily, but didn't open her eyes. He gently placed her in her bed, bringing the covers up to her chin. Her eyes opened and she looked at him. "You came home," she said.

"Of course I did," he replied.

"Good," she said.

He reached into his pocket and brought out of the container. "I have something for you," he said, opening it. Then he took the pendant that rested inside and placed it in Gracie's small hands.

Her hands began to tremble as she looked at it and he knew that like the rest of them, she remembered their time in the Nexus. She remembered seeing her older sister one last time. As her body trembled, her chin quivered and her voice was the rustle of the turning page of a book. "She said good bye first, Papa."

He could see the tears shining on his daughter's cheeks as she finally gave up and let them go. So he reached out and scooped her up in his arms and held her as she finally cried for her sister, as she finally said good bye.

---

Winter had fallen upon France during their time away and the chilled air allowed them to see the puffs from their mouths as they breathed while standing next to the three open graves. They'd chosen to inter all three of them, Robert, Rene, and Allie, at the same time since they had all perished at the same time. Andrew Picard stood slightly away from his family, not shunning them or rejecting them, but wanting a moment, however small, to himself as he studied his sister's casket.

Just over the knoll behind them, out of sight, the burned-out winery had been cleared away, leaving only bare scorched earth behind. Andrew wondered if it would be rebuilt, or if the vines would remain as they were now, empty, bare, cold. By some strange cosmic timing, the transport had arrived back on Earth on what turned out to be Christmas Eve. No one had noticed the date until late that night as they made the final arrangements for the burial service to be held the next day. It had been Cécile who'd taken notice, mentioning the audacity of them to have a funeral on Christmas.

Andrew had whispered that it was appropriate, birth and death on the same day. His mother had placed a hand on his and he didn't brush it away, she was only telling him that she knew it was his birthday as well and reminding him that he was very much alive.

Because of the timing, he hadn't expected many members from theship's crew to attend, but he'd been wrong on that count, forgetting that Allie had been a friend to many. Will Riker was there, Deanna Troi, Data, Geordi, Worf, Alyssa. He wondered if this was also a way for them to say good bye not only to Allie, but to the time they'd all had on the Enterprise together, as that had come to a sudden end as well. There had been a few meetings on the transport between them all, discussing what had occurred in the Nexus, what all of them remembered. For him and his family, they had been given something they never thought possible. They'd been given all those memories of all those things they had missed in each other's lives, something that could never have been returned actually had been. An incredible gift.

Allie's last one.

His family, being a traditional one here on Earth, had arranged for a priest for the service and he spoke his closing words, much like they'd been spoken at Nana's funeral on Caldos. "In sure and certain hope that their memories will be kept alive in us all, to eternity we commend Robert, Rene and Natalie, and now we commit their bodies to the ground, earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust."

Eternity.

It sounded like a very long time.

Andrew stepped forward, holding a camellia flower loosely in the fingers of his left hand. He'd thought it appropriate to toss it to Allie before the dirt was thrown over her grave. Once he was within reach, his right hand stretched forward, his fingertips barely coming into contact with the polished wood of the casket. He wasn't sure why he did it, perhaps to find their connection one last time, but everything was cold, nothing of the warmth that had lived between them remained. All he had left to him were memories. "I miss you," he said, waiting for a reply that would never come.

Someone whispered to him. "It's okay."

He looked down and saw that Gracie had come up beside him. The cold had drawn a flush to her cheeks, staining them red. His own cheeks were much the same, a result of their fair skin. Andrew knelt down to her level. "I know," he said.

She shook her head, even as he picked her up and stood again. "No you don't," she said, very seriously. "It's okay to say good bye."

Andrew remembered this conversation. Only the last time it had happened, their roles had been reversed. He rested his forehead against Gracie's as he gave her a small lopsided smile. "I don't want to say good bye." At the end of his sentence, his voice gave out.

"She said good bye first," Gracie said. "She has somewhere else to be now and you're keeping her waiting." She gave him the same small, lopsided grin. "So you'd better say good bye before she gets mad."

With a laugh that was half a choked sob, he dropped the flower on Allie's casket, then watched silently, holding his younger sister tightly, as the casket was lowered into the ground.

When they finally returned to the house, their faces were stiff with cold and stung as they began to thaw in the warmth of the indoors. Andrew put his sister down and she went to chat with others, distracting herself from the rite of committal that had happened only minutes ago. He saw his older brother over against the far wall, near the door to the cellar, Cécile giving him some sort of instruction. Wes nodded, then stepped away and towards the cellar door. Andrew followed, needing some quiet from the conversations between everyone on the main floor, and figuring talking to Wesley down in the cellar would be as good excuse as any.

He blinked as he walked down the old wooden stairs, adjusting to the dim light.

Wes looked up when he heard Andrew. "Hey," he said, quietly.

"Hey," said Andrew.

"This sucks something awful, doesn't it?" Wesley asked, breaking the uncomfortable silence before it got a chance to fully form between them. "Your aunt Cécile, the one who was talking to me before I came down here, she's the one that contacted me right after it happened. I've been traveling here since I found out."

"Thank you," he said, then decided to change the subject, enough had been said between them. His brother was here and he understood as well as he was able, and that was what mattered. "Why'd she send you down here?"

"Told me to bring up a couple bottles of wine. I don't see why she'd send me down. Of all the people to choose, I think I know the least about what wine would be appropriate."

"It'll say on the label," said Andrew, heading down the long rows of wine racks. "The one you want will say 'wake' on it in big, bold letters."

"Funny." Wesley headed down another row, scanning the labels as he went, knowing full well that they wouldn't say what his brother had told him. "What will happen to Soran? Do you know?"

Andrew shrugged even though he knew his brother couldn't see him. "Ultimately, I'm not sure. He's in custody of Starfleet right now, I think they've sent him for a long run of psychological treatment. He needs it. He's one screwed up individual. Guinan has gone to visit him, though."

"You don't sound like you hate him." Wes sounded surprised.

Andrew had to admit, he'd been surprised himself when he'd discovered that he didn't hate Soran, didn't even want to physically hurt the man anymore. "He already hates himself. What I feel about him wouldn't matter in the least. I mean, nothing I could do could make his life worse than it already is. He's living in his own version of hell and one created all on his own. All I do is pity him and hope I never end up in his circumstances."

"That's a remarkably mature thing to say."

"I learned a few things from Allie." Andrew had reached the end of his row and found a few barrels stacked up against the far wall. They looked familiar, but he figured all wine barrels looked the same, especially if they were from the same vineyard. But the barrels weren't stored here, they were stored in the winery...a winery that didn't exist anymore. He peered at the closest barrel, then reached out to feel the places where it was charred, ash sticking to his fingers. Frowning, he spun the barrel around and found the markings. It was one of the barrels from this past harvest, it had been charred in the fire that had destroyed the winery. It must have been in a far corner, like it had been here, to have survived intact. His hand rested on the top of the barrel for a long while. He remembered the walk back from the town center not long ago, returning to the family home after the festival. He remembered his uncle's words.

"Whatever comes out of the vineyard this year, you were a part of its creation."

It meant that Allie was a part of its creation as well, that his hand rested on one more remnant of Allie's life.

"Cécile and I carried those over from the cellar of the winery. They were the only ones that hadn't been compromised," said Wesley. Andrew realized his brother must have walked over to where he stood while he was lost in his thoughts.

"Right," said Andrew.

Wesley frowned, unable to discern his brother's thoughts. "What?"

Andrew turned and looked at him steadily before speaking. "These can't be the last ones ever made here."

---

Jean-Luc Picard took note of Andrew coming into the house with Gracie, both of their faces still rosy from being outside in the cold for so long. He also noticed Beverly stopping herself from admonishing them for being out in the cold for that length of time, but that was an instinctive motherly reaction, while her understanding of their need to say good bye to their sister in their own time overrode the instinct. The little girl had immediately flitted off to speak with others, her own method of distraction from her sadness. As he watched, Andrew located Wesley and the two boys disappeared downstairs at the behest of Cécile. On her part, Cécile had spent most of her time close to Marie's side, a support as she recovered from her own loss.

The night before, the two of them had spoken with Andrew into the wee hours of the night, trading stories of twinship, the two sisters offering their nephew a kind of support that no one else could offer. They, out of anyone, knew the depth and nature of his loss, something that others couldn't begin to fathom. Already, the captain had noticed a difference in his son, and a difference in Marie as well. It looked as if they would each help the other heal and he was grateful for it, for them all.

At some point, Beverly had drifted away from his side and he located her across the room, speaking with Deanna Troi. The doctor adjusted the infant she held in her arms and Picard realized that his wife had been carrying him for the better part of a few hours. They'd figured the boy would have been in need of a nap by now, but he showed no signs of tiring. He also continued to show no signs of fussiness and instead, actively engaged in looking at all the new people around him, his green eyes bright and curious. Deciding he should take a shift holding the infant, he walked across the room and over to the two women. His movement caught Gabriel's attention and the boy looked at him. A flash of recognition passed across his small face and he smiled at his father.

Picard stopped in his tracks, wondering if he'd imagined it. But the smile didn't go away and it touched the child's eyes. A thrill went through him, that his son recognized him and recognizing his father caused him to smile. He found himself smiling in return.

Noticing that her son hadn't wiggled for awhile, Beverly glanced down at him and Gabriel rewarded her with a smile as well. "Just who were you smiling at before?" she asked him, placing a kiss on the top of his head.

"I believe he was smiling at me," Picard said, holding out his hands as Beverly relinquished their infant son to his arms.

"I can't imagine why," said the doctor.

Deanna halted the teasing with her own question. "Is that the first time he's smiled?"

Beverly nodded. "At least as far as I know. And anyone from the nursery would have told me if he'd smiled there." She reached out and smoothed the fuzz of hair on the boy's head. "Another milestone. Next thing I know, he'll be going off to some university or academy, leaving his poor mother behind..." her tongue in cheek lamentations were interrupted by a slight commotion at the cellar door.

Frowning, Marie went and pulled the door open all the way, allowing Wesley and Andrew to finish making their way into the room, carrying a wooden barrel between the two of them.

"Speaking of sons who like to leave behind their poor mother, there are my other two wayward ones now," Beverly finished, crossing her arms and giving them an incredulous look.

"I asked you to bring up a few bottles of wine, not an entire barrel," Cécile said to Wesley, crossing her own arms.

The captain strode over quickly, knowing that Beverly was right behind him. "What's going on?" he asked, looking at his son and stepson, then taking a closer look at the barrel they had brought upstairs.

"It's one of the four barrels that weren't destroyed in the fire," Andrew said.

Picard noted the charring along the edges of the barrel at the same time. They wouldn't be able to tell if the fire had damaged the wine inside until the following fall. It would be a long wait. "I know," he said, returning his look to his son.

"They can't be the last ones," Andrew said, steadily meeting his father's gaze.

The captain went to reply, but Marie beat him to it. "They won't be," she said.

"Your brother spoke to your father and your aunt about it already," said Cécile. "He's going to stay here and help us rebuild. He also wants to learn how to be a vintner so that he can stay on and help even after the winery is rebuilt."

Andrew looked to his father for confirmation.

Picard nodded. "It's all being rebuilt," he said. "Here...and I received the news today, they're building another Enterprise. It will take a year, and during that year, I'll be supervising the effort there and here. Most importantly here." He glanced behind him to catch Gracie's eye, wanting her to be aware of the new development as well. She saw him and grinned when she realized he was looking for her. Then he looked over at Beverly, down at Gabriel, at Wesley, at Andrew. "And perhaps one of you will carry on the tradition. While it might be winter now, the vineyard quiet and the vines bare, in the spring, the grapes will grow, and then summer will come again." The captain paused as the wind picked up outside, the call of winter reminding them of its power, but he paid it no mind. In the end, it would fade away, replaced by another season. "It always does."