#Last time I did a random song shuffle like this... Legends say my friends may still be laughing about it to this day

[mrsmithereens]

♾️!!!

"Seal my heart and break my pride I've nowhere to stand and now nowhere to hide Align my heart, my body, my mind To face what I've done and do my time"

Dust Bowl Dance, by Mumford and Sons (Album: Sigh No More)

The emotional tone of this song is a journey. It's all over the place, and you don't even realize it's happening until its almost yelling at you.

[startrekwintergiftexchange]

Je vous entends

🎉✨Happy Holidays everyone !✨🎉 This is my gift for @reflectingiridescent, for the @startreksecretsanta exchange of 2017. Had a hard time choosing which ship to do since I loved them all (you have good taste 👌), but I had to give in for Jean-Luc/Beverly/Jack because they make me weak. For a bit of timeline context, the story takes place in 2350, meaning Beverly just graduated from Starfleet Academy after getting married to Jack in 2348. Lastly, if you’re wondering about the title, “Je vous entends” means “I hear you” in French. Hope you’ll like it 😳🤞, and Happy New Year ❤️!

Author: @a-flower-crown-shark

For a Starfleet captain, concentration is primordial.

You always need to be at your best, mentally and physically. In space, a second of inattention can cost the life of your crew or compromise the security of the ship. You can be the cause of great, unfathomable damage.

That is why First Officer Jean-Luc Picard, of the Starship Stargazer, is always doing his very best to maintain his focus on every single thing happening around him. He may not hold the position of captain yet, but Starfleet Command has given him the rank, and acting as such seems necessary. And by all means, it does seem to be an excellent exercise for reflexes. There is however a small problem.

Will you stop, he grumbles in his head for the fifth time in the last hour. The voices ignore him, yet again. He lets out a small sigh and continues to work on the console with nimble fingers. A small surge occurred ten minutes ago in one of Engineering’s main conduits, making a few wounded, and though it was quickly put under control, he preferred verifying it, and verifying it himself. He’ll have to overcome his difficulty to delegate if he gets promoted to captain, but for now-

“Merde”, he mumbles when he accidentally hits the wrong button. The ensign next to him (a Vulcan, of course it had to be) hears him and turns around with a blank yet slightly worried expression, that only seems taunting at the moment.

“Sir ?”

“I’m fine, Ensign, thank you”, he smiles as he looks at the young man. “Just a bit of headache this morning”. Thankfully, the ensign does not insist, and they continue their work in silence.

///

As every other night as of the last few months, the walk back to his room is not an easy one; it seems like the voices take pleasure in getting louder when he gets ready to sleep, like they don’t want him to forget them. As if he could. He sits on his bed with discomfort, lets his head fall on the pillow, and grabs a pad by his nightstand, trying to decipher its content while a tambourine drums on his temples.

Ensign Warrick, Jules – In Sickbay for severe plasma burns on legs, torso, and right arm – Status: Stable – Relieved of duty for five days

Ah, the wounded of the power surge then. He tries to focus on the list, for the sake of the suffering crewman, but he can barely read the letters in front of his eyes.

Ensign M’lyoo, Kiku – In Sickbay for severe plasma burns on arms, neck – Status: Stable – Relieved of duty for three days

Ensign T’lennk En’tgai, Vorak – In Sickbay for severe plasma burns on legs – Status: Stable –Relieved of duty for three days

Lieutenant Crusher, Jack – In Sick Bay for light plasma burns on neck, torso, and left arms – Status: Stable – Relieved of duty for two days

Lieutenant Sevol-De La Cruz, Illyan – In Sick Bay for lig-

The pad falls on the bed, and he lets out a broken moan of pain.

They’ve been here for six months. Two voices, a woman and a man, speaking in Standard. At least he thinks they are: he has no idea what they’re saying. The voices are there, always, constantly under or over his own thoughts, and he distinguishes the fact that they are pronouncing words; but as soon as he tries to listen more closely to what exactly they’re saying, it all becomes a confused jumble.

When he first heard them, he put it under the stress he was under, only having recently been promoted to First Officer and overwhelmed with new duties. That peculiar day, the captain was receiving new crewmembers from a sister ship (a rumoured talented engineer, a security lieutenant, a science officer who specialized in novae, and a young command officer and his wife, a medical ensign who had recently graduated from the academy. He did not meet any of them, but he surely would do so later, when he’d have the time), and as such, was obligated to spend time with its captain to discuss details of the transfer. Meanwhile, he was in charge of a secret meeting with a Ferengi ship to share classified data, of a crucial maintenance exam at Starbase 35, of the proper delivery of a cure to a plagued colony planet … It seemed as if there was no end to the list of things he needed to do, and even with his natural calm, it definitely was tiring. He was very glad to go to sleep that night, and dozed off peacefully a soon as he laid himself on his bed.

And then, the two voices begun screaming.

He’d later recognize their high pitched tone to be less characteristic of fear than of unbelievable despair, though at the moment it only felt like pure, simple screaming. He held his head with two hands, trying to diminish the pain, without result. Needless to say, Jean-Luc didn’t get much sleep that night, nor the next, nor the nights of the week after. If the voices sometimes calmed down to only become a small mumble, they would very often jump back up at the most random moments, making him feel nauseous.

Of course, the data bank turned out empty. It was not a question of mental health, he was and is still certain of it; something about the voices seemed way too real, way too distinct for them to only be products of his mind. Jean-Luc Picard being Jean-Luc Picard, his next try was with alien cultures, for which he held enormous passion and respect: Many of them had such stories in their myths and legends, and there would surely be something worthy of note there. However, surprisingly, he found nothing of use, if not the knowledge that he may not have been the only individual to hear voices in his mind. Refusing to let himself be examined, as the “sickness” did not seem threatening to either him or others, he took the decision to continue living with the voices (Yes, he knew, he knew it was not the healthy thing to do, but something about the voices felt so profoundly private, so very personal, that he just couldn’t bring himself to risk losing the strange connexion he had with them, and if that was childish of him then damn it, he could not help being flawed and he could not help being human). Who are you?, he’d often ask in his mind. What do you want with me? What is causing you such sadness?. But the voices never answered. Are you seeking something?, he’d try again. Someone?. And still the voices would ignore him.

It actually was possible to live alongside them: The both could speak so low that he forgot their existence, and their constant hum became a sort of soothing song. I anything, they were friends of some sort. Bodiless, incomprehensible companions, but companions none the less, for which he somehow gained affection.

Except when they’re doing that, he thinks bitterly, as the voices yell their hearts out with abandon. He moves around his head for comfort, without success. Months ago, supporting them did not seem insurmountable. Lately however his stock of patience was running quite low, as, so very, very tired of hearing them, the voices were starting to interfere with his work.

Jean-Luc shuffled a bit in his bed, trying to chase away the thoughts that were slowly finding a way to his mind.

For a Starfleet captain, concentration is primordial.

In the messy covers, partially on the ground, Jean-Luc turns his head yet again, annoyed. “I can do this”, he murmurs out loud. “I just need to try a little harder. Just a little more.”

You always need to be at your best, mentally and physically.

He painfully opens his eyes, gazing at the crème celling.

In space, a second of inattention can cost the life of your crew or compromise the security of the ship.

He thinks of the Vulcan ensign, looking at him with worried eyes. The truth is the most painful when it’s staring at you like that, with the eyes of someone who can’t lie.

You can be the cause of great, unfathomable damage.

Tomorrow, he’ll go to Sickbay.

///

The walk to get there is the most painful thing he’s ever felt.

As soon as he left his room, the voices begun rising to impossible levels, and now they’ve reached a point that no word could possibly describe, only growing higher and higher as he limps in the corridors.

He thinks of himself in bar, surrounded by Nausicaans and falling to his knees, and laughing, laughing at the horrible feeling that propagates itself from his heart. He tries to tell himself that the pain he’s in now is much less greater, that he should be roaring of laughter now more than then. But he can’t even mutter the force to push anything other than small, desperate whining sounds, and deep down, he knows that the pain is worse.

People notice him, try to intervene, but a quick dismissing move of the hand keeps them in place. Somewhere in his mind, he feels them staring at him with evident worry. And though he’s too preoccupied with the deafening sounds to reassure them, he tries to stand a little bit straighter as he continues his route. He was never good at showing others his pain.

Ironically, as he slowly loses the ability to produce any human thought, a part of his brain, far, too far for him to register, realizes that the voices sole purpose was for him to follow them. That now, without realising it, he’s being guided by their sound towards an unknown force, an unknown power that he was destined to meet.

He keeps walking.

Finally, finally, he gets to Sickbay’s doors, and tears are strolling down his face. He’s practically crawling to get there, because he knows, feels the thing, the person behind the doors, and he needs them. He can’t take it, he can’t take it anymore, but he’s there and the doors are opening, but it’s too much, it’s too much, and he starts yelling in the middle of hell “Arrêtez, je vous en supplie! Je vous entends! Je vous entends! Je vou-”

It stops.

Everything is silence.

There’s nothing. Absolutly nothing.

Perhaps, a buzzing noise can be heard, somewhere, from the tools or the computers. Perhaps a light buzz of discussion can be heard, somewhere, from the medical staff in the room. Perhaps the fabric of space itself is making noise, somewhere, as the Stargazer slides upon it, but he can’t tell. Around him, it’s only silence. And it’s only them.

Tears are streaming down their faces too. He makes out every single darker strands in her red hair, every single crease of smile around his mouth.

They’re beautiful.

None of them dares to move, afraid of breaking the moment, this thing out of time and space, only for the three of them. Nothing else exists anymore. The man, who’s pale, slender neck is covered with bandages, is the first one the move, getting up from his biobed. Before he makes a step forward, Jean-Luc speaks without thinking, as a name he’s only read on reports before escapes his lips.

“Jack”

The world collapse. Jack runs towards him and both of them fall on the ground, wailing in abandon and gripping each other with desperation. Red marks of strong fingers start to appear on his body, and he only holds Jack tighter. He feels so alive.

A hesitant hand places itself on his shoulder. He looks up to find the blue watery eyes of the woman, looking unsure if she should interrupt. He detangles a hand from one of Jack’s and takes hers in his palm.

“Beverly”, he smiles.

A hiccupped “Jean-Luc” slips before she falls to her knees with a smile so bright he can’t take it, and joins their entanglement of limbs as it becomes impossible to see where one ends and one begins. Jack grins and starts laughing, and she does too, because Jean-Luc’s has never seen them once and they’ve been right there for months, because they don’t know him but they do, because thousands of questions are left unanswered. He starts laughing with them, because this is space, this is what he’s been dreaming of since a child, this great unknown that can never be truly understood and that sometimes does inexplicable things. And one day, he’ll be captain, ready to explore the galaxy at the helm of a ship, with two soulmates given by an incalculable amount of stars at his side. But for the moment, he holds their hands tight in the middle of Sickbay’s floor, surrounded by people who feel miles away from the three of them, and he replies to the voices in his mind and the two people they belonged to : “Je vous entends”.