Star Trek_ Generations - J M. Dillard [37]
Perhaps there had been no pain. He knew nothing of the details and most likely never would. He knew nothing, only what was contained in the blunt message from Marie:
Robert and René killed in fire. Memorial service Wednesday. Will understand if you cant attend.
What personal hell was she dwelling in now? She had clearly not trusted herself to send a visual or even a voice message. Picard felt a surge of guilt. He should be there now to comfort herbut duty did not permit it. Amargosa had intervened.
Yet in the hours since he had first received the news, he had found himself unable to fulfill that duty, turning everything over to Riker.
Correction: He had found himself unable to do anything save look upon the faces of the dead, who gazed back from the safety of the past. He had been too stunned even to weep.
He glanced up at the soft sound of the door chime, and realized suddenly that he was hearing it for the second time. He drew in a breath and composed his features. Come.
The door opened; Deanna Troi stepped inside. Her movements were tentative, restrained; her black eyes somber, though she smiled faintly in greeting. She knew, of course; Picard had no doubt. Not details, but she knew. Nevertheless, he played the game.
Counselor. He tried, but was not quite able to return Trois smile. What can I do for you?
Actually … She tilted her head to one side, dark hair sweeping over one shoulder. Im here to see if theres anything I can do for you. Youve seemed a little … She paused, searching for the most tactful word. … distracted lately.
Oh, Picard said, feigning casualness. He could not bring himself to simply blurt it out; it would have seemed somehow disrespectful to Robert and René. Just … family matters. For a moment, he struggled with the impulse to ask her to leave, to insist on privacy. But she was right; he could not keep his grief to himself forever. At some point, he would have to admit to others what had happened. He glanced down at the holo album. Youve never met my brother and his wife, have you?
No. Troi moved over beside him to peer over his shoulder at the album. She kept a respectful distance, still careful not to push, not to intrude before Picard was ready.
He continued, unable to keep the irony and affection from his voice as he stared down at the image of his brother. Robert can be quite impossible … Pompous, arrogant, always has to have the last word. But hes mellowed somewhat in his later years. He hesitated, realizing that he was speaking as though Robert were still alive; yet he could not bring himself to stop. I was planning to spend some time on Earth next month. I thought we could all go to San Francisco. Renés always wanted to see Starfleet Academy.
Troi leaned forward to get a closer look. René? Your nephew?
Picard nodded, knowing she could sense the bright glimmer of pain the image of the boy provoked; yet despite his grief, he could not help smiling fondly at the sight of the boys face. Yes. Hes so … unlike his father. Imaginative, a dreamer. He almost reminds me of myself at that age.
He laughed softly, but there was no joy in the sound.
Troi faced him and asked softly, Captain … whats happened?
He tried to look away, tried to gather himself, but the empathy in her dark eyes compelled him to hold her gaze and answer. Robert, he whispered. And René. Theyre dead. They were burned to death in a fire.
She drew back, lips parted in shock and sorrow. Picard rose and moved toward the observation window to look out at the stars.
Im so sorry, she said at last.
Its all right, he said tightly, clasping his hands behind him. These things happen. We all have our … time. And theirs had come. It sounded like nonsense to his own ears; pointless, hollow. Meaningless. Troi would have none of it.
No its not all right. She moved slowly toward him. And the sooner you realize that, the sooner you can begin to come to terms with whats happened …
I know that, Picard said shortly, then caught himself and softened his tone. But … right