Chapter Sixteen
My Brother's Keeper

There always seemed to be so much work. He wondered if that were truly the case or if his father and brother purposefully invented things to keep him busy. If they had just allowed a few technological conveniences. . .How many times had they had that argument?

Today he was glad for the work. They were probably laughing at his efforts to duplicate their masterwork. The main structure completed, he was determined to take care of the details himself.

Details. It was all details now. He could see them so clearly in his mind's eye; he knew he would never be able to get them quite right.

The tools had felt clumsy at first. But his hands became surer (and more callused) with each passing day. The memories coming back to guide his hands, to help in his work, his penance. And slowly the pieces came together.

It was his damned stubborn nature. He preferred to think of himself as meticulous; someone who took the time to get the details right. But, the truth was he was just as stubborn as his father or brother. He realized it wasn't the differences that made them argue, but the similarities.

Damn them. Why did they all have to leave him this way? No one left to argue with. His hand slipped in their task causing a new cut across the back of his index finger. He stopped to examine his hands carefully. What would she say about these hands now? The calluses were proof of his sincerity in his penance. She would probably try and heal them, make them soft again. A small part of him was glad she wasn't there to see the marks of his labor. But an even larger part wished she were here to examine his hands, to argue with him about it - about everything. Damn if she couldn't argue with the best of them.

"Captain?"

The voice startled him; he thought he was alone. He turned to see the yellow eyes of his Second Officer watching him.

"Data, what's wrong?" The concern evident in his voice.

Data's head tilted slightly, unaware of the reason behind the concern. "Nothing that I am aware of. Did you forget that I was to bring the rest of your and Dr. Crusher's belongings from the Enterprise today?"

Picard's face softened as he remembered this was indeed the day they had arranged. He hadn't looked at a calendar since Beverly left, preferring to let the days pass without ceremony until her return.

"I'm sorry, Data. It completely slipped my mind. I didn't think you would be the one to deliver them."

"Actually, Sir, I asked to bring them. If you have a few minutes, I would like to speak with you."

"Certainly. What's on your mind?"

"Perhaps I should bring your things into the house first," the android said, unwilling to jump into the topic with no preamble. Picard nodded and followed him.

They carried 3 large containers into the house; 2 of his, one of Beverly's. "Dr. Crusher arranged to have some of her things sent to Caldos," Data explained.

Picard tried not to be upset with that arrangement. But silently, he wondered if she were putting even more distance between them. What the hell is going on? She had left a few messages, telling him not to worry, that she missed him and would be back soon. He tried not to be angry. What was it he was supposed to be thinking about without her?

He had spent the past 4 nights on the sofa; waiting up for her, knowing she wasn't due back but waiting none-the-less. Another advantage to this type of work - it made you so tired that sleep came quickly. But damn if that image didn't come to him in his dreams now.

Data waited in the library while Picard fixed tea in the kitchen. The mechanical man taking the opportunity to re-examine the belongings in the room. This time it was a family portrait that caught his attention. It wasn't there the last time, he was sure of it. The old-fashioned picture of two boys dressed for some occasion or another. He surmised it was the Captain and his brother.

"Data, are you sure I can't get you something?" Picard offered setting the tray down on the table. Even though he knew Data did not require any food or drink he always treated him the same as any other guest.

"No, Sir," the response the same as every other time.

"Then please, have seat will you?"

The golden-skinned visitor took a seat in the chair by the fireplace as the Captain leaned forward from his place on the sofa. The silence lingered for a few moments as the visitor sought a smooth transition into the subject. He stared back at the picture on the mantle.

"I don't recall seeing that photograph that last time I was here," Data said.

"Oh, Beverly came across that before she left," Picard explained. "She seems quite amused by any picture of me with hair." He smiled into his tea.

"Has being on Earth helped you to deal with the death of your brother more effectively?" So much for smooth transitions, Data told himself as he watched the Captain's eyes turn to his suddenly, the teacup stopping before reaching his lips.

Picard sighed, knowing what had brought this visitor to his home. "Yes," he placed the cup back in its saucer and leaned back in his seat. "What about you Data? Now that you have emotions to match your experience, it must be difficult to think about what happened with Lore. . . and LaL."

Data's head nodded slightly. Sadness, mourning, these emotions he would never understand fully. "I have found it especially difficult to mourn them when, in a way, they are still . . . capable of being brought back."

The Captain, looked at his guest with new concern. "Don't tell me you're thinking about re-assembling Lore?"

Data stood and crossed to the mantle. "I have been considering taking a position here on Earth. It is probably not in anyone's best interests to re-assemble Lore but perhaps I could have another child. Are not you and the doctor thinking in terms of procreation?"

Jean-Luc couldn't help but smile at that comment. "I know it's not a pre-requisite, but you're not thinking of getting married also are you?" It was intended as something of a joke. The Captain was pleased see a slightly perplexed look on the face of his friend before understanding took its place.

"Who knows? If the program is successful, I could create my own wife and a whole family of little androids," Data's smile masking the seriousness of his words. Picard's smile masking his concern that the android might not be joking.

"Data, I had no idea," Picard said still imagining a whole tassel of Data's children playing with his own.

"Along with my mother I am the last of my kind. And since she has an aging program built-in and a finite life span . . . I must admit to a renewed desire to create or procreate, rather than being left alone. It will be the ultimate challenge to carry on my father's work. It would also be quite a tribute to him, and my mother, if there were someone else to carry on should something happen to me."

Again, Picard understood that sentiment all to well. "Data, are you sure you're undertaking this challenge for the right reasons? If it is simply something to try and please your parents, you may find the work empty. Is this really what you want?"

"I am uncertain. That is why I came to speak with you. I thought that since we are in similar situations perhaps you could tell me what decision you have made concerning your future and why."

Running his hand over his smooth scalp, Picard sat back to consider his decisions, his reasons. Were they being made for the right reason? Or was he simply responding the circumstances surrounding him. He wasn't a vintner and yet every fiber in him was determined that the Picard name would continue to be carried on vintages into the next century. He had never thought of himself as a family man and yet here he was dreaming about his wedding day and the birth of his children.

But that was the easy part. Loving Beverly and being her husband was the only thing he was really sure of right now. The rest was all details.

"I'd be lying to you if I said my brother's and nephew's death hasn't changed my responsibilities, the way I feel about those responsibilities. But my first responsibility is to Beverly now. And to be completely honest with you, I have no idea what our future holds - other than our marriage." He stood up and walked to the nearest window. The sunlight would disappear in another hour. "That's the only thing I'm sure of right now."

"I understand, Sir."

"My brother will never know my children," he told the vines. "Their cousin will always just be an image; a boy never growing into a man." He sighed heavily, his breath trapped on the window.

"I keeping thinking there was something I could have done to make Lore understand, to keep from de-activating him."

My God, what must that guilt feel like? To be responsible for your own brother's death. Picard turned back to the man before him, just now having to deal with every regret ever experienced in his life. Matching grief to every loss witnessed, every deed never done.

"We are not our brother's keepers. It's okay to be different, to have your own dreams, to live your own life." Picard spoke softly, his voice betraying the fact that he hadn't quite convinced himself of it yet.

"In some ways we barely knew each other. The emotion chip I now have was once part of him and with it I can now mourn him. I know the actions I took were correct but . . . he was still my brother."

He could only nod in return. He barely noticed when the visitor slipped quietly from the room, or when the sun finally disappeared beyond the horizon.

Dammit, Beverly. What the hell is going on? I can't get through this without you.