Episode 2 - When Fictive Worlds Collide

Jean-Luc Picard grew steadily more nervous as he waited for Doctor Crusher to arrive. He flipped through the computerized pages of the Book of All Fictive Things, barely taking time to read an entry before turning to the next one. What had he been thinking, telling Beverly to come up right away? He hadn't given himself time to peruse the book, to find the absolutely perfect place to whisk her off to and proclaim his love.

Sweat broke out on his palms, something which rarely happened to Picard. He hadn't broken a sweat when Tasha Yar had been senselessly killed on Vagra II. He'd barely flinched when Q showed up for the umpteenth time. But now his heart was racing. I'm going to blow this.

It was not a thought he was accustomed to entertaining. Feverishly his eyes swept down the endless lists. A phrase leapt out at him.

Desert island.

He quickly scanned the rest of the entry. The island was practically uninhabited except for seven castaways, whom Picard guessed they could easily avoid. The program had been a comedy, so there shouldn't be any lurking dangers to speak of. It sounded perfect. Picard had a sudden vision of Beverly, out of that enveloping doctor's smock and into a skimpy bathing suit, with tropical flowers in her hair.

Perfect.

The door of his cabin signaled, and Picard said "Come." His voice emerged in a nervous croak, and he cleared his throat and repeated the command.

The door slid open and Beverly Crusher strode in, her auburn hair swinging loose around her shoulders. "You wanted to see me, Captain?"

Picard stood, smiling. "Thank you, Doctor." He couldn't exactly hide the book, but he closed the cover, keeping one finger inside to mark his place. His heart was racing so fast he was glad that the doctor wasn't scanning him with her medical tricorder just now.

"What's that?" Beverly was looking curiously at the book in his hand.

Picard licked his lips. He knew he'd never be able to speak the words to explain it to her, not in this world. He had to stay within his normal behavioral parameters. "Doctor...Beverly. Do you trust me?"

A slight frown puckered her brow. "Why...Jean-Luc. Of course I trust you. I've never known a captain--or a man--with more integrity."

He took a deep breath and walked around the desk to stand beside her. "Then would you mind placing your hand on my arm for a moment, and not taking it away until I tell you?"

Her frown deepened, but it was tempered by the amusement in her eyes. She looked as if she'd like to say something else, but merely placed her hand as he'd asked and said, "Of course."

Picard lifted the book, letting the pages fall open to the place he'd marked. Fighting off the last of his trepidation, he raised his other hand and pressed the small rectangle marked "Enter."

And the Enterprise fell away.

A crackling like static electricity amplified through loudspeakers surrounded Picard for a moment, and vision pixellated into a blizzard that left him blinded. He still felt the book in his hands, Beverly's hand on his arm, but that was all. He thought he heard her gasp, and instinctively moved his free hand to cover hers, to make certain that she didn't lose contact with him. There was little danger of that, however; her hand gripped his arm like a vise.

Within another heartbeat their passage was complete, and sensory input flooded back. Picard blinked in the sudden bright sunlight. The air was heady and moist with the smells of sea and sand and lush foliage. Beverly stood blinking beside him, her hand still holding his arm.

He drew a breath that was more like a groan, dropped the Book, and pulled her into his arms for the crushing kiss they'd both wanted for so long.

He was so caught up in the bliss of their embrace that it took him a moment to realize that Beverly was not...responding quite as he'd hoped. Her hands were against his chest, not gripping his uniform in delight but...pushing at him? The sounds that fell upon his ears were not murmurs of ecstacy but...squeals of protest? Picard came suddenly to his senses and realized that Beverly was actually struggling.

He released her as suddenly as he'd embraced her and she stumbled back a step, face and eyes flaming. When she regained her balance she stepped forward and slapped him resoundingly on the cheek.

"What the hell are you doing, you little French pig?" she hissed, then looked shocked at the words.

Picard massaged his cheek, working his jaw to assure himself that it was not broken. "Kissing you. I didn't think," he said wryly, "that you'd mind."

"I can't believe I said that!"

"Neither can I."

"I mean, I can usually think things like that, but I can't say them..." Beverly glanced around. "Where are we? That was no transporter. And we weren't in range of any planets, anyway." She eyed him suspiciously. "Are we on the holodeck?"

Before Picard could begin to formulate an answer they heard a crashing in the thick jungle off to one side. Instinctively Picard scooped up the Book and moved to place himself between Beverly and whatever was approaching, wishing belatedly that he'd taken his phaser along just in case. Although it probably wouldn't work here, anyway, he realized.

A young man emerged from the underbrush at a stumbling run. He wore a white bucket-style hat, a red shirt, and a goofy look. He pulled up short at the sight of the two strangers and yelled, "Skipper!"

"Ah, it's 'Captain,' actually," Picard began with a self-deprecating smile, but the man wasn't looking at him any longer. He'd turned back to the jungle and cupped his hands around his mouth.

"They're over here, Skipper!" He swung back to face Picard and Beverly. "I knew I heard someone talking! Are you here to rescue us?"

"Er...no. Sorry," said Picard. "We didn't mean to bother you, so if you'll excuse us," he reached for Beverly's arm and took a step away from the young man.

"I'm Gilligan," the young man said. "The Skipper's right behind me. Did you get shipwrecked here, too? Although," he continued, frowning, "there haven't been any storms lately. And why are you wearing those weird clothes?"

Picard could feel the sweat trickling under his 'weird clothes' and it wasn't just the heat from the tropical sun overhead. Beverly jerked her arm out of his grasp. What the devil was wrong with her, anyway? And why hadn't he thought this whole plan through a little better? He tried again. "We're sorry to have intruded, er, Mr. Gilligan, so we'll just leave you--"

"Are you from space?" the young man asked suddenly. "Because those look like some kind of space clothes to me. Hey, Skipper," he yelled, "I think these folks are from outer space!"

Picard heard Beverly stifle a giggle behind him and ground his teeth. He wasn't used to things going this badly. Before he could say anything else, however, another man emerged from the jungle. This man was older and heavier than the first, wearing a old-Earth style captain's hat and blue shirt.

He stopped, sizing up the newcomers, then suddenly seemed to realize what the younger man had said.

"Space?" he snorted. "What are you talking about?"

The younger man gestured at Picard and Beverly. "Look at their clothes! I said I think they might be from outer space. They couldn't have been wrecked, since we haven't had a storm, and where else could they come from?"

The older man shook his head dismissively. "Space. You don't know anything about space."

"I do know one thing, Skipper," the younger man said, grinning. "You take up more of it than I do."

The Skipper glared at the younger man and Picard cleared his throat, about to make another attempt to extricate himself and Beverly from the pair. He really didn't want to simply use the Book to return to the Enterprise until he'd had a chance to talk to Beverly...alone. He sighed. This couldn't have gone more wrong.

"Gentlemen," Beverly said suddenly, stepping forward a little.

Both men turned to look at her, and Picard could see them stand a little straighter, trying to smooth out their clothes. The younger one whispered to the Skipper, although his voice carried clearly in the heavy air. "Another redhead! Wonder what Ginger'll think of that?"

"Gentlemen," she said again, smiling sweetly at them. "I wonder if you'd excuse us for a moment?

The Skipper doffed his cap. "Certainly, Ma'am," he said. And then behind his hand, to the younger man, "Watch them, Gilligan. I'm going to get the Professor."

Beverly walked a few feet away and then turned to Picard. "Are you going to tell me what's going on here?" she demanded in a low voice, trying to maintain a facade of pleasantness for the young man watching them.

Picard sighed and gestured with the book, unused to feeling this off-balance. "I had a chance to get us away from the Enterprise and I took it. I apologize. I've thought, for a long time, that you--returned my feelings. I can see I was wrong."

Beverly looked puzzled. "I know...I always acted as if I were in love with you, but actually I wasn't. I could never figure out why I behaved that way, to tell you the truth. It was as if I didn't have a choice. Now, Worf, there's a guy I could really--"

"You were just written that way," Picard said absently, glancing back at the man named Gilligan. "I didn't consider that possibility..."

She poked him in the chest. "Written what way? What are you talking about?"

"I suppose I could just press the button to take us back," Picard continued to muse, ignoring her. "But it doesn't seem fair to them, somehow. Although Galorop didn't really give me any guidelines for interacting with the natives...still it doesn't seem right..." Picard grimaced. He was used to knowing exactly how to handle any situation, however complex. He was a man of action. He was a Starfleet Captain. This waffling on important decisions was a feature of freedom that he wasn't sure he liked.

Beverly waved a hand in front of his face. "Jean-Luc, are you listening to me? I demand to be told what's going on! Who's Galorop? I've never seen you act like this before."

"Never mind. I'll explain later. Right now we have to get out of here before the other six of them turn up. It really isn't fair to complicate things for them any more than we already have."

"Six of them? How do you know there are six of them? You're not making any sense!" Beverly said, but Picard had already turned away and strode toward Gilligan.

"I imagine you're wondering if we have a ship," he said brightly to the young man.

"A ship! Do you really have a ship? Wait 'till the Skipper hears this!" He turned back to the jungle. "Skipper!"

"No! No, wait, er...Gilligan. You were right, you know. We are from outer space. You're obviously a very observant young man."

Gilligan's face lit up, and Picard continued hurriedly, "But unfortunately we can't help you and your friends. Our ship is very small, and we couldn't rescue all of you. I think we'd better go before the others come back. They might not be as...understanding as you. We'll...we'll try to send help if we can."

Gilligan nodded. "Yeah, Mr. Howell would be pretty mad, and Mary Anne would be sad...The Professor's going to be sorry he missed, you, though."

Picard smiled. "Well, I'm sorry to have missed him, too." He extended his hand, and Gilligan shook it eagerly. "I'm pleased to have met you, Gilligan. Can you delay the others for a moment if they try to come after us?"

Gilligan nodded, and Picard felt a pang of guilt for tricking him so easily. I shouldn't feel that way, he told himself. That's just the way he's written.

Hefting the Book and taking Beverly's arm, he pushed into the jungle until they reached a small clearing well out of Gilligan's sight. Quickly he rifled through the pages until he found the one that would take them home.

He looked up to find Beverly's eyes on him. She stood with her hands on her hips. "I'm still waiting for an explanation, Jean-Luc," she said.

There wasn't time, and if he was honest with himself, Picard knew he was still smarting from her rejection. She hadn't even apologized for hurting his feelings!

"I'll tell you all about it back on the ship," he lied easily, knowing full well that he wouldn't be able to speak the words, and she wouldn't be able to ask the question. He'd see it there in her eyes, but she'd just have to wonder. He felt a spark of faintly malicious glee that was completely foreign to him, but strangely satisfying.

She rolled her eyes and put her hand on his arm. "Hurry up, then. We have a lot to talk about."

We certainly do, he thought, but it will be when I decide. He pressed the "Enter" button for home, already starting to wonder where he might go to sample a little freedom next. And who he'd take with him next time.

NEXT...Episode 3 - Everybody Needs A Vacation