Notes & Disclaimers: This story takes place directly after "Fathers
Christmas" and was inspired by watching "Generations", "First Contact" and
"Nemesis" in one sitting, along with weeks worth of viewing of ST:TNG eps
currently airing on Spike. It also helped me avoid working on "Now We Have
Met Again"! But I promise I really am trying to finish it. Really.
Triona's time on Vulcan, and Spock's decision to go to Romulus are dealt
with in the story, "The Long Road From Home", and the alien probe incident
in "Ancient Whispers". Both stories can be found here --
http://www.ondragonswing.com/tales/btarchive.htm -- on the Bloodties
Archive, along with "Fathers Christmas".
Picard, Data, Spock, Sarek, the Romulans, Methos, Janette, and LaCroix (and
anyone else I've forgotten) belong to their respective PTBs, and Triona,
T'Rayla and Lucia belong to me.
Permission granted to archive on FKFanfic and the FTP site, and on Seventh
Dimension. All others, please ask.
If you'd like to be kept apprised of new stories in the Bloodties universe,
or to discuss existing stories, we have an announce list available here:
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/BloodtiesArchivist/
Now that I've worked out an actual timeline, I can tell you this story
takes place in 2379, a few weeks after the events in "Star Trek: Nemesis".
Thanks to Ninjababe for betareading, and thanks to all of you for reading!
Please let me know if you enjoyed the story. Thanks!
@___________@
A View From the Storm
By Denise Underwood
c. 2006
She paused briefly on the path, silently observing the figure that stood
ramrod straight. The snow fell ever heavier, momentarily obscuring him from
view. Sighing, she made her way towards him, stopping just behind where he
stood, gazing out at the snow and ice covered vines that covered the
terraced fields before them.
"Jean-Luc", she said softly, not wanting to startle him. He didn't
immediately acknowledge her presence. Triona placed the coat she was
carrying over his shoulders. "The sun will be down soon. You shouldn't be
out in the storm without a coat," she chided gently, as she drew to his side.
Picard glanced down at her, a slight smile touching his lips. "Yes,
mother," he said wryly.
"Now, don't be snippy!" She laughed softly, pleased at his reaction.
"Thank you," he said sincerely. Picard pulled on the coat, gratefully
letting its warmth enfold him. "I appreciate it, but I thought you were in
a staff meeting?"
"I was. But Benjamin saw you out here." The winter weather on the Northern
Continent was not something to be trifled with, so Methos' concern, and
hers, was well justified. "He told me to tell you that he has a really
lousy bedside manner, and that if you insist on standing out here in a
blizzard catching your death of cold, and he has to treat you for
pneumonia, that you have no one to blame but yourself." She took his arm in
hers. "And he really does have a lousy bedside manner," Triona smiled up at
him, trying to hide her worry, "so I'd suggest you and I go back inside."
Captain Jean Luc Picard had arrived a few days before, on Christmas, for
his first real meeting with his five-year-old daughter, Lucia. But as happy
an occasion as it was supposed to have been, his visit was coloured by
recent tragedy. Only a few weeks before, he had been forced to kill
Shinzon, the new Praetor of the Romulan Empire, who had also been Picard's
clone. And Commander Data had been destroyed saving the Enterprise - and
Earth - from the psychotic Shinzon's plans. On the surface, all seemed
well, but Triona knew that all was not well with her dear friend, the
father of her child, someone with whom she had shared so much. When Methos
had interrupted her weekly staff meeting to inform her of Jean-Luc walking
coatless in the snow, she'd been more than a little concerned.
He looked back up the path, towards the house, distant and barely visible.
"I didn't realize I'd come so far," Picard said, somewhat startled. "I
apologize for disrupting your duties..." he began.
"Nonsense!" Triona interrupted. "You disrupted nothing. My staff, as
Benjamin is constantly telling me, is more than capable of dealing with
things without me." She pulled a flask from her coat pocket. "Benjamin may
have a lousy bedside manner, but my prescription is this, " she said,
pulling off the cap and handing him the silver container. "Brandy made from
the grapes grown in the field before you."
Picard sipped the strong liquor appreciatively. "I approve."
"I thought you might."
The snow continued to fall, the red light of Imladris' setting sun casting
a crimson glow to the white flakes. Picard once more seemed lost in
thought. "I wasn't expecting this," he said suddenly, quietly. "For this to
feel like home."
Triona didn't reply, just waited for him to continue. She'd hoped he would
open up to her at some point. Perhaps now, he would.
"I remember, as a boy in France, a winter much like this one. And as I
stood here, looking out across the vineyard, I realized that I felt like I
belonged here, and that realization confounded me."
"Is it so bad, to feel that way?"
He shook his head. "No, it's not. But Triona, you know me so well. I
thought it was enough for me to know I had a child, a child that was happy
and being raised in love. The few times I saw Lucia as an infant, before
the Dominion War, I was able to leave; knowing that she was safe and loved.
But now...."
"But now, you see yourself in her eyes, you see your family, Robert, and
Rene', and you want to be a part of her life. With all you have lost, you
know what truly matters." Triona took his hand, and lead him back up the
path. The storm was intensifying, and she wanted to be inside before full
dark fell. They walked in silence, the dark shadow of the house looming up
in front of them.
"I wanted so much for Lucia to know Data," he finally said. "He was an
android, but he taught me time and again what it truly meant to be human.
His sacrifice is what has allowed me to be here now."
"And he would want you have a home, and a family."
He nodded. "You're right, of course. But this wasn't what we agreed to. You
never expected to have me as a constant presence in Lucia's life, or yours."
"Jean-Luc, I told you before Lucia was born that you are always welcome
here. I believe I said if you'd like to run our fleet, or the winery, or
just sit on the porch and watch the grass grow." She smiled up at him. "My
planet is your planet. Sound familiar?"
Smiling back, he nodded. "It does sound familiar."
Reaching a set of French doors, she opened one, leading Picard into her
sitting room-cum-office. Gratefully, she allowed Picard to help her out of
her coat as they both stood in front of the fireplace.
Taking his coat from him, she tossed it onto a nearby chair to join hers.
"Those weren't just words, Jean-Luc. I meant it then, and I mean it now.
You have always been welcome here; you have always been free to be Lucia's
father. I just don't think you were ready to believe it till now."
"Perhaps you're right," he admitted. "But what about Lucia? Do I have a
right to upend her life just because I've changed my mind?"
"Cia adores you! Believe me, she only drives into exhaustion those she
cares about." The last few days, Lucia had monopolized her father's time,
keeping him running in one non-stop stream of activity.
"I always thought I was quite fit until now," Jean-Luc admitted ruefully.
"Welcome to the club!" Picard smiled, but once again, seemed very far
away. "What's wrong, Jean-Luc? Please tell me." Triona wanted so much to be
able to help heal his mental wounds. She'd been at his side after the Borg,
after his torture at the hands of the Cardassians. They had a bond that had
existed through time and space in the centuries since Triona had met him
that night of First Contact on an Earth so long ago.
"I have six weeks here, before the refit on the Enterprise is done. I don't
know if I can spend that much time with her if I know I can't be a part of
her life," he admitted.
"What will it take to make you believe me when I tell you that you can be?"
How could she make him understand? "Are you worried that Benjamin will
object? I swear he won't. He would never deny you or Lucia. He loves her
and wants what's best for her. And we -- me, Benjamin, and Lucien - all
agree that Lucia is better off with you in her life than without you."
Triona rubbed her hands together one more time in front of the fire before
moving to the sideboard and the tea service that was waiting for her as it
was every afternoon when she was in residence. Pouring tea for both of
them, she handed a bone china cup, decorated in a traditional Blue Willow
pattern, to her companion. Triona took a sip of her tea, her expression
serious. "When we decided to have a child, you were dealing with the death
of your brother and nephew, and I was still haunted by the loss of my," she
shook her head sharply, "her baby."
Picard placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Triona," he began.
"No, Jean-Luc, please." What had happened when the alien probe had
recreated a chapter of LaCroix's life in ancient Rome, casting Picard and
Triona in that recreation had had far reaching effects. It had changed both
their lives irrevocably. "Maybe neither of us were in a place where we
should have been making such life altering decisions, but we did nonetheless."
"Yes, we did." Picard sighed. "But at the time, I didn't even let myself
consider the choice I'd made logically. For once in my life, I went with my
emotions."
Triona sank down onto the settee in front of the fireplace. "I'm not proud
of how I behaved. I'd gotten used to having power, influence, the Defense
Minister of the Imladrin Planetary Union. And when I decided I wanted a
child, and discovered it was indeed possible, I fell into what had become
all too familiar, arranging things the way I wanted them, not considering
those who might be hurt along the way. And I did hurt Benjamin terribly; he
didn't deserve that, no matter what problems we'd been having. But despite
the tangled road that led to Lucia's creation, when I first held her in my
arms nothing else mattered. She became everything to me. It was
overwhelming, and at the same time, the most amazing thing I had ever
experienced. That's what you're feeling now, Jean-Luc." She took his hand
as he sat next to her. "Nothing from before matters."
Nodding, he squeezed her hand. "I look at her, and I realize she's my flesh
and blood. Nothing in my experience has prepared me for how I feel when I
look into her eyes," he admitted softly. "I can't tell you how many times
I'd been asked over the years if I had children, and when I said no, I
would be told that if I did, I'd understand. I think now, I do."
"And when you were on Romulus?" Triona asked. "Jean-Luc, I know what
happened, I read your report, but maybe you'd like to tell me about it?"
Picard stood up, looking pensive. He walked over to the bookshelves behind
Triona's desk, running a finger across the leather bound volumes, pulling
one out. "'Morality and 24th Century Weaponry' by Admiral C. Pierson," he
read aloud as he turned back to face Triona. "This was required reading in
my senior year. In fact, Admiral Pierson lectured at Starfleet Academy in
my freshman year, but I never had the pleasure of hearing her speak. I'd
always hoped one day to have the opportunity of meeting her."
"Did you?" Triona kept her tone neutral.
"Yes, I'm a great admirer of hers. And this book... well you might say that
what happened with Shinzon was a textbook example of what the Admiral was
talking about. With our technologically advanced weaponry, even more
depends on those who wield those weapons - their compassion, their decency,
their morality. The 'human factor', you might call it. Shinzon was willing
to wipe out the entire population of Earth, was determined to do so, and
had the means to accomplish it. I saw myself as I might have been under
different circumstances. He was me, my clone, my duplicate. The realization
that I could conceivably ever choose to destroy an entire planet challenged
everything I had ever believed about myself."
"We are all good and evil, rage and compassion..." Triona murmured. At
Picard's quizzical look, she added, "Something someone said to me a very
long time ago."
"The knife's edge," he said. "One misstep, one wrong choice, and we fall to
our ruin."
"And we walk that edge every day of our lives." Triona put her cup down on
the side table, joining Picard and taking the book he still held from his
hands. "The reason Admiral Pierson never returned to lecture at the Academy
was because I saw you in that first year of yours, walking across the
esplanade. Oh, you were much younger than that man I bumped into the night
of First Contact was, but I knew it was you. And I recognized that edge I
was walking. In the end, I decided to return to Imladris, and here I stayed
for many years."
"You're Claire Pierson?" Picard looked more than a little stunned at her
revelation.
"I am, or was, may be again some day." She smiled impishly. "But I must say
I'm thrilled to find you're a fan! Would you like me to autograph that for
you?"
Picard raised an eyebrow. "Is there anyone else you might have been I
should know about?"
"Can't think of anyone offhand," she replied lightly. "As you might guess,
being famous or well known isn't something that necessarily goes well with
immortality. It's easier now, than in the past, but it's still a hard habit
to break - concealment, blending in. In fact, the paper that became this
book would never have seen the light of day if not for Spock." She put the
book back in its place on the shelf.
"Ambassador Spock of Vulcan?" He followed Triona as she walked over the
grand piano in the far corner of the room. Its top was covered in framed
photographs and holopics.
Triona picked up one of the small holopics, the image of a teenage Vulcan
girl being projected from its small base. She was petite, her long black
hair in multiple plaits braided together, dressed in Imladrin style
clothing of jeans and a cable knit off-white sweater. "This is T'Rayla,
whom I've spoken of, but you've never met. She's Spock's daughter, and my
ward. She's been with us since her mother was killed and I've raised her
since Spock took it into his head to go to Romulus eleven years ago."
He picked up a photo that had been sitting next to the holopic of
T'Rayla. "I've seen this before," he murmured, his brow creased in
puzzlement, as if trying to remember something.
Triona looked at the photo he was holding. "Your mind meld with Sarek. Yes,
I know about that," she said in response to his look of surprise. "This was
taken when Spock was five. That's me, Sarek, Spock's mother, Amanda, and of
course, Spock." She pointed to the small Vulcan boy standing in front of
the adults in the picture. "I am Spock's 'Pry'lyn'. It's sort of like being
a godmother, and a spiritual guide," she explained. "Sarek and Amanda were
dear friends; I even lived in their home on Vulcan for several years when
Spock was a child. After T'Rayla's mother was killed, Spock brought her
here. When he decided on his mission to Romulus, he made me her legal
guardian. That decision caused a rift in my friendship with Sarek, one that
was never healed before he died."
"I'm sorry, Triona," he said quietly.
"So am I," she said, her voice very sad and full of regret for what could
never be mended. She had valued her friendship with Sarek, and she still
mourned the rift that her becoming his granddaughter's guardian had caused.
But Spock had been adamant in his desire for Triona to raise his child.
After years of denying his human blood, he had decided that his daughter
should have the chance to embrace her humanity, in part, to honour his late
mother, Amanda. So for Amanda, and for Spock, whom she loved dearly, she
had agreed.
Triona shook her head as if to clear away the sad memories. "As I was
saying, Spock is the reason that the paper became public knowledge. He'd
read it, and a few others, on one of his visits here and had passed them on
to his former shipmate, and then head of Starfleet Academy, Admiral Sulu.
Next thing I knew, I was being invited to lecture on the relationship
between the Federation and Terran settled non-Federation worlds."
"I'm very glad he did." He took a sip of his tea.
"Afterwards, Admiral Sulu wanted me to stay on to teach a class on the
philosophical and moral implications of energy weapons on warfare. But I'd
already decided that I couldn't deal with the temporal ramifications that
my presence in your life might cause." Triona laughed. "Of course, at that
point, the cat was out of the bag, so I when I started writing books, I
decided I may as well let them be published in the Federation as well as
here." She placed the photo back on the piano.
"Is there anything you can't do, Triona?" Picard asked admiringly.
Triona snorted. "Oh, please, Jean-Luc, I'm 415 years old. I've had plenty
of time to try my hand at many things. That's not anything special, just a
logical use of my time. I know my strengths - and my weaknesses. Yes, I'm a
dab hand at ship design, and I know my way around a warp engine, but I'll
never be a Zephram Cochrane or a Leah Brahms. However, I do know one when I
see one, so I've made it a habit to cultivate those minds. T'Rayla for
example; she's going to accomplish great things."
"Perhaps you might like to try your hand at accepting compliments more
gracefully at some point," he admonished gently.
"I'll take it under advisement." Her tone was stern, but her expression was
one of amusement. She went back to the sideboard, but instead of pouring
more tea, she picked up a decanter of red wine.
"Please," Jean-Luc replied to her unspoken question.
Pouring the wine, she handed a glass to her companion. "Aren't you glad
you're inside?" she asked, looking out the windows. All that could be seen
outside was a blur of white, and the sound of the wind howling around the
eaves could be heard.
Picard accepted the change of subject. "I am indeed." He grinned. "And not
the least due to Dr. Adam's dire warnings of his bedside manner!"
Triona laughed outright at that. "Despite that, he really is an excellent
doctor. Benjamin takes up the practice of medicine every other century or
so. He'd just completed his latest round of medical school not long before
the war. He was the only doctor in the settlement for many years."
"Is he practicing now?"
"He's more into research at this juncture. He's combined archeology,
translating texts from long dead races on other planets, with medical
research. Benjamin has made some fascinating discoveries," she said with no
small amount of pride in her voice.
"You love him very much. I can hear it in your voice."
"Benjamin is complicated, mercurial, and has the ability to make me
absolutely crazy, but yes, I love him very much," she agreed.
In the distance, a clock could be heard striking six, and Triona looked at
her watch in surprise. "I had no idea it was that time. No wonder I'm
hungry! Would you care to join me tonight for dinner at Obsidian?" Obsidian
was a nightclub on the Moria moon that was the brainchild of Janette and
Triona. Though nightclub didn't quite do it justice. It was the flagship of
what had become a very successful chain in both the Federation and the
Imladrin Planetary Union. "Lucia is spending the evening with Benjamin and
Lucien, as they're both leaving tomorrow."
"Oh? Will they be gone long?"
"Some weeks I expect. The Romulans have asked for our help in dealing with
the aftermath of the Reman situation. And since it's been something we've
been expecting, we've had a plan in place for a while now."
"You expected it?"
"Not the exact method, but that the Remans would eventually revolt? Yes.
It's an eventuality I'd brought up many times with my contacts in the
Empire. It was inevitable. I only wish they'd listened."
"I'm surprised you aren't going."
"I may at some point, but my place right now is here with Lucia. And
Benjamin and Lucien have spent a great deal of time traveling together over
the millennia, so this gives them a chance to do so again. Lucien has an
excellent relationship with the Romulan High Command -- the Roman general
he was understands them quite well. And Benjamin is well known to them. He
is the reason after all that we have had an ongoing relationship with them
over the years."
"I'm sure there's a story in that," Picard said, not trying to hide his
curiosity.
Triona smiled. "There is indeed, and I shall tell it to you at dinner, if
you'd care to escort me, Captain?"
He returned her smile, bowing slightly. "I'd be honoured, Minister."
"And we can discuss the future." She raised her glass.
Raising his glass in response, he said, "To the future."
She tapped her glass against his. "The future." And an interesting future
it would be. Of that, she was sure.
End
Ith *Ithildin@OnDragonsWing.com* Denise
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