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From: captain973@aol.com (Captain973)
Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative
Subject: NEW STORY: "Casualty" (1/1, P/C)
Date: 28 Feb 1996 23:58:49 -0500
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	Disclaimer: Yep, you know the routine. Paramount owns all the
stuff. Feel free to pass
this along, but keep my name and this message attached to it, please.

Casualty
by
Melissa Zander



	Nathan Picard looked up from his padd as his father entered their
quarters. He smiled.
"Hi, Dad. Long day?"
	Captain Jean-Luc Picard sighed and nodded his head. "Filling out
reports always makes
the day long." Then, he walked over and squeezed his son's shoulder. "And
how was your day?
Not as tedious as mine, I trust."
	His son smiled again. "No, sir. Our class visited the arboretum
today, and we were each
assigned our own plots to care for. Then we were given a choice of what we
would like in it."
	Jean-Luc sat beside his son, his expression open. "And what did
you choose?"
	"We each picked three types of plant. I decided on carrots, a
small rose bush, and a
camellia." His eyes carefully studied the floor by his father's boots. "No
one understood why I
wanted a camellia. My teacher said they're hard work, but I insisted, and
she let me. I'm glad,
too."
	The captain's eyes misted over, and he reached over and folded his
son in his strong,
warm embrace. He kissed the top of the boy's head and murmured, "I'm glad
too, son. I'm glad,
too."
	*A boy of seven shouldn't have to bear such a heavy load,* Picard
thought. *Sometimes,
I think he's stronger than I am.*
	His musings were interrupted by the sound of a bedroom door
opening, and small
footsteps pounding his way. He braced himself for the customary onslaught.

	A little girl slammed into him, happily wrapping her arms about
his neck. "Daddy!" she
cried jubilantly. "I missed you! I am very glad you're home." She kissed
him on the cheek. " I
love you Daddy."
	He didn't miss the unmistakable gleam of mischief in her eyes. *No
doubt where _that_
comes from,* he thought. He readied himself.
	"Daddy, I would very much like ice cream for dinner. With
strawberries, so it's good for
you," she added, hoping that mention of nutrition would help her get her
way.
	His heart melted, much like the ice cream his daughter spoke of.
Daddy's little girl,
indeed.
	"Tell you what, sweetheart. We'll have spaghetti for dinner, and
if you eat everything I
give you, we'll have ice cream for dessert. Okay?"
	The bottom lip came out. "I want ice cream. Not pasketti."
	Nathan sensed the brewing conflict between father and daughter.
"Morgan, you'll get
your ice cream. But you have to eat a real dinner, first. I will if you
will."
	Morgan looked from her father to her brother, sensing she was
outnumbered. "Okay,"
she sniffled. "Nate, you promise?
	Her big brother nodded. "Yeah, I promise."
	Jean-Luc turned to Morgan again, grinning teasingly. "Do you still
love me, Morgan?"
	In one of those rare,
tell-everyone-you-meet-about-what-your-kid-said-and-embarass-
them-even-when-they're-forty moments, Morgan Picard turned on her
four-year-old heel and
stalked off to her room, tossing off, "Talk to me after the ice cream,
Daddy."
	Jean-Luc Picard threw his head back and laughed.

	Picard stretched out on his side in bed, facing the nightstand. As
he did every night, he
studied the picture carefully resting in a frame, the picture of his
beloved wife. And, as always,
he told her about his day. He knew she would want to know about what was
going on on the ship,
about him, and about their children.
	It had been a year since she died, but every day brought some
reminder of her, and the
pain stabbed him anew. Then, he would think about his children, and how
they needed him, now
more than ever, and the pain would fade to a dull ache around his heart.
	His gaze now turned to the one of his children, taken just a month
ago. He had to smile.
Nathan's parentage was obvious. He was a carbon copy of his father, down
to the shade of his
eyes and the dimple in his chin. Morgan, on the other hand...
	Morgan served as a constant reminder of her mother. She was tall
for her age, with a
lean, willowy body, sky blue eyes, and a head full of long, wavy red hair.
She was Beverly Picard
in miniature.
	He sighed wearily and leaned back against his pillow, pinching the
bridge of his nose to
abate the stinging there between his eyes. Now, like every night, the
tears came. He knew by
now not to fight them, because they came whether he wanted them to or not.
	And, like every night, he wondered when the pain would go away.
	And, as always, he knew the answer.
	It never would.

***One year earlier...***

	He awoke to the sensation of warm, soft lips trailing across his
bare chest. His eyes
fluttered open and fixed on his wife, smiling. She looked up into his
inviting hazel depths, and
her lips found her way to his.
	After they had shared a lengthy good morning kiss, he wrapped
strong arms about her
and held her tight. She clasped her arms around his, and they lay that
way, happy, peaceful, and
more in love than ever.
	"Beverly?" his voice rumbled, still rough from sleep.
	"Hmm?"
	"I love you."
	Even without seeing her face, he could feel her smile. She turned
in his embrace and
kissed him softly. "I love you too."
	Their attempt at ushering in the morning properly, however, was
interrupted by two large
masses invading their bed. Jean-Luc stifled a curse; Beverly quickly put
her nightgown back in
order. "Good morning!" two cheerful voices sang.
	Nathan and Morgan sat in between their parents in the bed, in the
space that had hastily
been made a moment earlier. They scrambled beneath the covers and snuggled
in next to Jean-
Luc and Beverly, as was their usual morning routine. Mother, father, son,
and daughter shared a
brief period of togetherness before the hectic routine of starship life
separated them.
	In these few minutes of the early morning, they were the only four
in the universe.

	The frantic call came into sickbay later that morning, just a few
hours into the shift.
	"LaForge to sickbay! Medical emergency in engineering!"
	Already directing medical staff and grabbing her medkit, Dr.
Beverly Picard dashed out
of sickbay.

	The sight that greeted her in engineering was horrifying. Three
engineers were sprawled
out on the catwalk above, where Geordi was trying to shut down the plasma
spitting out of a
conduit.
	Beverly and her medical team hurriedly climbed the ladder and
reached them just as the
plasma was cut off. She pulled out her tricorder and ran it over the three
officers, then looked up
at Geordi and sadly shook her head. "They died instantly, Geordi. There's
nothing we can do."
	How she hated to say those words. She could see the stricken
expression in the chief
engineer's face as he backed up and leaned heavily against a wall. "They
were just trying to-"
	He was cut off as the hastily-repaired conduit ruptured once
again, sending a stream of
plasma directly at Dr. Picard. "Beverly!" LaForge screamed as it hit her
directly in the abdomen,
sending her reeling back against the warp core. She dropped to the floor
as the plasma stream
shut off, the entire plasma system shut down by the engineers below.
	Geordi grabbed the fallen tricorder and ran it over her, knowing
immediately what it
would say. He wasn't wrong.
	In a voice choked with sobs, he hit his comm badge. "LaForge to
Captain Picard."

	On the bridge, Picard looked up. "Picard here," he said,
addressing the comm system.
"What is it, Commander?"
	"Sir, I..." Geordi drew a deep breath, but the trembling in his
voice was still noticeable. "I
think you'd better get down here. Beverly, she..." LaForge's sobs could
now be heard over the
comm link before he severed it.
	Counselor Troi and Commander Riker both turned to their captain.
His face was wiped
carefully blank. He slapped his communicator. "I'm on my way."
	As he stood, Deanna placed a hand on his arm. He quickly shook it
off, calling out as the
turbolift doors closed, "You have the bridge, Commander."

	The next two days passed in a blur. The shipwide memorial service,
the private funeral,
all of it. He managed to keep everything inside until, after the funeral,
his six-year-old son looked
up at him, wide-eyed, and innocently asked, "When is Mommy coming back?"
	For the first time in his life, Jean-Luc Picard broke down in
front of his children. He could
have handled anything except that question. Because Beverly was never
coming back. He
vaguely noticed Deanna clearing everyone out of the room, heard something
about Will taking
Nathan and Morgan with him, and felt Deanna's arms around him, holding him
as he sobbed like
he never had before.

	After that, it got a little easier each day. His children and his
work filled his daytime
hours, keeping his mind focused. It was only at night that his mind and
his heart betrayed him,
forcing the tears out of his eyes, and the pain to lance through his soul.


*******

	"Beverly!"
	The name ripped from his throat as Jean-Luc Picard sat
bolt-upright in bed, sweating
profusely. Then, he felt warm hands gripping his arm, and a low, insistent
voice pierced through
his dream-induced panic. "Jean-Luc, I'm right here! What is it?"
	He was overcome by racking sobs as reality came back to him. He
cried in relief as
Beverly held him, totally mystified as to why her husband was crying at
0330 in the morning.
Finally, he calmed, and met her confused, concerned gaze in the
semi-darkness.
	"I just had the worst nightmare..." he began.

****^****^****^****^****^****^****

"All of us have violent instincts. We have evolved from predators.
....Well, not me, of course. I've just been programmed by you predators."

---The Holographic Doctor, ST: Voyager

****^****^****^****^****^****^****