Author's notes:  Just a  bit of silliness, it doesn't really go into either of our existing timelines as it occurs at the end of Captain's Holiday.  This is sort of a cross between a parody and a spoof--let's just call it a poof ;-D.  We did take a few liberties with the lyrics and Oh, Calcutta is not Rodgers and Hammerstein--it just lent itself to the title.  Feel free to archive to any pertinent site.

As always: Paramount owns all the marbles, we just have a lot more fun playing with them.
Feedback is always appreciated - posted or e-mail.

Whoa Nellie's Picard/Vash Romance Fan Fiction website is at:
http://www.geocities.com/TimesSquare/Galaxy/7926/

*For the mutilation of Rodgers and Hammerstein that you are about to read, Whoa Nellie sincerely begs forgiveness.

Oh, Risa!

 Jean-Luc Picard looked around his room on Risa hoping that he had forgotten to pack something, anything, just to prolong his departure; Vash wasn't the only one who was reluctant for this to end.  He had found everything except the relaxation that he'd come to Risa for yet it seemed as though relaxation hadn't been what he truly needed or wanted.  "Is there anything I can say to talk you out of your insane expedition to Sarthong V?"

 "Nope," Vash shrugged and shook her head.

 "Surely you don't intend to spend your life gallivanting about the galaxy," he said.  "Haven't
you ever considered settling down?"  Almost as soon as he'd said it, he mentally kicked himself.  He had a responsibility to his ship.  Robert had settled down and carried on the family tradition which would be passed on to Rene'; so why was he suddenly thinking about marriage himself?

 Truthfully, she had never really met a man who made her want to stay in one place.  Men were amusing, occasionally useful and cute, but Jean-Luc had been different from the first.  The obvious discomfiture when he discovered the meaning of the Horga'hn he flaunted so casually was endearing.  She was disappointed that he'd destroyed the Tox Uthat, but even that didn't detract from his masculine charms.  "Why Jean-Luc, I had no idea that you felt that way," she teased with just a hint of seriousness behind her tone.

 "No, I didn't mean--" Picard stammered.

 "I've never really thought about marriage or family," she mused aloud.  "It's hard to even imagine myself settled down.  I wonder how I'd feel living on a hillside, looking on an ocean beautiful and still."

 The view from the window suddenly became fascinating.  His voice was barely a whisper, his words meant only for himself.  "Is this what I need?  Is this what I've longed for, someone young and smiling, climbing up my hill?"

 "Did you say something?" Vash asked.

 Turning around abruptly, Picard shook his head.  "No.  I should probably be getting back to my ship."

 "Whirlwind romance already losing it's whirl?" she asked with an impish grin.  The man had buttons a meter wide that just screamed 'push me.'

 He had to bite back an uncharacteristic stammer.  This woman was impossible.  "I'm a Starfleet captain, I have responsibilities."

 "Of course," she acknowledged.  "And certainly, we are not alike.  I'd probably bore you."

 Picard's eyebrow shot up in silent amusement.

 Vash continued, "I mean, you're a cultured Frenchman, I'm a little hick."

 "A description that I doubt anyone in their right mind could assign to you," he retorted.  "Besides, younger man than I, officers and gentlemen, probably pursue you," he pointed out.  She was an adult, but the age difference was still notable.  "You could have your pick."

 She made a show of overtly ogling every inch of his muscled body as if she were measuring him up.  Slowly, she wet her lips.

 "And another thing," he added.  "I'm married to my ship, my career; somehow I get the impression you're too high maintenance to accept second place to a starship."

 Adopting an innocent expression, her lips formed a seductive pout.  She wordlessly pointed to herself in mock surprise.

 "The Enterprise will be near the Sarthong sector for a while on a scheduled mapping survey," Picard sighed.  "Take a subspace communicator with you; if you get into trouble--"

 "Put my lips together and blow?" Vash asked, grinning.

 He had an image of the havoc that this woman could wreak in bare hours aboard his vessel.  "Listen, there's a certain level of decorum that I need to maintain."

 "Your point being?"

 Resisting the urge to sigh again, he clarified his point.  "Ships are very small communities; for all of our technological advancements, the grapevine is still the fastest means of communication in the universe.  If our paths should cross, we'll need to keep things discreet."

 Vash studied her fingernails casually.  "Why would I care that they think up stories that link my name with yours?  Are you at all concerned that your neighbors in the next room have been gossiping all day behind their door?"  She snapped her fingers.  "I know a way to prove what they say is quite untrue.  Here is the gist, a practical list of don'ts for you.  First, don't throw bouquets at me."

 "Let me guess, you prefer jewelry," he commented dryly.

 Shrugging noncommittally, she pointed her finger at him.  "And don't please me too much.  Don't laugh at my jokes too much."  Her expression became one of mock horror.  "People will say we're in love."

 This woman was the very personification of an imp.  She reminded him of the character from Shakespeare's Midsummer Night's Dream, Puck.

 Vash rose to pace around the room, getting into her 'list' of instructions.  "Don't sigh and gaze at me; your sighs sound so like mine."

 Picard tugged on his shirt, forgetting that he wasn't in uniform.  "Starfleet captains do not sigh and gaze at anything but starscapes."

 "Your eyes mustn't glow like mine or people will say we're in love," she warned him.  "Don't start collecting things, give me my rose and my gloves," she pointed to the items on the bed beside his bag.  "I'm sure you weren't planning to sneak them into your bag."

 He couldn't help but smile at her mischievous sense of humor.  "Of course not, sweetheart."

 She clucked her tongue at him.  "Don't sweetheart me, they'll suspect things; people will say we're in love."

 "Well," he said.  "Some people might claim that you are to blame as much as I am."

 "Oh, really?"  Vash crossed her arms over her chest, implicitly inviting him to say more.

 "Why did you take the trouble to replicate my favorite pie last night?  And out there, it was your wish for me to carve our initials on that cave wall."

 She had to argue his point on that one.  "Which you refused to do, party pooper."

 Ignoring her, he took on a lecturing tone.  "So, just keep a slice of all the advice you give so freely."

 "Oh please, share."

 This time he was the one pacing the floor with a list of 'instructions.'  "Don't praise my charm too much."

 "I wasn't the one flashing the Horga'hn around," Vash couldn't resist bringing that up.  His ears turned an adorable shade of pink, but otherwise the man had impressive self-control.  A bit too impressive if you asked her.

 He definitely needed to have a chat with Commander Riker about that whole Horga'hn thing.  "Don't look so vain with me or act like you want to stand in the rain with me."

 She gestured toward her body.  "It's not vanity if it's true and I happen to look great in a wet shirt.  But, okay people will say we're in love if we were to do that."

 "Don't take my arm too much, don't keep your hand in mine."

 Vash gave her best seductive pout.  "But, your hand feels so grand in mine."

 He wagged his finger at her.  "People will say we're in love."  It was getting hard to remember why that was a bad thing.  They had this amazing chemistry and conversations with her were certainly the most scintillating banter he could remember.  He gazed at her, standing there looking so sweet and demure, almost belying the spirited nature that he'd seen firsthand during their adventure.

 His stare was intense; a sense of anticipation sent her pulse racing.  "I wonder why I feel so jittery and jumpy?" she asked softly.  Laughing self-consciously, she ran her fingers through her hair.  "I'm like a schoolgirl waiting for a dance."

 There was a thought whose time had come.  He walked to the control panel on the wall and requested some soft music.  "Can I ask her now?" he wondered quietly to himself.  Then it was his turn to chuckle in a self-deprecating manner.  "I am like a schoolboy."  He turned around and held out his hand.  "What will be your answer?  Do I have a chance?"

 "For what?"

 Crossing over to where she stood, he caressed her cheek.  "I feel like we've just been introduced.  Undoubtedly, I do not know you well; but when the music starts, something draws me to your side.  So many men and girls are in each other's arms on Risa tonight--it made me think we might be similarly occupied.  Shall we dance?"

 Vash was mesmerized by the darkening of his steel-grey eyes.  "What's the name of this song?"

 "On a Bright Cloud."

 "Then what," she asked.  "Shall we then say 'Goodnight' and mean 'Goodbye'?"

 He hadn't meant to speak aloud.  Something about this woman completely undid his characteristic stoicism.  "Perhaps when the last little star has left the sky, shall we still be together with our arms around each other and you my new romance?"

 One fingernail trailed down the V-neck opening of his shirt.  "You really think that you're such a  damned sexy man, don't you?" she murmured.  "Fine, with every understanding of what kind of thing might happen, we shall dance."

 They moved together in unison, his arms circling her waist as her hands caressed his biceps and slid around his shoulders.  She snuggled closer against him and Picard responded by tightening his grip on her.  That chemistry suddenly exploded, the warmth of her yielding curves pressing into him and the exotic fragrance of her perfume sparking a reaction from his body.

 "Wait a minute," Vash raised her head from his shoulder although she never stopped swaying in time with the music.  "This isn't right."

 "Yes, it is, you dance beautifully," he assured her.

 She knew where this was going as well as he did, she just wanted to make him work a little harder for it.  "No, we're not holding hands, like this."  She adjusted their hands into the old-style, proper waltzing form.

 "No," Picard acknowledged.  "As a matter of fact..."

 Vash looked at him with her blue eyes as large as humanly possible.  "We should dance properly, shouldn't we?  Like this?"

 "Yes," he sighed.  This woman had more mood swings than anyone he'd ever met; she should come equipped with inertial dampeners.

 Stepping back to a decorous distance, she squared her shoulders.  "Come," she said in the clipped tone of a 'proper lady'.

 "Precisely what I had in mind," he muttered in a low growl.  He swept her into his arms and carried her toward the bed.

..................................................................................

 Much later Vash sauntered into the lounge of the resort.  Her entire stay on Risa had been a bust--well, almost her entire stay.  Jean-Luc was probably already gone, the Tox Uthat was definitely gone; all in all not her best week.  The lounge was virtually deserted, one woman who had obviously had a few drinks already, was sitting at the bar.  Vash plopped onto a barstool with a disgusted grunt.  "Men."

 "I hear you," her neighbor piped up.  "Bartender, get this lady a drink--the good stuff, not synthehol.  I'm Phillipa, by the way, Phillipa Louvois."

 "Vash," she introduced herself.  "I'm not going to wallow."

 "Nope," Louvois moved down a stool to sit next to Vash.  "No wallowing.  So, what are you going to do?"

 Sighing, Vash took a long drink of the concoction that the bartender put in front of her.  She could taste at least two different alcoholic beverages in the drink.  "I'm going to take a long, hot, bubble bath and then I'm going to wash that man right out of my hair."

 Louvois laughed.  "You're going to wash that man right out of your hair?  I like that, I'm going to wash that man right out of my hair, too."

 "What man?"

 "Any man, every man, especially men without hair of their own," Louvois replied.

 Unknowingly, her drinking buddy had hit the nail on the head.  "Definitely the ones without hair, they're just trouble."

 "Send him on his way," Louvois said.

 Vash nodded.  "I'm going to wave that man right out of my arms."

 Louvois put her arm around the other woman.  "You wave that man right out of your arms and I'll wave that man right out of my arms and we'll both just send him on his way.  Don't try to patch it up"

 Finishing her first drink, Vash got a second from the bartender and started on it before chiming in.  "Nope, tear it up.  Wash him out, dry him out."

 "Push him out, fly him out, cancel him and let him go."

 Vash raised her glass in a toast.  "Yeah, sister."

 Louvois signaled for another drink.  "If a man don't understand you, if you fly on separate ships, then waste no time, make a change, ride that man right off your range.  Rub him out of the roll call and drum him out of your dreams."

 "Wash that man right out of your hair," Vash said.  "If you laugh at different comics, if you root for different teams, waste no time, weep no more, show him what the door is for.  I mean, you can't light a fire when the woods are wet."

 "Nope," Louvois agreed.

 "You can't make a butterfly strong."

 Louvois started to concur, but something occurred to her.  "Well, there is that carnivorous breed on Lacisum VII."

 "Hmm, hmm," the woman had a point, Vash had forgotten about those nasty little creatures.  "Okay, then you can't fix an egg when it ain't quite good and you can't fix a man when he's wrong."

 Picking up on her train of thought, Louvois suggested, "You can't put back a petal when it falls from a flower, or sweeten up a fellow when he starts turning sour."

 Vash searched her mind for more analogies.  "If his eyes get dull and fishy, when you look for glints and gleams, waste no time, make a switch..."

 "Drop him in the nearest ditch," Louvois laughed.  "Rub him out of the roll call, and drum him out of your dreams."

 The two women dissolved into giggles.
...............................................................................

 Picard looked around, trying to capture the feelings that he'd found there.  Vash was laughing somewhere, he could just hear her laughter filtering through the open reception area of the resort.  A sense of resignation filled him.  "I'll keep remembering kisses from lips I've never owned and all the lovely adventures that we have never known.  This nearly was mine."

..............................................................................

 Guinan had known, he didn't know how but she had known that he would show up in Ten-Forward wanting to talk.  He'd been unable to settle down earlier; his quarters felt smaller, more confining than he could ever remember.  Ten-Forward had been deserted except for Guinan already pouring two glasses of Aldebaran whiskey.  Before he realized it, he had recounted every detail of his holiday to her.

 "It sounds like you had quite a vacation," Guinan noted.  "I'd like to hear more about this woman you met."

 Picard drained his drink and waited as Guinan refilled it.  "Vash defies description.  In fact, defiant is probably as good a description as any other word."

 "Oh, I know you," Guinan coaxed.  "There has to be more to her than that, otherwise you would be sound asleep in your quarters right now.  I certainly don't think it was your encounter with the Vorgons that got you so wound up."

 Thinking back to his time with Vash, he chuckled.  "Well, picture a woman who climbs a tree and scrapes her knee; her clothes have got a tear.  A woman who waltzes on her way to trouble and whistles along the way."

 "Sounds like just your type," Guinan smiled.  "I bet she makes you laugh."

 She did, in fact she made him feel and do a lot of things that not many women could do and she did it effortlessly.  "Oh, Guinan, how do you solve a problem like Vash?  I might as well be asking how to catch a cloud and pin it down.  How do you find a word that means Vash?"

 "A flibberti gibbet, a willo' the wisp," Guinan offered a few suggestions.

 "Clown," Picard tossed in.

 The picture was getting clearer.  "Many a thing you know you want to tell her, many a thing she ought to understand."

 "The problem is, how do you make her stay and listen to all you say?" he commiserated.  Mentally, he threw his hands up in frustration.  "It's like asking how to keep a wave upon the sand?"

 "Or, how to hold a moonbeam in your hand," Guinan's enigmatic smile accompanied her keen insight.

 Picard drained his drink, waving off her gesture toward the bottle.  He was beginning to discover that trying to get a handle on Vash was mentally and emotionally exasperating.  "When I'm with her I'm confused, out of focus and bemused, and I never know exactly where I am.  Vash is as unpredictable as weather and as flighty as a feather, but she's also part darling, part demon, and part lamb.  I swear she'd out-pester any pest; drive a hornet from his nest.  She could throw a whirling dervish out of whirl.  She is gentle.  She is wild.  She's a riddle.  She's a child.   She's a headache.  She's an angel."

 Guinan put the bottle back behind the bar.  "She sounds like quite a girl."

**FINIS**

*Musicals/songs abused (in alphabetical order):

The King and I:
Shall We Dance?

Oklahoma:
People Will Say We're In Love

Sound of Music:
Maria

South Pacific:
I'm Gonna Wash that Man Right Outa My Hair
This Nearly Was Mine (just a couple of lines)
Twin Soliloquies