Fic Post: Day One
Title: Day One
Author: vegawriters
Fandom: Star Trek: Picard
Series: Imzadi
Pairing: Deanna Troi/Will Riker
Rating: Gen
Timeframe: Pre-Picard
A/N: The events in this fic take place on the Titan and characters and events reference the books - to a point. But think about it, what would become of the evolving AI on the Titan after the synth ban? This fic references events from the Picard episode, Nepenthe. It also builds on the very clear Tolkien influence in creating Nepenthe and the concept of Ardani. They don’t give a clear timeline for how long Thad was sick, so I am taking a bit of liberty here.
Disclaimer: Star Trek: Picard and the Tolkien-verse are owned by their powers that be. Per usual, I don’t make a dime off of this. But, if they’re looking for a new writer, we can talk …
Summary: “We don’t have our Ardani yet,” Kestra retorted, shaking her head. “We have to find our Ardani.”
Titan, 2391
On any other day, the gentle voice of Dr. Ree would wash over her, giving her the guidance she needed when it came to medicine and her kids. Today though, the words were as sharp as his teeth, picking her apart slowly, so slowly, while leaving her clutching for a sanity she couldn’t find. Next to her, Will was holding it together only through the course of his training as a captain. For the briefest of moments, she hated him. Hated that he couldn’t fall apart like she could. Hated that he had to appear calm and collected for the crew. Hated that they were out here, doing this work, when they could have been anywhere else. What if they hadn’t been here? Would that save her child?
“What, exactly, do you mean by silicon-based virus?” Will asked. Her flash of hatred abated. Through her own pain, her own terror, she could feel his heartbreak.
Dr. Ree’s office was suddenly so cold and sterile.
Deanna was not a medical officer. She’d chosen not to go through medical school, knowing that in her situations, she could refer to the ship’s doctor for any prescriptions possibly needed for maintaining mental health. She loved the conversation of psychology and philosophy of first contact far more than the practice of diagnosing. So, the words Dr. Ree was spewing at her only translated to one thing: her child was going to die.
Her baby was going to die.
“There have been cures in the past,” Dr. Ree was saying. “Silicon viruses attack the nervous system and eat away at functionality, much like,” he tapped a PADD, “old Earth neurodegenerative diseases such as ALS and Parkinson’s.”
“There are cures for those now,” Will cut in.
“And, those were not viruses. My point is that the progression of this virus is similar, and to be honest, I am not even sure how this was contracted. Eventually, Thad will lose his mobility, his ability to eat and drink on his own, and finally, his body will no longer function.”
“You mentioned there were cures …” Will was saying. Deanna glanced at her husband and it clicked, instantly, what was about to be said. “Were.” He stared at Dr. Ree. “The technology that is used to cure this is no longer available. No longer legal.”
Ree sighed and shrugged his acknowledgement. “I’ve already started making inquiries to contacts who live outside the Federation. However, the work that Federation scientists have done on positronic matrices is far and above the best work in the contacted galaxy. There are a few stopgaps, including discussing the situation with Ensign Torvig and learning more about his augmentation and how that process could be used to assist Thad.”
“But Torvig’s augmentation isn’t positronic …” Deanna broke her silence.
“Still, we can meet with him,” Ree repeated with that ever-patient Doctor Tone. She’d heard it from Beverly once, aimed at her, and she flashed on how she’d screamed at her closest friend, telling her how terrible she was, how treating skinned elbows had been more important than making sure Deanna had been fine. She’d heard it from Kate, long, long ago, when the new-to-the-Enterprise doctor had shaken her head in wonder at her out-of-the-blue pregnancy.
“Of … of course.” Deanna shivered and felt the world shift very far away again. Closing her eyes, she was back on the Enterprise, kneeling at Ian’s bed, watching this child she’d never wanted fade from her care. The ache and pang of Ian was back, full fold, and she couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t think. She couldn’t process meeting with Torvig or going through treatments or telling Kestra she wasn’t going to grow up with her big brother.
What kind of mother lost two of her children?
“Excuse me,” she whispered suddenly, surprising even herself. She fled from Ree’s office, right back out to sickbay where Thad was sitting up on the biobed, scribbling in his notebook. He glanced up at her, this carbon copy of her father, save for inheriting her black eyes, and she stopped cold. She was going to lose him.
“What is it, Mom?” Thad asked, in Betazoid. “What’s wrong?”
She couldn’t tell him. Not without his father. Not without there being some hope. “We’ll talk in a bit, Thad. Your dad is just finishing up with Dr. Ree.”
“So I don’t have to stay here?”
She knew he did. She knew Ree needed to run more tests. She knew she needed to keep him safe. But right now, she needed to breathe. “We’ll have to come back later. But right now, let’s go for a walk.”
Thad nodded and slipped off the bed, catching himself when his wobbly legs rebelled. Right now, she needed to let Will handle the details. It wasn’t fair, but she just couldn’t breathe.
***
Will waited until he knew Deanna had taken Thad from sickbay. “Is he contagious?”
“No, not directly.”
That didn’t ease his worries. Would Kestra get this? Did they have to separate the kids? “How did this happen?”
“As I mentioned, Captain, I am actually not sure how Thad contracted this. But, since he does have it, right now it’s doing what any virus does, it attacks. It found a weakness in his immune system.”
Will knew Ree was dumbing it down, and he appreciated it. If this was going to be the battle it sounded like it was going to be, he would be an expert in silicon based viruses before this had run its course.
“And if we can’t secure a cure?”
“The virus will weaken his neural pathways and he will eventually die.”
Will closed his eyes, suddenly fifteen years younger, standing next to Deanna’s bed while she watched Ian die. When she’d told him about Thad, when the hopes had come to being, when the baby they’d come to want had been in his arms, he’d relived that moment again. And again. He’d woken more than once to see his beloved standing at the viewport in their quarters, hands on her blossoming stomach, knowing her mind was on a three day pregnancy and three day childhood.
The process had repeated with Kestra, but lessened. Thad was healthy and excited and so ready to be a big brother. “I’m going to teach her all about Ardani!” He’d cried. “We’ll have our own homeworld.”
Now, they’d never have it.
“I’ll need Thad to come in daily for tests and check ins. I’ll do what I can to keep him going, but eventually …”
“Eventually.” Will repeated the word, the cold chill sliding up his spine. Everything buffeted him - Data’s death, the Mars attack, the look in Thad’s eyes the other day when they’d all known something was wrong. “K’ar,” Thad had said. “That’s Viveen for sick.” He’d been through countless no-win scenarios in his career, but never had he imagined a no-win scenario when it came to his baby boy, to the selfless angel with his mothers eyes who dreamed of a homeworld of his own so he created story after story after story.
When Thad was only three, he’d climbed up into bed with him and Deanna, a tattered, ancient book in his grubby hands. Somehow, he’d pulled down from the shelf their copy of The Hobbit. Furrowing his brow, he’d held out the book and asked, simply, “read?”
And so they had. Every night for a week, they’d bundled Thad into their arms and told him the story of Bilbo and Smaug. They read it so often, they all had it memorized and when Kestra came along, Thad read it to her. Eventually, he’d discovered Tolkien’s other works, and when he was eight, Will had come home to find him struggling through the Silmarillion. He’d looked up them, that crooked smile plastered to his face, and gushed for the next two weeks about how Tolkien had created homeworlds and languages, just like he did.
“I’m sorry, Will,” Dr. Ree said, his claws clicking just a bit on the table. “He’s a beautiful child.”
He couldn’t anymore. The sympathy and the empathy and the downright uselessness of the moment drove him from the doctor’s office and down the corridor. He walked, seeing nothing but darkness, knowing in the back of his mind his crew was sidestepping because their captain was acting out of an instinct that scared them.
Finally, three decks later, he stopped short and touched his comm badge. “Titan,” he said to the ever-evolving AI matrix of his ship’s computer. “Where is Thad Troi?”
“Your son is with his mother and sister in holodeck three.”
Five minutes later, Riker tapped the door on the holodeck and stepped into a now familiar, recreated holonovel. The white trees of the grand city in Lothlorien climbed up above him and around them, the gentle music of the elves instantly eased the tension in his body. Laughter floated down from the central tree and Riker climbed the stairs to find his clan in a pile of pillows. He glanced at his wife, who had Kestra on her lap, and she nodded at him.
Riker settled onto a pillow and reached for Thad’s hands. “Hey, kiddo, can we talk?”
Thad stared at him and then nodded, setting his book aside. “What did Dr. Ree say?”
A ten year old boy should never be so truly mature. “He said, that well …” Will’s voice caught in his throat. “See, it isn’t so good, kiddo. It really isn’t so good.” Thad’s eyes widened and he scooted closer. Will couldn’t help it. He scooped his son into his lap and clutched him tightly. “Dr. Ree, see, he says that you caught this virus. And it isn’t like that time you and Kestra both had the Kelvian Flu.”
“He can’t make it better?”
Hearing Thad say it, hearing him be the grownup in this moment, broke Will in ways he wasn’t expecting to break. The sob shuddered through him and he cursed himself for not being able to be strong, for not being able to be in command, but this wasn’t Chris breaking her leg on an away mission. This was his son, his perfect child who only wanted a homeworld and to tell stories about impossible creatures.
“No, honey,” he heard Deanna say, her own voice laced with tears. “Not yet.”
Silence, save for Will’s crying, and then the expected happened. Kestra broke away from all of them and raced up the stairs, as far as the trees would let her run. The motion broke Will’s cycle of breaking down and he looked up to watch her go. Frozen, he looked at his wife. How did they work this? How did they do this? How did they …
“I’ll go,” Deanna said quietly. And Will knew she was right. Thad was her little shadow, as much as Kestra was his. And in this moment, they needed to find each other. So he stayed where he was, rocking Thad as much for his son as for himself, and prayed to Gods he’d only dreamed of meeting for a cure out there in the universe.
***
She found Kestra about three stories up, sitting on the edge of one of the nooks of tree and light. Around her, will-o-the-wisps danced, creating tendrils of light in their wake. “Dr. Ree is wrong,” Kestra said as Deanna approached. “He’s wrong. Thad will get better.”
Deanna wanted to reassure her daughter. Instead, she sat down and took Kestra’s hand. Her little blonde haired, blue-eyed child looked up at her with all of the innocence of the human she was. “You know something?” she said, tears briefly blocking her vision, “Dr. Ree is going to work so hard to make sure he does. He’s going to do everything he can to make sure that Thad gets better.”
“We don’t have our Ardani yet,” Kestra retorted, shaking her head. “We have to find our Ardani.”
“We will,” Deanna reassured her. “And Thad will play there.”
Kestra kicked her legs and the fireflies danced away. “How did he get sick?”
“We aren’t sure yet,” Deanna said. “Dr. Ree is still running those tests.”
“Maybe his stupid tests will be wrong and he’ll realize Thad is fine.”
“Your words to the Four Deities,” Deanna prayed. Kestra looked at her, questioning. “The Four Deities,” Deanna said. “They’re the Gods of Cyndriel.”
“I didn’t think our people had Gods.”
“Well, not a lot of people believe in them anymore.”
“Why did they stop?”
Deanna looked out over the majestic woods bathed in eternal twilight. “Because at some point, people realized that the Gods were more a story to explain the world than anything else. But, I always liked the stories. They’re like your brother’s elves and Wild Girls of the Woods. They’re entertaining, and comforting, and sometimes … they do explain the universe a lot better than anything else.”
“Like, maybe Thad was stabbed by a Morgul blade. And maybe, if we’re lucky, the hobbits will find some kingsfoil and they’ll be able to slow the poison.” Kestra watched the light dance and Deanna wondered if life on starships made small children so mature or if it was the nature of having two parents who could vanish at any time. Cold crept up her spine and she understood her mother perfectly now. How selfish was she, to be serving here, risking her children all to explore a universe that was out for blood?
Rather than dump those emotions into her daughter, Deanna indulged her fantasy. “And, then, Arwen and Aragon will race him to Elrond in Rivendell and the light of the elves will heal him.”
Kestra sniffed. “If only that was true. If only a story made it true.” She turned and tunneled into Deanna and Deanna held her daughter tightly, stroking her hair and letting both of them cry. She wasn’t above prayer, hoping that the Gods were listening. She’d take Thad to the Prophets of Bajor and beg Q for a moment of his time. Anything to watch her children grow up together. Anything.
***
It took a full two chapters of Frodo and Sam wandering through Middle Earth before both children were asleep. They let them curl up together on Thad’s bed, Thad clutching his journal and Kestra her bow. Only once they were sure the kids wouldn’t wake, did he and Deanna slip from the room, closing the door quietly, before collapsing onto the couch. Will watched her lean forward, her shoulders sagging with exhaustion.
“How did this happen, Will? Where did we go wrong?”
He didn’t have an answer. Not for her, not for himself, not for his daughter. Thad, strangely, seemed to have already adapted. His coping mechanism for life already had a glossary of medical terms. What torrent of fear was coming though? Where would this lead them?
“Do you know what really scares me?” Deanna said, her voice thick with tears.
“What?” He took her hand and kissed the back of it.
“That we don’t know how he got this. It’s not like he goes off the ship, it’s not like he’s exposed to anything dangerous. And yet, somehow, he contracts a disease that can only be cured by a technology we don’t explore anymore? What does that mean for Kestra? For you? Is he going to have to be isolated? Is he …”
Will hated to admit that in his pacing of the ship earlier, he’d already gone there, already found himself wondering if this was some kind of deadly conspiracy meant to show that the synth ban was bad for the universe. Watch out, Starfleet, if the kid of Captain Riker can get sick, anyone can. But, if he’d learned anything since the Romulan attack, since 92,000 people were killed in the blink of an eye, since Jean-Luc had resigned, it was that no one was special anymore. There were no heroes anymore. Now, they were all trying to get through the day, trying to explore, trying to survive, trying and failing to return to normal. What was one child compared to 92,000, afterall?
But Will knew the stages of grief. He knew that he was just searching for some desperate way to save his son, to justify this unfair moment in time. So he wrapped Deanna close, reveling in her weight against him, in the way their minds twined together for shared calm and release. He stroked her hair and together, they let themselves cry.
Author: vegawriters
Fandom: Star Trek: Picard
Series: Imzadi
Pairing: Deanna Troi/Will Riker
Rating: Gen
Timeframe: Pre-Picard
A/N: The events in this fic take place on the Titan and characters and events reference the books - to a point. But think about it, what would become of the evolving AI on the Titan after the synth ban? This fic references events from the Picard episode, Nepenthe. It also builds on the very clear Tolkien influence in creating Nepenthe and the concept of Ardani. They don’t give a clear timeline for how long Thad was sick, so I am taking a bit of liberty here.
Disclaimer: Star Trek: Picard and the Tolkien-verse are owned by their powers that be. Per usual, I don’t make a dime off of this. But, if they’re looking for a new writer, we can talk …
Summary: “We don’t have our Ardani yet,” Kestra retorted, shaking her head. “We have to find our Ardani.”
Titan, 2391
On any other day, the gentle voice of Dr. Ree would wash over her, giving her the guidance she needed when it came to medicine and her kids. Today though, the words were as sharp as his teeth, picking her apart slowly, so slowly, while leaving her clutching for a sanity she couldn’t find. Next to her, Will was holding it together only through the course of his training as a captain. For the briefest of moments, she hated him. Hated that he couldn’t fall apart like she could. Hated that he had to appear calm and collected for the crew. Hated that they were out here, doing this work, when they could have been anywhere else. What if they hadn’t been here? Would that save her child?
“What, exactly, do you mean by silicon-based virus?” Will asked. Her flash of hatred abated. Through her own pain, her own terror, she could feel his heartbreak.
Dr. Ree’s office was suddenly so cold and sterile.
Deanna was not a medical officer. She’d chosen not to go through medical school, knowing that in her situations, she could refer to the ship’s doctor for any prescriptions possibly needed for maintaining mental health. She loved the conversation of psychology and philosophy of first contact far more than the practice of diagnosing. So, the words Dr. Ree was spewing at her only translated to one thing: her child was going to die.
Her baby was going to die.
“There have been cures in the past,” Dr. Ree was saying. “Silicon viruses attack the nervous system and eat away at functionality, much like,” he tapped a PADD, “old Earth neurodegenerative diseases such as ALS and Parkinson’s.”
“There are cures for those now,” Will cut in.
“And, those were not viruses. My point is that the progression of this virus is similar, and to be honest, I am not even sure how this was contracted. Eventually, Thad will lose his mobility, his ability to eat and drink on his own, and finally, his body will no longer function.”
“You mentioned there were cures …” Will was saying. Deanna glanced at her husband and it clicked, instantly, what was about to be said. “Were.” He stared at Dr. Ree. “The technology that is used to cure this is no longer available. No longer legal.”
Ree sighed and shrugged his acknowledgement. “I’ve already started making inquiries to contacts who live outside the Federation. However, the work that Federation scientists have done on positronic matrices is far and above the best work in the contacted galaxy. There are a few stopgaps, including discussing the situation with Ensign Torvig and learning more about his augmentation and how that process could be used to assist Thad.”
“But Torvig’s augmentation isn’t positronic …” Deanna broke her silence.
“Still, we can meet with him,” Ree repeated with that ever-patient Doctor Tone. She’d heard it from Beverly once, aimed at her, and she flashed on how she’d screamed at her closest friend, telling her how terrible she was, how treating skinned elbows had been more important than making sure Deanna had been fine. She’d heard it from Kate, long, long ago, when the new-to-the-Enterprise doctor had shaken her head in wonder at her out-of-the-blue pregnancy.
“Of … of course.” Deanna shivered and felt the world shift very far away again. Closing her eyes, she was back on the Enterprise, kneeling at Ian’s bed, watching this child she’d never wanted fade from her care. The ache and pang of Ian was back, full fold, and she couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t think. She couldn’t process meeting with Torvig or going through treatments or telling Kestra she wasn’t going to grow up with her big brother.
What kind of mother lost two of her children?
“Excuse me,” she whispered suddenly, surprising even herself. She fled from Ree’s office, right back out to sickbay where Thad was sitting up on the biobed, scribbling in his notebook. He glanced up at her, this carbon copy of her father, save for inheriting her black eyes, and she stopped cold. She was going to lose him.
“What is it, Mom?” Thad asked, in Betazoid. “What’s wrong?”
She couldn’t tell him. Not without his father. Not without there being some hope. “We’ll talk in a bit, Thad. Your dad is just finishing up with Dr. Ree.”
“So I don’t have to stay here?”
She knew he did. She knew Ree needed to run more tests. She knew she needed to keep him safe. But right now, she needed to breathe. “We’ll have to come back later. But right now, let’s go for a walk.”
Thad nodded and slipped off the bed, catching himself when his wobbly legs rebelled. Right now, she needed to let Will handle the details. It wasn’t fair, but she just couldn’t breathe.
***
Will waited until he knew Deanna had taken Thad from sickbay. “Is he contagious?”
“No, not directly.”
That didn’t ease his worries. Would Kestra get this? Did they have to separate the kids? “How did this happen?”
“As I mentioned, Captain, I am actually not sure how Thad contracted this. But, since he does have it, right now it’s doing what any virus does, it attacks. It found a weakness in his immune system.”
Will knew Ree was dumbing it down, and he appreciated it. If this was going to be the battle it sounded like it was going to be, he would be an expert in silicon based viruses before this had run its course.
“And if we can’t secure a cure?”
“The virus will weaken his neural pathways and he will eventually die.”
Will closed his eyes, suddenly fifteen years younger, standing next to Deanna’s bed while she watched Ian die. When she’d told him about Thad, when the hopes had come to being, when the baby they’d come to want had been in his arms, he’d relived that moment again. And again. He’d woken more than once to see his beloved standing at the viewport in their quarters, hands on her blossoming stomach, knowing her mind was on a three day pregnancy and three day childhood.
The process had repeated with Kestra, but lessened. Thad was healthy and excited and so ready to be a big brother. “I’m going to teach her all about Ardani!” He’d cried. “We’ll have our own homeworld.”
Now, they’d never have it.
“I’ll need Thad to come in daily for tests and check ins. I’ll do what I can to keep him going, but eventually …”
“Eventually.” Will repeated the word, the cold chill sliding up his spine. Everything buffeted him - Data’s death, the Mars attack, the look in Thad’s eyes the other day when they’d all known something was wrong. “K’ar,” Thad had said. “That’s Viveen for sick.” He’d been through countless no-win scenarios in his career, but never had he imagined a no-win scenario when it came to his baby boy, to the selfless angel with his mothers eyes who dreamed of a homeworld of his own so he created story after story after story.
When Thad was only three, he’d climbed up into bed with him and Deanna, a tattered, ancient book in his grubby hands. Somehow, he’d pulled down from the shelf their copy of The Hobbit. Furrowing his brow, he’d held out the book and asked, simply, “read?”
And so they had. Every night for a week, they’d bundled Thad into their arms and told him the story of Bilbo and Smaug. They read it so often, they all had it memorized and when Kestra came along, Thad read it to her. Eventually, he’d discovered Tolkien’s other works, and when he was eight, Will had come home to find him struggling through the Silmarillion. He’d looked up them, that crooked smile plastered to his face, and gushed for the next two weeks about how Tolkien had created homeworlds and languages, just like he did.
“I’m sorry, Will,” Dr. Ree said, his claws clicking just a bit on the table. “He’s a beautiful child.”
He couldn’t anymore. The sympathy and the empathy and the downright uselessness of the moment drove him from the doctor’s office and down the corridor. He walked, seeing nothing but darkness, knowing in the back of his mind his crew was sidestepping because their captain was acting out of an instinct that scared them.
Finally, three decks later, he stopped short and touched his comm badge. “Titan,” he said to the ever-evolving AI matrix of his ship’s computer. “Where is Thad Troi?”
“Your son is with his mother and sister in holodeck three.”
Five minutes later, Riker tapped the door on the holodeck and stepped into a now familiar, recreated holonovel. The white trees of the grand city in Lothlorien climbed up above him and around them, the gentle music of the elves instantly eased the tension in his body. Laughter floated down from the central tree and Riker climbed the stairs to find his clan in a pile of pillows. He glanced at his wife, who had Kestra on her lap, and she nodded at him.
Riker settled onto a pillow and reached for Thad’s hands. “Hey, kiddo, can we talk?”
Thad stared at him and then nodded, setting his book aside. “What did Dr. Ree say?”
A ten year old boy should never be so truly mature. “He said, that well …” Will’s voice caught in his throat. “See, it isn’t so good, kiddo. It really isn’t so good.” Thad’s eyes widened and he scooted closer. Will couldn’t help it. He scooped his son into his lap and clutched him tightly. “Dr. Ree, see, he says that you caught this virus. And it isn’t like that time you and Kestra both had the Kelvian Flu.”
“He can’t make it better?”
Hearing Thad say it, hearing him be the grownup in this moment, broke Will in ways he wasn’t expecting to break. The sob shuddered through him and he cursed himself for not being able to be strong, for not being able to be in command, but this wasn’t Chris breaking her leg on an away mission. This was his son, his perfect child who only wanted a homeworld and to tell stories about impossible creatures.
“No, honey,” he heard Deanna say, her own voice laced with tears. “Not yet.”
Silence, save for Will’s crying, and then the expected happened. Kestra broke away from all of them and raced up the stairs, as far as the trees would let her run. The motion broke Will’s cycle of breaking down and he looked up to watch her go. Frozen, he looked at his wife. How did they work this? How did they do this? How did they …
“I’ll go,” Deanna said quietly. And Will knew she was right. Thad was her little shadow, as much as Kestra was his. And in this moment, they needed to find each other. So he stayed where he was, rocking Thad as much for his son as for himself, and prayed to Gods he’d only dreamed of meeting for a cure out there in the universe.
***
She found Kestra about three stories up, sitting on the edge of one of the nooks of tree and light. Around her, will-o-the-wisps danced, creating tendrils of light in their wake. “Dr. Ree is wrong,” Kestra said as Deanna approached. “He’s wrong. Thad will get better.”
Deanna wanted to reassure her daughter. Instead, she sat down and took Kestra’s hand. Her little blonde haired, blue-eyed child looked up at her with all of the innocence of the human she was. “You know something?” she said, tears briefly blocking her vision, “Dr. Ree is going to work so hard to make sure he does. He’s going to do everything he can to make sure that Thad gets better.”
“We don’t have our Ardani yet,” Kestra retorted, shaking her head. “We have to find our Ardani.”
“We will,” Deanna reassured her. “And Thad will play there.”
Kestra kicked her legs and the fireflies danced away. “How did he get sick?”
“We aren’t sure yet,” Deanna said. “Dr. Ree is still running those tests.”
“Maybe his stupid tests will be wrong and he’ll realize Thad is fine.”
“Your words to the Four Deities,” Deanna prayed. Kestra looked at her, questioning. “The Four Deities,” Deanna said. “They’re the Gods of Cyndriel.”
“I didn’t think our people had Gods.”
“Well, not a lot of people believe in them anymore.”
“Why did they stop?”
Deanna looked out over the majestic woods bathed in eternal twilight. “Because at some point, people realized that the Gods were more a story to explain the world than anything else. But, I always liked the stories. They’re like your brother’s elves and Wild Girls of the Woods. They’re entertaining, and comforting, and sometimes … they do explain the universe a lot better than anything else.”
“Like, maybe Thad was stabbed by a Morgul blade. And maybe, if we’re lucky, the hobbits will find some kingsfoil and they’ll be able to slow the poison.” Kestra watched the light dance and Deanna wondered if life on starships made small children so mature or if it was the nature of having two parents who could vanish at any time. Cold crept up her spine and she understood her mother perfectly now. How selfish was she, to be serving here, risking her children all to explore a universe that was out for blood?
Rather than dump those emotions into her daughter, Deanna indulged her fantasy. “And, then, Arwen and Aragon will race him to Elrond in Rivendell and the light of the elves will heal him.”
Kestra sniffed. “If only that was true. If only a story made it true.” She turned and tunneled into Deanna and Deanna held her daughter tightly, stroking her hair and letting both of them cry. She wasn’t above prayer, hoping that the Gods were listening. She’d take Thad to the Prophets of Bajor and beg Q for a moment of his time. Anything to watch her children grow up together. Anything.
***
It took a full two chapters of Frodo and Sam wandering through Middle Earth before both children were asleep. They let them curl up together on Thad’s bed, Thad clutching his journal and Kestra her bow. Only once they were sure the kids wouldn’t wake, did he and Deanna slip from the room, closing the door quietly, before collapsing onto the couch. Will watched her lean forward, her shoulders sagging with exhaustion.
“How did this happen, Will? Where did we go wrong?”
He didn’t have an answer. Not for her, not for himself, not for his daughter. Thad, strangely, seemed to have already adapted. His coping mechanism for life already had a glossary of medical terms. What torrent of fear was coming though? Where would this lead them?
“Do you know what really scares me?” Deanna said, her voice thick with tears.
“What?” He took her hand and kissed the back of it.
“That we don’t know how he got this. It’s not like he goes off the ship, it’s not like he’s exposed to anything dangerous. And yet, somehow, he contracts a disease that can only be cured by a technology we don’t explore anymore? What does that mean for Kestra? For you? Is he going to have to be isolated? Is he …”
Will hated to admit that in his pacing of the ship earlier, he’d already gone there, already found himself wondering if this was some kind of deadly conspiracy meant to show that the synth ban was bad for the universe. Watch out, Starfleet, if the kid of Captain Riker can get sick, anyone can. But, if he’d learned anything since the Romulan attack, since 92,000 people were killed in the blink of an eye, since Jean-Luc had resigned, it was that no one was special anymore. There were no heroes anymore. Now, they were all trying to get through the day, trying to explore, trying to survive, trying and failing to return to normal. What was one child compared to 92,000, afterall?
But Will knew the stages of grief. He knew that he was just searching for some desperate way to save his son, to justify this unfair moment in time. So he wrapped Deanna close, reveling in her weight against him, in the way their minds twined together for shared calm and release. He stroked her hair and together, they let themselves cry.