Work Text:
Picard was so tired his eyes ached. He lifted his mug out of the replicator and inhaled deeply as the bergamot scented steam wafted upward.
Temporal causality loops. Alternate realities. Politics. The pending threat of Borg assimilation. Q.
All these impossible things were his responsibility. Disasters untold lurked if he made the slightest misstep.
But this: tea, earl grey, hot. It made sense. Picard drank deeply, and let go.

chickolascage Wed 13 Jan 2021 05:17PM UTC
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