Disclaimer: Star Trek: The Next Generation and Star Trek: Voyager, along with their characters, are the property of Paramount. No copyright infringement is intended.

Author's Note: set after the events of "Nemesis" (TNG movie, not the VOY episode by that name) and follows Ephemeral in my Picard/Janeway series.

Many thanks to Seema, who spawned, er, suggested this pairing in the first place, and of course, for her usual excellent beta.
Darkness
By Rocky

"Message from Starbase 404," the young Andorian Ops officer reported. "The Admiral's party will be ready to beam up in five minutes."

"Very good, Mr. Aziz," Picard said, careful not to let his voice betray his excitement. He stood, catching his First Officer's eye. "I'll be in the transporter room. You have the bridge, Number One."

"Aye, Captain," said Madden, standing as well in anticipation of taking the center seat.

The perfunctory response reminded Picard yet again of the changes his senior staff had undergone recently. Riker would have at the very least smirked or made some reference to the Captain's eagerness to greet their visitor immediately upon her arrival--his comments staying (barely) within the bounds of propriety and military decorum, of course. Troi would have had a knowing look in her eyes, doubtless sensing Picard's heightened anticipation. But the new counselor, M'Kar, was not often present on the bridge, in keeping with Starfleet's shift to a more military mindset in the wake of the Dominion War. And Bertram Madden, in the few short weeks he'd been on board the Enterprise-E, had not struck Picard as the type to make any remarks that could be construed as personal to a superior officer. Not while on duty, or, Picard suspected, even off it.

Change was inevitable--not to mention, desirable--the Captain reminded himself sternly for what seemed like the thousandth time in the past few weeks. It was only natural he missed the officers with whom he had grown so close over the years, but the reality was it had been an anomaly for the old Enterprise crew to have stayed together for so long. It was well past time for Will to have moved on to his own command, and only natural that his new wife should accompany him. Just like Beverly Crusher had gone on to bigger and better things at Starfleet Medical, just like Data no doubt would have eventually moved on as well, if he hadn't sacrificed himself to save the ship--

Firmly clamping down on this train of thought, Picard took a deep breath and attempted to compose his features into a more neutral expression. He strode into the transporter room and nodded to the ensign behind the console. "Energize."

A lone figure materialized on the platform.

"Admiral Janeway," Picard said. He tentatively stepped forward with his hand outstretched, all too aware of the additional eyes witnessing this meeting. "Welcome aboard."

"Thank you, Captain Picard," she said, her formal tone matching his. Her hand was warm and dry, its pressure comforting.

"Where is your aide?" he asked, relaxing fractionally. "My orders were to provide transportation for your 'party.'"

"So you were expecting a whole entourage?" Janeway smiled and shook her head. "I subscribe to the old motto, 'he travels the fastest who travels alone.'"

"That depends on where you hope to travel to."

"At the moment, to the Denab system." Her smile lingered but changed  in some way Picard couldn't quite define. "I'm quite capable of handling this mission on my own. That is," she corrected herself swiftly, "with the assistance provided by yourself and your crew, of course."

"Of course." Belatedly, Picard turned to the transporter officer. "Dismissed, Ensign."

As soon as they were alone, Janeway moved into his arms. "A much more fitting greeting," she murmured, breaking the kiss.

"Not to mention, more enjoyable."

"If not in keeping with regulation." She paused. "Unless you're in the habit of greeting all of the admirals this way."

"Actually…"

"No wonder Alynna Nechayev always spoke so highly of her accommodations aboard your vessel."

 Picard's lips twitched. "Hardly." He glanced around. "No baggage? Or is this part of your streamlined travel philosophy?"

Janeway shrugged. "My needs are simple. Anything I might want can easily be replicated." She smiled ruefully. "It actually took me a while to get used to the idea. The first time I ventured back into space, I actually did lug around a duffel bag full of useless--and easily reproduced--items. There I was, back in the Alpha Quadrant, and I was still thinking in terms of energy rationing and scarcity."

"Perfectly understandable." Picard gave her a sidelong glance. "While replicators can be convenient, there's also something to be said about surrounding oneself with familiar objects."

Her face clouded. "Yes, although they're just more things that can be lost..." She cleared her throat. "Well, Captain, what's on the agenda for this afternoon?"

"That depends," Picard said, ushering her into the corridor. "Would you care to stop by your quarters and freshen up first, or proceed directly to a tour of the ship?"

"A tour of the ship," Janeway said firmly. "I'm eager to see the upgrades in the warp conversion matrices, not to mention the metaphasic shielding. Even though both features were initially introduced in earlier ship models, the current energy ratio in the Sovereign class represents a vast improvement over--" She stopped short and looked at him quizzically. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Picard said. "Except that I'm reconsidering the wisdom of including Engineering in our tour. You and my chief will hit it off famously. So famously, in fact, I'm afraid I'll never get you out of there."

Janeway laughed. "Then I suggest we begin with the Bridge and end in Engineering." She leaned closer. "But I promise, Jean-Luc, I won't spend the entire three days I'm on board surrounded by plasma relays."

"I'm going to hold you to that."

"Please do."

Picard smiled. "And now, Admiral, if you'd care to accompany me…"


Picard shifted the wine bottle in the crook of his arm to a more comfortable position as he signaled for entry outside the VIP quarters.

"Come in," Janeway called.

Picard felt a quick flash of disappointment at the sight of her uniform, her hair still done up in its severe bun. He remembered the last time they'd had dinner together, on Earth, shortly before the Enterprise-E had left dry-dock. The woman in the velvet gown, her hair tumbling in luxuriant waves about her shoulders, her face softly illuminated by the glowing fireplace, was a far cry from the very proper Admiral who stood at the viewport framed in semi-darkness, looking out at the stars.

She turned and smiled, dispelling the illusion of strangeness. "This is one of my favorite things about being in space, being able to look out on the seemingly endless vista of stars. Nowhere else can you see them this way."

Picard nodded, knowing what she meant. "They don't look the same when viewed from a planetary surface."

"Very few things do," Janeway said. She indicated the bottle he held. "Chateaux Picard?"

"When have you ever known me to drink anything else?" he responded lightly.

"Is that one of the bylaws of the winery business? That family members are required to support the product?"

"There is that," he agreed. "And of course, the fact that there truly is no finer wine."

"Of course."

Picard poured them each a glass of the cabernet sauvignon.

"This is excellent," Janeway said, as she took a sip and savored it on her tongue. "Is this a '79?"

"Seventy seven," Picard corrected. "A legendary vintage, at least according to my estate manager. I have a few bottles set aside for special occasions." He clinked his glass against hers. "To unexpected pleasures."

"And to fortuitous Starfleet orders that facilitate reunions," Janeway said with an answering smile. "I didn't request the Enterprise, you know, it just worked out that way."

"A lucky accident of fate," Picard said and then chuckled.

"What's so amusing?"

"I was just thinking about all the times the Enterprise-D was called upon to shuttle various ambassadors or other dignitaries around the sector. It made me feel like I was running a taxi service instead of exploring space."

"And now?" she said softly as she moved closer.

"And now, I can think of nothing else I'd rather be doing," he murmured as her lips met his. "Unless you'd prefer to eat first."

"I am famished," Janeway said, "but dinner sounds like a good idea as well."

Laughing, he released her. "Your wish is my command." He strode over to the replicator. "This won't take more than a few minutes."

"We're eating here?" she asked in surprise.

"I had considered other venues," he said, rapidly entering the special codes he'd brought with him. "Ten-Forward, for example, but…"

"A rather public venue," she agreed.

"As is the Mess Hall. Of course, the Captain's private dining room is an option as well, but I thought we might be more comfortable here." At her snort of laughter, he looked up. "Did I say something amusing?"

"It was your mention of the private dining room. Voyager's specs included one as well--until Neelix, our native guide, morale officer and jack-of-all-trades, took it upon himself to appropriate the space for his kitchen and expand into the regular Mess Hall." She smiled fondly at the memory.

"Under the circumstances it was probably a prudent choice," Picard said, thinking of the deprivations Voyager's crew must have suffered in the Delta Quadrant. Although eating natural foods instead of the synthesized variety, as was the norm aboard starships, would not necessarily be considered a deprivation by some.

"Oh, it was, particularly with the difficulties in keeping the replicators on-line in the early days. Not to mention the later chronic energy shortages. We couldn't have managed in terms of necessary calories per person without the foodstuffs we foraged for on any likely planets as well as grew in our aeroponics bay. Though given the choice of leola root and starvation, the latter didn't seem like such a bad alternative."

"Leola root? Is that some sort of tuber?"

"You could say that, although it's an insult to potatoes everywhere." Janeway shook her head regretfully. "No matter how Neelix prepared it, in stews, soups or fricassees, it was simply--awful. As were most of his other concoctions, such as pleeka rind casserole. Not that Neelix did much better with more familiar recipes or ingredients…" Her voice trailed away and her expression turned pensive.

Eager to keep her talking, as she seldom spoke in such detail about her life on Voyager, Picard said, "You probably enjoyed seeing your cook's reaction, once you returned home and he was able to taste the real thing."

"Neelix didn't come back with us. He remained in the Delta Quadrant, with a colony of Talaxians."

Picard detected the wistfulness in her voice. He ventured to say, "Perhaps it's better that way, then, that he was able to remain with his people." Hoping to lighten the mood, he added, "Though he might have made a go of it in the diplomatic corps, based on his service on Voyager. Or perhaps opened a restaurant."

Janeway didn't respond to his feeble attempt at a joke. "Yes, he's better off. He doubtless would have found himself as out of the place here as I--as we were in the Delta Quadrant."

Picard put down the dish he was holding and moved quickly to her side. He well understood the loneliness, the sensation of loss, she must be feeling. "Kathryn…" He put his arm around her. She resisted at first, then suddenly leaned against him as if too weary to stand. "You're so tense." That tight bun wasn't helping either, he was sure. Half expecting her to object, he reached over and removed her hairpins, one after the other, until her hair cascaded down. Smoothing the auburn waves to one side, he massaged the stiff muscles of her shoulders and neck. "There, is that better?"

"Thanks." She took a deep breath. "I'm sorry." Resolutely, she gestured at the food lined up next to the  replicator. "Are these ready to go out to the table?" Not waiting for an answer, she picked up the dishes and headed for the dining area. "The roses are lovely, by the way."

"I'm glad you like them," Picard said, glad to see the special bouquet he'd had delivered earlier occupying the place of honor in the center of the table. "I remembered your mentioning that Boothby regularly kept you supplied with roses during your Academy days."

"I didn't think it was standard décor, even for VIP quarters. Your attention to detail is very flattering, Jean-Luc."

"All part of the service," Picard said, pulling out her chair for her with a flourish.

The Salad Nicoise he'd chosen for their appetizer was exquisite, the thin strips of raw tuna melting against his tongue. He was glad to see Kathryn relax as the meal progressed. As they ate their main course, lobster bisque in a rich sauce liberally adorned with shaved black truffles, she was back to her old self.

"Would you care for some dessert? Crème brulee."

Janeway patted her lips with her napkin. "It's very tempting, but I'll just have coffee."

Knowing her proclivities, he had a pot of coffee already waiting, though he himself would have preferred tea. After he poured each of them a brandy, they retired to the couch.

"That was wonderful," she said, her arm brushing his lightly. "Truly a repast fit for royalty. I had no idea you were so skilled."

He smiled. "I am a man of many talents, my dear."

"So I see." She ran her finger down the side of his face, tracing some lines that hadn't been there at their last meeting. "As you know, I wasn't expecting to see you for another four months, but I'm very glad it worked out this way."

"Any particular reason, other than the obvious?" he said with an exaggerated leer.

"Yes," Janeway said, refusing to be sidetracked. "So I can find out how you're really doing, after the…complications of your most recent mission."

"You're referring to Shinzon." He exhaled sharply and forced himself to relax. "You've read my official report." Janeway had, after all, been the one to order him to Romulus to meet with the new praetor.

"I have. Now you can tell me what you didn't include in your transmission to Starfleet Command."

"There isn't very much else to add. Not content with just consolidating his hold over the Romulan Star Empire, Shinzon intended to attack the Federation, engulfing the entire Alpha Quadrant in yet another bloody war of conquest. Fortunately, we able to stop him." Picard closed his eyes briefly, once again feeling a pang at the high cost of their success.

Janeway placed her empty cup on the coffee table and turned so she was facing him. "I already know all that," she said patiently. "But what about Shinzon himself? It must have been painful for you, learning of his origins--and then being forced to destroy him."

His origins. Picard wanted to laugh at the euphemism. A copy grown from stolen genetic material, to be used as a pawn in a twisted Romulan intrigue. Then, when the master plan changed, abruptly consigned to a harsh and bitter existence as a slave. The effect all this had had on Shinzon's psyche was hardly unexpected, nor was his thirst for revenge at all those he fancied had wronged him. Including the man in whose image he had been made.

Picard took a deep breath. "How did I feel, you mean? At the risk of sounding melodramatic, I had the opportunity to look into my soul, and saw the darkness inside."

"Not your soul," Janeway said immediately. "Shinzon was your clone, but he was not you."

"Wasn't he?" Picard said, surprising himself with his vehemence. "My face, my voice, every detail perfect, down to the very essence of my being. I knew the way he thought, what he felt. How he would react. Remember, he was intended to replace me, to step in so seamlessly that none would be able to tell the difference. For all intents and purposes he was me." He cut off her objection. "And I might so easily have been him. There but for the grace of God…I wonder about the might-have-beens that separate us."

"That's exactly the point," Janeway said, leaning closer. "For all that your DNA was the same, you turned out differently. You are not responsible for Shinzon's choices, Jean-Luc, for what happened to him or what he made of his life." She gave him a level look. "You're only responsible for your own."

"No, you don't understand," he said as he abruptly rose, not bothering to keep the testiness from his voice. "I wonder, am I capable of the same acts? Shinzon was ready to slaughter millions--he already had hundreds of deaths laid at his door. All for the pursuit of a vision, a dream." Picard grimaced in distaste. "And not a noble cause, for all that he purported to be the champion of the downtrodden Remans. That was his stated claim for seizing power, but it wouldn't have ended there. It didn't end there." He fell silent, thinking once again of how narrowly they had averted the apocalypse, but for the sacrifice of a single individual.  

"Of course, you're capable of the same behavior," she said quietly. "The difference is you choose not to go down that destructive path."

"Choice. There's that word again." Picard shook his head. "Did Shinzon have a choice, anymore than I had a choice as Locutus?"

"That's hardly a fair comparison."

"Isn't it?"

"The Borg controlled you--"

"Yes, that's what the counselors told me afterward, to convince me I wasn't really responsible for the deaths of over 11,000 people at Wolf 359, for the near destruction of the entire sector 001," Picard said harshly. "But of course, I was."

Janeway shook her head impatiently. "You were also responsible for the ultimate defeat of the Borg incursion--and not just on that one occasion." She rose as well and put a hand on his arm. "But you were not responsible for any actions you did while your mind was enslaved to the Collective."

"Shinzon was also a slave, or have you forgotten?"

His words seemed to echo in the silence.

"Yes, Shinzon was also a slave," Janeway said a few seconds later. "And the anger which stemmed from those circumstances blinded him to all else--even after he was free. He didn't care about anything else, even his own death, as long as he was able to exact his revenge." Her expression was not pleasant. "He was beyond rational thought, caught up in a fury you can't even begin to imagine let alone understand."

"I assure you, I fully understand--"

"No, you don't." Her voice was low and harsh, spitting out the words as if they disgusted her. "Tell me, Jean-Luc, have you ever felt that type of rage, that blindness, that welcoming of the darkness, of opening yourself up to it and reveling in the power it bestows, seduced by the rush of emotion?" She paused. "Because I have."

"What are you talking about?"

"Have you heard about the Equinox?"

He searched his memory, coming up blank.

"Ransom's ship," Janeway said, in the same clipped tone. "Does that ring a bell? They were swept off to the Delta Quadrant, the same as we were."

"Yes," he said nodding. "I remember now. Their ship was destroyed by some hostile alien species. Only a few of the crew survived--you brought them back on Voyager."

Janeway gave a bitter laugh. "That's the official story, yes. The real truth is a lot darker. The aliens who destroyed Equinox had a very good reason. Ransom was using them, a sentient lifeform, for fuel."

Picard recoiled in horror. "That's inconceivable--"

Ignoring his reaction, she went on. "We had no idea, at first. When we found out what was happening, we tried to put a stop to it. But Ransom sabotaged our ship, and fled, leaving us vulnerable to further ambushes by the aliens. We set off in pursuit."

Regaining his composure, Picard said, "It sounds like you responded appropriately."

"It may have been justified at the beginning, but--" Janeway broke off sharply, took a long look out the viewport, and continued, still not looking at Picard "-- I took it a step too far. I became obsessed with finding Ransom, and nearly killed a member of his crew when he refused to tell me how to locate the Equinox." She closed her eyes for a moment. "So help me, I would have killed him, if it hadn't been for my first officer." Every trace of softness had fled from her. It was like gazing into the eyes of a stranger. "Believe me, you don't know how dark the soul can really be."

A chill ran down his spine. Gazing at that implacable face, hearing the steel in her tone, Picard could well believe she was capable of murder.

"I know what it is to have a lust for revenge and damn the consequences," he said, more calmly than he felt. "It was during the second Borg incursion to sector 001. Voyager was still in the Delta Quadrant."

"I've read the reports. You stopped the Borg interference into Earth's past." Her lips twitched briefly. "Hardly a moment of darkness."

Picard grabbed her shoulders, suddenly angry himself. "Do you know what actually took place on board the Enterprise? I was ready to slaughter them all, even my own men who had been assimilated, without considering the loss of the individuals within the drones. As I knew from my own experience, they could have been saved. But I still saw them as nothing more than vermin to be wiped out. I was nearly blinded to all else, like Ahab and the damned white whale. And it nearly cost us everything." His arms dropped to his sides. "No one has a monopoly on feelings of hate and revenge, Kathryn."

 "Fine, you win," Janeway said coldly.

"I wasn't aware it was a contest."

Unbidden, Q's words about Kathryn came to mind. How long do you think it'll be before she begins to resent you? A constant reminder of what she can never have? And what had she herself said when she sent him on the mission to Romulus? The Son'a, the Borg, the Romulans, Soran and the Nexus. You seem to get all the easy assignments.  Picard suddenly realized it was a contest. He had kept his ship, resisted all attempts by Starfleet Command to promote him. Kathryn had not managed either of those. He was still in the field, while she was consigned to the sidelines. And so she envied him.

He gazed at her helplessly, aware that they had come to a major turning point in their relationship.

Janeway was the first to break the silence. "I'm sorry. That was uncalled for on my part." She gave a bitter laugh. "There you are, pouring your heart out about something that disturbs you greatly. But instead of listening sympathetically and trying to help you work through it, I--in typical Janeway fashion--manage to make it all about me instead." She angrily ran her hand over her eyes; he could see the bright hard glitter of tears. "Starship captains are notoriously selfish--no, perhaps self-centered is a better word. Always used to getting our way because our word is law aboard ship. We dictate the lives--and often deaths--of those that serve under us--"

"That goes along with the job."

"Yes, but it doesn't give us the right to behave as though our opinions are the only ones that count, that we get to dictate the terms of our interactions with others." She began pacing. "Determine the ground rules for a relationship, and then change them on a moment's whim--or so it appears, though of course we always have very good reasons for what we do. Or think that we do." She sank back down on the couch, but didn't look at him.

He didn't quite know what to say, settled for sitting down next to her and stroking her hair instead. After a few moments, she sighed, then raised her head and met his gaze. "I'm sorry, Jean-Luc," she said again. "You deserve better than this."

"What makes you think I'm any better? I'm a starship captain as well. I've got the lofty airs, the same attitude of looking down on the poor lowly mortals from on high." He thought of Beverly--and of Neela. And Vash. Different women, different issues, but in each case the outcome was the same. It was not their basic flaws that doomed the relationships, but his own that had caused him to preemptively end things, to decide that it would never work. "My track record is no better than yours, in that respect."

"If you only knew the details you wouldn't say that."

He recalled snatches of conversations about their pasts, hints she had let drop before falling suddenly silent, perhaps afraid of revealing too much. "You fell in love with someone who served under you on Voyager," he guessed.

She drew a sharp intake of breath. "How did you know?"

"Seventy years is a long time, Kathryn," Picard said gently. "A long time to be alone. And you were far enough from Starfleet Command for the regulations to seem meaningless in your situation. A certain flexibility was required--and in fact you did exhibit it in other areas."

"But not in this one, not when it counted." She fell silent. "He once said something to me about not sacrificing the present for the sake of a nebulous future. That he believed in living in the here and now. But that was something I was unable to do. Because to me, that would have been the equivalent of giving up, of acknowledging that we weren't ever going to make it back. And that, I couldn't do."

Picard couldn't say what he would have done in her position. He suspected he may have reacted in much the same way. "Who was he?"

"My first officer."

He remembered the pictures of the handsome Maquis leader at the press conferences. Even though it was hard to tell much from a holostill, the man's air of strength and calm, of quiet confidence, had been apparent. He could easily see Kathryn with such a partner,  on a professional level as well as personal.

"I'm sorry it didn't work out," Picard said sincerely.

"Not from lack of trying on his part," Janeway said with more than a hint of sadness and regret. "But even the most persistent individual eventually gives up, recognizes a lost cause for what it is. And moves on to something--or someone else." She grimaced. "Story of my life. Remember I told you about my fiance, Mark? We were together for a long time. Nearly a decade, in fact. You'd think that after all those years we'd have taken the next step, gotten married. But we didn't. I was too busy building my career, and he didn't want to push. So instead he settled for half a relationship."

"But you did eventually become engaged."

"I was afraid that even Mark would run out of patience." She paused. "One of the first communiqués we had from the Alpha Quadrant, during the fourth year of our journey, contained letters from our loved ones back home."

"Is that when he broke things off with you?"

Janeway nodded. "First thing, he expressed how happy and relieved he was to hear that I was still alive. In the next sentence, he said that he had mourned and then moved on with his life. That he had met someone new and gotten married. And they were very happy."

He took her hand in his and gave it a comforting squeeze, aware that she most likely had not spoken of this to many people. "That must have been very difficult for you to hear."

"I kept telling myself that I didn't want him spending the rest of his life in mourning, that I wanted him to move on, find some happiness with a new love. But deep down, I didn't really mean it."

Picard sighed. "You're only human, Kathryn. It's a perfectly understandable reaction."

"I'm can't believe I'm doing it again--putting my feelings front and center at the expense of someone else's!" she said in remorse and attempted to pull her hand away. "You've just been through a very rough time, lost a valued member of your crew, and here I am going on about myself. I'm sorry."

He refused to relinquish his grasp. "We both need to stop apologizing, Kathryn. God knows, if we keep this up, we'll be at it for the rest of our trip to the Denab system." He was gratified to see her smile weakly. "The point is, my behavior this evening wasn't beyond reproach, either. I was prattling on about the darkness in man's soul, referring to my doppelganger and wondering if I possessed the same capacity for evil. But now I see what I was really looking for was a confirmation of my own smug sense of superiority. To allow myself to be persuaded that I was as saintly as I believed myself to be."

It was Janeway's turn to sigh. "We're quite a pair, aren't we?"

He slipped his arm around her and murmured, "Two very strong personalities--

"--raving egomaniacs with superiority complexes--"

"--Starship captains used to getting their own way in everything," he finished.

"It will never work," Janeway said, leaning against his chest.

"That's what Q said."

She lifted her head and gave him a hard stare. "Oh, he did, did he? When was this?"

"Shortly before Will and Deanna's wedding."

"You never mentioned Q was there."

"He wasn't." *Fortunately*, Picard added to himself. He purposely turned his mind away from the image of a gate-crashing Q--or Will's probable reaction.  "He popped in on me late one night in my apartment to warn me off. 'A friendly bit of advice' is how he put it."

Janeway made a derisive sound.

"The only thing is," Picard said carefully, "I'm not quite sure which of us he was more concerned about."

"Probably you," Janeway said without hesitation. "After all, he's known you longer."

"But you've always handled him better. And besides, he never asked me to mate with him."

"His loss."

They both burst out laughing, as much to relieve the tension as anything else.

"But the bottom line remains the same," Janeway said, after she got her breath back. "If we're determined to continue this relationship, we're talking about  mutually assured destruction."

"I won't go so far as to say that," Picard objected. "Only that it's not going to be easy. There are a lot of risks involved." He glanced at her from the corner of his eye. "How do you feel about that?"

"I thought risk was our business?" she said with a smile.

"Spoken like a true starship captain."

"I'm not a starship captain anymore," Janeway said, her smile fading. "That part of my life is over. Permanently."

There were several replies Picard could have made. 'Once a starship captain, always a starship captain.' 'There are always possibilities.' In the end he settled for, "That may be true. But one thing I know about you, Kathryn Janeway, is that no matter where you are or what you're doing, you'll always give it your best shot. And that's more than anyone can ask for."
FINIS

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