Something I churned out last week.

[logansrogue]

Hey dudes.

This is a little something I churned out last week. It's a Star Trek ficlet, of all things, based in my Academy timeline. It can be read on its own, but you won't know who Eleanor is or her significance or why she is there. Anyway, it's a post-Nemesis fic. That movie really inspired me.



In Memoriam.
(That's the title of the fic, I'm not being wanky about Data. Yet.)

Things happened so very fast, Wesley mused. Changes were creepy, tricky things, and sometimes they were slow, but sometimes it was so fast one barely had time to react. Sometimes the change comes from within, and it's all one's own steps that create it. So many little moments in his short life so-far had been like that, had reached inside him and left him different somehow. They were a succession of moments that dotted his life, segmenting it and giving it a sense of rhythm and perhaps rhyme. It started when he took his first step aboard the Enterprise. Then two years later, he had his first Academy entrance exam. That year he met a strange neurotic young woman on Risa quite unlike any other he'd any met and quite promptly didn't see again for some time. He stayed on his own on the Enterprise that year too, his mother on a different assignment.

His life was eventful but contented for some time after that, a safe pattern taking hold, but it wasn't to last, he had to move on, it was the way of things. So that little moment came; he walked onto the transporter pad on the Enterprise and left it for the last time as a resident civilian. He arrived at the Academy and made a whole host of friends. He ran into that neurotic girl all over again, and spent four years with her and her friends. He made a tragic decision that cost a gentle young man his life and disgraced his career. He promised his life to that not-so-neurotic girl (who had grown up so remarkable), and then ran away from all he knew in fear.

And then he came back to set it right.

He had been in the middle of routine, safe, uneventful circuit junction maintenance in the bowels of the science ship he served on in deep space. He'd only seen his mother three weeks before, at Deanna and Will Riker's wedding, so it came as some surprise to him that he'd recieved an urgent private transmission from her.

When he saw her face in the viewscreen in his quarters, he couldn't help but notice the red rimming her eyes, the unusual weariness on her usually bright and warm features. His stomach squirmed, and for a horrible moment he thought something had happened to Eleanor or Jack.

"Mom?"

A smile spread across her face, a sad smile that looked difficult to put there.

"Wes... uhm... I'm afraid I have some... some bad news."

He hadn't realised he'd sat down until he noticed he was clutching the edge of the chair. He heard her say some things about Romulans, about battles, about near-cataclysmic destruction and heroics. And then she said it.

"Data's gone."

Data. He hadn't expected that. Data? Indestructible, repareable, immortal Data? He'd expected Geordi, perhaps, Riker or Deanna, Worf or Picard. But Data?

He frowned, his throat thick and unresponsive.

"I'm sorry I couldn't be there to tell you, honey."

He blinked, surprised to feel his eyes hot, and nodded. "It's okay, Mom."

She spoke to him a little after that, but he barely heard her. Even though he was a grown man, with his own wife and children, he still felt the sharp pang of separation when he spoke to his mother over subspace. He'd never felt it as strongly as he did now. Nothing was quite as comforting as a hug from one's mother.

She was hesitant to sign off, knowing he had barely anyone to speak to on the quite little science ship he served on. It wasn't much of a vessel. It wasn't built for diplomacy or grand missions like the Enterprise; it was made to gather information, to diligently record and understand all it came across. There were sixty souls on board, and most of them were green graduates, eager for adventure and honour, but stuck on the science vessel to get some experience under their belts. Other than them, there were tired officers put to pasture, and older scientists that were not the most exciting people to talk to. There was one rather eccentric biologist on E deck that Wesley liked to check in on now and again, but he was often too busy for such time off. The younger officers remembered the scandal of the Korvoid Starburst maneuvre and so avoided Wesley, and the older officers were wrapped up in their experiments and scientific pursuits. He really didn't have anyone to turn to.

In that moment, on that little ship in the vastness of space, he felt intolerably lonely.

~~*~~

It wasn't an ability he liked to utilise very often. With his long time with the Traveller, what felt like years to him but was only one or two to everyone else he knew in his native timeline, he'd learnt about bending time, leaping through space like a needle poking through fabric, slipping through reality as though he were riffling through curtains. It was an ability with a cost. It took a lot of energy, particularly long-distance leaps. He'd learnt very quickly and efficiently how to do it, so, if he felt like it, he could logically pop off to another part of the galaxy for five minutes and have a coffee. He didn't do this, though. Not only did he promise Starfleet that he'd keep that sort of behaviour to a minimum whilst serving on board a vessel (for the simple reason that he was supposed to *stay* on the vessel like every other officer, and not leave without the Captain's permission), but if he did anything spectacular, he could concievably be too exhausted the next day to do his duties.

In this instance, however, he felt it very important that he deliver the message personally. Not only had Data been to Wesley's wedding, but he'd spent some time with his small but precious family on the occasions they visited the Enterprise (rare, but special occasions). Eleanor wasn't able to make it to the Riker wedding, and Wes knew that she was disappointed. Starfleet was Starfleet, however. They accepted the life, they lived it and they kept surviving.

There was no solace in the ship around him at that moment. Gazing at the stars only reminded him that he couldn't dive into that space and be close to the ones he loved.

He decided, on a whim, to go for a walk through the ship. He wandered the decks, his gaze roaming over the familiar and cramped settings. He unwittingly found his way to the arboretum, but it wasn't a surprise to him somehow. He felt comforted by the plants there, whether they were foreign or indigenous to Earth.

"I take it your got your message from your mother all right, Mr. Crusher?"

Wesley turned about. Kneeling in some neatly cropped turf in front of a deep brown garden bed was the middle-aged handsome woman he knew as his captain, currenly wearing gardening gloves and a clear plastic apron. Amelia Levine was a fair scientist, a good commander, but an even better botanist.

He nodded. "Yes, sir."

She knelt back from the bed she was working on, propping her hands on her knees.

"Good news, I hope?"

He turned away a little, looking down at his shoes.

"I'm afraid not."

Captain Levine nodded back at him, staring at her seedlings that were awaiting transplantation.

"I heard about the Enterprise. I wasn't sure if you knew anyone that was lost or not, but uh..." She went quiet. Obviously he had. "It's never easy, getting that news. It's even worse in deep space." She sighed, picking up a seedling tray.

Wes stayed silent. He didn't really know what to say. His throat was roughing up all over again, and his eyes stung. He could feel his Captain's eyes on him, and he felt weak, unworthy of his uniform.

Levine sighed again, and with a grunt she stood up, dusting the soil off her gloved hands.

"You know, I bet there are a lot of people who wish they could just disappear... and visit their loved ones so far away." She gave a tiny ghost of a smile. "Just spirit away and return, without anyone even knowing."

Wesley tilted his head a little, reading her expression, disbelief growing within him. He decided that as much as he had always admired Captain Levine, it was obviously not nearly enough.

"In fact, if I were in your shoes, and I could do that? I would." She turned around, eyeing her geranium seedlings. "Only because it's such a hard time, you know." She nodded.

Wesley sighed, closing his eyes, doing his best not to let tears fall.

"Thank you, Captain."

"That's okay," she said, waving a gloved hand and kneeling back down to her little garden. "Just don't wear yourself out, you have those other bulkheads to modify tomorrow, remember that."

"Yes, sir."

Striding from the arboretum, he gathered his energy about him, his thought, his breath a process and each step a churning momentum. As he stepped into his private quarters, energy had enguled him and he was already half-gone. With a final release he slipped to somewhere else entirely.

~~*~~

All things considered, she took it rather well. He knew she wouldn't be a wreck, as she had barely known Data, really, but she had liked him very much and enjoyed his company in the time she had known him. She shed some tears, leant against Wesley, hugged him tightly. She did not sob, nor did she cry. Wesley's heart had become numb, and he felt as if he'd never cry again, or feel anything other than dead shock. A restlessness took him, and breaking from Eleanor's embrace, he looked to Jack's bedroom.

"Is he asleep?"

Eleanor nodded. "Yeah, but you know him. A warp coil at full rattle next to his bed couldn't wake him."

Wes felt a smile on his face, but it didn't reach his heart.

"Okay."

He stepped into the room, feeling painfully young and yet very old at the same time. He wasn't sure how that could be, how one could feel such opposite things at once. He always felt young when he looked at Jack, always felt as though it wasn't right that he, a man in his late twenties, should have a little boy of his own. Not seven years ago he was drunkenly pissing in bushes in San Fransisco and trying to convince Eleanor to let him touch her breasts. Seven years was nothing, yet it was all the difference.

The pain within him, despite all this, made him feel very old indeed.

He stood at the edge of the bed, gazing at the little boy piled under Starfleet issue blankets. His near-black hair puffed out haphazardly from under the blanket, and his pale, round little face was nestled to the pillow. His sharp, clever little blue-green eyes were under delicate young eyelids, not yet creased by troubles or fears. Wes wouldn't see them today, but they were on his mind often. Bending, he pressed a kiss to his son's cheek.

"Love you, Jackie," he whispered.

Jack didn't stir; he slumbered on contentedly.

Turning, Wes stepped to the door, and stopped short. On the wall next to the door, there was pinned a brightly coloured crayon drawing. On a white stiff piece of card was the earnest, clumsy yet heartfelt representation of the Enterprise key staff - Wesley's family - by Jack himself, done when the boy was only three (he was now four).

In an unkempt row in yellows and deep purples and reds were each of the people Wesley had spent a most vital four years of his life with. Deanna (who Jack was rather fond of), Riker, Geordi, Picard, Grandma, Worf...

And good old Uncle Data.

Jack had taken to giving each and every one of Wesley's 'adopted' family titles that he thought were suitable, because his mother had only one brother, and Jack thought that one uncle quite simply wasn't enough. Wesley could see that the 'uncle' moniker brought Data some curious delight. It drove Worf up the wall.

Then suddenly, terribly, painfully, a cold logical voice piped up as he gazed at the artwork.

It said that Data couldn't really be in that picture anymore.

It's often little, tiny, silly things that break that damnable wall of shock that builds in such moments of personal grief. Stepping through the door into the living room of Eleanor's quarters, hot tears spilled down his face, unchecked, unbidden, and all he could think about was the raw, terrible ache he felt. He didn't even realise he was sobbing.

For a good while his soul lived and felt every inch of grief that was within it, searching each memory, wringing each thought. He curled into his wife's arms, and she said nothing, only held him tightly. It was something he knew he had to feel, but it made none of it easier. He wasn't sure how long he clung to Eleanor, but when he finally broke away there were no more tears left.

It tore his heart to have to leave her, and he wished he could have stood there kissing her for longer than the brief moment they had. Time was short, however, despite its elasticity, and after whispering that he loved her, he slipped back into the folds of space.

~~*~~

He made a quick detour. He knew he shouldn't have, but he quite simply needed to be there, needed to see it before he got on with his life. The person he decided to pop into existence in front of was Worf. Considering he was Chief of Security, it was only proper protocol. Worf had been having a drink in Ten Forward, and was rather ruffled by the sudden appearance of his old friend. He quickly composed himself and looked dour.

"I wasn't aware that Starfleet approved of officers willfully teleporting themselves across the quadrant at late hours of the night," Worf said.

Wes shrugged a shoulder. "Captain threw me a break."

Worf nodded, and it was all Wes needed to say. Worf knew why he was here.

"I will let the Security section know you're here."

"Thanks."

~~*~~

Picard was in his Ready Room, reading something other than Shakespeare for once from a very shabby looking old book. He seemed surprised when Wesley was on the other side of the door, but not entirely. There was an expecting look there.

"Wesley," he said.

"Captain," Wesley replied, standing straight, lifting his head in respect. "I hope you don't mind. I just..." He swallowed, his brow twitching down. "I just heard about Data."

Picard gazed at Wesley for a long moment, and then with the most fractional of nods, stepped back.

"Come in."

Wesley stepped into the Ready Room, altogether more militaristic and sharp than the old room on the Enterprise D, but with the same quiet sense of studiousness and deep thought. It was a room where important decisions were made, where a remarkable mind rested itself and considered things that could effect one man or millions.

He sat down, and Picard walked to a recepticle.

"A drink?"

Wesley shook his head. Picard got himself a hot tea and sat down. They sat quietly for a long moment, and Wes knew it wasn't because they didn't know what to say. There was quite simply nothing they could say.

"Mom told me everything," Wes said, folding his hands together.

Picard nodded. "He saved us all."

"I know." Wesley fidgeted, picking at the flawless seam of his computer-made jumpsuit. "I know it's stupid, but I kinda wished I could have been there. Just - been there."

"There was nothing you could have done."

Wesley looked up with a tick of his brow. "I got here didn't I?"

There was a sobering look in Picard's eyes, and he shrugged.

"Even if I couldn't," said Wes, "I just wanted to be there for him. Like he was there for me all those times."

Now understanding where Wesley was coming from, Picard leant back in his chair, his expression softening. He cradled his tea in elegant hands that looked better on a poet than a military leader.

"As long as you are there for him now, Wesley."

Wesley closed his eyes tightly, nodding, swallowing away the roughness in his throat. A thought fluttered through his mind; he hated being reminded how unfair life was, and no matter what powers one had or what one tried to do, you couldn't change that. It usually turned out for the best, even if it was utterly depressing as it happened.

"How are you faring on the Aurora?"

The question took Wesley by surprise, but he quickly remembered that at the wedding, he'd had barely any time to talk to Picard as there was a celebration in full swing. It occurred to him that Captain Picard really had no clue of how he was doing.

"Uhm - good, good." He shifted in his chair. "Captain Levine is - she's good. She treats me fairly. Which - it makes a nice change."

Picard blinked slowly, understanding on his face, and he nodded.

"It's always a good thing to be trusted."

"It is. She gives me some interesting duties too - making improvements on the ship sensors, things like that. She knows I prefer the engineering and navigation side of things."

It was a simple, light conversation, but it was the stuff of family foundations, and strangely, Picard was the closest thing to a father figure he had in those frightening teen years of his life.

"I'm glad to see you back and adjusted to a new life," replied Picard. His eyes sparkled a little as he said. "It makes me very proud."

Wesley smiled despite the sadness inside of him.

"And now is the boy?"

Wes had to smile wider. The moniker of 'The Boy' used to be his own, and now it had been transferred to little Jack, but with much more affection attached to it.

"As precocious as I ever was, or Elly for that matter. He can already name all the parts of a starship."

Picard's brows lifted. "Well, well, a captain in the making."

"I'm surprised Mom didn't tell you all about it," said Wes.

A smile twitched the corner of Picard's mouth as he sipped his tea. "She did. I just wanted to give you the chance to tell me about it."

"Thank you," Wes smiled. "He's counting down the days till he visits Mom later in the year. He doesn't get to go to Earth very often."

He watched Picard as he sipped his tea, and he remembered that now his mother had been reposted to Earth, Captain Picard wouldn't see Jack very often at all. Wes knew neither Jack or Picard would like that very much.

"I'm thinking," said Wes, "That Jackie would probably like to see you around then too. You think you'd like us to pop by for a visit?"

Brows risen, Picard looked genuinely surprised, until an expression of relief and joy fluttered onto his face.

"That would be wonderful."

"Well, I'll suggest it to Eleanor next time I see her." Looking about him, Wesley sighed. "I better get back. I don't want to test the boundaries of Captain Levine's trust."

Picard smiled, standing with Wesley.

"It has been good to see you again, Wesley."

Sometimes there are a flood of feelings that two people can exchange with a look. For Wesley, there were so many things he wanted to communicate. His grief and sadness about Data, his gratitude and relief that he had someone like Picard to talk to in such times. And there was an indescribable affection for a man that had filled a great space in his life, one that he knew his father would have approved of. In all of Wesley's life, Picard was both a mentor and a friend. The soft look he gave the older man spoke volumes. It said, "Thank you for understanding me and guiding me." It also said, "Without you I would be lost."

He said none of those things, however. Taking Picard's hand and shaking it, he merely gave a sad smile and said:

"You too, Captain."

~~*~~

Wesley got back to his post in time. He fell to bed, exhausted, the memory of his wife's kisses on his lips, his son's love in his heart, and his Captain's wisdom in his mind. It all served to comfort him, for there was a new hole in his heart. It was for a brother and comrade, someone he'd always assumed would be there for ever and live on through the lives of all around him.

He knew Data would have loathed him to be morose in such a circumstance. So he made a simple promise in the memory of one of his dearest friends.

That next day and each day on he would live fully, vigourously, with tenacity and love of life. He would make the most of the days that Data would not have.

And from time to time, he'd remember him.

Comments

[nykohl.livejournal.com]

I...miss...Data. Nice.

[logansrogue.livejournal.com]

Thanks :)