Lwaxana comfortingly patted his hand. "I never believed it when Q suggested it, but imagine that.
He was right. I never should have doubted." "I am not jealous!" said Picard.
"Envious, then. It sounds to me, Jean-Luc... and, of course, I can gather impressions from more than just words... it seems to me that by and large, you're envious because Q has shown you up on several occasions. You feel inferior. But dear Jean-Luc, don't you see? It's all right to feel inferior when you genuinely are inferior.
There's no shame in that. No shame in being aware of your limitations. As long as you recognize these feelings for what they are." Each word dripping with frost, Picard said, "I--am not--jealous--of Q!" "Oh, Jean-Luc, you can be honest with me," said Lwaxana coyly.
"He is dangerous! I'm concerned for your safety! From my understanding, he caused you turbulent, emotional distress and then vanished when it overwhelmed you!" "He shared things with me that I wasn't ready for," she admitted. "That was my fault for asking for too much, too soon. As for his not staying, well... he knows what a woman finds attractive." "What?" "If there's one thing a woman loves, it's a man of mystery. A man whose comings and goings are abrupt and whose encounters are tinged with danger. A man who--" "He's not a man!" said Picard in total vexation. "He's Q!" Lwaxana shook her head, and she spoke with a slightly scolding tone. "Jean-Luc, you are so obvious to me. I know that you've never given up your somewhat ribald thoughts about me. I admit I found them terribly attractive before, but now --with Q in my life--I don't think they're terribly appropriate, do you? You really should keep a closer watch on your thoughts. It seems to me that you are simply out-of-control jealous over this situation. You can't stand the thought of me in the arms of another man." Picard stood. "I can see this is proving fruitless. Good night, Mrs. Troi." "Now, Jean-Luc, don't be like that. Can we still be friends?" Without another word, not trusting himself to speak, or even think, Picard turned and walked with quick strides out of Mrs. Troi's quarters.
She sighed and bit into a wafer. "Poor dear," she sighed. "The better man won, and it's just destroying him." Mr. Homn gonged.
Chapter Fourteen
Deanna was in Ten-Forward when Picard entered. She looked up, and the Enterprise captain did not even have to say a word.
"It did not go well, I take it," she said.
Picard sat down opposite her. Guinan, behind the bar, chose not to approach at this time. She sensed that she would only be intruding.
"Her mind is made up," said Picard.
Deanna looked down and sighed. "I appreciate your efforts, Captain." "Deanna, as unlikely as it may seem, perhaps we should entertain the possibility that Q is sincere." She looked up at him. "How likely do you think that possibility is?" "Not very," admitted Picard. "But in many instances of love, merits that would escape the casual glance can frequently..." "You think she's in love with him?" she asked with more dread than he'd ever heard from her.
"I think there is that very distinct possibility," he said dryly. "As a matter of fact, she thinks I'm jealous." "Why won't she listen?" said Deanna.
"She doesn't want to, Deanna. Your mother is a very lonely woman. She wants so much to believe that she's found the right mate, and she will do anything--reject advice of esteemed colleagues, of loved ones--rather than admit to the possibility that this man is not right for her." "Q isn't a man." "Yes, I pointed that out. It didn't seem to have much impact." He sighed. "To some degree I can sympathize with her, Counselor. Growing older alone is difficult enough. To do so--and be under a hormonal imperative to do something about it--that sounds like a very difficult situation indeed.
I don't envy you." "Me?" said Deanna, arching her eyebrows.
"I don't envy her," Picard repeated slowly.
"You said that you don't envy me," Deanna told him. "A Freudian slip, Captain.
You don't envy my eventually falling into phase and searching out--was "Counselor, I know what I said. I said that I do not envy your mother." She shrugged. "Whatever you say, Captain." He rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I must admit to some degree of fatigue. If I did misspeak, I apologize. The Tizarin have made every effort to behave themselves, but they still make something of a racket now and then, parading up and down the corridors. Security is hard-pressed to keep up with them. If it were up to Worf, he'd blast them all out the nearest photon tubes." "And if it were up to you, Captain?" she asked, amused in spite of the difficulty of the situation.
"I would probably help him load them in," Picard admitted. "Tomorrow is the celebratory grand dance. I've reserved Holodeck C.
Attendance is not required, but highly suggested.
An escort is mandatory. I would assume Commander Riker--?" "Of course..." Deanna smiled, then sighed. "It's been ages since we've been dancing. Perhaps that would be nice. And perhaps it will give me the opportunity to step back and let matters take their course." "As you say, Counselor. If we can't alter the tide of events, at least we can be nearby with towels to mop up." Picard stood, inclined his head slightly towards Guinan, and then turned and walked out. A moment later, Guinan glided towards Deanna.
"You going to be all right, Counselor?" "Guinan," said Deanna, turning towards the hostess, "you know Q better than anyone. You have a long history of animosity." "A fair assessment." "What are the chances," said Deanna, "that Q really has changed? That his intentions towards my mother are honorable? That he is genuinely trying to absorb and live by human concepts of love and understanding? Is there any chance of that at all?" Guinan gave it some thought. "Anything is possible," she said at last. "In this whole, great galaxy, that is always true. And Q did go through a rather humbling experience the last time he was here. It's possible that changed him." "Possible... but not likely," said Deanna.
Guinan shrugged. "I don't know. I honestly don't know. You don't want me to try and lie to you, do you?" Deanna wanted to shout, Yes! Lie to me! Tell me my mother will be all right. Tell me this will all turn out for the best. Tell me something I can take mindless comfort in, instead of dwelling on all the worst possibilities.
"Of course not," said Deanna.
Wesley was at his station early, taking comfort in going through the procedures that were, to him, automatic. It helped to take his mind off his confusion.
He wanted her. She was gorgeous. She was willing. She was all his. But an annoying, irritating streak of morality was getting in the way. He didn't want to take advantage of some girl who was under a cultural imperative to be submissive. Where was the joy in that?
Who cares about that? an inner voice demanded. You think too much! You're too smart for your own good! Don't make everything a morality play! Just take her and-- "So, Crusher!" came a familiar voice.
Wesley flinched inwardly. He didn't even have to turn around. "So, Charles," he responded evenly. "Shouldn't you be in engineering?" "Just came off shift," said Walter Charles, coming around to the front of Wesley's station.
"There's a big shindig tonight in Holodeck C.
You going to be bringing your girlfriend?" "She's not my girlfriend," said Wesley tightly.
"Yeah, so I heard. Look, Wes..." Charles leaned forward. "If you're not interested in her... how about letting me take her?" Wesley felt his cheeks burning. "No." "No?" Charles looked surprised. "You said..." "I said," Wesley told him, "that she's not my girlfriend. Not now. That might change in the future." He looked back down at his console sullenly. "In the very near future."
In the family ship of the Graziunas, Sehra regarded herself in the full-length mirror and did a quick pirouette. Her long blue-and-orange dress, cut provocatively low down the back, swirled around her. She stopped and then started to experiment with her hair to see whether it would look better up or down.
She wanted to look her best that evening for Kerin. She had spoken to him briefly earlier in ship-to-ship communication with the Nistral. He had seemed distracted, even edgy. His conversation with her was brief and forced, and he didn't even really seem to want to look at her. It was the oddest thing.
She mentally chalked it up to nerves. It was understandable. Kerin was taking a major step, the same as she was. Some nervousness was to be expec-- She whirled suddenly. Something had caught her eye, just for the briefest of moments. Something that didn't make sense.
She looked at her mirror and saw only her own reflection. Yet a moment earlier she had thought she had seen.
She could have sworn she had seen.
A man in a Starfleet uniform. He even looked passingly familiar, as if she had seen him before. It was hard to be sure. Most humans looked alike to her, and she had met so many thus far. But that was crazy. What would a reflection of a Starfleet officer be doing in her mirror?
It was nonsense.
Kerin was obviously not the only one who was nervous.
Beverly Crusher turned at the brisk footfall behind her and was surprised to see the captain standing at the entrance to her office.
Picard never visited the sickbay unless there were injured crew members in residence, or if he had an appointment for a physical, but never for reason of personal illness. He was a strong believer in the healing powers of tea, not to mention bullheaded determination in refusing to accept the notion of being sick.
Yet now, here he was, actually looking uncomfortable. "Yes, Captain?" "There is a gathering tonight in Holodeck C," Picard said without preamble. "Part of the grand celebratory process of the Tizarin. A dance, actually. Escorts are mandated by custom, and I was," he said, taking a breath, "I was wondering if you would do me the honor of attending with me." She put down her padd and looked at him with unabashed amusement. "Why, Jean-Luc, are you asking me for a date?" "Not at all," he said stiffly.
"I see. You're just going to pick me up at my quarters, bring me to a dance on your arm, twirl me around the floor--you'll insist on leading, no doubt, because no man would be insane enough to dance backwards--and then you'll bring me back after an evening of pleasant company and conversation.
What would you call that?" His lips twitched slightly. "I would call that enchanting." When he said it so formally, it came out "enchawnting." She smiled. "I'll be waiting."
Chapter Fifteen
When Kerin materialized in the transporter room of the Enterprise, Sehra was there, waiting for him. The sight of her took his breath away.
She stood there, her hands folded in front of her, looking very much the girl that he had fallen in love with. Kerin's parents stood on either side of him, as Sehra's did with her. All were looking on in approval.
And then, for just a moment, the image of what Q had shown him flashed in his mind. And there was that look of lingering distrust from Sehra's mother.
Just like that, the mood was broken, and the confidence that Kerin felt evaporated. The others in the room could almost sense the cool formality that fell over him like a cloak.
Kerin bowed slightly and extended a hand, just as protocol demanded. Sehra took it, studying his face, trying to understand what was wrong. But his look was inscrutable, and Sehra clung to the belief that sooner or later, when he was ready, Kerin would tell her what was on his mind.
They walked out of the transporter room in silence, the two young people did, leaving the four parents and Chief O'Brien staring after them.
"Trouble in paradise," suggested Nistral.
"They'll work it out," boomed Graziunas.
"Young people are good at that. Better than their elders, sometimes." "Are you implying," said Nistral's wife, Dai, "that we are being at all difficult about this? That we've been hard to work with in planning this wedding?" "Not at all," said Graziunas slowly.
"I'm not saying that at all." "We know that we have been more than cooperative," said Dai.
"Oh, and we haven't?" Fenn, the wife of Graziunas, now spoke up. "I can't say I like your tone of voice, Dai." "I am most sorry," said Dai icily.
"In the future I shall try and speak in a tone more to your liking." With that, Dai turned her back and walked out of the transporter room. Fenn tossed a significant glance at her husband and marched out a moment later.
The two men looked at each other.
"Quite a firebrand, your Fenn," Nistral observed.
"The same might be said of your Dai," replied Graziunas. "A pity you don't have a bit more control over her." Nistral's eyes narrowed. "I didn't exactly see you keeping Fenn in line. I can see why. She is a rather aggressive woman, after all. Very much a leader and decision maker." "Are you implying that she is the true power of the house of Graziunas?" There was a dangerous undercurrent to Graziunas' question. A line had been drawn.
Nistral refrained from crossing it. "I am not implying it. You are inferring it. I've said what I've said, no more, no less. If you read insult into that, Graziunas, then that is your choice, not mine." "You are saying, then, that insult was not intended." "As you wish," said Nistral deferentially.
