"Picard and Wesley"

“But Jean-Luc,” Dr. Beverly Crusher persisted, “it’s important that the two of you bond!”

As he took long strides down one of the Enterprise’s lengthy corridors, Captain Jean-Luc Picard tried to pay Beverly no heed. Perhaps the Borg were right, though. Resistance was proving to be incredibly futile. “I won’t do it, Beverly,” he called over his shoulder. “I won’t spend the day with Wesley!”

“Would you rather spend the day with my little boy, Picard?” a flamboyant voice asked.

Picard managed to skid to a screeching stop before he smashed into Q. Was he and Beverly in cahoots?

“Go on, Picard,” Q said sardonically. “Do the right thing for once.” With a snap of the man’s — er Q’s — fingers, Picard found himself sitting at a table in the mess hall, across from the most annoying, insolent, and immature child Picard had ever known to have set foot on his ship: Wesley Crusher.

“Hi,” Wesley said nonchalantly as he took long sip from a huge glass of sodapop.

Picard began spluttering indignantly, but before he could come up with anything coherent, Deanna approached them.

“Captain,” she said, “how nice that you’ve taken up Beverly’s suggestion.” She set two hot fudge sundaes down on the table.

Picard scowled. That woman was a telepath. Wasn’t it obvious to her that he didn’t want to be here?

“I know you don’t want to be here,” Deanna whispered, lowering her voice so that Wesley (hopefully) wouldn’t hear. “But you’re doing the right thing. I know so.”

Picard’s eyes drifted over to the bar, where Guinan had just pointed them out to a frazzled-looking Beverly.

“Oh, there you are!” she said breathlessly, appraising their table approvingly. “I was wondering where Q had sent you.” She smiled at Wesley. “Now, I’d best leave the two of you alone now. I’ll be back at sick bay, so you just go ahead and … talk about whatever you guys talk about.”

Picard pushed back his chair and, waving his arms and stomping his foot, exclaimed most vehemently, “NO!”

Beverly just smirked before tapping her comm badge and saying, “Beam me up, Mr. O’Brien. I can’t be late for Molly’s check-up.” She promptly dematerialized into thin air, leaving Picard at the mercy of his future stepson.

“So, um, Captain Picard,” Wesley began awkwardly. Picard was already beginning to picture him in full military garb. That’s where he’d go after the wedding.

Picard cleared his throat before responding, “You don’t have to call me that today, Wesley.”

“Alright, er, Jean-Luc. I was wondering, do you like football–”

“YOU MUST NEVER ADDRESS YOUR COMMANDING OFFICER BY HIS FIRST NAME!!!” In his anger, Picard had knocked his already melted sundae all over his uniform top. He’d just about had it with this boy!

“Okay sir,” Wesley stammered. “Is ‘sir’ alright?”

Picard took a deep breath. “Yes.”

* * * *

“How was it?” Riker whispered when Picard returned to the bridge three hours later.

“Horrible, Number One. Absolutely horrible.”

Absolutely horrible. Two words that excellently summed up a day of attending to dry-clean-only uniforms getting into the washing machine, football in the holo-deck, trying to get out of the holo-deck when all the hologram fans abmushed him for being such a bad player, attending to holographic (but eerily realistic) bruises, and cleaning up his quarters after Data’s cat got in and knocked over a huge pot of Earl Grey tea….

Riker chuckled. “You’d better turn in early, Captain. I’ll take good care of the Enterprise, don’t worry.” He smiled reassuringly.

On an ordinary day, Picard would have been worried sick, but as of today, he’d seen worse. A slight malfunction made worse by Riker being too busy cracking jokes to Deanna instead of paying attention to Worf’s persistent notifications seemed like nothing in comparison to what he’d been through today. Without a word, he stalked off the bridge.

“Good night, Captain,” the bridge crew wished him as the lift doors closed.

In his room, Picard ate a piece of chocolate cake and drank a cup of tea to his favorite classical music piece before changing into his pajamas and getting under the covers. He was asleep before his bald, shiny head even hit the pillow.

* * * *

“Captain! Captain!” Picard opened his eyes to see Commander Riker shaking him awake.

“What is it, Number One?” Picard muttered groggily.

The look on Riker’s panicked face said it all. “Sir, there’s been an attack by the Cardassians. You must come quickly!”

In his bedraggled state, it took Picard a moment to grasp the severity of the situation. “You mean that 21st century reality TV show Deanna was watching last week?”

“No!” Riker exclaimed impatiently. “The Cardassians — those ugly-faced spoon heads!”

“You mean Worf?”

“No! Just come on!”

Picard allowed himself to be dragged onto the bridge, still in his pajamas. “Status report, Mr. Worf.”

“We’ve sustained major hull damage. Initiating a saucer separation would be unwise,” the Klingon stated.

“What do we do then?” Picard demanded.

Data the android stood up. “My calculations suggest that the ship will explode in approximately ten minutes’ time.”

“We have to get out of here!” Deanna cried.

“Duh,” Picard retorted, rolling his tired eyes dramatically. “Everyone to the escape pods!”

Riker tapped his comm badge. “Mr. LaForge, what’s going on down there?”

“The warp core’s been breached, Commander. We’re gonna blow!”

“Geordi, get out of there!” Picard hollered. “We’re headed to the escape pods!”

All decks of the ship was in complete chaos. Men, women, and even children (how did they get on board?!) flooded the corridors in search of any means of escape.

“Jean-Luc!” Beverly exclaimed, pushing through the crowd. “I’ve got my patients all ready to go, but where’s my baby?!”

“Your baby?” Picard repeated incredulously.

“Yes! Wesley! My baby boy!”

Picard told her he did not know and rushed off before she could beg him to search for the boy.

“Captain, in here!” Riker shouted from behind him, shoving Picard into an empty pod.

“But Number One–”

Riker winked. “I’m taking care of this. Technically, you’re still off duty.” With that, he shut the door.

A computer voice that sounded coincidentally like Deanna’s mother Luxwana announced that the pod was now ejecting from the ship.

Picard sighed. He’d most likely drift around in space until another Starfleet space vessel came to pick everyone up. He felt bad for the others, who were most likely crammed into full pods with other hysterical passengers. He wondered why Will had sent him out on his own.

“Sir?” he heard a hesitant voice say from behind him.

Picard whirled around to see the last person he ever wanted to see again in his entire life. “WESLEY?!”

* * * *

“Captain! Captain! Are you okay?”

Picard awoke to find himself in his own bed, being shaken awake by none other than Will Riker, Deanna, Worf, Data, Geordi, and Dr. Crusher. “What are you doing here?” he demanded, throwing the robe that was offered to him on over his PJ’s.

“We could hear you screaming from all the way up in the bridge,” Beverly said gently. “You sounded like you were having a nightmare.”

“Yes, I suppose I was,” Picard muttered, embarrassed. “At least it was just a dream.”