194 195

others back toward the sorted piles of presents. Smiling at the scene, Elise stepped beside the arm of his chair.

‘Tll go get dinner ready. They’ll be starving in a minute.” She turned, then swiveled her head to speak over her shoulder. “Besides, Robert and the others are due any second.” Picard glanced up sharply. “Robert… ?”

She gave him a mildly curious look. “Of course. It wouldn’t be Christmas without one of your brother’s famous buche de Noels.”

Sudden tears stung his eyes; he blinked them back, swallowed hard, found his voice. His heartbeat quick-ened with abrupt anticipation. “And Ren~. Will he and…” He paused, marveling at the memories that came from some mysterious place outside his own recollection. “… Katya be coming?”

Yes, Katya. That was her name; a tall, red-haired young woman with striking Asian features. He had attended their wedding two years before; Mimi had been flower girl.

“Of course. Marie says they have a surprise they’ll be sharing with us.”

Mimi glanced up from the mound of shredded Christmas wrapping at her feet. “A surprise? More presents?”

Elise directed a grin at her daughter. “Oh, they’ll bring presents, young lady, don’t you worry. But the surprise… I’m afraid you’ll have another eight months or so before you get to play with that one.” She shot Picard a knowing smile and wink before leaving.

He settled back into his chair and watched the children playing with their new toys. The pleasure was intoxicating; he wanted nothing more than to sit and

196

revel in this scene for the rest of eternity. Everything his gaze rested on brought delight; there was Mimi enjoying the interactive handheld encyclopedia he had chosen for her, and wrapped with care. There, too, beneath the tree was the tiny gold-foil box Elise had not yet discovered, the one he would present to her tonight after the children were asleep, the one that contained his grandmother’s heirloom diamond pendant.

And the sparkling treemeach ornament hanging there had a history of its own. There were many priceless antique decorations from his parents’ tree; Robert had finally been coaxed into parting with a few, he could see. He smiled at the reminders of his boyhood. There was the old-fashioned silvered-glass Papa Noel, with the same small chunk that had been missing from his nose ever since nine-year-old Robert had, in his excitement to get to his presents, inadvertently toppled the tree. And there were Maman’s white doves, made from real feath-ers, with holly sprigs in their beaks. And there…

He blinked and leaned forward to better see an ornament near the top of the tree, one he did not recognize. It was a hollow glass ball, lit internally by what appeared to be a tiny star in its center. As he watched, the tiny star flickered, dimmed, then darkened altogether, radiating a wave of shimmering light outward. Picard stiflened in his chair.

The shock wave. He was safe now, but somewhere, the Veridian star had been destroyed, and hundreds of millions had died in the resulting shock wave. Perhaps even those aboard the Enterprise.

197

The thought so disrupted the tranquil joy of his surroundings that it seemed unbearable. To escape, he rose and walked over to a nearby window. Outside, snow fell steadily, quietly, from a leaden sky, blanketing the French countryside in white. He let the sight soothe him for a time.

And then his eye caught sight of it again, reflected in the windowpane: the dying star inside the glass sphere.

He could not escape it. As much as he wanted to merge again with the sense of utter belonging, utter happiness, he could not ignore the fact that it had been purchased with blood.

Two hundred thirty million lives—because he had failed to stop Soran.

“No,” he said, to the seductive tug that pulled him back toward the children, toward joy. “This isn’t right. This can’t be real …. ” “It’s as real as you want it to be.”

He started at the sound of a voice—a truly familiar voice, one he had known from another reality. He wheeled and saw Guinan, looking much as she had the day he had questioned her about Soran.

“Guinan… what’s going on? Where am I?” It had occurred to him that this was a strange mental state induced by dying… but he was not dead. His flesh seemed to him perfectly solid.

Her answer was the one he expected. “You’re in the nexus.”

“This…” He swept his gaze over the family room. “… is the nexus?” “For you,” she said. “This is where you wanted to be.”

He shook his head. “But I never had a wife, children, a home like this …. “

A knowing smile spread across her lips. “Enjoy them, Jean-Luc.”

“Guinan…” He frowned at a sudden realization as the memory of his former life came flooding back. “What are you doing here? I thought you were on the Enterprise.”

“I am on the Enterprise. I am also here.” At his puzzled look, her smile widened. “Think of me as… an echo of the person you know. A part of her she left behind.” “Left behind… ?”

“When the Enterprise-B beamed us off the Lakul, we were partially in the nexus. The transporters locked on to us… but somehow everyone left a part of themselves behind.” “Soran… ?” Picard asked. “All of us,” she said softly. “Where is he now?” “Wherever he wanted to be ….” “Papa!”

Picard turned at the sound of Thomas’s voice. The boy was constructing a building out of small interlocking blocks—a toy his father had played with for many happy hours as a child. “Papa, help me build my castle.”

He sighed, tempted to return to the fantasy’s warm embrace, but gathered himself. “In a few minutes,” he said, smiling at his son.

He turned back to Guinan and said, awed, “These are my children. My children…”

She eyed them fondly. “Yeah. They’re great, aren’t they? You can go back and see them born… go forward and see your grandchildren. Time has no meaning here.” Elise poked her head in the room, then disappeared