This is a departure from my regular style, sort of an experiment. This is an "alternate ending" to First Contact, told from the Picard/Crusher point of view. What might have happened if the Enterprise-E had been destroyed?

She sat alone as the twilight gathered, bringing a light breeze that rustled the leaves and the young grape vines. A full cup of tea sat waiting on the small table next to her chair, long cooled, long forgotten.

She sat and watched the shadows lengthen and as they steadily approached her with dark reaching fingers, they brought with them the whispering memories, the memories that always accompanied the twilight. She reached out an old quivering hand, beckoning, impatient, ready to slip once again into the past.

As the courier of night climbed the porch steps, she sighed and closed her eyes - brilliant eyes of crystalline sapphire that still shone with cool fire even though the face around them was lined and world weary. She smiled and nodded as the shadows whispered to her, the nightly ritual begun.

Whispers ...

... So much for the Enterprise E ...

... We barely knew her ...

... Think they'll build another one? ...

... Plenty of letters left in the alphabet ...

< a kiss brushing across her hair >

... Get to your escape pod, Doctor ...

... Aye, Captain. Are you coming? ...

... I'll be right there ...

< a smile, a gentle squeeze of her hand >

... I'll save you a spot ...

The Borg had been defeated but at great cost. The Enterprise was gone, taking Data with her and, most gravely, the life that the crew had known. They were now shipwrecked, lost in a century that they knew only from their history books with no means of ever returning. They began their new lives in this strange new world on a small uninhabited Pacific island with nothing but a few anachronistic pieces of machinery they'd managed to bring with them.

The odds of survival seemed almost insurmountable, but these were Starfleet officers, ingrained with the will and the ability to do what it took to beat the odds. And leading them, a man who had become a legend in his own time, a time that was now three hundred years in the future.

Jean-Luc Picard confronted the difficulties before him with the same perseverance and foresight that he'd always possessed. He was single-minded in his determination that the colony would not fail, aided in his efforts by Worf, his former security chief, whose Klingon heritage was invaluable help.

His greatest helpmate, however, was Beverly. Her medical skills were essential to the survival of the colonists but for Jean-Luc, her quiet - and sometimes not so quiet - support was more helpful than anything else. Their friendship had weathered many storms and this latest tempest had begun to bring them even closer than they had ever been. They were no longer separated by the invisible barriers of office and protocol and, as they joined together as leaders, their hearts finally joined, making them one as destiny had always intended.

... Watching the stars again, Jean-Luc? ...

< silence, the leaves and wind replying instead >

... It's late. You should go to bed ...

< she turns to leave >

... Beverly ...

... Yes? ...

... I'm so tired ...

< she takes his hand, so fragile >

... Sometimes I wonder if I did the right thing. I mean, what have I done? My crew - they're putting on a brave face but I wonder if they wouldn't have rather gone down with the ship instead of spending the rest of their lives here ...

... Jean-Luc, you did what you had to do. They knew the risks and what was in store. There's no question of their confidence in your decision ...

< a small smile, increasing the lines that have deepened even more in the last weeks >

... I didn't give them a choice, though, did I? ...

... And what choice would that have been? Jean-Luc, stop this - you can't relive the past, and you know it ...

< a wry smile from them both, realizing what she's just said >

... Go to bed. It's late ...

< his hand, reaching out, stopping her exit as his words stop her heart >

... Come with me ...

... What? ...

< his hands, strong again, caressing, their touch like fire as they frame her face, sliding down her neck, tightening into her shoulders >

... Be with me, stay with me, forever ...

... Is that what you really want? ...

< the wind sighs as he brings his lips to hers >

... Only if it's what you want ...

< another kiss, sweeter, deeper >

... Yes ...

< no more words >

Six months passed, then a year, and the colony managed to survive, even thrived. They took their strength and guidance from their former captain and CMO, now known simply as the Picards, their Starfleet titles slowly fading into a memory. When the couple exchanged their vows before them all, it was a confirmation of a hope - that there was still a future in store for them all, perhaps even a happy one.

Another six months and then a disturbing development - despite all precautions, Beverly managed to break the most important rule she had set for all the colonists - she became pregnant. Everyone had agreed that there could be no children born, that a birth could disturb the time stream. Agonizing over the decision, Beverly decided not to tell Jean-Luc, intending to terminate the pregnancy without his knowledge.

And then, the visitors came from the skies. With first contact with the Vulcans finally ending all conflict once and for all, the people of Earth had turned their attention to healing their wounded planet and, in so doing, had stumbled upon the tiny island and found signs of habitation. Knowing that trying to hide would only cause their "rescuers" to search for the inhabitants, most of the colonists stayed to be found, a fourth of their numbers staying hidden. Among these who chose to stay was Worf, whose presence amongst the others could not be explained without divulging the colonists' true origins. So the "former Eastern Coalition prisoners" were now freed, set loose into a world even stranger than the one that had been their home for the last year and a half.

The Picards chose to leave and found themselves living in San Francisco. It was a turbulent and sometimes frightening world they were thrust into, and oftentimes they wished they could return to the peace of their island. At the same time, however, they were constantly fascinated as they watched history unfold before them, seeing sometimes firsthand events that they had only read about and could have never imagined actually experiencing. They both found jobs where they could use their specialties, Beverly in the medical profession, Jean-Luc finding a position in the archaeology department of the nearest university, one that had finally reopened its doors after the war. They kept as low a profile as they could, trying their best not to do anything that might possibly impact the natural progression of time.

There was, however, one matter that, with the distraction of their "rescue" and subsequent resettlement, they had failed to attend to and when they did finally turn their attention to it, the matter had progressed past the point of changing its natural course.

... Oh God! I don't remember it hurting this much ...

... You're doing fine, Beverly. Just keep it up ...

... That's easy for you to say, Jean-Luc! Oh shit ...

< his hand gripping hers, her own hand squeezing his so tight >

< the doctor's voice calm amidst the squeezing and burning and sweat >

... One more push, it's almost here. I can see the crown ...

... Come on, Beverly, you can do it ...

< pain and fire, every muscle burning with exertion, then exquisite, soul cleansing relief>

... There it is! ...

< a new voice, crying with growing strength and indignance >

... What is it? ...

< his face, blurred through weary tears, smiling, eyes shining, leaning in to breathe a kiss on her cheek >

... It's a boy, my love ...

< happiness, overwhelming joy, love overflowing with the tears >

... I love you, Beverly. Thank you ...

< a tiny face, calming in his mother's arms, tiny wondering eyes fixed on hers, crown of golden red >

... Oh Jean-Luc, he's beautiful! ...

... As are you, ma couer ...

They had never known that they could be as happy as they were after John's birth. He was the completion of their hope, incontrovertible proof that, with every loss, something wonderful could still be gained.

The years passed and John - who was known as "Jack" from the very beginning - grew into a young man, possessing his mother's passion and fire and his father's wisdom and clarity of thought. His artistic tendencies were evident early on and his doting parents allowed him free reign in exploring his talents. His musical abilities were extraordinary, almost at prodigy level and at age fourteen, he began writing his own original compositions. When he finished the required schooling, he told his parents that he had decided to move to New York where he planned to concentrate on composing full-time, surrounded by the newly revived artistic community there.

With aching and uncertain hearts, Beverly and Jean-Luc bid their only child good-bye. It was hard to let go, but they knew they must, knowing that Jack's future was now his own, that he would have to shape it for himself.

With the nest now empty, the two of them now found themselves recalling the past that now seemed both distant and near. It had been twenty years since fate had dropped them into their new lives, and with Jack on the other side of the continent and no longer a part of every day, the memories rose more often and more vibrantly than they had before. They found themselves wondering what had happened to their crewmates, wondering where Geordi, Deanna and Will were, whether they had managed, like they had, to build a life here. Beverly often caught herself scanning crowds for a glimpse of her old friends, knowing deep inside that she would never know what course their lives had taken. Sometimes Jean-Luc and Beverly would sit for hours without speaking, neither needing to tell the other what they were thinking, both fully aware that their thoughts were traveling the same path.

Two years went by quickly. Jack visited as often as he could, the reunions joyous ones, and eagerly anticipated by all. He was doing well, his work being received with great acclaim by the musical community. His parents rejoiced in his success and apparent happiness.

Three days after one Christmas, he left earlier than either wanted him to but he had a performance to give on New Year's Eve and needed time to prepare. They waved good-bye from the porch as he left in the shuttle. It was the last time they would see him.

... Jean-Luc! Oh God, Jean-Luc, wake up! ...

... What? Beverly, what is it? ...

< pain >

... No, no! ...

... What is it?! Beverly! ...

... Jack, oh God! Jack's dead! ...

... What? What are you talking about? What's happened? ...

< pain >

... There was an accident, a riot, something - he's dead, Jean-Luc!!! ...

< he leaves the bed, runs to the viewscreen, an anonymous face peers out >

... Mr. Picard? ...

< whispering pain >

... Yes? ...

... My name is Officer Daniel Ronquille. I regret to inform you that your son, John Picard, was killed in a riot outside the United States embassy ...

< wordless pain >

... Riot? ...

... Yes sir, a group of people protesting the Vulcan presence here apparently got out of hand and a riot ensued. I'm afraid that your son got caught up in it, an innocent bystander by all indications. Thirty four others were killed too. I'm very sorry, Mr. Picard, for your loss. I'm afraid that we'll need you to come immediately and make arrangements ...

... Yes. Yes, of course ...

< no no no no no >

< embracing, desperate embraces, tears still within, shocked and frozen >

... We have to leave, Beverly ...

... Yes. Just give me a minute to get ready ...

< his arms releasing her, wanting them to stay >

< frozen pain >

Jack's death shattered them, and they both wondered if they could ever be whole again. The atrocity of his death, the snuffing out of something so precious, brought back all the what ifs that they had thought buried away forever. Each of them blamed themselves for what had happened - Jean-Luc brooding about the consequences of his twenty-year old decision, Beverly telling herself irrationally that the pain could have been avoided if Jack had never even been born. They began to drift apart - Beverly began spending more and more time at the medical center, Jean-Luc found more and more reasons to stay at one dig or another. Their daily lives fell into routine as they kept their mutual pain hidden, refusing to acknowledge the most obvious solution of seeking solace in each other.

And then, the past returned and provided the healing that was needed. Jean-Luc had been asked to travel with a group of other archaeological experts to Europe to oversee an excavation. At the last minute, feeling a bit guilty, he asked Beverly to accompany him. She surprised both of them by agreeing to go.

They hadn't planned it, but somehow they had ended up standing at the crest of a small hill at LaBarre, France looking down at an abandoned, unkempt vineyard. Beverly could feel the stirrings of something she hadn't felt in a long time, a reawakening, as she watched her husband's face as he gazed out over his ancestral home and saw the renewal of his spirit reflected there. They both knew then, that once more, destiny was giving them another chance.

The temporal consequences ignored, the Picards settled into their new home and began the reconstruction of the vineyard and their lives. Although they could never replace the loss of their child, life had to go on and as time passed and muted the pain, they once more found that part of each other that had drawn them together in the beginning.

They spent the next ten years rebuilding the old vineyard, working together to create something that they both knew would outlive them for generations. They hired young men and women from the village to help them as they were both getting too old to do most of the strenuous work anymore - Beverly was now in her late seventies, Jean-Luc nearing the century mark. One day, a young man appeared on their doorstep, stating that he was interested in becoming a vintner and desired employment, adding that, although he was inexperienced, he was eager to learn the trade. Jean-Luc had decided to deny the young man's request, his reasons being that there were no openings, but changed his mind on hearing the man's name - Jacques Picard. An awe-filled glance at his nodding wife confirmed his decision, and Jean-Luc gave his unknown-number-of-greats-grandfather the answer the grateful young man desired.

The Picard business prospered, Jacques proving his abilities and zeal so well that the Picards turned over most of the vineyards administration to him. They were able to relax and enjoy the twilight of their years together, untroubled by the everyday stresses inherent in any business. The shared pain of the losses they'd experienced diminished with the passing years as their love continued to grow even more, binding them closer, making them truly one soul and one heart.

One morning, as the sun rose over the newly flowering vines, Jean-Luc didn't awaken. Beverly laid half of her heart to rest on the small hill where they'd first stood so many years before, overlooking the promise of a new beginning. After the funeral, she went into her room and stayed there for a week, receiving no one, opening her door only to take the trays of food that her worried employees prepared. When she finally emerged, she sent for Jacques and told him that she was giving him the vineyard, that she knew that he would take care of it the way that Jean-Luc would have wanted and that all she asked was that he never sell it - that it must always remain in the care of the Family Picard. After Jacques' solemn agreement, Beverly took one more stroll about the land, then boarded a shuttle and left LaBarre forever.

The colony on Gravette Island was still there, the outside world having shown no more interest in the place after evacuating most of its population. The colony had grown over the last thirty-five years and Beverly tearfully greeted her old friend Worf, who was just as strong and imposing as he'd always been, although the years and seven grandchildren had softened him somewhat. She set up house in a tiny cottage close to Worf's family home, her first chore planting a tiny grapevine outside her bedroom window. Worf's wife told Beverly that the vine wouldn't survive in the climate but in typical Howard fashion, Beverly refused to listen, intent on nurturing this fragile plant - the only tangible memory she had of the life she'd shared with her greatest and dearest love.

And so the days and weeks passed slowly. Beverly was treated reverently by the population, visited often by those whom she'd once served with on the Enterprise a lifetime ago. When it was just her and her former shipmates together, they would often reminisce about those days, never once expressing any regrets, always happy in their recollections of the old days. There was usually a palpable sense of poignancy whenever Jean-Luc was mentioned but Beverly wouldn't allow the others to change the subject when his memory was invoked. Somehow, it made his presence almost real.

She sat alone as the twilight gathered. A full cup of tea sat, long cooled, long forgotten. Her eyes were closed and her chest rose slightly with each shallow breath.

"Jean-Luc," she whispered as the sounds of the encroaching night faded away.

She opened her eyes and looked down at the shadows lying still across her lap.

"Beverly ..." The vines rustled.

She looked up and the shadows shifted, swirling into a form, a beautiful oh so precious form. A hand reached out from the darkness as the blackness took shape, coalescing, becoming solid.

He smiled at her and she smiled at him. She took that strong hand in hers and rose. Hand in hand, they walked out past the grapevines and into the shadows.

On the newly commissioned Enterprise E, Beverly Crusher sat in her quarters, listening to music, waiting for her old friend Jean-Luc Picard to arrive for breakfast.

When the door chimed, she told him to come in.

"Good morning, Beverly."

"Good morning to you, Jean-Luc."

He cocked his head, listening. "I'm not familiar with that music. What is it?"

"Something I found in the music library. It caught my attention so I thought I'd listen to it."

"It's quite beautiful."

"Yes, I thought so too. I'm glad I found it. You know why I decided to listen to it?"

He shook his head.

She handed a padd to him. "Look."

He read the small screen silently. "John Picard?"

She smiled. "Yes. An ancestor of yours maybe?"

He returned the smile as he handed the padd back to her. "No, I don't think so."

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