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As Picard got older, and older, and older, his symptoms of Irumodic syndrome crept on him. Diagnosed. Hard. But, something to race against. It was a new challenge. It was a race for one seemingly final away mission into the stars. Space, traveling in it, the thought of it, hit Picard different. It wasn't going to be a federation approved voyage, it was going to be a challenging journey with no alliance from Earth only people who could be trusted.
As he got older, Picard found himself thinking of Data and how he had died young. Data had left a imprint in his life, memorable, fondly, completely human as he emulated emotions while unable to feel them. He had lost one of Data's children, helplessly, unable to stop her demise, the explosion still felt in his very being. Her death got him moving, to rescue her twin, to prevent that from happening a second time and this time not be as helpless as before.
Ninety-four, and he was getting old. Picard thought of Q often, the game of cards that he played often with Data, a game, sometimes it were of chess, sometimes it were a game of cards, the cards reading Q, queen of hearts, a series of them. The android's existence were all but a supernova. Data was in Picard's life for approximately, in the life span of godly entitys where days, weeks, months years -- the ones that mattered to humans but a different set of their own time mattered to the entities -- one year made of all the missions that they had gone on together and served aboard the USS Enterprises. One year. He was gone like a supernova. Nothing remained, only B-4, only La Forge being alone, the unusual space beside La Forge from the bridge to engineering. Quite unnatural. A part of the young man had left with Data as La Forge mourned him.
Picard was ninety-four, Data's head was older than he had been, five hundred years old, when deciding to greet death on his terms. The former captain was young, his energy fading, walking slower, his knees plagued by arthritis, luxuries of aging that Picard chose to keep. All to remind himself that he were human, that he had won the fight against the Borg, that he had retired, and of having bitterly left Starfleet on terms that were sour and made him angry about abandoning the Romulans when the thought crossed his mind. The soul of Starfleet was to aid others . . . What was now around was some odd version of Starfleet that Picard only knew as a military organization that was quite xenophobic toward Romulans. Scared, too scared for his liking.
Data was old and Picard was young by android standards but by human standards, he were very old. Time was itching closer, day by day, hour by hour, where he'll leave this existence and Q would make him his full time companion and watch him have 'fun' for eternity. That is what Picard used to believe in his days as Captain of the USS Enterprise and believed to this day, to his artificial heart, as Q was (and still is) the most dangerous entity the Enterprise came across. The Borg were toys that got out of control which had to be dealt with.
Some days, Picard shuddered to think about his destined time with Q. Some days like this there was no fear, he reminded himself being afraid of the unknown beauty in space was worse than being afraid of species that were denied help and ridiculous. Starfleet felt like they were children to Picard who were afraid to dip their toe in and start a new alliance with hard work and effort in making sure they had a olive branch with the Romulans even while stepping over their greatest fears about what came next doing this with the species they once went to war with. Q harmed him when it was for a lesson, there were no more lessons to teach, all the lessons were absorbed from his experience being alive and Picard suspected that were the case.
Q hadn't appeared. Not since the retirement. Not since he had actively left Star Fleet. . . And Picard felt disappointed. The entity who brought fear when he wasn't there but only present as a voice... Picard had once seen a Ambassador be reduced to tears, messy hair, fright, paranoia, accusing everyone around them, pleading to let the ceremony of joining the United Federation of Planets start again --- only upon Q's presence being drawn to the ship with the entire crew thinking about him, LOUDLY - --- after hours of a rough ceremony featuring a federation Ambassador waiting for the padd to be signed only for the new ambassador to be bringing much headache and conflict to prevent becoming part of something bigger than them. The looming dread --- as well as cosmic power--- carried through the ship that could be felt by sensitive individuals.
Q should have been coming any day now, and he hadn't. Death was right at Picard's doorstep, waiting to knock, waiting for the right moment to come in, the door unlocked by Laris, Number One barking at random then come to his bedside and stand at his guard. Death would take his hand, help Picard up to his feet, be a old friend helping him move on. No matter how often that Q's name crossed his mind, the entity never appeared. Not even when thinking about those dreams. And Death would be Q himself.
Odd dreams made of thinking about patience, about Data, about life, about the game of life that was so unpredictable. Picard didn't want the game to end. Yet, during these recent and mundane retirement days, it felt like the game had ended. "The trial never ends." rang hollow in his mind. Q hadn't appeared in years to toy with him, something to act as a thrill, to spice things up, to rile Picard up. As if complete interest had been lost in him. It felt quite insulting.
"I'll be watching." then why did it feel like Q hadn't been watching him at all? Perhaps, he grew bored. Perhaps, putting some unfortunate civilization on trial. "Perhaps if you're lucky, I'll come by from time to time. See you. . . out there!" and vanished with one final flash and everything was right as it should be. Q had kept his word, for a while and with this absence, some days Picard counted his blessings that the entity hadn't meddled in his retirement and some days, he did not. Perhaps, Picard whining and complaining about boredom did little to bring the entity's attention. Picard nowadays believed that answer would be found after death.
Picard had a machine inside of him keeping him alive as his brain was falling apart and the very thing that could possibly save him was banned, a positronic brain, the very thing that bordered the steps of becoming a Borg himself in the most human way that there was. His existence being available to be toyed with as a old human man was on a countdown. Death was frightening, but it wasn't in the end, Picard knew what came next.
Q wasn't ready to take him, not quite yet, Picard was sure of that. Not at this moment in the least. He wasn't done being alive. Or, Picard suspected, the entity didn't want to face Picard's loud verbal demand to be put back right where he were. Q entertaining him instead of the other way around. It would have been a nice report to send back to Starfleet--what he remembered, the one that he fondly remembered, served, respected, that wasn't there anymore -- regarding the incident and have a laugh.
The thought caused Picard to smile as a mental image played in his mind. The entity rolling his eyes as he rubbed his temples pacing away from him, young, not old, Picard's image of the entity was enriched with youth. Not updated with new images at least of Q. It came with neglecting to pay those promised appearances every now and then with the expected shenanigans, it had become a key part of his life that Picard enjoyed as a challenge to sort through with the aid of his crew.
The most frightening being in all of existence, someone who could scare him, dearly missed.
There was one hell of a adventure that waited before him in space to go through before Q inconvenienced him.
Ninety-four, and Picard was young compared to Data. And Data was old.
In hindsight,
Picard realized his assumption was correct,
(seeing the silver version of the entity, a beard, and all)
About needing to go through that adventure,
(standing in his home across from him)
before Q.
(looking at Picard, affectionately)
(looking like he were ready to toy with him, lovingly)
(looking like he had chaos right behind him, lovingly, ready to throw at Picard)
The crew for after,
serving Starfleet,
was all assembled,
and to be toyed with,
alongside Picard.