Ace and Rose stepped up to the half-moon shaped poker table. Rose pointed to the left-most stool, and Ace held out his hand for her. She used it to step up onto the footrest and slide into it. He then took his place beside her, brushing out his slacks once he was settled.

“Evening, sir,” Ace nodded to the dealer at the other side of the table.

The man nodded back. “Evening.”

“How’s it going?”

“Excellent; and you?” The dealer replied in a cookie-cutter fashion.

“Likewise.” The gambler brushed the white strands of hair behind his ear, not wanting to let the man off the hook that easily. “How long have you been a dealer?”

The dealer took the deck of cards before him and began a riffle shuffle, blending the cards together in a loud rip, and ending with a bridge to slip the cards back into a stack. “Long enough.”

“Ever try a one-handed shuffle?”

The dealer shot Ace a peculiar look.

“Ace, leave him be,” Rose attempted a protest, only for her eyes to dart back when Ace’s expression beamed with excitement.

The dealer was, in fact, repeatedly removing and returning sections of the deck all within one hand.

“Nice!” Ace held out his fist toward him, and with a short laugh, the dealer bumped it with his own fist.

“Ah, here you are!”

Ace and Rose glanced up to find Jeffrey taking the seat on the other side of Ace.

“I went over to the far right table and then didn’t see you,” the man was looking at Rose as he spoke.

“I liked the look of this table better,” she replied simply, garnering a glance from Ace.

“Two more seats over here!” The dealer called suddenly with two fingers raised high over his head. 

The trio was reminded of their goal for the evening, and they quietly settled into their stools with only brief glances at one another.

Two more entrants made their way over to take the last two seats at Jeffrey’s right. One was an older man with a bushy gray beard, and the other was a middle-aged, Andorian woman whose white hair was pulled back in a neat bun. Soon, all of the tables were full.

Simultaneously across the room, the four dealers began passing out the chips to each player at the table. They did it in waves, setting down the chips by value to each seat before passing out the next value. Once the chips were dispersed, the dealers began shuffling the cards–with the dealer at Ace’s table only using one hand to do so.

“This will be a standard round; no blinds, just a five credit ante,” the dealer explained as he finished shuffling. “I assume you all know the basics of the game?” 

The five at the table glanced at each other and nodded.

“Any other questions?”

“What’s your name?” Ace piped in.

The dealer was clearly caught off guard, but he managed to smile as he looked down. “Branson.”

“Thanks for your part in this, Branson,” Ace said, purposefully ignoring Rose’s glare. When he did finally turn to her, he feigned surprise at her expression.

“Are you always this charming?” She asked with a sneer.

“Can I help it if I was raised to be polite?”

“Let the games begin!” Mickey D suddenly announced from his seat at the head table.

Ace looked down at the yellow-gold damask of the poker table and selected one $5 chip from his stack. He set it in front of him as the others around the table did the same, and then tucked his gloved hands near his chest. As soon as he had, the cards began slipping across the table, each stopping upside-down in front of each player to form a line of five red-backed cards.

Ace slid his cards to his chest before turning them up to look at them. He had a relatively unimpressive hand to start with, but it had potential. His face held a steady neutral expression as he debated giving up one of his two fives for a chance at drawing another club–granting him a flush with all clubs.

“The lady starts the bet,” Branson held out his hand to the Andorian woman.

“Fifty,” she slid a single chip toward the center of the table.

“I see your fifty and raise fifty more,” the bearded man announced, tossing a single 100 credit chip in the center.

“Call,” Jeffrey gave up 100.

“Call,” Ace did the same.

“I fold,” Rose set down her cards.

“Drawing round,” the dealer announced.

Each player remaining set down a card or two. Ace pondered a moment before setting down the five. Branson was quick to pass out his new card, and he slid it from the table.

It was a club–exactly what he had hoped.

“Any new bets, ma’am?”

“I’ll stay,” the Andorian nodded.

“Fold,” the bearded man set his cards down.

Ace eyed him, curious at how quickly his exuberance had deflated. The man kept his face down, looking only at his folded cards.

“Fold.” Jeffrey bowed out.

“I’ll raise it five.” Ace tossed in a chip.

“Call,” the Andorian did the same.

“Any more?” The dealer paused to look at each player in line, then he gestured his hand toward Ace. “Showdown.”

Ace turned his cards over.

“A flush for the gentleman,” Branson turned to the woman. “And you? Ah, two pair. Mr. Gallagher wins!”

Ace narrowed his eyes and grinned. “You know my name already?”

“I do,” Branson said somewhat awkwardly. He lifted a short stick and pushed the collected chips toward Ace. “And here you are, sir.”

Ace’s amused expression remained as he looked down. He was off to a pleasing start.

Two more rounds came and went, and the bearded man won both. Ace tried bluffing that he had a better hand the first time, but the bearded man kept pushing the bet higher. By the time the cards were shown, Ace gave up a considerable amount of chips when his pair of tens lost to a straight. During the second round, Ace managed a three of a kind with three jacks, but the man again flushed him out. He felt as if the man were constantly one step ahead, and he couldn’t figure out how–other than sheer luck.

By the third round, Ace finally found a win when he managed another flush, going up against Jeffrey and the Andorian woman after the bearded man conveniently folded again. He was still having a hard time reading the man, as he kept his face straight ahead and never once turned to look at anyone else.

The other players at the table were much easier to peg, however. Rose played too safely and folded as soon as the bet got raised. The Andorian woman at the other end played modestly and raised the bet when she was more confident, but she, too, tended to fold before she lost too much. Jeffrey stayed in the game the longest of the three, and after four steep losses, his chip count was dwindling quickly.

Ace knew if he lost, he wouldn’t get to move up to Mickey D’s table, and that would almost guarantee he wouldn’t get to talk to him any further–leaving his mission of uncovering information severely lacking. He sighed to himself and looked down at his new cards.

“Drawing round.”

Ace slipped three cards from his hand–all but a king and queen–to retrieve three new ones. With a straight face, he inwardly prided himself on landing a two pair of queens.

“Any new bets, ma’am?” Brandon looked at the Andorian woman.

“Yes, I raise twenty.”

“Call,” said the bearded man.

“I see your twenty and raise–fifty!” Jeffrey collected an assortment of chips to create the amount he called.

“He’s cracking,” Rose whispered.

“Call,” Ace slid a 20 and a 50 chip into the center. “And you’re folding,” he whispered back.

Rose froze; her lips already forming the ‘f’. “I call,” she changed her mind.

Ace shot her an amused grin.

“Any more?”

“Twenty more,” said the Andorian.

“I see your twenty and raise twenty more.”

Jeffrey looked at his chips. He did not have enough to cover the forty credits in additional bets.

“If you stay, you’ll need to go all-in,” Branson offered.

Jeffrey bit his lip. “All-in.”

“Call,” Ace watched the sweat form on Jeffrey’s brow as he added his chips.

“Call.” Rose did the same.

“Any more? Showdown.”

All five players revealed their hands. After a quick scan, Branson gestured to the bearded man. “Four of a kind for the gentleman. Here you are, sir.”

Ace puffed air through his nose as the chips were scooped away and handed to the bearded man. His stack of chips–and his chances to talk to Mickey D–were rapidly running low.

Jeffrey, however, had run out.

“Well played, sir,” Branson stretched out a hand to shake it. “You will now be seen out.”

“And we’ll never see him again,” Rose again hissed under her breath.

Ace tried to ignore her, but as Jeffrey somewhat worriedly left the table and met up with Bernard, he noticed Jeffrey stop dead in his tracks a mere foot before the ballroom door. From behind, his posture had stiffened, his hands out at his sides. But he was coaxed through the door and disappeared before anything more could happen.

The gambler narrowed his eyes, but shook it off when Branson regained the group’s attention.

“Now, let us continue with round five.”

“This may not be much of a tournament at this rate,” Ace half-sneered as the cards were being dealt, glancing at the bearded man now that Jeffrey was no longer between them.

“Ah, you know how Lady Luck works,” he briefly glanced at Ace. “She can be generous one moment, but fickle the next.”

Ace’s smirk widened: he had seen all he needed to. “Don’t I know it,” he shook his head.

Once the round began, the Andorian woman started with a moderate bet, and the bearded man matched it. Ace raised it considerably, and Rose matched it–though he knew it was only because he called her out about folding. After the drawing round, however, Ace began fretting his decision to give up one of his cards.

During the second betting round, the Androian called the bet. The bearded man, once cool and confident, appeared hesitant.

“I… raise by ten.” He said after a short pause.

“I see your ten and raise twenty,” Ace eyed him. He then looked at his hands, wondering how he was going to win with a lackluster hand.

“I–call,” Rose said somewhat irritatedly.

“Any more?”

“Please fold,” Ace thought to himself.

“Call,” said the Andorian.

The bearded man narrowed his eyes on his cards. “I raise… one hundred more.”

Ace shot him a fiece look. “Call,” he said simply.

“Fold.” Rose dropped her cards.

“Any more?”

“I raise ten.” The Andorian women kept going.

“I raise–all-in!” The flustered man chewed on his beard and pushed his accumulated pile into the center.

“Due to the amount of the bet, those still playing must also go all-in.” Branson eyed the Andorian and Ace.

Both added the rest of their chips to the pile as Rose looked on anxiously.

“Showdown.”

The words cut into Ace as he sucked in a breath. He revealed his cards.

Branson was taken aback and held out his hand to Ace. “A straight flush from the gentleman!”

“What??” The bearded man turned to him, his solid black eyes glaring in shock.

“Like you said,” Ace offered a tame smile, “Lady Luck can be a wonderful girl… until she isn’t.”

“And,” Ace added in his thoughts, “if you’re going to use your Betazoid abilities to cheat, I’m allowed to cheat back.”

The bearded Betazoid’s expression shifted to a smoldering epiphany. “You thought only the opposite–stringing me along and making me believe you were bluffing!” He thought the words as he pressed his lips together. “You must be familiar with Betazoids.”

“I’m friends with one. And we play poker. But she knows not to cheat.” His eyes narrowed as he smirked. “You hid it well for a while; but you finally slipped up and looked at me. Your eyes give you away.”

The Betazoid sneered. “I can admit when I have been bested. Well played, sir.”

“Sir,” Branson spoke again.

Ace and the Betazoid’s private discussion ended as they turned back to the dealer. 

“You will be seen out.”

The bearded man sighed and got up from his chair. A different man met him, as Bernard was already leading the Andorian woman away. Once again, each of their steps faltered at some point in their walk, and they were both taken out of sight.

“So,” Branson regained his attention. “We are down to two.”

“Looks like it’s you and me again,” Rose crossed her leg under the table and began to bounce it. “Though, I would have hoped I’d have more chips.”

“That’s not my fault,” he eyed her.

“But it will be when I win.”

Ace blinked, ignoring her sultry tones and the fingernail sliding up his chin. “It will be my fault when you win?”

She rolled her eyes, hearing a short chuckle from the dealer. “Just… deal the cards, Branson,” she huffed.

---
Scene Notes

• I did my best to keep the game accurate but interesting; forgive me if I was way off :D
• I for one was always curious how Deanna manages to play poker with the others with her ability to sense emotion, but I'd like to think she disregards this to give everyone a level playing field. But knowing one's opponent is part of the game, after all.

“Hey, waiter!”

Elliot glanced up from the stack of glasses he was placing on the shelves under the bar

A young ensign stood on the other end. His short, dirty blond hair was spiked and smelled of strong cologne.

The waiter refrained from twisting his nose. “Yes, sir; how can I help you?”

“Two Andorian Martinis,” the man said bluntly.

“Sure thing,” Elliot waited until he turned around to roll his eyes.

“I’ll take them now, Craver.”

The waiter glanced over his shoulder upon hearing his surname. “All right, Maddox,” he stressed, “give me just a moment. I’m the only one working tonight.”

Maddox frowned as he leaned one of his arms on the bar. “Crystal says you’ve been talking to her.”

“Has she?”

His eyes narrowed as Elliot ordered the drinks from the replicator. “She says you asked her how long we were going out.”

“Yes, sir,” Elliot removed the first of the two drinks, holding it in his left hand, “it’s called small talk. You ask people simple and related questions when they’re at the bar wanting to talk.” Elliot swirled the glass in his hand, watching the deep blue tint at the bottom spread toward the top of the glass. “Ms. Hawthorne was up here last night talking to me about you, so I asked how long the two of you were dating as a related question,” he picked up the second drink from the replicator. “Small talk.”

When Elliot turned back with both drinks in hand, Maddox instead grabbed the waiter’s wrists.

“That wasn’t small talk. That was prying.” The man hissed, his brown eyes at once appearing to match the red of his uniform. “I know you’ve been watching me, and I know you’ve been watching my girls. I know what you’re up to, and I don’t like it.”

Elliot pressed his lips tighter into his frown, wincing from the pressure Maddox was placing on his arms. “Why are you dating two girls in the first place?”

“You ever test the waters, Craver?”

The barkeeper remained silent beneath a scowl.

“Don’t you dare talk to my girls,” he bared his teeth.

He was swiftly released and Maddox had the two glasses in hand and halfway across Ten Forward before Elliot could breathe again. 

He grit his teeth and huffed air through them, looking down at his hands still clasping the bar to steady himself. He finally turned his eyes upward to see the blond-haired Crystal Hawthorne gleefully accepting the martini from Philip Maddox’s hand.

“Sorry, Maddox,” Elliot muttered under his breath as the red ombre-haired Selena Davis stepped into the bar with one of her friends. “I can’t promise anything.”

Commercial Break

---
Scene Notes

• Just in case you forgot about Elliot!

Gemini took in a deep breath and opened her eyes. She was wrapped in white linen sheets and bathed in the warmth of morning sunlight cascading through a nearby window. She stretched her ams and rolled over, the light blue tunic clinging to her thin frame as strands of brown and white hair were brushed across her face. She tapped her fingers on the wooden table at her right until she felt her glasses. She took another breath as she slipped them onto her head.

The Aravasti pushed herself up to a seated position and scratched her head. Everything seemed in its place; the bookshelf stacked with books and half-finished drawing journals held up by jars of pencils and a few potted plants; the round purple cushion near the tall lamp in the corner; and the half-opened wardrobe hinting at the vibrantly-colored clothing hanging inside.

She blinked. A pair of men’s boots were on the ground beside it.

She crawled to her knees and stopped at the edge of the bed. She could see traces of clothing not her own peeking out from within the wardrobe. She reached from the bed and pushed the door open the rest of the way. Half of the wardrobe contained men’s clothing, including one long, purple scarf that draped outside the door.

Distant clanging drew her confused expression toward the bedroom door. It was cracked, allowing the sound to enter.

Gemini narrowed her eyes.

She got up and retrieved a thin shawl from the wardrobe to wrap around her bare arms, and her bare feet crossed the colorful woven carpets strewn across the bedroom floor. She cautiously stepped into the hallway, finding two closed doors on either side of her. Ahead, the warm light–and savory smell–from the kitchen downstairs, drew her forward.

She carefully crept down the stairs and slowed as she reached the bottom. She turned away from the front door and held her breath as she walked into the kitchen.

Her heart leapt.

A man with pale blond hair was turned away, lifting a freshly baked loaf of bread from the cast iron oven. He did not have mitts; instead, a shield of light separated his fingers from the heat of the pan. He was in a simple blue shirt and tan pants, and he brushed his hands onto his short apron once his hands were free of the pan.

“I was wondering when you’d wake up.”

Gemini swallowed, knowing the man’s voice well.

The man turned around, revealing long white bangs messily hung around his face. His blue eyes smiled as much as his lips did. “Good morning, love. Did you sleep well?”

Gemini’s face flushed the moment they locked eyes. Her hand instantly went to the brown strands of her hair, nervously twisting it between her fingers. “I did,” she answered after a pause. “You?”

The man hummed and nodded in affirmation, and he turned back to the pan on the stove. “Would you like one egg, or two?”

“Two,” she took a step forward. “Ian…”

“Hm?” Ian glanced over his shoulder.

Words instantly became difficult to speak. Thousands coursed through her mind, but not a single one could be coaxed from the noise.

Ian, however, just smiled and returned to the pan. “I bet you just need a nice, warm breakfast.”

Her lips tugged in a smile as her worries faded. “Maybe I do.”

“You can slice the bread, if you’d like,” Ian said as he reached for the butter dish. “You’re the only one who can touch it when it’s that hot.”

The Igne-Aravasti smiled and slowly entered the kitchen. She passed behind Ian and up to the bread pan, feeling its heat as she wrapped her hands around it. With an effortless twist she lifted the pan and set it upside-down on the counter. The fresh loaf slid out, and at once the smell was warm and familiar.

She reached for the bread knife, only to pause; at once forgetting which of the drawers she could find it in.

“Where’s the bread knife?” She resorted to asking.

“Should be in the drawer,” Ian glanced at her.

She chewed on her lip, looking between three drawers.

Ian brushed behind her, his hand lingering on her hip as he opened the drawer next to her.

“Oh, thanks,” she reached in for the wooden handle.

Ian’s hand slipped to her other hip, holding her in place.

Gemini froze, closing her eyes as she felt Ian’s lips on her cheek. His body was warm against her back.

Her eyes popped open. She broke from his grasp and stepped away.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, remaining where he stood

She again twisted strands of her hair as she stood in the middle of the kitchen. “Sorry, I just… I feel like something is… off.”

“There’s a few reasons for that,” the man offered somewhat matter-of-factly.

“What?”

Ian flashed a toothy grin. “Well, for one, your sister has Lyra.”

“Lyra?”

“Polara wanted to have a cousin sleepover, so she undoubtedly had the time of her life with Aira and Andre last night.”

Another pang shot through her while Ian simply chuckled. Lyra was her daughter–Lyra was her and Ian’s daughter. Polara was her sister, married to Aurel, with two children: Aira and Andre. She struggled to process these thoughts as their foreignness startled her.

“You got to wake up in peace this morning,” Ian cracked the eggs onto the pan, “and not with the fingers of tiny hands prying your eyes open. Well,” he paused, “that’s how she likes to wake me up, anyway.”

At once, Gemini found standing difficult. She felt lightheaded, nauseous, and breathless–and most of all extremely confused. She wobbled across the stone floor and nearly collapsed into one of the kitchen chairs. She clutched the shawl around her shoulders and hunched forward.

“Are you feeling okay?” Ian stopped what he was doing when he saw her distressed state. When she didn’t answer, he took a step toward her. “Gem?”

“I don’t know,” she muttered, unable to move.

“Gem,” Ian was kneeling before her in a matter of seconds. “Do we need to go to the doctor?”

She shook her head.

“You’re still early on,” he tried, taking the side of her face into his hand. “You’ll probably feel sick for another month or so if it’s anything like Lyra.”

“Month or so,” Gemini repeated, attempting to decipher his words. When the context finally clicked, her hand instantly clamped across her middle. “Oh my gosh,” she whispered.

“Gemini,” Ian stressed. “I think I agree with you–something is off.” He glanced back at the stove and stood up quickly to remove the pan of eggs from the fire. “Let me bring you to the doctor.”

“No,” she bolted upright.

“Gem,” he turned back to her.

A knock at the door averted their attention. Before they could move, the door clicked open.

“Knock knock!” A woman’s voice called from around the corner. “Guess who woke up super early and got everyone else up with her?”

Gemini’s brows arched in pained surprise as a tall woman with long brown hair and white bangs entered the kitchen from the foyer. She was dressed in purple robes and had a toddler on her right hip.

“Lara…” Gemini whispered in realization, slinking back into the chair.

Two girls darted out from behind Polara’s skirt, both with light brown hair.

“Momma, guess what?” The younger of the two bounded across the kitchen toward her. 

Lyra was just as much familiar as she was foreign: the stringy brown hair tossed around her shoulders, the missing front tooth she had just lost last week, the freckled cheeks that would eventually fade if they were anything like her mother’s, the bright blue eyes of her father, and the joy and genuine love in those eyes looking back at her.

“Careful, Lyra–Momma’s not feeling good right now,” Ian tried to intercept her when Gemini made no movement to accept her daughter’s leap.

“Uh oh, you’re having trouble with this one, too?” Polara bounced the young boy higher on her hip. “I think you were more sick with Lyra than I ever was with Aira and Andre combined.”

“Momma’s sick?” Lyra looked at her mother with concern. She reached out her hand and set it on Gemini’s knee. “Are you okay, Momma?”

“Lyra, I…” Gemini struggled to breathe.

“You’ll need to stay with Auntie Lara a little longer,” the man crouched on one knee and took Lyra into his arms. He looked up at Gemini’s sister with a frown. “I need to bring Gem to the doctor.”

“No,” Gemini muttered, her eyes unfocused behind her glasses.

“Why does Momma have to go to the doctor?” Lyra’s concern was evident in her expression as much as the tone of her voice.

“Remember when we told you that you’d be getting a new brother or sister?” Ian tried to explain as he carried her back to Polara.

Shock hit the young girl as she was placed on her feet next to a similarly confused Aira. “Are you going to get them now??” She asked in surprise.

“No, no,” Polara took her free hand and laid it on Lyra’s head. “You have to wait a few more months for that. But we can go play in your room while we wait for Momma and Daddy to get back today!”

“We can play more, Lyra!” Aira was fully on board with the proposition.

“No,” Gemini was trembling, tears welling in her eyes.

Ian leaned his head down toward her. “Gemini, what is it?”

“This isn’t right,” she spat the words.

Ian appeared hurt. “What do you mean?”

“This—all of this!” The woman thrust out her hand into the kitchen. “This isn’t right–this isn’t here!”

Polara grit her teeth and ushered the kids out of the room as Ian dropped to his knees at Gemini’s feet.

“Gemini, please–it’s going to be okay–”

Gemini stood up so abruptly the chair she was sitting on clattered backward into the wall. 

“No!!” She yelled. “None of this is here! All of this is gone!!”

Ian sat back on his feet in wide-eyed fear as tears streamed down her cheeks.

“Aravast was destroyed!” Her voice wavered.

“Gemini!” Now Ian was shaking in fear, reaching up for Gemini’s hand.

She clenched her teeth and took it.

In the blink of an eye, she could see his fingers, blue and bruised, held lifelessly in her hand. His body was wrapped in the remnants of his long purple scarf and lying on the fire-scorched land. She could see embers drifting in the air above the stone fountain, dried and fallen over from the blasts. She could see the rubble of broken sandstone walls strewn across the dusty ground surrounding her as she knelt upon it.

She gasped for air, gripping her bare arms as her brown and white hair was tossed in the wind. She was still alive because Ian had protected her with the last of his strength and power. 

She was the only one left.

The last of the planet Aravast.

In the bleeding sky above her, a disc-like ship came into view. She watched it in silent awe as it dipped into and out of the rising clouds of smoke. A disturbance began to shift the air before her. It scattered into colored light, and with a whoosh of sound, a man in a red Starfleet uniform faded into view.

“Oh, you’re no fun!!” He complained, hands crossed at his chest.

Gemini’s brows lowered. “Q…”

“You just had to ruin that beautiful little moment, didn’t you!” He stepped up to her place on the ground.

“You–you did that??” She climbed back to her feet and stood stiffly before him. “You tugged at every memory–every emotion I ever had from my life on Aravast??”

“Well, of course!” He thrust out his hands. “I had to show you what life would have been like if you had done what all good Aravasti women did: settle down with a husband and start a family!” He pointed over his shoulder. “Oh–try to guess which of your children ends up being an Igne.”

Gemini clenched her teeth and shook her head. “No!! Because none of that was real!”

“Says who?”

“Says the person who lived through this destruction!!” Gemini was seething as she stepped across the broken ground and forced her way into Q’s face. “Says the person who knows every living thing on this planet died except me!! Do you know how hard that’s been to comprehend I was the only survivor? Do you know how much guilt I’ve had to endure wondering why it was me and not someone else??”

Q looked down his nose at Gemini, frowning as tears stained her dust-covered face. “I still say you’re no fun.” He mumbled under his breath.

Gemini huffed out a sigh and relaxed as Q turned around. 

“This could have been your life if you hadn’t ruined it, though.”

She glanced aside, lips tightly pressed as she again found herself in her bedroom–just as it had been when she had awakened.

“This could have been your new reality,” Q stepped up to her bookshelf and lifted one of the drawing books, “a reality in which Aravast was not destroyed, and Ian chose you as his wife.” He flipped open a page and found doodles of space ships. “Hm,” he commented.

Gemini stepped around him and plucked the book from his hand. “This is not my reality.”

Q sighed, his expression dulled. “Fine.”

He raised his hand.

Gemini blinked–recognizing the sign too late. “Wait–” she reached for him.

He snapped his finger once.

---
Scene Notes

• In one of the earlier drafts of Echoes of Aravast (Gemini's story idea before it morphed into Westfall), a 'flash forward' at the very end would show Gemini and Ian as a couple with two children, Lyra (Sierra originally) and Isaac (with Isaac ending up with Gemini's power–which, at the time, was time-manipulation). But that story will now just live on as an alternate reality here!
• The TNG crossovers never got this deep into Gemini's backstory, so that was pretty moving to show what she's been through.