DISCLAIMER: The Star Trek characters
are the property of Paramount Studios, Inc and Viacom. The story contents are the
creation and property of Djinn and are copyright (c) 2023 by Djinn. This story
is Rated PG-13.
Closure
by Djinn
There's
a little cafe where I spend my day, and I wait and I wait and I wait. There's a
bar by the sea, where I wait to see, if you'll stay, if you'll stay, if you'll
stay.
Poetic,
I admit. I'm working on my verse. Nothing else to do here when I'm off duty.
Oh
wait, I'm not on Chaltok IV. I'm not waiting for a
man I probably knew deep down would never come find me.
Did
you really think I would just sit and...pine? Is that
what you think of me? Is that all you think I am?
I
was Tal Shiar. To be honest, no one who was Tal Shiar ever stops being it. So
let's start again.
I
am Tal Shiar. If a man fails to show up at a bar on Chaltok IV—no matter how lovely it is there—I don't just
sit around waiting.
I
go find him.
I
fully expected him to die on this mission. But he didn't.
I
fully expected Crusher to die from the wounds she so clearly was suffering from
on her communication. But she didn't.
Given
that they both survived, I fully expected to find them together.
And
I did.
I've
been following them around San Francisco for a week. I've always been good at
this; they have no idea I'm here. I expected this too. Jean-Luc can be lazy
when it comes to security.
She,
on the other hand, has clearly spent those twenty years away from him on the
run. She looks around too often to have lived in safety. She sits with her back
to a corner of a cafe while he blithely turns his to the door.
I
might like her, in some other life. After watching her for a week, I do respect
her.
I
didn't expect that.
What
I also didn't expect was to find them with their son.
He
even looks like the two of them melded together. He's got a lightness that is Jean-Luc
on his best days, after perhaps too many glasses of his own wine. But he also
chooses his chair wisely as if safety is paramount.
Jean-Luc
looks happy. As if an adult child can fix all the things that were wrong
between Crusher and him. Although, to be fair—and I am that—he and she never
interacted after he confronted his past, after he made peace with abuse and
abandonment.
And
I'm wise enough to know that I would never have been in his bed if he had. And
if he'd known where to find her.
Instead
of choosing me as a substitute.
I
didn't know at the time I was a substitute. I would never have settled for
that. I thought...I thought it was love. That it would endure.
That
I would give him the new adventure he said he craved.
I
was a fool. But from the cautious look of Crusher as she interacts with him,
she too has been a fool for this man. She looks every bit a woman in love. She
also looks like she has her bags packed for when this love affair inevitably
falls apart. Again.
I
don't know if I hope for her sake it does or doesn't.
It won't make any difference to me.
I
come first or not at all.
He
could woo me from here to the rose forests of Falla
VII and I would still say no.
This
is my last day to do this. The last cafe I will sit in while watching them.
I
know there is a difference between satisfying curiosity and obsession. Between
seeking closure and seeking revenge. I will leave before my thoughts turn too
dark.
Oh,
you think I'm not capable of that? That love would stay my hand?
When
will you understand? I was Tal Shiar. Just because
you only ever saw my viciousness used in service to Jean-Luc Picard does not
mean it could not be a glorious weapon of revenge if I were in the mood to
cause chaos.
But
I am not. I haven't the energy for it.
They
get up and I dip my head down, appear to any looking my way that I am
enthralled by the book I have brought with me but haven't read a word of. There
are so many brunettes on this world that Jean Luc will not notice me.
I
feel his step through the threshold like a knife in my heart.
Why
couldn't he have recognized me? A man who loves would have.
I
turn to get up and see her standing behind me, leaning against the wall of the
cafe, arms crossed.
How
in the hell did she sneak up behind me?
"He
has pictures of you in the house," she says, her voice more pleasant than
the one I heard on the distress call.
The
part of me that is angry wants to let loose, wants to pummel her into the wall,
out the door, to lie at his feet. To say, "See. See what happens when you
treat me so dishonorably?"
But
she moves to take the chair across from me, letting me keep the corner, giving
her back to the room. A gift—from one dangerous woman to another.
"He
had none of you."
"I
know." She studies me and I give her the same examination back. She will
not win this if it turns into a battle of eyes, of who can stare longer. Then
something breaks on her face. "Did he contact you at all? Tell you what
happened?"
"Why
would he contact me? I was his servant."
"You
were more and I know because I've seen the expression
you're wearing now for the last twenty years when I looked in a mirror." I
see the caution in her again. The...fear.
She
wants him to have made this right. To have treated me well. To have acted with
love and consideration and some basic human emotion.
She
wants that so she can have faith in him to be good to her.
At
last a revenge that will only hurt him. "He did
not."
She
closes her eyes, but her mouth doesn't turn down, her brows don't knit—she is
not surprised. "I'm sorry."
"But
it's what you expected, isn't it?"
She
shrugs in the most beautifully ambiguous way.
"Are
you happy?" I will give her this. The opportunity to drive the dagger
deeper into me and claim something good for herself.
"We're
a family."
"That
is not an answer." I respect her more for it though. Both because it is
the truth but also because she could have lied and hurt me and chose not to.
"It
is the only answer I can give." She meets my eyes and it is I who looks
away first—I have seen her expression also in my mirror. "I'm sorry, Laris."
"Do
not be. This was a reminder to guard one's heart around sharks."
"He
is not a shark. Sharks have too much intention. He wounds without a
thought."
I
don't expect this from her. She isn't trying to hide a pain that she clearly
has hidden from her son and Jean-Luc. "I'm sorry then for you, Beverly
Crusher. Or is it Picard now?"
"No.
It never will be. I love him but I'll never fully..."
"Trust
him. I understand. Believe me." Under different circumstances she is the
type of woman I would very much want to be friends with.
"But
he loves his son."
"Yes,
because he is a novelty. Give it time." Bitterness spews out from my words
and I regret them immediately.
She
seems unfazed by my vitriol. "Jack will be on a ship. Out of reach."
Her smile could be Tal Shiar. "He will never get
enough of him."
My
smile is also Tal Shiar. "You understand him
much better than I ever did."
"I
understand him better than anyone." She pushes her chair out. "If you
ever need us, we're at your disposal."
"I
don't think he would say that."
"Then
if you ever need me, I'm at your disposal."
"Thank
you. I expected to dislike you."
"Ditto.
But we're sisters of a sort. Linked by him."
"A
rather unpleasant collective." I use the word on purpose.
She
doesn't flinch. "Yes. Yes it is."
FIN