Their relationship could be described as turbulent, to say the least. The quietly serious yet aggressive starship captain, paired with the brilliant yet highly temperamental doctor, made for an interesting marriage. She had walked out on him twice, he on her once. The size of their egos could be considered reason enough, yet that never seemed to be what pushed them over the edge. On the ship, some of their fights had been called legendary. Both possessing a keen intellect and sharp mind, they could argue a point to its death, then argue it further. Of these fights, some had lasted for days, and in the above mentioned cases, had spurred them to leave the other and hobble off to lick their wounds, figuratively speaking.
But there was also an unmistakable bond between these two. It could not be explained, nor would anyone ever presume to try. It was this bond that continually served to bring them back together time and time again. When they weren't fighting, they were loving and exceedingly passionate, the envy of all who witnessed them together and knew that only rarely did a love burn so brightly.
In the course of their nine year marriage, they had produced two children, a boy and a girl, now ages eight and five. The boy was the spitting image of his father, right down to the dimple in his chin. The girl favored her mother, with her flowing auburn hair and long-limbed gracefulness.
Relationships, however, can be bogged down by various scattered minutiae. Lack of communication, the inability to make time for each other, and the allowance of other less important things in life to take precedence over the sacred institution of marriage. Sometimes these problems could be overcome, and sometimes they could not. The true test, then, lies in the ability to surmount the odds.
=/\=
Captain Jean-Luc Picard entered his quarters, his attention, as was standard these days, focused on the ins and outs of paper-pushing bureaucracy. The padd in his hand seemed to be permanently attached, a condition that his wife was growing increasingly tired of. A hand reached out and grabbed the padd out of his hand. "Jean-Luc, do you know what time it is?"
He had no idea, and the fact showed plainly on his face. He reached for the padd, after quickly glancing at a clock, but she stubbornly refused to release it. "Look, I'm sorry I missed dinner, Beverly. That report you're holding there needed my attention, and I'm afraid it still does. Now could I have it back, please?"
Dr. Beverly Picard's ice blue gaze bored into his. She slapped the padd none too gently up against his chest, and his hands closed around it. Not wanting to start something in front of the children, who were sprawled on the floor a meter away watching their parents' every move, Beverly turned on one heel and stalked into the bedroom. "Fine, Jean-Luc. When you decide to come up for air, let me know. Maybe we could spend a few seconds together before some other more pressing matter demands your undivided attention."
The door closed before him, and he sighed softly. Turning away from the bedroom, he grudgingly set the padd down on the desktop. "Dad?"
The voice of his son captured his focus and he turned and met his son's eyes. "Yes, Ethan?"
The boy pointed towards his parents' bedroom. "Mom's been in an awful mood since she picked us up from school. I asked her what was wrong, but she wouldn't tell me. Maybe you should go talk to her."
His son, the peacemaker. Jean-Luc always felt a strong pang of guilt whenever Ethan played referee to his and Beverly's perpetual squabbles. This time was no different. He should have seen that something was wrong. He was, after all, her husband, and because of that, should know better. But, he thought sadly, an eight year-old boy had more insight into Beverly than Jean-Luc did these days.
Squatting down on the floor next to his son, Picard wrapped an arm around Ethan's shoulders and kissed him on the forehead. "You're a good kid, you know that?" Jean-Luc said to him with a smile.
Ethan merely smiled with his perpetual serenity. "Better get in there, Dad, before Mom has too much time to think and decides to use you for target practice again. Just how many pillows do you guys go through, anyway?" the boy teased.
"Too many, son. Far too many," Picard said ruefully.
"Daddy?"
The lilting voice of his daughter turned his head in her direction. "Yes, sweetheart. What is it?"
The little girl offered him a picture she had drew. "Daddy, if you give this to Mommy, she'll feel better. You can tell her it's from you, if you want, in case you messed up again."
My God, I've sired a pair of junior psychologists, he thought. These two seemed to know more about what was going on in his marriage than he did. He gracefully accepted the picture. "Why, thank you, Adrian my dear," he said with exaggerated formality and bowing his head in a gentlemanly fashion, causing the little girl to giggle. "But I'm going to tell her it's from you, all right? I'm pretty sure I haven't 'messed up again,' as you put it." At least, I hope not, he thought ruefully.
He stood, and trepidation notwithstanding, he opened the door to his bedroom and entered, quietly shutting the door behind him. The room had been darkened, and he thought perhaps that Beverly was asleep, an illusion that was shattered when her voice came to him in the darkness. "Did you want something, Jean-Luc?"
"I just wanted to make sure you were all right. You seem a little out of sorts today. Is anything wrong?" He sat down on the bed, and reached out to touch her arm.
She pulled away, curling further up into her protective ball. "I'm fine. Everything's fine. In fact, the whole damned galaxy is fine. Go read your reports."
Fighting down his growing irritation at his wife's pouting, he made his peace offering. "Here. Adrian asked me to give this to you, since I was on my way in here. She drew it for you."
Beverly's fingers reached in the dim light, and snapped the bedside lamp on. For the first time that evening, a smile graced her lovely face. "Tell her thank you. I'll put it in my office in the morning."
"You could tell her yourself, you know. Or were you not planning on leaving the bedroom tonight?" He tried, albeit ineffectually, to filter the bitterness out of his words.
"I don't get this, Jean-Luc. You're the one who doesn't come home until all hours of the night, spends practically no time at home, and suddenly I'm the bad guy? Did I miss something?"
"Beverly, that's enough. I didn't come here to argue with you, and I'm sure as hell not going to start right now, okay?"
One slender finger reached over and poked him in the chest, and continued to do so as she emphasized her words. "Well, then what did you come here for? To spend quality time with your wife?"
His hand flashed through the air between them, snatching her hand and pulling her against him. "As a matter of fact, I did. Do you have a problem with that?"
Her body went stiff against his. "Let me go, Jean-Luc."
He immediately released her, and stood, tugging his uniform tunic down in his customary manner. "I'm going to go get the kids ready for bed. I'll be sure to relay your message to Adrian."
Jean-Luc had put Ethan and Adrian to bed and read them their routine bedtime story. Settling down at the desk in the living room, he returned to his perusal of the report he had been reading earlier. He began to grow more and more frustrated as the minutes went by, though, and he found himself still on the same page. His thoughts were not of the report, but of the woman in the closed bedroom beyond. Perhaps I should go and talk to her again, he thought. If I don't, I'll hear about it tomorrow. He set the padd back on the desk, firmly resolving to finish it in the morning, and quietly slipped into his bedroom. "Beverly, are you still awake?" he asked, in a tone low enough not to disturb her if she was instead asleep.
The bedside lamp snapped back on, and her eyes glittered at him in the soft light. "Yes. Why?"
Her tone was light, and he took that to be a good sign. Maybe she had mellowed out in the last hour. He sat down on the edge of the bed and tugged his boots off, then slipped his uniform top off. "Would you tell me if something were wrong?" he asked quietly, continuing to undress.
Beverly studied his bare back in the soft lamplight, and reached to lay her hand on the warm skin of his lower back. "Jean-Luc, turn around, please. Look at me."
He didn't comply right away, instead slipping his pajama shorts on before turning around and easing under the covers with her. Propping himself up on one elbow, he lifted his eyes to hers. His gaze was open, inviting her to continue.
"Jean-Luc, when was the last time we sat down and just talked? When did we last just curl up on the couch together and read a book?" Her voice dropped a notch. "When was the last time we made love, Jean-Luc? Do you remember?"
It depressed him that he had to actually stop and think. God, has it really been that long? he thought sadly. "Too long ago," he answered truthfully.
She rolled onto her side facing him. "Things were slow in sickbay today, and I had some time to think. I thought about those questions I just asked you, and more. Like you did just now, I had to really make an effort to remember the answers to those questions." She reached for him again, this time placing her fingers gently against his arm. "Jean-Luc, what's happening to us?"
He had no answer for her, because he didn't know. Their relationship had been going this way for quite some time now, and, like a habit, it was a pattern that was very hard to break. They'd both grown complacent these last months, not bothering to set time aside for each other. She understood his silence, and shook her head sadly. "I don't know either, Jean-Luc. But I think we need help."
This caught his attention. "Help?" His voice held a measure of wariness. He wasn't sure he liked where this conversation was heading.
"I was thinking," she began cautiously. "Maybe we should make an appointment to talk to Deanna. I don't know what else to do, Jean-Luc."
He came up off the bed and sat up. "Marriage counseling? Is that what you're saying you want?"
"I think we need it," she informed him, but the next thing either of them knew, his hard muscled body had covered hers. "Jean-Luc, what are you doing?"
"I'm trying to show you that we don't need counseling. What we need can be accomplished right here, right now," he said firmly. His mouth came down upon hers, and at first she struggled, trying to push him away, wanting to continue the conversation. Then, as his lips trailed down her neck and his hands pulled her nightgown off, she stopped trying to get away from him, and began to pull him closer.
It's been so long, she thought. Maybe he's right...
That was the last coherent thought she had that night.
Jean-Luc awoke the next morning to the sensation of lips tickling his chest. He glanced down to find his wife watching him, waiting for him to awaken. Beverly smiled at him, almost shyly. It had been a while for both of them to wake up like this. "Hi," she said.
"Good morning," he rumbled in response. Grasping her arm, he rolled her onto him, and delighted in the feel of her stretching out on top of him. His hands snaked into her rumpled auburn tresses, and he pulled her down for a lengthy good morning kiss.
A knock on their bedroom door startled them both, and, after Beverly retreated to her side of the bed and they both checked to make sure the twisted, rumpled bedclothes weren't revealing anything embarrassing, Jean-Luc reached over and thumbed the door control, and their son popped his head in. "Morning, Mom, Dad. Breakfast is ready."
"Good morning, Ethan," his parents chimed in unison. Then, realizing what they had done, Beverly and Jean-Luc began to laugh. "Thanks, son. We'll be out in a minute," Jean-Luc chuckled. He rolled himself out of bed after Ethan disappeared into the other room, pulling a robe on and watching Beverly do the same. He silently glided up to her and buried his face in her neck.
"Hi again," she whispered seductively.
He let his mouth cover hers in a wordless answer, and he felt her arms slip around his neck. Her fingers were gently raking across the short hair around the back of his head, driving him to utter distraction.
"Hey Ethan, Mommy and Daddy are kissing!"
The gleeful voice of their daughter made them both snap their heads around. Jean-Luc let go of Beverly with a contrite grin and, with a single long stride to the open doorway, scooped his daughter up and threw her over his shoulder, heading for the table. "Didn't anyone tell you it's bad manners to sneak up on your parents?" he asked her, delighting in her laughter as she dangled along his back.
The Picards enjoyed a breakfast that was, for a change, reasonably relaxed, much as it usually was after Beverly and Jean-Luc had "made up." All four members of the family took advantage of the good humor and shared conversation and laughter.
After Jean-Luc and Beverly dropped the kids off at school, they walked to sickbay together. Medical personnel all had raised eyebrows and smiles as they watched their captain and CMO laughing with one another and talking to each other, something that had been unheard of lately. It was a good thing to see.
The captain and doctor slipped into her office, away from the prying eyes of sickbay. He leaned over and kissed her. "I have to get to the bridge," he said softly.
"Will you be home for dinner?" she asked, an almost pleading look in her eyes. As much as she had enjoyed last night and this morning, she had to know that it wasn't simply a fluke, something on her husband's behalf to prove that nothing was wrong. If he made a concerted effort to spend more time at home, then she'd know he was trying, and that her words earlier last night had gotten through.
"Yes, I will. I'll even try to get home before that." He smiled to reassure her, then walked out of the office. She was about to turn to her desk when his head popped back in. "Beverly?"
"Yes, Jean-Luc?"
He grinned. "I love you," he said, then disappeared again, leaving Beverly to smile after him.
It was 2230 when he walked into his quarters that night. Beverly had sat there with the kids at the dinner table, thinking that he'd walk in at any moment. Finally, she'd given up and told the kids to start, then called the bridge. Deanna had had the evening shift, and Troi told her that a priority message had come in for the captain just before the end of his shift. He'd taken it in his ready room, and she hadn't heard a peep from him since.
Beverly had helped Ethan and Adrian with their homework, then sent them to bed. She had sat down on the couch with a book and waited for her husband to come home. This time, he wouldn't be able to get out of talking with her by seducing her. She'd make sure of it.
Jean-Luc slipped quietly into his cabin, which was dark and silently oppressive. He hoped everyone, especially Beverly, was asleep, because if she wasn't he was going to be in a very big heap of trouble. He hadn't meant to talk to Admiral Sanders so long, and he certainly hadn't expected to be reading intelligence reports at the end of his shift. Before he knew it, it was past 2200 hours and, sadly enough, the only reason he noticed the time was because he was suddenly hungry.
He caught a bit of movement out of the corner of his eye, and turned to the couch. "Computer, half lights," a tired, feminine voice said. The lights came up, and Jean-Luc came face-to-face with a very somber Beverly. She held up her hands as he started to speak. "No, don't. Please. I already know about the priority call. However, that was at 1500 hours. It is now 2235. Whatever you could have possibly been doing for seven and a half hours, I don't know, and I really don't care at this point."
He opened his mouth again, but she shook her head. "No, Jean-Luc. You have no excuse. I don't care if you had reports to read, or to do, or if the Godforsaken Dominion is invading us as we speak. You have a communicator, and there are comm panels all over the ship. You could have at least called, or had someone page me, but you didn't bother. Now I really know where your priorities lie."
"I'm sorry," he said gently. "I honestly didn't mean to lose track of time like that. One thing led to another, and... Well, here we are."
She looked him up and down, sadness etched on her face. "I'm sorry too, Jean-Luc. Sorry it's come down to this." At his look of confusion, she pulled a duffel bag out from under the desk and handed it to him along with a padd. "Here are some of your clothes and uniforms and such, and on the padd is an appointment to see Counselor Troi tomorrow afternoon. Should you 'lose track of time' or 'forget', thereby failing to show up, you'll be receiving divorce papers via the nearest Judge Advocate General's office."
He had never been so scared or angry in his life. "You're throwing me out?" he asked incredulously. "I'm being thrown out of my home and threatened with divorce because I didn't come home for dinner? Beverly, have you lost your mind? Do the kids know?"
She winced slightly. "No, they don't. I'll explain it to them in the morning. You can see them whenever you want, and you can come get anything here you need that I may have forgotten. But I don't want you here right now. We both need some breathing room."
He advanced towards her, the duffel bag and padd held loosely in his hand. She could sense his intentions, and held up her hands to ward him off. "No, Jean-Luc. Throwing me onto the bed and making love to me isn't going to get you out of this this time. Now, if you don't leave, I'll call security, and I really don't think you'll want to have to explain to them why."
He retreated towards the door, not wanting to involve the whole ship in his personal affairs, and it slid open. "Damn it, Beverly, I love you! Don't do this to us!" His eyes met hers, and, for the first time in their married lives, she saw real fear there. She felt no triumph at seeing it there. Rather the opposite. She wished that she didn't need him to leave as badly as she did, but it was the only thing she could think of to do in the hope of not being hurt again.
"I love you too, but I have to do this. I hope to see you tomorrow, Jean-Luc," she said to him softly, then watched as the door slid closed. On its other side, Captain Jean-Luc Picard stood, frozen, not knowing what to do. It was not a feeling he enjoyed. Slinging the bag over his shoulder, he set off to an unoccupied set of quarters, anger building slowly inside of him. It was the anger he let carry him into an empty, impersonal room, anger that forced him to throw his bag against the far wall, and anger which carried him to the replicator to punch in his personal authorization, materialize a bottle of real brandy and a glass, and anger which forced him to sit on the couch and drink himself into a stupor and a fitful sleep.
=/\=
Beverly wasn't sure if he would come. She had spent a sleepless night tossing and turning, crying and drying out, and beginning the ruthless cycle all over again.
Deanna studied her friend, her trained psychologist's eye missing nothing. Based on what Beverly had just told her about what had transpired the last two days in the Picards' quarters, Troi knew that this separation wasn't going to help either of them. True, they had both walked out on each other before, but that had been in the heat of anger, where distance was required to regain one's balance, as well as rein in the explosive tempers these two had. And they had only kept apart for a day or two. And one had never thrown the other out. This new matter, on the other hand, was completely different. It reeked of permanence should Deanna fail at this new task brought before her now.
The counselor sighed quietly, then turned to Beverly, who was sipping the hot chocolate Deanna had foisted upon her. "I'm sure he'll be here -"
Deanna's words were cut off by the office door gliding open and a breathless Jean-Luc Picard. "Hello, Deanna, Beverly. Hope I'm not interrupting anything."
Deanna gestured to the couch, where Beverly sat curled up on one end, refusing to look at him, trying to contain her relief that he had shown up, and her trepidation over what was to come. Jean-Luc glanced at his wife briefly, then sat at the opposite end, tucking himself into the corner for a measure of safety. He had the distinct feeling that this wouldn't be pleasant.
The counselor mentally took note of the couple's defensive poses: Beverly sitting with her legs under her, her hands clutching the mug she held like a shield; Jean-Luc with arms crossed tightly across his chest and his feet planted firmly on the floor, ready to take flight if the need arose. Troi sighed again, this time inwardly, and knew it wouldn't be the last time today. "Well, shall we begin?"
"Do I have any choice?" mumbled the captain.
"Oh, that's really mature, Jean-Luc. If you would like to leave, by all means," retorted Beverly as she gestured to the door.
"I leave, and find divorce papers waiting for me in the morning. No, thank you."
Troi held up her hands in exasperation. "Captain, Doctor, please. This really isn't-"
"Jean-Luc, you know why we're here. You know we need help."
The captain quickly jumped to his feet, and stood before his wife, glowering balefully at her. "I already told you we don't need counseling. What we need is to leave the kids at day care for a few extra hours, and go back to our quarters alone. That would put an end -"
"Damn it, Jean-Luc! You think that sex solves everything, but it doesn't! You can't just throw me onto the bed and make love to me every time we have a problem! Marriage just doesn't work that way!"
He had been pacing around the perimeter of the room, but came to a rather abrupt halt at his wife's words. He fixed her with a penetrating stare, and she met his gaze, fire and ice colliding. "It worked for nine years, Beverly."
Deanna had by now chosen to let the couple feud it out, comforting herself with the knowledge that, as long as she was here with them, the battle wouldn't get completely out of hand. Besides, she reasoned. They've probably been needing to do this for a long time. She turned back to the doctor, waiting for a response. She didn't have to wait long.
"That's because we argue, we have sex. We fight, we have sex. We walk out on each other, we have sex. We never stop to think about why we're fighting in the first place! The underlying reasons get smothered within the darkness of our bedroom!"
They carried on for the entire hour allotted to them. Gripes and grudges that had been buried over the course of their marriage were slowly bubbling to the surface, one by painful one. Deanna, feeling by now more like a referee than a psychologist, escorted them both to the door and hoped like hell they'd go off separately to cool down, rather than continue where they had left off moments before. Her wish was not granted.
The troubled couple walked down the corridor together, the turbolift their mutual destination. A tense, oppressive silence loomed over them like a thundercloud, waiting to erupt into lightning bolts from the heavens.
The turbolift doors slid open, and they stepped inside and called out their respective deck numbers. Picard and Picard retreated to opposite sides of the 'lift, studying each other. He broke the silence first. "So, we meet with Deanna every other day to scream at each other for an hour? We can do that at home." He paused, fixing her with a cold, accusing stare. "Oh, wait. I forgot. I'm not welcome in my own home anymore. Never mind. Perhaps the counseling is useful, after all."
Beverly felt like taking a step forward and slugging him. Instead, she let her words hit him. "Keep up this attitude of yours, Jean-Luc, and you'll be permanently unwelcome."
"Go to hell, Doctor," he spat. He regretted the words as soon as they were out of his mouth. He saw her jaw and fists clench, and knew, for the first time, he had crossed the line.
"Computer, halt lift," she said in a disturbingly quiet voice. Before either of them knew what had happened, her hand came out of nowhere and slapped him squarely on the side of his face. The force of it propelled him backwards, stunned. "Don't you ever, ever say anything like that to me again, Jean-Luc Picard. Ever," she hissed.
With the pain of the slap came instant clarity of thought, and Jean-Luc felt a sudden rush of shame color his face. He had been behaving like a pouting child. Embarrassment wasn't a feeling he enjoyed experiencing, and he was now experiencing it in abundance. He glanced down at his boots, fearing what her eyes might say. "I'm sorry. I was out of line."
"Yes, you were," she shot back. "You've been out of line for the last week. I'd suggest you get back in line soon, or else this counseling isn't going to do either of us a damned bit of good. Computer, resume."
The 'lift began to quietly hum its way through the ship again as Beverly spoke again. "Jean-Luc, the last thing I want is a divorce. But I also don't want to spend the rest of my life in a marriage that makes me unhappy. I know what my priorities are. Do you?" The turbolift arrived at Beverly's deck and she got off, not sparing a backward glance at her husband.
They didn't speak to each other for the rest of the day. Jean-Luc retreated to his ready room all evening, but didn't work for the first time in as long as he could remember. He instead thought about what had been said (and shouted) in his and Beverly's counseling session that afternoon. He had known things between him and Beverly were not going well, but he had no idea that it was that bad. So much resentment and anger had been revealed on both sides. He came to the realization that, if he wanted to save his marriage, he needed to start acting like a husband and father full time, not when it was convenient. His kids needed him, his wife needed him, and he needed them. It was time to start acting like it.
=/\=
Jean-Luc surprised Beverly the next day by picking up the kids after school. She had stopped by their classrooms to walk home with them, but the children's teachers informed her that the captain had already gotten them. However, when she returned to her quarters, there was no one there. "Computer, current location of Captain Picard?"
"Captain Picard is in Holodeck Three," the computer answered.
"And are Ethan and Adrian Picard with him?"
"Affirmative."
Beverly sighed and retreated to the bedroom to change out of her uniform. Her first impulse had been to go down to the holodeck herself to see what her husband and children were up to, but she decided against it. If they wanted her there, she would have been invited. And, considering the fact that she had evicted her husband from their quarters against his will, it was probably a good idea that he spend some time with their children without her there to stir things up.
The trio returned two hours later. Ethan and Adrian burst through the door, grinning from ear to ear and covered in dirt and sweat. Jean-Luc entered right behind them, looking no more tidier than his children. "And where have you three been?" Beverly asked, smiling at her son and daughter.
"Daddy took us on a nature hike in the holodeck -" Adrian began.
"And then we got to help one of the botanists in the arboretum prune the rose bushes and plant a new tree!" finished Ethan.
"You two and your father look like you got planted in the dirt right along with the tree," Beverly teased. "Are you hungry?"
Ethan and Adrian both nodded their heads vigorously. "Well, then go get cleaned up and we'll have an early dinner. How does pizza sound?"
"Yeah!" the kids yelled, and quickly made for their bedrooms. Adrian's door closed behind her, but Ethan stopped in front of his room. He turned to regard his parents thoughtfully. Speaking to his mother, he asked almost pleadingly, "Can Dad stay for dinner?"
Beverly looked to Jean-Luc, but he had his impassive "captain's mask" firmly in place. Relenting under her son's earnest gaze, she smiled. "Of course he can, if he wants to. Jean-Luc?" She now turned to regard her husband.
He stared at her for a long moment, and then at his son. Finally, he smiled slightly. "I'd love to." Ethan broke out into a big grin, then turned and went into his room.
Beverly watched Ethan's door close. "They miss you," she stated, still staring at the closed door.
"Not as much as I miss them," her husband said softly.
She turned finally, and their eyes locked. For one long, uncomfortable moment, they saw the sadness and fear and longing that their separation had produced. The intensity of emotion carried in that gaze was almost unbearable. Jean-Luc turned away first, feeling his resolve to go slowly in his attempts at reconciliation with his wife breaking down piece by piece. He jerked his thumb in the direction of their bedroom. "I'm going to go take a shower, if you don't mind."
Beverly blinked hard, trying to clear her troubled mind of its jumbled thoughts. "Go ahead," she answered gently.
Dinner was mainly dominated by the children's conversation as they recounted their adventures of the day. Beverly and Jean-Luc, on the other hand, were unusually quiet, only speaking to answer a question or comment on something the children had said. Jean-Luc cleaned up after dinner, much to Beverly's surprise. She couldn't even remember the last time he had done so. Either he wasn't there, or, when he was, he had the kids do it. She had to admit to herself, rather grudgingly, that he was trying.
He spent the next few hours helping Ethan and Adrian with their schoolwork, playing games with them, and getting them ready for bed. During this time, Beverly chose to read some back issues of her medical journals, trying to remain rather unobtrusive. Her mind, however, was not on the journals, but on the scene before her. This was the way it used to be, when the kids were still small, before she and Jean-Luc had let the petty squabbles and bickering take over their lives.
After the kids were in bed, Jean-Luc and Beverly found themselves staring at each other again. Jean-Luc shoved his hands in his pockets and walked to the door. "I should probably go. Thank you for letting me stay for dinner, and for letting me spend some time with the kids." He looked so lost as he said the words that Beverly's arms ached to just walk up to him and give him a hug. He looked like he could use one, but then, so could she.
He turned to go, but she stopped him. "Jean-Luc, wait a minute. Please."
He lifted his gaze from his boots to her eyes, and the next thing either of them knew they were in each other's arms, holding on for dear life. There was no kissing, no passion in this embrace; rather, merely comfort and the love that had been buried so long ago. They stood like that for what seemed like years. Finally, they pulled back, and Beverly rested her forehead against Jean-Luc's. His breath washed over her with warmth as he spoke softly. "Beverly, I love you."
"I love you too, Jean-Luc," she whispered back.
He smiled, then pulled away. "I'm going to go now, before I do or say anything stupid, okay?" he said, a trace of humor in his tone.
She smiled back. "Good night, Jean-Luc." She watched him go, and for the first time in days, felt a stab of hope.
=/\=
"A date? Married people don't go out on dates!"
The Picards had been surprisingly docile during their second counseling session, the reason behind which Deanna Troi was hard pressed to explain, but was grateful for nonetheless. Even now, the captain's outburst was one more of surprise than anger. Indeed, Beverly even laughed. "Jean-Luc, where have you been the last four hundred years? Of course married people go out on dates."
"But I didn't think it was called dating after you got married."
Now Troi returned to the conversation. "Captain, married people can and do go out on dates. It's one of the things that help keep a marriage fresh and alive. And I think that, now that you seem to have come to some kind of understanding with each other and aren't trying to verbally disembowel the other, a date is a wonderful idea. I'll even baby-sit for you. But I do have conditions."
Beverly and Jean-Luc simultaneously raised their eyebrows. "Conditions?" Beverly asked warily. She glanced at Jean-Luc, who shrugged his shoulders, as at a loss as she was.
"Yes, conditions. First off, I want the captain to ask Beverly out on a date. If we're going to do this, we might as well do it right. Secondly, there is to be no sex involved."
Beverly and Jean-Luc now squirmed in their seats and blushed. "Can I ask why?" inquired a rather red Captain Picard.
Deanna was enjoying every minute of this, but she had to remind herself not to push them too far. "Based on what you've told me, sex seems to be the conclusion to fights and arguments. You two just began speaking civilly to each other. You don't need the complication of sex right now. And don't even think about cheating, because I can tell." She gave them a teasing grin. "All you get to do, Captain, is drop Beverly off at her door and kiss her." She turned to Beverly. "If you two have behaved during the course of the evening, meaning no fighting, you can invite the captain in for a drink. Lastly, the date ends at midnight."
Jean-Luc looked incredulous. "You're giving us a curfew? My God, I feel like a teenager."
"You're not the only one. Deanna, are you sure about this?" Beverly chimed in.
The counselor nodded. "Yes, I am. You two need this. Now, since tomorrow is Friday, tomorrow night would be a nice time for a date. Don't you think, Captain?" she asked pointedly.
"I, um, yes, I guess so," stammered the flustered captain. He turned to his wife, and feeling very much like a teenager, asked, "Beverly, would you like to go out to dinner and dancing with me tomorrow night?"
Beverly grinned. "Dancing? Jean-Luc, I'm impressed. I'd love to."
"About 1900... er, 7:00?"
"That would be fine."
Deanna watched the exchange with a smug smile. This was going to be interesting, indeed.
=/\=
Jean-Luc appeared promptly at Beverly's door at 7:00 that Friday night, much to her surprise. She had steeled herself against the possibility of his being late, trained by months and years of late and broken meals and engagements to expect otherwise. Yet, here he was, right on time.
The door slid open, and Beverly's jaw dropped. Here was the man she hadn't seen out of uniform in weeks dressed in a full black tuxedo, complete with tails, and black shoes that gleamed to the point of being mirrors.
"I take it by your reaction that you approve," he said with a sly grin. He noted that she herself wasn't quite dressed yet, clad as she was in her robe, hair in a ponytail, and barefoot.
She noticed his eyes move up and down her robed form, and blushed. "I'll just be a minute. I... I wasn't expecting..."
"Me to be on time," he finished. "It's all right. I'll just wait in here." He walked over and sat down on the couch, and finally brought out into view what he had been hiding behind his back with one hand: a long, silver box with a red ribbon.
"What's that?" asked Beverly, curiosity getting the better of her.
He shook his head. "You'll find out... After you're dressed." He glanced past her to the bedroom, then back to her. She got the point, and retreated into the bedroom.
When she emerged ten minutes later, yet another jaw fell, this time his. Beverly was clad in a stunningly elegant ice blue satin dress that stopped just above her knee, hugging the body above. "I take it you approve," she said, borrowing his earlier words.
He stood, picking up the silver box, and walked over to her. "This is for you," he said, offering her the box.
Beverly pulled the ribbon off and removed the lid, revealing a single long-stemmed red rose nestled in a bed of white tissue paper. "Jean-Luc, it's beautiful," she breathed, and leaned towards him, kissing him on the cheek.
He blushed, feeling warm and light on his feet. Teenager indeed, he thought. After placing the rose in a vase on the table, Jean-Luc offered her his arm. "Shall we?"
Their walk to the holodeck garnered them several second-looks and mischievous grins from the crew. They hardly noticed, for their concentration was completely on each other. Please, let this work out, they both wished fervently.
The doors to the holodeck parted, revealing a secluded restaurant tucked away at the foot of the Swiss Alps. Inside the restaurant, their table had a full view of the mountains, and was right next to the dance floor. Beverly hugged his arm in excitement. "We're going to have a wonderful time," she told him.
Beverly's prediction came true, much to her delight. While she was still completely mystified by the unexpected behavior of her husband, she was thoroughly enjoying it. He had been polite, gentlemanly, and utterly charming all evening long, just like the man she had fallen in love with. They had not once raised their voices to each other, and had both behaved as they should.
They were now standing at the door of their quarters, both debating what they should do next. Finally, Beverly spoke up. "It's only 11:30. Since we have a half hour before we turn into pumpkins, want to come in?"
He smiled at the pumpkin remark, but his eyes were filled with a longing that did not go unnoticed by his wife. "I'd love to."
As soon as they were safely inside, Beverly turned away, intending to get them drinks. Jean-Luc's gentle hand on her arm stopped her, and her breath caught in her throat at the sparkle in his eyes. "Deanna said I could kiss you when I dropped you off at your door. Here we are, and there's the door."
She didn't see the smile on his lips, but felt it against her own. His arms slid around her, pulling her against him. She could feel his need, and it matched her own. She'd forgotten what it was like to share a kiss with her husband that wasn't laced with anger. His lips were warm and soft, his tongue gently insistent as it explored her mouth. She answered with a fervor that surprised them both, and managed to steer them to the couch.
They fell upon the couch, laughing. Beverly landed on top of Jean-Luc and pressed her body fully against his. "Speaking of teenagers, Jean-Luc, wanna make out for a while?" she asked, unraveling his bow tie and unbuttoning the top of his shirt.
His hands snaked through her hair, pulling her to him, and just before her mouth found his again, he murmured, "Sounds good to me..."
Deanna towed her sleepy charges through the ship at midnight, on her way to take them home. Ethan was trudging along beside her, doing his best to stay awake long enough to get home. Adrian had given up the fight a while ago, and was fast asleep in the counselor's arms.
The doors to the Picard quarters slid open at Ethan's approach. Deanna followed him in, and almost crashed into the boy as he came to an abrupt halt, a wide grin slowly making its way across his face as he took in the scene in the living room.
The occupants of the couch now took notice of the light streaming in from the corridor. Beverly gave Jean-Luc a strong shove, and he almost toppled off of her to the floor. "What!?" he cried out in alarm, and then took notice of the audience in the doorway. "Oh, great..." he muttered.
Beverly and Jean-Luc climbed to their feet as quickly as possible. Beverly's hair was now completely undone and hanging past her shoulders in rumpled waves. Her shoes were laying on the floor at the end of the couch. She slipped the straps to her dress back up as unobtrusively as possible. Jean-Luc was in slightly worse shape. His jacket had been tossed onto a neighboring chair. His bowtie hung completely unfastened, attached only by a fastener in the back. His shirt had been totally pulled out of his pants, and now hung loosely, buttoned only once at the bottom. How does one apologize for making out with one's spouse? they both wondered.
It was all Deanna could do not to laugh. She suspected that, had she been even fifteen minutes later, the captain and doctor wouldn't have been on the couch anymore, but elsewhere. Not a moment too soon, she thought.
Ethan regarded the adults thoughtfully for a moment, then rather perceptively concluded that an eight year-old didn't need to be a part of this conversation. Besides, it was so wonderful seeing his parents getting along that he didn't mind being kept out of the loop for now. "Counselor, I'll take Adrian and put her to bed, so you and my parents can talk. Thank you for watching us tonight," he said, polite and proper as he had been raised to be.
Troi handed the little girl to her brother, and the boy practically dragged his sleepy sister off to their rooms. When they were safely gone, Deanna began to laugh. "I thought I said you could have one kiss. I don't recall mentioning anything about mauling each other," the counselor chuckled.
Jean-Luc was in the process of buttoning his shirt. "It was one kiss," he said, looking to his wife for help.
"A really long kiss," Beverly supplied, picking her husband's jacket up and handing it to him.
"Sure it was," Deanna said, unconvinced. "I told you, you're not ready for this yet."
"Felt ready to me," Beverly muttered for Jean-Luc's ears only. He blushed and smiled.
Deanna saw the way the Picards were looking at each other, and felt it best to separate them before they forgot she was there. Grabbing the captain rather unceremoniously by the arm, she said, "Come on, Captain, I'll walk you to your quarters."
As he was being dragged out the door, he exclaimed, exasperated, "God, what is it with women kicking me out of my own quarters? First my wife, now my counselor!"
The doors closed behind him on Beverly's laughter.
=/\=
At their next counseling session, they arrived together, holding hands, quietly talking. As they entered the office, they looked up and Beverly greeted the counselor. "Hi, Deanna. Sorry we're late. Jean-Luc and I had lunch together and I guess we lost track of time."
Catching the counselor's skeptical look, the captain offered, "In Ten Forward, Deanna. We ate lunch. That's it." Neither of them, however, were going to mention that fact that they left the lounge fifteen minutes ago and had spent the last ten in a halted turbolift, picking up where they had left off two nights ago. If Troi suspected, she gave no indication.
"I thought we should discuss your current living arrangements today, if that's all right," Deanna said. "I feel you've both made some real progress, and I think you're ready to move forward a bit more." She gestured to the doctor. "Beverly, are you ready for the captain to come home yet? It's been a week, and you both are getting along rather well."
It took her one long, agonizing moment to answer. "No, I'm not," she said softly. "Not yet."
"What?! Why the hell not?" the captain burst out, jumping up off the couch, towering over his seated wife with sudden, abrupt rage. "What do you want from me, anyway?"
"I want to know that this isn't some, some act of yours to come back home! I want to be able to depend on you to be there, for me and the kids!" Beverly shouted back at him, having also stood up.
They faced each other down, breathing harshly and glaring at each other. So much for progress, Troi thought ruefully. Not wanting to let this get out of control like the first time, Deanna raised her voice, employing the tone she used when she was in command on the bridge. "Sit down, both of you. Now!"
They sat, more out of surprise than desire. "Based on what just happened, I'm going to have to revise my earlier opinion and agree with Beverly, but for my own reasons. Neither of you are ready for the captain to move back home. You're getting there, but there is still too much of this underlying -"
The captain stood again. "I refuse to be a part of this anymore," he spat coldly. "I don't understand what more I could possibly do to prove my sincerity! I've done everything asked of me, and MORE, and it's still not good enough! I don't know what else you two could conceivably want from me, and I don't care! I'm a good husband, and a good father, despite what you may think!" With that, he stalked out of the office.
Beverly watched him go, then lowered her head and squeezed her eyes shut, fighting back the tears, desperately wishing that she didn't feel as she did right then.
She spent the next hour talking with Deanna, trying to figure out the best way to approach her husband, and then returned to her quarters. When she walked in, she was surprised to find Jean-Luc in the bedroom, packing. He looked up at her approach, and sighed. "You don't need to call security. I'll be gone in a few minutes."
His quiet tone startled her. "What are you doing?"
"I thought I'd save you the trouble and do this myself. After what just happened a little while ago, I figured it was only a matter of time. If you want a divorce, I won't fight it, if that's what it will take to make you happy. The only thing I've ever wanted was for you to be happy," he said gently.
He snapped the duffel bags shut and was about to pick them up when Beverly's hand on his arm stopped him. "Jean-Luc, please come here a minute. I'd like to talk to you." She led him out into the living room.
They sat on the couch, and he looked to her expectantly. "When I married Jack," she began, "we were very much in love. We both thought that our love would get us through everything, and, for a while, it did. After I had Wesley, Jack and I were more in love than ever. Then, he took the position on the Stargazer. At first, he was very faithful in his letter writing, and I got one almost every day. Then, the letters began to be fewer, and farther between. During our sporadic times together on one of Jack's shore leaves, we tried to pretend that we were just a normal, every day family, but it wasn't working anymore. We began to grow farther apart, mainly because we barely got to see each other anymore. And then he died."
She paused, and took her husband's hand in hers, squeezing it. "When you and I got married, I never felt happier. It was as though we were in our own little world, just the two of us... Then, just the three of us, and then the four. When Ethan and Adrian came along, I got to see a side of you that I didn't know was there, as I watched you be a father to our children. I didn't think it was possible to love anyone as much as I loved you then. But as the years went by, the same thing began to happen to you and I as what happened between me and Jack. Only this time, I wasn't separated from you by light-years, but by reports, and duty rosters, and that mistress of yours called the Enterprise. This time, I decided it would be best just to end our relationship now, rather than have it drag on and fall apart. I just... I didn't want it to happen again." She paused, taking a deep breath. "But I was wrong."
Finally, everything began to make sense to Jean-Luc. "Beverly, it's not going to happen again. I didn't realize you felt this way. I wish you would have told me. I could have -"
Her fingers on his lips silenced him. "I've told you now. If we can help each other, we can get through this. I'm willing to try, for the first time. I'm willing to try, if you are."
He nodded. "I've been willing, and I still am. We'll work this out, Beverly, I promise."
She smiled, her eyes bright with unshed tears, tears of hope this time. Standing, she pulled him to his feet. "Come on. I'll help you bring your things home, and we'll pick the kids up from school. Together."
Jean-Luc pulled her to him and encircled her in a warm hug. "Thank you," he whispered in her ear. Then, he leaned back and met her eyes. In a voice rough with emotion, he said, "Beverly?"
"Yes?" she answered softly.
"With everything going on, I think we forgot..." He took her left hand in his, and kissed the gold wedding band around her ring finger. "Happy anniversary, Beverly."
She held him tight. "And many more to come," she whispered.