A series of beeps woke Gemini from a doze. She pushed herself up from her slouched position and leaned forward to check the shuttlecraft’s console. The noise had been a proximity alert.

“Qo’noS,” she blinked, reading the destination planet.

“Ah, we are almost there.”

Gemini turned to find Worf emerging from the back of the shuttle. He was in his traditional Klingon garments of leather and metal that creaked as he walked, and with a subtle grin, he sat down in the chair beside her.

“I am anxious to arrive. It has been some time,” the Klingon spoke.

“And I’ve never been,” the woman sat back in the chair, her leather bodice tight against her chest. “So, it’s about time for me.”

He smiled until his teeth showed. “Indeed.”

The two grew silent as they watched the green-hued planet slowly come into view. They often spent moments like this; Worf not being inherently chatty was mostly the reason, but Gemini grew to understand these quiet moments were a viable way to spend time by simply enjoying each others’ presence.

Still, she felt a twinge of nervousness in her chest as she watched the Klingon planet grow in size. She turned to Worf, finding his profile as he gazed out the window. She traced the ridges of his forehead with her eyes, leading to his sharp nose and bearded chin. She managed a smile regardless.

“You will undoubtedly receive much attention when we arrive,” Worf spoke after a moment. “But I am certain you will be able to put any doubts to rest. Your heritage will not matter, even if others will question it.”

She nodded and crossed her arms against her chest. “That must be why I feel so uneasy.”

Worf glanced at her. “You are uneasy?”

She shrugged dismissively. “I’m not sure why. Like you said, I don’t need to be.”

“Yes,” Worf creaked as he leaned onto his left knee, “but this is a very big step for us–a very big step for you.”

She looked down as he clamped a hand tightly upon her knee.

“It is your first visit to the Klingon home world,” he continued, his gaze somehow soft as their eyes met. “And it will be where you will complete the Bre’Nan.”

Her eyes narrowed, somehow forgetting what the Bre’Nan was.

The proximity alarm gave another warning. She looked out the window to find Qo’noS filling their view. Despite the alarm’s persistence, she found herself unable to move.

Worf frowned, turned to the control panel, and flipped a few switches before he set his hands on the steering console. “You have practiced a great deal for this and the other ceremonial rituals,” he reassured her when she remained still. “I am not concerned about your ability to perform any of these, but I fully understand if this causes some unease.”

“And when I complete the rituals,” she asked, despite her inability to recall anything they were speaking of, “then will they accept me, even though I’m Aravasti?”

Worf’s pointed brows furrowed as his eyes strayed from the window. “Qul’tuq.”

The name struck her like a pang in her chest, and she turned to him with wide eyes.

Worf was thoroughly disarmed by her expression, and he averted his eyes back to his task of landing the shuttle. “I’m sorry if I confused you; your participation in the rituals will certainly prove you are serious in becoming a part of Klingon society and will aid in their acceptance of you. I simply wanted to warn you… as Klingons often look down on those they feel were not raised to proper standards,” he growled somewhat. “I despise thinking you may have to endure what I had to.”

Gemini had no trouble remembering what Worf was referring to; being raised by human parents on Earth after his Klingon family was killed was seen as a sort of dishonor, as if it made him less of a Klingon. To that day, he still struggled with this insecurity.

But, it was the Bre’Nan and the other ceremonial rituals that could not be accessed within her memories. It was almost as if she had never heard of them before–as if she had completely forgotten everything she had prepared. She tried desperately to remember, leaving the rest of their landing in a much more uncomfortable silence.

Once the shuttle was settled, Worf disengaged the engines and looked at her. When he found her staring idly ahead, he shifted in his seat to face her. “How can I help?” He tried, his voice somehow delicate.

She shook her head. “I… I’m not sure; I feel like I’ve forgotten… everything…”

“We can go over the notable women of my house,” Worf perked up.

“The women…?” She sighed and held a hand against her forehead. “Worf, I don’t know; it’s like something is messing with my head.”

“Qul’tuq,” Worf paused and shook off the name. “Gemini,” he stressed, this time placing his hand on her shoulder. “If you are truly worried about the rituals, we can postpone the wedding.”

This time a pang of shock flooded her entire body. She certainly had no memories of preparing for a wedding.

“I do not wish to force you if you do not feel prepared.”

She eyed his hand and blinked her eyes downward as it caressed the side of her face. “Worf,” she whispered.

“I love you,” he pressed his forehead against hers and shut his eyes. “I will wait as long as you need.”

“Worf, I don’t…” her breathing became erratic. “I don’t know what’s happening.”

His expression twisted in deep concern. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I–I don’t know what’s happening!”

“Gemini,” he laid his hand on her arm.

She got up with a start, mashing the door controls as she brushed past Worf. She rushed to the door of the shuttlecraft and leapt outside.

At once, a group of Klingon men looked up from their work on a nearby shuttle. They instantly began to sneer at her, throwing Klingon insults under their breath.

“NaDevvo' peghoS!” Worf was at her back moments later, looming over her protectively.

Gemini scowled and caught her reflection in a piece of reflective metal propped against a nearby wall. Her facial expression unclenched, and she stepped toward it as if in a trance.

A woman, Aravasti in appearance but Klingon in dress, stared back at her. Long, brown and white locks interspersed with braids fell around her shoulders and down her back. Sewn leggings were tight against her legs with tall boots almost up to her knees. A fitted leather bodice, a metal collar, and a metal baldric looped over her right shoulder completed the ensemble.

“No!” Fire curled around her fists. “This isn’t right!!”

“Gemini!” Worf called out to her, only to shrink back when the fire encircled her.

“Stop this, Q!!” She grit her teeth and struck the metal with a loud roar.

The metal bent from the force of her fits.

The Klingon men began to yell at her as Worf tried to reach her–suddenly finding her flames too hot to touch.

She reared back, fire consuming her arms. “Stop this now!!” She roared again and struck the metal with all her force.

The metal crumbled inward, scattering embers throughout the shuttlebay as she cried out loud.

Everything fell black.

Everything fell silent.

Gemini blinked and found herself in the hallway of the Enterprise just outside her door. She looked down and found herself in her usual yellow uniform. She grabbed handfuls of her hair and found it shoulder-length and neatly combed. Her hand gently touched the wall, though she was unsure why she felt compelled to test her reality. 

“I must be really exhausted,” she muttered.

She turned to find Data approaching from around the hall. She smiled in relief. “Oh, Data, thank goodness you’re here; I–”

In one swift movement, Data swept Gemini into his arms and leaned her backward in a sensual dip.

“Hello, Gemini,” he cooed with an amorous smile.

Flabbergasted, Gemini gnashed her teeth. “Q!!”

“I will admit,” Data’s face was now Q’s, “this one was just for laughs.”

Gemini grunted and swiftly shoved against the man’s chest. She flopped backward onto the floor when he released her.

“Why are you doing this to me??” She growled from her hands and knees.

“I told you–I’m showing you alternate realities!” He straightened back up and squared himself to her. “How else are you supposed to realize how terribly boring your current life is?” When Gemini only grumbled under her breath and got back to her feet, he rolled his eyes. “Honestly, I wouldn’t have expected you and Microbrain to make such a… tolerable couple. But you had to go and ruin your own wedding day by breaking the illusion!”

“I didn’t break the illusion!” She shot back.

“Every time I’ve shown you alternate realities, you’ve talked yourself out of them!”

“Because they’re not real!”

“But they could have been real!” He thrust out his hands, “Why aren’t you understanding this concept?”

She grabbed his hands and forcefully pulled them down to his sides. “I don’t think you understand!” She stressed the word. “Each time you drop me into a new ‘reality’, sure: it looks real–it feels real. But the longer I’m there, the more I notice something is off, the more I forget, the more I can’t remember… the more I realize that what I was living isn’t real!”

Q’s frown had deepened as she spoke, though he remained silent within her grasp.

She let go of his hands, stepping back to a more reasonable distance. “So, either I’m really good at figuring you out–”

“Well, that’s not it,” he rolled his eyes.

“–Or you’re not as all-powerful as you think you are!”

“That’s certainly not it!” Q appeared to take offence.

The two frowned at each other before they both sighed and crossed their arms in unison. When they realized they had mirrored each other, they both made efforts to turn away and change their positions.

“I’m sorry I have to be a boring Aravasti married to a boring human on a boring spaceship,” Gemini jeered blandly, glancing at Q from over her shoulder. “But I can’t live on a planet that no longer exists, I can’t marry my mentor, and I can’t date Data. So, can you please stop this now?” Gemini asked.

Q’s expression had dulled into an emotionless glance. “Suit yourself.” He offered the smallest of shrugs before lifting his hand. “I’m sorry, Gemini.”

He snapped his finger before she could utter another word.

---
Scene Notes

• Worf more or less yells "Back off!" to the other Klingon.
• Hopefully there was enough context, but the Bre'Nan is a Klingon ritual where the Mistress of the Great House (ruling Klingon family) grants approval (or denial) for the bride to enter her family.
• I actually really liked the dynamic Worf and Gemini had in the last crossover, and I feel like if Hudson hadn't been in the picture, this could have been a viable alternate...

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!