It had been a year since Captain Jean-Luc Picard, former commanding
officer of the now-derelict deep-space exploration ship Stargazer,
had been on Earth. A year since the accident, and a year since he buried his best friend.
Now he found himself without a ship and without a command. Starfleet Command had decided
that everything done at the Battle of Maxia Zeta had been correct, appropriate, and at
times brilliant. So brilliant, in fact, that they had named his winning maneuver after
him. Picard had been commended for defeating the hostile ship, and although he lost his
ship, he brought his entire crew home.
He aimlessly wandered the streets of San Francisco after the court martial, relieved at the decision, but unsure of what to do with himself now. He had spent his entire adult life aboard starships, and now he was indefinitely grounded on Earth until a new command could be found for him. It was an unsettling situation he was in, not having his path clearly laid out before him. Command had said several teaching positions were available at Starfleet Academy. All he had to do was pick one, and it would be his for as long as he wanted. He had also been offered a position at Starfleet HQ, albeit one behind a desk. Problem was, he wasn't sure what he wanted.
It was thoughts like that kept him preoccupied during his walk, so preoccupied in fact that he was startled to find himself in front of an all-too-familiar looking apartment building.
He quickly checked the tenant listing in the lobby, and confirmed that Beverly Crusher did indeed still live there. Despite the fervent objections of his mind, his body stubbornly walked onward, into the 'lift up to the fifth floor, down the hall, to the right, and stopped in front of number 520, where the doorplate read simply "B. Crusher, MD." His hand reached out and touched the annunciator, and a moment later, the door slid open, revealing a very surprised Beverly Crusher. "Jean-Luc?" she asked, not quite believing her eyes.
He gazed at her hesitantly, his heartbeat already speeding up, as it always did at the sight of her. "Hello, Beverly. It's . . . It's good to see you again. It's been a while."
She nodded slowly, as if in slow motion. "It's good to see you too, Jean-Luc." She paused for a moment, as if carefully deciding something. Then, "Please, come in." She made a slight gesture towards the inside of the apartment, and stepped aside to allow him entry.
Moments later, they sat a cautious distance apart in the living room, each nursing drinks, and not quite knowing what to say to each other. Breaking the silence, she asked, "So, what brings you by? This isn't exactly next door to Starfleet Command."
He swallowed a mouthful of brandy, as if in fortification. "After I found out the decision of the court martial board, I went for a walk. Eventually, I ended up here."
"I was sorry to hear about the Stargazer, Jean-Luc. Did the court martial go all right?"
He nodded. "Yes, it did. However, until another command is available, I'm stationed on Earth, either at Headquarters or the Academy. I haven't decided yet."
Beverly slowly turned her glass around in her hands, then broke out into a smile. "The great Captain Picard, now boldly going into the great unknown - the vast Paperwork Expanse. Never thought I'd see the day."
He chuckled. "It is rather strange, isn't it? If push comes to shove, though, I might just wrangle my way on to Walker's ship, blow him out an airlock, and take over. His crew would probably thank me.
They chuckled, but under the laughter there was an uneasy current, the ghost of a man no longer there. He blushed at his error in speaking to her of death. For a few minutes more they fiddled with glasses, with the folding and unfolding of legs, with all the minutia which occupies people when they'd rather be distracted.
Finally, Picard spoke. "How have you been?" It was a soft question, and one which meant far more than the simple words conveyed.
Beverly nodded her head up and down vigorously. "Fine. Fine. I've been fine. Fine."
Picard watched her. Liar, he thought. Last year he had told her the worst possible news and watched as her heart broke, but now she looked far worse--fragile and brittle, as though a stray word could break her. He also saw mannerisms which had not been there before the accident that caused Jack's death: the nervous half smile, the fluttering of her long fingers. He wondered if these were always there, lurking under the surface of her married happiness, or if they were new, and he the cause.
He was startled when she spoke: "And you?"
He shrugged. He was a captain who had lost his ship. What more was there to say?
Beverly watched him. A year ago his hair had been thinning; now he was going decidedly bald. What little hair he had left was closely cropped and turning gray. There were now creases below his eyes and between his eyebrows. He had lost the easy confidence he had shown during the months he had spent with the Crushers--was it because he had lost his ship, or had it begun earlier, when he had lost his best friend?
There were details about Jack's death which Beverly did not know. She had not, at the time, felt strong enough to handle them, and looking at Jean-Luc's face, perhaps she had made the correct distinction. He had the look of a man who had seen more than his share of death. On impulse, she reached a hand out to comfort him. "Jean-Luc."
He jumped, as though her touch burned him. She drew her hand back, clenching it into a fist, angry at him for his reaction, angry at herself for giving into her impulses, if even for a moment.
"Where's Wesley?" he asked, to break the tension.
"At a friend's house, sleeping over."
Jean-Luc tried to recall how old Jack's son was, and failed. All he could remember was that the boy had always been small and rather talkative. "Isn't he too young for that sort of thing?"
"Are you questioning how I raise my son?" Beverly's voice rose, and she fought to control it. "I love Wesley, but sometimes I need a night off. It isn't easy being a single parent."
Picard rose, embarrassed, certain she was accusing him. "I think this was a mistake. I'll go now."
She knew that Jean-Luc Picard was a dangerous man, especially for her. She usually had managed to push aside that danger, convince herself it did not exist, that her heart did not speed up at the sight of him or the sound of his voice. But if it did not, why did his farewell feel like a failure? "Don't go, Jean-Luc. I promise, I won't bite."
Ah, but what if I wanted you to? slipped the stray thought from his carefully-controlled mind.
"Sit," she commanded. "Let's talk. Maybe I can help you decide which assignment to take. You used to say I helped you clarify your thoughts."
"I hate paperwork," he began.
"Every starship captain does. That's why you don't request base assignments. But the thought of you teaching teenagers!" She shuddered dramatically.
"I could do it," he defended himself. "Molding the next generation of starship captains."
"When you'd rather be out there, captaining your own ship. Right."
Had she always had this tendency to mock him, he wondered? And to reveal his inner truths in her clear, cold light? "So I appear to be stuck between a rock and a hard place," he stated, trying to pick the thread of conversation back up.
She gave an exaggerated sigh. "Poor Jean-Luc. Headquarters and the Academy are both fighting to get you--what's a man to do?"
"If I didn't know you better, I'd think you were making fun of me."
Beverly stood, and crossed behind him. Then he felt a hand on his shoulder, a drape of long red hair passing in front of him as she dipped down from behind to face him. "Of course I am." Then she straightened and ordered two cups of tea. Returning to the seating area, she placed the cups on the table. "You're staying to dinner," she said in a voice which brooked no argument.
When surrender is one's only option, one surrenders. "I'm staying to dinner."
"When did you become so serious?" she demanded.
"I was always serious, Beverly."
"No, you weren't. I mean, you weren't exactly Falstaff, but you were sort of a Benedict."
"To your Beatrice?"
I wish, each thought, unbeknownst to the other.
Beverly moved over to sit next to him on the couch. "Lighten up, Jean-Luc. Pouting doesn't suit you."
"I am not pouting."
"Of course you are," she teased. "And it's adorable, but not if you mean it for real."
"Enough, Beverly. I've not had an easy time of it, this past year," he told her sternly. First his best friend, then his ship. Didn't she understand that?
"Like any of us has." Jean-Luc continued to stare at her in stony silence, and she lost patience with trying to tease him out of his funk. "My God, Jean-Luc, you are an arrogant son-of-a-bitch, aren't you?"
His spine, which had been ramrod straight, straightened noticeably.
"Just who placed you in charge of the universe's suffering? Why are your losses so much more important than anyone else's? 'I am Jean-Luc Picard, and I have lost my ship.' Well, hurray, join the club. We've all lost something."
Of course, she was right. He had anthropomorphized the Stargazer, but she was, ultimately, replaceable metal. Beverly had lost her husband, her lover, the father of her son, and Jack could never be replaced. Jean-Luc hung his head. "I'm sorry about Jack. You know I am..."
"Who the hell is talking about Jack?"
He stared in stunned silence. Not Jack? But, hadn't she just said...
"He knew the risks when he signed on. But you--'I'm so sorry, Beverly. If there's anything I can do...' and then you up and disappear. We all come here after the funeral, I turn around, and you're gone. 'If there's anything I can do...' but you can't do very much if you're light years away, can you? Some friend you proved to be. 'If there's anything I can do...' I didn't need you to promise anything, but to offer, and then run away... I though Jack meant more to you than that. I thought I meant more to you than that."
She was right. He was an
arrogant son-of-a-bitch, and not much of a friend. But he cared about her, and he now
desperately wanted to be a
part of her life again. "I'm here now, Beverly," he said simply.
She shook her head. "Where were you a year ago, when I needed you? You were back on that damned ship of yours, fleeing out into space like you always do. Now your ship is gone, and here you are. Well, I'm sorry, Jean-Luc, but I don't need anymore instability in my life. Either you decide whether or not you want to be here for me, and me for you, or you can leave right now." She crossed her arms stubbornly in front of her. That had been perhaps one of the hardest things she'd ever had to say, but it had been necessary.
Picard stared at her in disbelief, his anger beginning to match hers. What the hell does she want from me, anyway? he asked himself. He rose from the couch and stood almost nose-to-nose with her. "I told you, I'm here now. And I'm not going anywhere." Then, before she could respond, his hand reached up and gently grasped the back of her head, pulling her to him, years of careful self-control buckling, giving into the feelings he had always had for her.
Their lips met with something akin to surprise and shock. At the moment of first contact, they froze, unsure of exactly where they should take this and what roles they should now play. He was her dead husband's best friend, and she was his dead best friend's wife.
Now, apparently, years of tiptoeing around each other were gone. Their roles were now much more than they had been a minute before. Much more.
She pulled away from him and took a step back. His eyes opened, and he could see the flames of fury building in her eyes. "How dare you!" she hissed. The anger was growing inside of her, at him for what he just did, and at herself, for letting him, for catching her off-guard.
His eyes flashed with equal flames. "How dare me? I didn't exactly see you resisting a moment ago. In fact, I thought you enjoyed it."
"Enjoyed it?" she asked incredulously. "I did no such thing, Jean-Luc Picard! You're a guest in my home, but you're certainly not behaving like one! You had no right to do what you just did. No right!" No right to make me feel what I felt when you... She let the thought linger unfinished.
He stepped closer to her, once again closing the distance between them. "You accused me of not caring one damn way or another about you, Beverly," he reminded her. "I just wanted to show you that I do care! To let you know that I . . ." His voice trailed off. That was one thought that he definitely didn't want to voice aloud.
Beverly raked her ice blue eyes up and down him, coming to rest finally on their warm hazel companions, now clouded over with anger, as well as something else. "That you what, Jean-Luc? You what?" she demanded.
He paced anxiously over to the window, and looked out over the bay. He finally turned to face her, and, in an anguished voice, rasped, "I love you, damn it! I always have!"
Her first instinct after she heard his unexpected declaration of love was to lash out, to cause him as much anguish and turmoil as he was now causing her. Instead, she backed further away from his place at the window, moving herself all the way across the living room, and uttered the most profound statement of her life: "Oh." She could have slapped herself.
He acted as though he hadn't heard her. He continued to speak, the words pouring forth as if from a man possessed, exorcising the demons within. "I was never going to tell you. The feelings I have . . . They're wrong, but they're there. I felt that, as long as I kept them to myself, my betrayal to you and to Jack wouldn't be so great." He sighed in resignation. "But it would appear that I've just committed the greatest betrayal of all."
To Beverly, all the pieces of the puzzle that was her relationship with Jean-Luc began to fall together. His often distant manner towards her, the wistful looks, and most of all, his sudden withdrawal from her after Jack's funeral. Jean-Luc was in love with her, and at the time no longer trusted himself to be around her without Jack's presence looming between them. He instead had fled out into the cold, dark depths of space, putting tangible, physical distance between them.
She now closed that distance between them, step by step. She paused in front of him, and leveled her gaze right into his eyes. "I'm not going to pretend that I'm not angry. Because I am. I'm angry, flattered, frustrated, intrigued . . . All those things. But, understand this. I feel, by no means, betrayed. Not one bit. My heart goes out to you, Jean-Luc, for living with this all these years." Her stare wavered slightly, but focused once again with resolve. "I've always been attracted to you. I think I have from the moment we were introduced. But I had Jack, and you respected that."
She took his hand in hers, lacing their fingers together. The fit was warm and perfect. "Jack's not here anymore, Jean-Luc. You don't have to feel guilty. Not with me. Now I know, and I accept. Can you?"
After a long, faltering moment, he squeezed her hand
and nodded. He understood now. No matter what, he and Beverly would always be friends.
But, he told himself, it would be up to her to decide if they became more than that. His
feelings were now already known. Hers, however, were not, and it would be dangerous to
jump to conclusions.
Dinner was a quiet affair. Their eyes met from time to time across the table, but no words were said. Enough had been said before the meal; a tentative peace now existed between them, and they were both now afraid to break that tenuous connection.
After dinner they retired once again to the couch, now having the courage to speak again. They chose safe, comfortable subjects, like their careers. It was of his that they now spoke. "If you ask me, Jean-Luc, I think that a posting at Command would be wrong for you. You hate bureaucracy as much as I do. I can't see you yes-sirring a bunch of admirals whose desk chairs are sewed to the seats of their pants." She smiled. "But you'd be a great teacher. You would have so much to offer your students, including your unique perspective."
He quirked an eyebrow. "My unique perspective?"
She nodded. "Just how many instructors at the Academy do you know that have actually had deep space assignments? Not many, that's for sure. You could offer your cadets something that few other professors could: knowledge of what it's really like out there. Think about it, Jean-Luc. Being able to shape the minds of the future officers of Starfleet."
"You sound so convinced, Beverly. Do you actually think I could be a good teacher?"
"Oh, absolutely. If I were still a cadet, I'd sign up for your class in a heartbeat." Beverly smiled at him, looking radiant in her convictions and approval of him.
Unconsciously, he reached over and laid a hand on her shoulder. "I'll give it serious consideration, Beverly."
Ever so aware of the warmth from his hand, as well as the pleasant sensations that warmth produced, she chose to allow him to leave it there. She shot him a look of exasperation. "Do you have to think about everything? Can't you just go with your feelings sometimes?"
He appeared surprised. "Beverly, this is a career decision we're talking about. What I decide to do will have repercussions later on in my life. I can't just not think about it."
She thumped her fist against his thigh. "For God's sake, Jean-Luc, your career has already been mapped out. You could tell Starfleet to jump off a cliff and they'd jump off the highest one they could find. Most probably, you could sit on your ass and do nothing until a new ship is ready, and you'd still wind up with the flagship. Whether or not you choose the Academy or Command has no bearing on your career. The only thing that will matter about your decision is whether or not it makes you happy. Now, try something for me."
He eyed her suspiciously. "What?"
She removed her hand from his thigh and placed it over his eyes. "Close your eyes. Don't think about anything. When I ask you a question, and I will only ask one, you will answer it immediately. You don't get any time to think, analyze, or whatever else you do in your decision-making."
It was hard for him to not think of anything, not with Beverly sitting so close to him, touching him now as she was. But he gamely tried. Closing his eyes, he attempted to not think.
"Now," came her voice, quiet and soothing. "Here's the question. Remember, no thinking. Which posting are you going to choose, Command or the Academy?"
He knew she'd try something like that. Now what was he supposed to do? A swift poke in his ribs reminded him he was taking too long. "The Academy," he burst out.
Her hand left his eyes, and he opened them to her widely grinning face. "There now, see? That wasn't so bad. You should do that more often. You need to learn when not to think, and when to just act. Now you have a big decision out of the way, and can get on with more important things."
Right now, he was trying very hard not to act on what his body was telling him, namely that Beverly was sitting right up against him, that her hand was once again on his leg, and that her face was very close to his. The only thing keeping him from acting was the memory of the last time he had acted towards her without thinking.
Beverly caught the look in his eyes, and felt her heartbeat speeding up. It was happening again, she realized. Jean-Luc was casting his magical spell on her once again, without even realizing it. She wondered what it would be like to give in, just once. Just one time, to satisfy her curiosity so she could get on with her life. She decided to take the advice she had just given him moments before. Don't think, act.
She moved the necessary few centimeters to close the gap between them. As her lips pressed against his, she caught a flash of surprise in his eyes before they drifted closed. He felt her smile rather than saw it, and a warmth flooded through him. This was real, and it felt oh so right, unlike earlier. This was entirely mutual, and a long time in coming. He deepened the kiss, and to his delight, she pressed herself against him and pushed him back down onto the couch.
A feeling of amazement rippled through them as her body pressed fully against his. Their fit was perfect; curves, lines, all falling into place exactly as nature intended. Such a perfection was unknown to them until now, and they reveled in it, rejoiced in it.
Their exploration continued for what seemed like hours. Neither of them wanted it to end, and therefore found new ways to touch, to taste, to prolong the fulfillment as long as they could.
And when nothing new could be found, she rose to her
feet and extended a hand towards him. He followed her in a haze of passion, and as they
sank down on the bed in her bedroom, his mind, the one she had earlier berated him about
using too much, happily shut down completely.
Her body came awake slowly, part by part. By the time her eyes opened, she was well aware of the warmth surrounding her, as well as the source. She smiled, and rolled over to face her companion. She studied him carefully as he slept. The lines of his face, so pronounced the night before, has lessened considerably. She guessed that he hadn't been sleeping much due to the Stargazer trial. Last night had probably been a welcome diversion for him.
She stretched, almost cat-like. And what a diversion, she thought. She allowed the events of last night to unfold in her mind, and felt her body immediately responding.
As if on cue, she felt Jean-Luc's first stirrings. After a moment, a hazel eye fluttered open, followed soon after by the other one. He smiled. "Good morning," his beautiful baritone rumbled, still rough with sleep.
"'Morning," she answered. She trailed a hand down his chest and patted his firm, flat stomach playfully. As she felt it rumble, she asked teasingly, "You wouldn't happen to be hungry, would you Jean-Luc?"
He lifted her hand off his stomach and kissed it. "Well, I was a bit distracted at dinner last night. And I was too busy to get up to get a midnight snack," he teased.
"Poor thing. I bet you're just starving by now, aren't you? Maybe we should do something about that."
By now he was busy again, dropping small kisses along her jaw. "Maybe," he murmured. "But later..."
As his hard, muscled body covered her and his mouth
captured hers, she happily thought, Much, much later...
Eventually, they made it out of bed to eat breakfast. Granted, it was almost noon before they sat down at the kitchen table, freshly showered and dressed, but neither cared. They gazed silently at each other throughout the meal, not needing words to communicate. Their eyes said all that was needed.
The doorbell rang, startling them both. One thought flashed through Beverly's mind. Wesley. I'd forgotten... Jean-Luc looked at her inquiringly, and she mouthed her son's name to him as she opened the door.
Wesley's smiling six year-old face greeted her as he called out, "Mom!" and hugged her.
She rumpled his hair affectionately. "Hi, sweetie. Did you have a good time?"
He nodded enthusiastically. "Uh huh! We ate lots of pizza, and went to a holo-arcade. I got to blow up lots of alien ships!"
Beverly laughed, then smiled at the woman standing behind him. "Thanks for having him over, Randi. We'll have to have a sleep-over here pretty soon." Then, glancing back down at her son, she said, "Wesley, what do you say to Mrs. Miller?"
He was practically tugging Beverly back into their apartment in his eagerness to continue telling her about his adventures, but managed to toss off, "Thanks, Mrs. Miller!"
Beverly said goodbye before allowing Wesley to pull her into the room. He was about to begin recounting his exploits from the previous day but caught sight of the man sitting at the kitchen table. Beverly followed his gaze, and inwardly sighed. This was going to be interesting.
Leading her son into the kitchen, she said, "Wesley, do you remember Captain Picard?"
He nodded. The captain had been his father's best friend, and had come here last year to tell them that Jack Crusher was never coming home again. He remembered that day all too well. "Mom, is something wrong?" Wesley asked.
Beverly realized what Wesley must be thinking. She knelt to face him. "No, sweetheart. Nothing's wrong. The captain was just... in the neighborhood. Neither of us had eaten yet, so I invited him to stay for a late brunch."
Wesley nodded slowly, feeling considerably better. Just then, the captain stood and came around the table. He offered his hand to the boy. Wesley shook it, remembering his manners. "It's... um, good to see you again, Wesley." Beverly had to hide a smile at Jean-Luc's formality. She knew he wasn't very comfortable around children, but he was trying. They all sat down at the table, and while the adults finished eating, Wesley told them about his sleep-over.
After the meal, Jean-Luc was planning on leaving, but his plans abruptly got cut short.
"Jean-Luc, I was thinking of taking Wesley to the park for a while. Would you like to come?" Beverly asked with a mischievous twinkle in her eye.
"I... um, I was... the park?" Jean-Luc sputtered.
Wesley, who had quickly grown used to having the captain there, piped up with, "Yeah! Captain, do you know how to play baseball?"
Jean-Luc Picard could stare down hostile aliens, negotiate sticky peace treaties, and engage in brilliant battle maneuvers without batting an eye. However, a simple question from a child made him flounder. Beverly snickered and decided to help Picard out. "Yes, Wesley, the captain knows how to play baseball." Then, to Jean-Luc, she said, "Jack taught him some of the basics a couple years ago, and since then, Wesley will look for just about anyone to play it with. I'm afraid I'm not very good at it, so he doesn't like me to play it with him very much."
Wesley happily ran to his room to get his gear, leaving the adults in the living room alone. Beverly could just see the protest beginning from Jean-Luc, and she quickly headed it off. "Now, before you get all huffy, Jean-Luc, may I remind you that he's only a little boy. He's quite harmless, so you can quit looking at him like he's about to pull a phaser on you. All he wants is someone to play catch with him and toss him a few balls to hit."
"But, Beverly," he began. "It's been a long time..."
"Nonsense. I know for a fact that you and Jack and the rest of the Stargazer's command crew played a game against the command crew of Starbase 39 every time you were there. It hasn't been that long."
He sighed, conceding defeat. He never could say no to this woman, so how was he supposed to say no to her son? "All right. But please tell me if I begin to make an ass of myself."
She smiled. "I always tell you that, Jean-Luc," she said cheerfully. She made a step towards him, but stopped as her son came dashing back into the room, arms laden with baseball equipment.
"C'mon, let's go, Mom!" he exclaimed. He ran
for the door, and, as they left the apartment, Beverly reached behind her and squeezed
Jean-Luc's hand, eliciting a smile from him for the first time since Wesley came home.
The park had been rather uneventful. Picard, however, found himself doing something that he never thought he could. He had fun with a child. He found Wesley to be refreshingly energetic, as well as unbelievably intelligent. And a damned good little baseball player, too.
Beverly had watched the two of them play catch, bat, and talk. She knew that her son needed some positive male influence in his life, but she'd never dreamed that that influence would come in the form of Jack's best friend.
Later, they'd stopped at a local cafe for dinner,
Wesley introducing his adult companions to the culinary delight of dipping french fries in
a chocolate milkshake. Beverly and Jean-Luc found the taste to be surprisingly...
interesting.
Jean-Luc walked them back home after their leisurely dinner, but did
not follow the Crushers inside. Beverly nodded in silent agreement with his decision. She
did allow him to hug her good night, and plant a friendly kiss on her cheek. That was all
they could do with Wesley in the living room right behind them. Just before he let go,
though, she whispered something in his ear. "Come back at 2300."
His eyes lit up in astonishment. She smiled at his surprise. "Good night, Jean-Luc," she said.
"Good night, Beverly. I'll, um, talk to you
later," he managed to say. He walked away before he could do anything stupid.
He went for a walk. Picard had discovered that walking seemed to help
him think. He remembered walking endlessly around the Stargazer
in the middle of the night to mull over some problem. It usually helped, so he now found
himself retracing the steps he made earlier in the day, and found a seat at the park.
There was a lot on his mind on this night.
As he watched the stars come out one by one, he thought back to last night. Had it really only been yesterday? He had never in his wildest dreams expected what had happened last night to occur. Now he was left to deal with the ramifications of that night. What did he want from Beverly? More importantly, what did she want from him? A casual affair, meeting secretly to steal an hour or two here and there? Or perhaps an actual relationship? He already knew he loved her, and was beginning to suspect she felt the same. He knew he could grow to love her son, and be there for him when needed. He was pretty sure that he didn't just want an affair. He wanted, for the first time in his life, a commitment. But was Beverly ready to give that?
He sighed. After all, Jack had only been dead a year. What right did he have to cultivate a romantic relationship with Jack's wife? And what right did he have to assume that Beverly was sufficiently over Jack's death?
He had so many questions, and not nearly enough answers. The only thing he knew for sure was that he loved Beverly, and did not want a romance with her if she didn't feel the same.
He looked up at the park's clock tower and saw that
2300 was rapidly approaching. He hadn't realized he'd been sitting here that long. He got
up and began walking back to Beverly's apartment, hoping to find a few answers.
The door slid open on Beverly's smiling face. As she pulled him inside and the door closed, her arms wrapped around him. "I've wanted to do that all day," she said. But she felt him stiffen slightly in her embrace, and she pulled back, searching his face. "I know that look," she said as she let him go. "I bet you went and sat somewhere to think about all this, didn't you?"
He nodded. "I couldn't just go with this, Beverly. We need to talk."
Her eyes met his and seemed to bore into his soul. "I see," she said. Gesturing to the couch, she sat down and he followed suit. "And what did that formidable mind of yours come with while you were sitting... where? The park?"
It was eerie, the way she could read him. "How did you know?" he asked.
"It just seemed to fit," she answered. "I just... knew."
He saw that there was no point in beating around the bush. She'd know, and she'd see right through it. He took a deep breath. "Beverly, I love you. You know that. But I can't continue in a... relationship... like this with you if you don't feel the same. It would be wrong to do so. This is not just a casual affair for me. I need to know that there's a deeper involvement."
She didn't say anything for a moment, and she watched him return her gaze, eyes full of reservation and hope. "Jean-Luc, I would never expect you to merely carry on an affair. It's not in you to do that. I knew the conditions last night after I kissed you. I knew what was involved."
Was she saying what he thought she was saying? "You mean you... You really..." He didn't dare finish the thought. At least, not aloud.
She reached up and gently cupped his chin in her hand. "Yes, Jean-Luc. I love you. I think, in some way, I always have. I knew there was an attraction between us from the moment we met, but I also knew, deep down in my heart, that someday there would be more between us. It's nice to know I was right," she said with a soft smile.
He could feel his heart pounding a mile a minute, but he had to ask one more thing. "What about Jack?"
Her thumb began to trace his lips. "I loved Jack very much, Jean-Luc. Please understand that. But I always knew that he wasn't... that he wasn't the one. Do you understand that?"
He nodded, and she continued. "Jack is dead. I accept that now. Can you?"
A lifetime seemed to pass between them at that moment, as well as a realization. He could accept that, for the first time. It was time to move on. He smiled. "Yes, I can."
"Jean-Luc? Do me a favor, all right?" she asked, a tremble in her voice for the first time since they sat down.
He looked at her, an open expression on his face. "Anything."
She reached down and took both of his hands in hers. "Someday, when the time is right, please tell me how he died. You'll know when. It's something that I think I should know, but not right now. Okay?"
Picard leaned over and softly kissed her. "All right. Someday." He stood, and bent down to pick her up, holding her easily in his arms, and carried her into the bedroom, her arms wrapped around him tightly. That night, their lovemaking took on an almost mythical quality. It was slow, tender, and quiet, so unlike the reckless abandon of the night before. For the first time in their lives, they became truly one being. It was a feeling that they knew they wanted to hold on to for the rest of their lives.