The BLTS Archive - Retour (Return) Eighth in the Blackbird series by Cavalaxis (cavalaxis@hotmail.com) --- (c)12/06/1999 Reading Suggestions: Chopin Disclaimer: Paramount owns Star Trek. All of it. I claim no profit. I do claim the story. Archive: Yes. Feedback, s'il vous plait --- "I don't know, Will. This is out of character for him. I can't believe that he went with her, uninformed, into one of the roughest places in this solar system." "Beverly, I have an admiral breathing down my back. I am told that I have a convicted criminal in custody and that I should turn her over to Federation Intelligence immediately. I can't stall much longer. And all she can do in her defense is stare blankly at the wall and say that she'd like access to a uniform replicator before she's transported." Beverly could understand the confusion. She had never seen Picard act this way before. But she trusted his judgement. "He would be dead right now if it wasn't for her." The words hung in the air between them. ~~~ Awaking from a fever always seems to be like waking from the dead. The air is sweet. The sheets of the biobed are cool against my skin. She must have been alerted by the computer. Even the blue of her coat is comforting to my eyes. I try to sit up but I am too weak. Where is Leila? "Jean-Luc, you mustn't try to get up too quickly. You've been down for two days." Two days? No wonder the nightmares still lurk about my memories. I manage to reach a sitting position and indicate to Beverly that I'd like something to drink. "Cold." I manage to convey in a croak. "Of course." She returns with a pitcher and a glass. Water. I drink and my eyes sink shut. Where did the dream end and reality begin? I remember the scent of cardamom. I remember the tears on her cheek. Where is my blackbird now? "Where is..." My voice fails me. "Your friend? Languishing in the brig. She refuses to identify herself and Starfleet Intelligence is calling for her head on a platter." She perches on the side of my bed. "Something about the attempted kidnapping and assassination of a Starfleet captain." "What?" I manage to look incredulous. "Yes, regardless of the fact that she contacted the Enterprise and brought you back to your shuttle. They insist that she is a terrorist, a member of radical organization bent on destroying anyone who has ever been in close contact with the Borg, lest they fall victim to the silent nanotech war of assimilation." Her skepticism is obvious. I find my voice again. "Bollocks!" The expletive is sufficiently forceful enough to garner a raised eyebrow. Despite my weakness, I swing my legs over the edge of the bed and reach for my uniform. "Jean-Luc, let's not have this argument again. Will is handling everything. The Admiral..." "The Admiral? Which admiral?!" Perhaps a bit too forceful, but she doesn't realize that a life is at stake here. Leila's. I lean against a chair and begin to dress, oblivious to everything else. My mind races. I must find a way to protect her. "Admiral Jacobson, Starfleet Intelligence. You're not fit for duty." She gives me her best school marm look and I watch it wither in her eyes. Guinan calls it my battle mask. It only comes out when things are truly dire. In a few moments, I am buttoning my tunic. I tap my communicator. "Picard to Riker." "Riker here. Captain! You're awake!" No small relief on his part. "Commander, meet me in my ready room in a quarter of an hour. I want a full briefing on the situation as it stands." "Yes, sir. Shall I bring Admiral Jacobson as well?" The question was intended to indicate to me that the Admiral was in the same room with my XO. "No. Picard out." I look to my CMO and she starts to protest. "The Brig?" She nods silently and falls in step behind me as I stride out into the corridor. The weakness has left me now, although my pallor must be frightening, judging by the glances I'm getting in the corridor. "Captain, I repeat, you are not fit for duty." "Doctor, are you relieving me?" I reply, my steps not slowing at all. I can feel the blood returning to my limbs as I move. "No, but I don't think that..." She takes a double- step, trying to keep up with me. "If you're not relieving me of duty, then this conversation is over until further notice." My tone brooks no discussion. "Yes, sir." She starts to fall back. "Doctor, I may need your assistance. Please join me." What awaits me I have no idea, but it seems to take an eternity to travel from sickbay to security. Sanity is screaming at me to run, but this must be done right if I am to ever... The thought dies before it is finished. She thought only of me, now I must think only of her. --- The guard on duty apologizes to me, but he felt that allowing her to don her uniform did not pose any significant security threat. I agree and am startled into silence as we enter the brig proper. She is sitting on a bench, dressed in black from head to foot. Starfleet Intelligence. The visual slams that information home. And then I count the pips on her collar. Flat black, not gold like my own. And that is where the difference ends. She is staring at the wall, her face passive, her eyes unfocused. At the sound of our footsteps, her head turns slightly, but her gaze does not meet mine. A part of my heart dies as I wait for her to look at me. "The prisoner will attend. Captain on deck." The security officer on duty snaps to attention. "At ease, Lieutenant. Deactivate the force field, if you would." She is visibly shaken by the sound of my voice, but still her eyes refuse mine. As I pass over the threshold, my voice is a whisper, "Khephera?" She rises, tenuously, and turns to face me. "You're alright." There is a wetness on her face and it is all I can do not to gather her to me. My hand reaches out to brush her cheek. She jumps at the touch and realization crushes my chest. She is blind. --- ~File Terminate~