Chapter Fifteen
Lost Ships/Lost Men

They were back in the same waiting room; having already received the good news, they were waiting, hoping some of the reporters would disappear in the interim. Beverly had finally cornered Deanna, both wearing sly smiles as they cast side glances toward the male contingent who were busy trying to decide where to go for dinner. Not a celebratory dinner, but rather a gathering of friends whose paths were still uncertain.

Oblivious to it all, the Captain drifted away to stare out the window. The glow from the approaching sunset bathing the landscape in a gentle light; the green of the earth punctuated by the stark buildings man had set upon it. How different this was from even his own home; there the homes were designed to blend smoothly into the surroundings.

Cadets scurried about; rushing to dinner, to friends, to the future. Why are you in such a hurry? he asked them rhetorically. He knew exactly how they felt; anxious, hopeful, brash, barely able to wait to get out there. And now what of his own future?

With the hearing was over it was time to think about that future. Starfleet would make their wishes known soon enough; he already had a good idea what his options would be. Another command, teaching perhaps? And what about Beverly? They had promised to make their futures together. How were they going to blend their careers? Their responsibilities? His responsibilities?

"Good you're all still here," Bernard Rossa said as he entered the room. His wife followed as he held the door for her.

"I'm afraid we have some bad news to relay to you," Conna continued.

The seven gathered closer, steeling themselves for the news. Exchanging a few concerned looks they waited for the Admirals to continue. Bernard already taken to pacing behind his wife's back.

"We just received word that the Voyager has been reported missing," Conna stated.

"Missing?" asked Will as he took a step forward.

"Yes, she was on assignment near the DMZ with Cardassia when she disappeared into the Badlands," C. Rossa explained.

"She went into the Badlands?" Geordi asked incredulously.

"Willing?" Riker added.

"Yes," Bernard said as he stopped to face them. "They were in pursuit of a Maquis ship."

The Captain remained silent, allowing his officers to voice their questions. There was a part of him that really didn't want to know all the details involved with this latest disaster. A second ship lost in just two months was not a good thing. The fleet was just getting back to full strength. Then the Enterprise disaster, and now . . .

"Did the Maquis ship return?" Worf grimaced at the thought of a Starfleet ship being destroyed by the renegades.

"No. That much we know. But as usual, there are more questions than answers right now," Conna cut in over the concerned officers. "It's been over 24 hours and we've dispatched the Sterling to investigate but we're not sending another ship into that area until we have some idea of what happened. That's all I can tell you for now but I thought you might like to hear it from us. Those reporters picked up that something is wrong. But nothing official has been released."

The silence settled into the room as every possible option was played out in 7 different minds.

"What is her crew complement?" Picard asked quietly.

"375," Bernard said evenly.

The silence was even louder now.

The view in the window shifted as the clouds parted to reveal his favorite traveling companions. He wasn't sure if they were going to make an appearance tonight; they rarely failed him, and so he stood and waited in the darkness.

The silhouette at the window caught her eyes the moment she had awakened. He had managed to slip from their bed without waking her but the bond transcending dreams reached her, told her he was no longer at her side. The shadow, so still, it took her several moments to discern his breathing pattern. Steady and slow. That was a good sign.

Allowing her eyes to fully adjust to the pale light she enjoyed his outline, back lit by the stars, his robe hanging loosely on his shoulders. How long had he been awake? she wondered.

She had spent the evening reading through some of Dr. Cassel's reports while he made arrangements with the workmen for the next day. They would be coming to replace the barn that had been destroyed in the fire. The remnants had been removed before they arrived but Jean-Luc could no longer stand looking at the barren spot each morning. It would be spring soon enough and he was anxious to have the horses back home.

Home . . . there's something to think about. She had fallen into this place so easily, gladly sharing his home as they had begun to share everything now. The future at their door; poised to invade this little piece of paradise. She began to wonder about that future. Cassel's work was very promising but the echoes of another future haunted her as she watched her lover still staring out the window.

There was no way of predicting if he would ever develop the disease. It was only a possibility, he had told her. She told herself whatever the future held she would be with him; together they could overcome anything. Couldn't they?

Cassel's work gave her that hope. With 25 years before they had to face that future, surely something could be done to insure that Irumodic Syndrome was just another footnote in the medical journals. Using his research as a base she could . . . what could she do? She was technically out of a job at the moment. But if she called in a few markers, perhaps there was a way to insure that she at least had the opportunity to direct more research in this area.

He would never agree to it. Spending her time on something that would probably never affect their lives. But even the possibility was enough to make her shudder. She watched him again.

His head tilted upward, lips whispering silent words. Was it a prayer? A request? Even when he thought he was alone, he still held himself with that same inner pride. No, she would not let anything rob him of that.

Then downward, his eyes shut in remembrance, a negative nod and small sigh. That was her cue. Crossing the distance silently, he was surprised by her sudden appearance but not disappointed. She slipped into the robe with him; pressing her cool body into his warmth.

His lines, her curves; perfect symmetry.

Taking her face in his hands he smiled upon the face of his own personal goddess reflecting the light from the heavens.

"You are so beautiful," he whispered softly. He was hesitant about even trying to offer any words; they were so clumsy compared to what he saw in her eyes. "My God, Beverly, do you have any idea what happiness you've brought into my life?"

"You must know that it's completely mutual . . . that your are my happiness."

Resting her head against his shoulder they stood and watched the stars drifting through the night sky, calling their names, beckoning their return. And just below the fields, the land offering another call; heaven and earth echoing their names.

"I must go down to the sea again, to the lonely sea and sky,

And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by,

And the wheel's kick and the wind's song and the white sail's shaking,

And a gray mist on the sea's face and gray down breaking."

As the gray dawn broke they watched from their bed, safe and warm. She rested on top of him, smiling as she traced the lines of his lips with her thumb. His hands walking through her hair, slowly down her back causing her to shudder now and again.

With no preamble she said, "I'd like to go to Caldos for a few days. If that's okay with you?"

"Of course. I'll check the shuttle schedule and we can-" he stopped as he noticed the way she bit her lip. Her brows knit together as she tried to find the words that would make him understand. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"I think I need to go alone," she said. The disappointment clear in his eyes but only a slight tightening of his lips hinted at anything more.

"How long are you going to be gone?" he tried to keep his voice even but his heart had just lurched into his throat. Is she having second thoughts? Did I do something wrong? She can't be leaving.

"I thought it might give you some time to think without me distracting you. Just for a few days, a week maybe," she said trying to convince herself it wasn't an eternity.

"A week?" He hoped it didn't sound to her ears like the pathetic whimper his ears just registered. Now he made no effort to hide the disappointment on his face as he turned to stare out the window again; the harsh light of day intruding further and further into the room. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

"Don't start that again. You have nothing to be sorry about."

"I've kept you hidden away with me. Why you never even made it to Paris to go shopping."

"I have everything I need right here," she told him as she pressed her cheek against his heart.

"Then why are you leaving me?" he asked softly.

How could she explain this to him? She was doing this for them. She just needed a few days to collect her thoughts, to make a few arrangements, to be able to breathe without his presence overwhelming her as it always did. Pushing up to look into his eyes, "We both have decisions to make, responsibilities to attend-"

"But I thought we we're supposed to make those decisions together?"

She sighed in deeply, "We will . . . we're just going to think about them separately." She couldn't tell if he was satisfied with that explanation or not as he dropped his head back into the pillow, a pensive line forming in his brow.

"Fine." He slipped from underneath her and headed for the shower. "The workmen will be here in an hour. I better get ready."

For the first time, he didn't ask her to join him. For the first time she didn't go after him.

He found her (and his robe) in the kitchen preparing a simple breakfast; her smile enough to melt away any traces of anger that lingered. He could never stay angry with her. Why did he even try?

"You didn't have to do this," he said pointing to the modest spread on the table.

"You're right, I didn't have to - I wanted to." She poured the coffee and took a seat at the small kitchen table. "There's a difference, you know?"

He smiled and joined her. "I'm learning," he said blowing into his coffee trying to aid in its cooling. He was always so patient with things like that; carefully waiting for the optimal drinking temperature, never burning his tongue but never allowing it to over-cool.

"There's a shuttle leaving this afternoon. I thought perhaps you could run me down to the station during your lunch break. I'll fix something for you before we leave so that way it won't take too much time-"

"Beverly," he cut off her hurried words by taking her hand across the table, "it's all right. I'll make the time." He tried to smile but his heart spoke before he could stop it, "Do you have to leave so soon?"

"The sooner I leave, the sooner I get back," she said attempting a brave smile. 'Why is this so difficult?' she asked herself as his hand slid back to his breakfast. She watched him take a few forced bites before she stood, "I better get packed." She squeezed his shoulder, he offered a silent nod before she kissed the top of his head softly.

He waited a few minutes, sipping his coffee slowly, before moving from the table to empty his plate into the disposal; his appetite had left with her. He cleared the remaining dishes then headed outside to begin his workday.

As the workmen headed home for dinner he inspected the foundation again. It had felt good to do this type of work, setting the groundwork for a new building, a replacement building rather. The design was the same, his concession to his father and brother, but the materials were treated with special coatings, his nephew's memory made him take several different precautions. He made a mental note to test the warning systems in the house before Beverly returned.

He stopped to think about the way she looked as she left him standing in the station that afternoon. The silent ride there, her smile, her promise to let him know she had arrived safely, to return shortly. He tried not to be upset that she had left him but he was.

This work would keep him busy for the next few days. He inspected the materials waiting to be fabricated into the new barn. Once the main work was done he had arranged to do the finishing work himself; he needed that - to leave his mark on this place, hammer away the last traces of sorrow. Why did she have to leave today?

"There you are," a little voice called from the other side of a pile of shingles.

"Andre, what brings you out this way?" he said smiling at the cheerful face. "Although I think I know who you're looking for?"

The smile broadened before explaining, "Dr. Cassel asked me to bring these reports to Dr. Crusher. I rang the bell but no one answered. I saw the men heading home so I thought it might be okay if I came round the back. Is she available?"

"I'm sorry Andre, she left this afternoon for Caldos," Picard explained. The disappointment on the boy's face mirrored his own.

"Oh, I see," he said staring at the reports in his hand.

"I can see that she gets those reports if you like?" Picard offered.

"She's not mad at you is she?" the boy asked ignoring the offer.

Jean-Luc tilted his head, confusion playing over his features for a minute; No, not that I'm aware of, he thought. "What makes you say that?" he asked. Perhaps the young man had some insight into the female mind; he did have 3 sisters.

"Well, sometimes when Papa gets mad he has to leave the house for a little while - just a few hours usually. But one time Mama got really upset and she came to stay with Aunt Marie here for the night. Papa was so worried he fell asleep on the sofa waiting for her."

"I see. And you thought perhaps I had upset the Doctor?"

"Well, you probably didn't mean to do it. But girls sometimes misunderstand things - specially if you say something about their hair or a new dress they got being too - never mind."

Picard chuckled at the boy's sudden shyness. "I'll keep that in mind. And I can assure Beverly is not upset with me. We both have some things to take care of and . . . and she'll be back in a week."

"A week?" Andre frowned gripping the reports tighter in his hands.

My response exactly, he thought watching the boy's expression. "Is there something in those reports that was urgent? I can download and send them to her if-"

"No, it's all right. Dr. Cassell didn't seem to be in a hurry. It's just some of his research; Dr. Crusher said she was interested in some of it. He's been working on this stuff forever, another week is no big deal. I guess it'd be okay to leave it here for her," he said eyeing Picard.

"Come on, then. Let's find a place so she won't miss them," Picard said leading the boy toward the house.

They settled on the desk in the foyer then headed back toward the kitchen.

"Would you like to come to my house for dinner?" Andre offered before leaving.

"That's okay, I'll find something here," Picard said without thinking.

"Are you sure? Mom never gets mad when I bring a friend home for dinner. And then you won't have to mess up the kitchen," he added with enthusiasm.

Jean-Luc couldn't help but smile; the offer had its merits. "Well how can I refuse that offer. Just let me get cleaned up a bit."

Andre smiled knowing his Aunt would be pleased he hadn't left the Captain alone in her kitchen.

"Jean-Luc, what a pleasant surprise," Marie said as he followed Andre through the kitchen door. She peered past him looking for the Doctor.

"She's gone home to Caldos for a few days," he explained anticipating her question. Marie exchanged a look with Anna with across the kitchen. "And no, she's not mad at me." Another preemptive answer.

"I see. And when will she be back?" Marie asked.

"A few days, a week maybe." He tried to sound confident.

She exchanged another quick look with her nephew.

"It's just that we both have a lot of things to think about and she thought it might be better if we had the opportunity to think about them without so many . . . distractions," he explained further.

"Well, I'm sure she had her reasons," Marie said handing a stack of dishes to Anna to set the table with. "A week. She'll be back in time to cut the roses then?"

"Yes. Valentine's Day. I haven't forgotten about that tradition," he smiled.

"Good. Then I can leave as scheduled."

"So now you're leaving me also?" he asked.

She gave a silent signal for Andre to leave as she led Jean-Luc to the small table in the kitchen. "Have you heard from Starfleet yet?"

"Just a few preliminary inquiries. They want to know when I'll be ready to return to active duty. I haven't given them an answer yet. How long will you be gone?"

"I'm not sure," she began. Her hands were suddenly very cold. She rubbed them together but the chill remained in her fingers.

"What is it, Marie?"

"You're going back into space, aren't you?" He wasn't sure how to answer that yet. "Last time you were here you said you belonged up there. If you ever needed a reminder of that, this is where you would come."

"I said that?"

"Yes. But then all of our places were rather well-defined at that time. It's not as easy anymore is it?"

"I had the Enterprise waiting for me then. . ."

"And I had my husband and son . . ." her voice trailing off softly. She refused to meet his eyes, preferring the safety of the view through the window. Her hands gripped each other tightly as she tried to hold back the tears again. Dammit. Why did looking into this man's eyes bring her such sadness. Maybe it was because they held the same look, the same dreams, as her son. Or now, the same responsibilities as Robert.

"Marie, I can stay as long as necessary. You can take all the time you need," he promised.

She shook her head slightly, shaking away the image that continued to haunt her. "I can't come back until it goes away."

"Until what goes away?" he asked trying desperately to understand.

Still she looked out the window, spoke to the glass, "Until the morning I can wake up and see them as they were . . . not after what the fire did to them."

The image was too strong now, a single tear making its way from her eye, trying to wash away the picture etched into her memory. He understood all to well. He had often wondered if what he imagined matched her reality. He knew what fire did to human beings; he knew it was impossible to push those images away.

"Marie, I'm so sorry," he began.

But she stopped his apology, she had heard more than enough of them. "Don't. I can't stand any more apologies, any more condescending looks. I just need to go away for a little while. As much as you need to be here, I need to leave."

He couldn't bring himself to start a fire when he returned home that evening. Couldn't bring himself to climb the stairs leading to an empty bed. And so he stretched out on the sofa and waited for the morning, for the image to awaken him.