A Kind of Magic

It was almost how she was looking at her father... as he laid it all on her.  Her mouth hung open, and she patiently waited for him to get to the point.  She used to think he couldn't shut up because he just liked to hear himself talk – until she learned he just tried to be thorough, and sometimes overdid it.  But now... now...  It was like it wasn't him talking at all.  As if someone else spoke through him.  And yet, it was him, all along... his face and eyes filled with a glow, as if this was what he was meant to be.  Stephen April, idealized.

He wasn't talking down to her.  He was just talking.  To her.  The most amazing part was... It was exactly what she needed to hear.

She didn't quite grasp the relevance yet of all this talk about "God" and life-changing transformations, or the Federation as a kingdom of "heaven", why he had to go and teach this to others – but she understood the concepts of compassion, forgiveness, salvation.  It made a certain sort of sense: Of all the challenges Earth had faced, not once had it ever succumbed.  Humanity certainly did seem a blessed race.  Now they had just had to be reminded why they were so 'lucky'.

It was so astounding, that she could not help but be taken by it – taken completely unawares by this change in her father.  In her moment of shock, she was completely open... and in That Moment, of zeal and her despair and desire for fulfillment, she was open to Possibility.  Trying to absorb what he said, so she could understand, she felt something shift inside of her – in a small way, but there nonetheless.  The beginning of Change.  It was so subtle, so swift, that she barely realized it happening – only felt, all of a sudden.

He accepted her.  Didn't hold her actions against her.  Suddenly, going AWOL from Starfleet seemed paltry, insignificant, a piece of a world that seemed far away, remote and distant, where it could not hurt her.  She did not have to go back.  Nor did she have to return to Khalindar.  She didn't know right then what path her life would take... but she didn't care.  How much richer this was... being loved and accepted with all her imperfections.  No judgment... just acceptance.  The world laid wide open before her.

It was enough.

When he finished, she said, "Father... when you go... can I come with you?"

"Of course you can.  Neria, I've never wanted anything for you, but for you to be happy."

She was relieved.  In that moment's elation, she felt lifted, aloft... as if carried by clouds, with a limitless sky all around.  A weight had been lifted from her heart.  Safe.  It was All that mattered.

Once, she used to run to him and throw her arms around her father, and in her excitement often tackled him to the floor.  The same urge was there, now... but with gentler carriage, she got up and moved to him, putting her arms around his neck as best she could, with the chair, and held his head close, her hair to his cheek.

Eve glanced at the door.  "Sir... if you don't mind, I think I'll go now.  It seems you two have much to discuss."

April regarded her.  Did she feel uncomfortable, in the intimacy of the moment?  A Bartokian?  A friend?  He did not want that.  Secretly he hoped, by her presence, to put the germ of the idea in her mind – to open her eyes.  But that work was for the Lord, not him.  All things would be done, in time, as God would have them done.  He hoped at least that she would think about it – realize that his God was not "his" God, but God for all: Creator of Bartokians, as well as every other race in the cosmos.

He smiled.  "Thank you, Eve."  Unsaid: For everything.  Judging from Neria's emotional state when he entered, who knew what she might have done, had Eve not appeared?

Neria saw it, too.  She looked at Eve, a little embarrassed... but grinning.  She came over, took Eve's hands in hers, gave her a kiss on the cheek, and put one hand there, smiling with her eyes.  "Thanks, Eve."

As Eve went to take her leave, April called out to her.  She paused, looking back.  His chair rotated to face her.