Disclaimer: The Star Trek franchise and all characters, names, faces,
places, and races associated with it are the property of Paramount. This
is fan fiction, written for my amusement and yours and for absolutely no
money. The story belongs to me, so if you pass it along, please give
credit where credit is due.

Author's Note: Once again, this is a character story. There are no
gunfights, chases, or big battles. There's just Jean-Luc and Beverly and
a lot of unresolved feelings. If you don't like this type of thing, then
I suggest you take the advice of the incomparable Geoffrey Chaucer:
"Turne over the leef and chese another tale".

Please send all comments, questions, etc. to me at: <mla22@aol.com> or <sma1970@ oberlin.edu>.

. . . And If I Should Die
copyright 1995
Monica L. Anthony

1.

"What did you say?!" Jean-Luc twisted in the pilot's chair to look back at
the woman behind him in the shuttle's compartment.

Now she came up and flopped down dejectedly beside him into the co-pilot's
seat.

"I said that my hair is going gray."

He turned to her and smiled. "Beverly--" he began.

"All right, Jean-Luc," she said irritably, "I know you think it's a petty
little vanity for me to worry about my hair going gray. I mean, I'm
healthy, I've got a successful career, I've got wonderful friends who are
like family. The last thing I should be worried about is my graying
hair."

She sighed.

Jean-Luc remained silent.

"That *is* what you were going to say, wasn't it?"

A little smirk played upon his lips and an amused light shone in those
hazel eyes.

"Actually," he said, "I was going to ask you to let me see your gray
hairs, *Granny*."

She stuck her tongue out at him then sat back to pout in the chair.

"Oh, now that's conduct becoming a Starfleet officer," the captain teased
with a chuckle.

Her hand came up in a gesture that was *definitely* unbecoming a Starfleet
officer.

Her captain laughed outright. "Oh-ho! You're going from bad to worse,
Doctor. Shall I leave you alone or see what other vulgarities you can
come up with?" When it looked like she indeed might be thinking of some,
he reached over and patted her on the shoulder. "Beverly, I can't believe
you are this upset over a few gray hairs," he said gently. "You can't
even tell they are there. Your hair is as beautiful as it always was and
you are even more beautiful now than you were when I first laid eyes on
you." And as if to prove his point, his hand came up to brush the strands
of auburn framing her face, allowing his fingers to linger on her cheek.
She offered a small smile, but it faded into a sad frown.

"Does this have anything to do with your upcoming birthday?" Jean-Luc
asked gingerly.

Beverly covered her face with her hands. "I don't know, maybe." She gave
a heavy sigh and dropped her hands into her lap. "Jean-Luc, I'm pushing
fifty," she whispered.

Jean-Luc smiled and watched her sulk. Beverly's forty-eighth birthday was
in five days and, although up until now she had tried to hide it, he had
known for about a week that this was bothering her. Now approaching
mid-life with earnest, his friend was facing the inevitable case of the
blues. He himself had gone through this when he approached the
half-century mark, and he had to smile again because when he had been
facing this crisis this very same woman had barely been thirty years old.
He knew exactly how she felt though, when you feel like half your life is
gone and you haven't accomplished all that you wanted to accomplish. You
worry about your looks, whether you are still attractive or not. At a
time like this, a line or two around the eyes or a few gray hairs can sink
your self-esteem to sub-zero levels.

But even still, he knew that Beverly Crusher had nothing to worry about.
He had told her the truth: she *did* look better now than she did
twenty-five years ago. Not that she wasn't beautiful then. She was. But
*now*. . . . He couldn't even explain it to himself. All he knew was
that this woman turned the heads of men of all ages and species every time
she walked into a room. Surely she knew that.

"Beverly, what is it exactly that has you so upset? I don't think that
it's just a few gray strands of hair."

She shifted uncomfortably in the chair and pondered whether or not she
should tell him what was really bothering her the most. After all, if she
told him now, they would still have to sit in this shuttle together for
another twenty hours before the _Enterprise-E_ rendezvoused with them.
Depending on how Jean-Luc reacted to what she had to say, it could be a
*very* interesting trip. On the other hand, she had kept quiet about it
the for the whole duration of their trip to Kexiha to visit Wesley. She
had been admittedly sullen on the way there, but she guessed that Jean-Luc
probably thought that she was just overly anxious and worried to see her
son. It had been over a year, since just after the _Enterprise-D_ had
crashed, since she'd seen Wes.

But even Wesley had noticed that something was amiss with his mother. He
asked her about it but she dodged the question. And now here was Jean-Luc
asking the same thing. She considered lying to him, but he knew her far
too well and would see through any such fabrication. But if she told him
and he now felt differently--

"Beverly?"

She was shocked out of her thoughts by his soft voice. She looked into
his eyes and saw the concern and. . .something else.

Beverly decided to take a chance.

"Jean-Luc, I--"

2.

She abruptly broke off her sentence because something out of the window,
just over Jean-Luc's shoulder, caught her eye. A second later, the
shuttle's proximity alert sounded.

Both Beverly and Jean-Luc turned to their instruments.

"There's something coming straight at us," she reported, "heading 212 mark
8, at 200 kph."

"Evasive action."

Jean-Luc veered the shuttle to starboard to avoid a collision with the
object. He got only a glance at it as it whizzed past the viewport.

"What is that?"

His companion frowned over the console. "It's a hunter-mine," she said
gravely, for they were in grave danger. Hunter-mines lie in wait until
they detect a signature from an impulse drive or warp engine. Then they
speedily follow the signature like a trail of breadcrumbs and smash into
the ship at full speed. They were nasty little devils and were illegal
throughout most of the quadrant. So it was a mystery who could have laid
them in this stretch of peaceful space.

"Here comes another one!"

This time the small oblong object came from the starboard, and just as
they moved port to avoid it, the first mine glanced the shuttle near the
port nacelle and exploded on impact. They pitched and rolled as the
captain attempted to get regain helm control.

"I've got to shut down that nacelle, Captain!" Beverly yelled. "We're
venting drive plasma. If there are more of those things out there,
they'll pick up on that like sharks sniffing blood in the water!"

Having finally managed to get the helm under control, Jean-Luc nodded his
agreement. It was then that she noticed a thin trickle of blood streaming
down the side of his face. Her physician's instincts wanted to kick in,
but she had her hands full with the engineering problem.

"Are you okay?" she asked, glancing up from the console.

"It's just a scratch. And you?"

"Bruised." She moved to another console and tapped some of the keys.

"Shit."

"What's the matter?"

She shook her head. "I can't shut down the nacelles. The circuits are
fried. I'll have to do it manually."

"Do you want me to do it?" he asked, scanning the starfield around them
for more mines.

Beverly was already on her knees removing the cover on the circuit panel.
A bit of smoke rose from the burnt circuits causing her to cough. "No, I
can do this. You're a better pilot than I am. *You* fly the shuttle and
keep us from getting hit again." She lay down next to the panel and went
to work, the acrid smoke stinging her eyes.

"Yes, sir," he mumbled, then in a much more anxious voice, "Beverly,
whatever you are going to do, you'd better do it now. There are two more
mines headed straight for us."

"Almost there. . . ."

"Beverly......!"

"I know, I know!" She was working as fast as she could, but this was not
her area of expertise. She was used to fixing biological bodies, not
mechanical ones.

But the mines were closing in on them, attracted by the power output of
the nacelles and they were closing fast.

"BEVERLY!!!"

"Got it!"

Immediately, power to the nacelles shut off. The mines, their beacon
lost, slowed abruptly to a halt, searching for a target. Jean-Luc was
glad that they were not more sophisticated weapons that could track the
impulse signature after power was cut or they would be dead right now.
As it stood, they were alive. . . .for now. He looked over the damage
report and realized that they may not be that way for long. He looked to
another console for confirmation and shook his head.

Beverly did not like the look upon Jean-Luc's face right now. She had a
feeling that they were in big trouble.

She was right.

3.

"How long before main power fails?" she asked calmly.

"A little over four hours."

"Auxiliary power?"

He shook his head. That had been blown to hell when the mine exploded
against the hull. Main power was all they had left and when that went,
life support went with it.

She sighed and looked out of the viewport. "I wonder how many more of
those things are out there."

Jean-Luc slumped in his chair and rubbed his temples. "At least two.
Could be dozens." He sighed much as she had. "I sent out a signal to the
_Enterprise_ and a general distress signal. I'm sure someone will get to
us."

Beverly nodded, but inside she was computing the odds. They were out in
deep space, in a rather remote sector. She seriously doubted that anyone
would hear their signal way out here, and even if they did, they were
stuck in a middle of a mine field. Who would try to rescue them out of
this? Will would come for them, surely, but would he and the _Enterprise_
be able to reach them in time? They were still so far away. Even at
maximum warp, they would be cutting it close. Very close.

She did not voice any of these thoughts, though. Jean-Luc would only
lecture her again on the importance of thinking positively in situations
like these and she really wasn't in the mood to hear another of his
lectures.

Instead she asked, "What about the _Enterprise_? I mean those mines are
pretty nasty."

"They seemed rather smallish to me. They're probably more dangerous to
smaller craft. The _Enterprise_ should be able to get through the field
with little or no damage. After all, they only have to get within
transporter range."

She nodded. "Great."

"Don't worry. We'll be fine."

"Jean-Luc, if you tell me to think positively I swear I'll deck you."

"Now would I do that?" he asked innocently.

4.

For over an hour the pair sat in silence, not daring to speak as if the
mines would be drawn to the sound of their voices. They stole sidelong
glances at one another, each wondering what was going through the other's
mind. This wasn't the first time that they had faced mortal danger
together and each was trying to hold on to the belief that this would not
be the last time.

Finally, Beverly could not stand the silence any longer.
"What are those mines doing?"

Jean-Luc consulted the sensors again. "Nothing. They're just sitting
there. They can't see us now that the engines are off."

"Great. So how long do you think it will take for the cavalry to arrive?"
she asked as she moved to a seat in the back of the shuttle.

After checking to make sure the status of the shuttle and the mines
hovering around them was unchanged, he joined her. "They'll make it in
time."

She nodded. "How's your head?"

He touched the spot near his temple where the gash had been. Beverly had
healed the wound a little while ago, but he still had a bit of a headache.

"That will pass," she said leaning back in her chair. "Besides, if Will
doesn't get here in time, your little headache will be the least of your
worries."

A prickle of annoyance shot through him. "For a physician, you have a
remarkably negative attitude, Beverly," he said crossly. "Can't you see
the bright side of anything?"

"What's the bright side of freezing to death in space?" she mumbled.
His annoyance turned to full blown anger. "There's a good chance that
someone will find us in time. Why do you have to be so goddamned
pessimistic? It's not helping anything."

"Sorry to get on your nerves, Captain, but why don't *you* be realistic?
We've got under three hours life support left. It would still take he
_Enterprise_ nearly five hours to get here at warp 9 from their projected
position at the time you sent out the distress call. It's more likely
that by the time they get to us we'll have frozen to death or died of
asphyxiation and you know it."

"Fine, Doctor. You know and I know it. So you don't have to keep harping
on it. Don't you have any hope?"

She jumped up from her seat but sank back into it, the anger draining from
her features. She looked down at her boots and whispered, "Yes, I have
hope. . . . .but I'm scared, Jean-Luc." Now she met his eyes through her
tears. "I'm afraid to die like this."

He moved to his knees in front of her and clasped her hands. "Beverly,
I'm afraid, too," he confided tenderly. "It's perfectly natural to be
afraid in a situation like this, you know that."

Beverly sighed and tried to smile, failing miserably. "I know that," she
said quietly. She wiped the tears from her cheeks with the back of one
hand and tried to compose herself before she continued. "It's just that
I've spent almost all of my life running from death, cheating death. I
became a doctor so that I could prevent people from dying. I've been so
wrapped up in saving the lives of others that I've rarely given any
thought to my own mortality." Now she did manage a sad little laugh.
"Kind of silly, huh? I've seen more death than most people would in two
lifetimes and I just didn't think that one day I would be the one sliding
into the drawer."

Jean-Luc was surprised and touched. Beverly was one of the strongest
people he knew. Hell, he went to her when things seemed hopeless for him.
She a paragon of courage, and aside from her acrophobia, he had never
known her to be afraid of anything. So it shocked him now to know that
she was terrified of dying. It was such a universal fear. Everyone (even
the valiant Klingons) was afraid of death in some way. And yet, somehow,
Jean-Luc had thought that Beverly was above this fear. It touched him
deep in his heart to find that she was not.

A desire to protect her and soothe away her anxieties took control of him.
He stroked her hair and spoke with loving softness, "Beverly, we've been
in danger before. We'll get out of this and everything will be fine."
She looked at him with sad blue eyes. "But what if it isn't?" she asked,
but before he could answer, she continued. "Don't get me wrong; I never
thought I was immortal. I knew that I would die one day. I just never
thought it would be like this."

"I don't quite understand."

Beverly sighed and offered him that adorable crooked little smile that he
so loved. "I guess I always thought it would be quick, you know. I
thought that I'd probably be killed on some away mission or in an
accident, or--" she paused and the mischievous twinkle returned to her
eyes "--that you'd make some Cardassian or Romulan mad enough to blow us
all to hell."

He raised an eyebrow at her, pleased that she was emerging from her
temporary melancholy. He knew that her mischievous nature would never
allow her to be depressed for too long. She continued.

"I envisioned that if I made it to old age that I'd die silently in my
sleep. I always thought my death would come quickly and unexpectedly. ..
." her voice trailed off and her brow furrowed slightly. "I never, ever
imagined that I'd have the time to reflect on it."

"Reflect on death?"

She nodded. "And my life. Sitting here like this I find myself thinking
about the past forty-eight years, wondering if I made the right
decisions."

"Regrets?"

Beverly was silent for several seconds then she captured him within her
palpable blue gaze and said, "Only one."

Jean-Luc's heart thumped in his chest. "Why?" he asked hoarsely.
She averted her eyes only for a moment before she regarded him steadily
once more. "Fear is a powerful thing," she said softly. "Can you forgive
me for that?"

"There's nothing to forgive."

She shook her head and the tears welled in her eyes, then spilled down her
cheeks. "Yes, there is. I let my fears control my actions. I should
have stayed with you that night."

His eyes slid shut a the sound of those words. So she had wanted to stay.
He had suspected, but he never knew for certain. He had thought that she
was doing what she thought best for her at the time. He had never guessed
that she had wanted to stay with him as much as he wanted her to stay.

"These past couple of years of our lives could have been very different if
I hadn't said those words."

"Which words?" he asked in a quiet voice,"'Or perhaps we should be
afraid'?"

She smiled at his gentle reproach and was amused that he remembered
exactly what she had said verbatim. "I often replay that evening in my
head and wonder about what would have happened if I'd done things
differently."

Jean-Luc folded both of her hands into his, examining the long, strong
fingers that looked deceptively delicate. His mouth had gone very dry and
his tongue felt heavy and thick. "What would you have done differently?"
"I would have stayed for breakfast."

Dumbstruck by the sudden torrent of emotions that rolled over him,
Jean-Luc was unable to do anything but close his eyes and nod. After a
few moments, he felt Beverly pull one of her hands free of his, then her
soft touch upon his cheek.

"So, you see, I do owe you an apology," she said sadly. "I hurt you that
night. I knew that I was hurting you, but I was too chicken to take that
step with you. And I regretted it before the doors even closed. We
should have been together. We waited for so long. . . .We could have been
together."

It was breaking his heart to listen to her reproach herself for the time
they didn't have together. He was as much to blame for the wasted years
as she. The truth of it was that both of them had backed off from the
other at one time or another over this long, tumultuous friendship. If
there was any guilt, it lay with both of them.

He brought his eyes up to meet hers. "Beverly, as I have said before,
there is nothing to forgive. We both made decisions that kept us apart
over the years, but look at how close we've grown. There's nothing to be
sorry about. Having you in my life, in whatever capacity, has given me
joy beyond comprehension."

"But don't you think it would have been more sweet if we could have shared
*everything*? If I had only made this step sooner--"

"You've made it now," he pointed out.

She shook her head and looked around the shuttle and decided that they
might as well be sitting in a sealed coffin. "It's a little late,
Jean-Luc."

"Now, Beverly--"

"Jean-Luc, I'm not being negative. Really, I'm not. But the clock is
ticking and no one has answered the distress signal." Her voice was
tremulous and she clasped his hands desperately. "The _Enterprise_ is too
far away to reach us in time. We're not going to make it."

He started to protest that they could not give up hope, that
someone--anyone-- would come for them, but her eyes bore through him and
located the truth that he held in his soul as well: He didn't think they
were going to make it, either.

5.

"After life support fails, we'll have approximately 30 minutes until we
use up all the oxygen in the cabin. After that we can use the portable
air units, but they'll only last for about another half hour." She paused
only slightly then continued. "But by then cold will be a factor. The
hypothermia will progress rather quickly. In fact, we'll probably lose
consciousness from the cold before we asphyxiate. We do have a bit of a
dilemma. Normally, with the threat of deep hypothermia, we would need to
keep our metabolisms high. But we can't afford high oxygen consumption.
Our best bet is to keep as still as possible to keep our metabolisms down.
If they do find us, we'll have a better chance of surviving a hypothermic
coma than total suffocation."

Jean-Luc nodded, amazed at how clinical she was being in her description
of what would happen to them. She seemed to have pushed her emotions
aside and was all business again. He watched in silence as she pulled the
blankets and survival packs out of their compartments and laid them on the
floor of the shuttle. Although they both doubted that they would be
rescued in time, they agreed to try to hold out for as long as possible.
Maybe, just maybe, Riker would find them before they froze to death or
suffocated. It was a long shot, but they had to try.

He joined her on the floor to help open the survival packs and extract the
air units. He assembled each apparatus and tried to concentrate on her
words. But his mind kept wandering. He stole a sidelong glance at her
and once again marveled at her strength. Less than an hour ago he had
seen her more vulnerable than he had ever seen her in his life. Not even
when she stood over her husband's grave had he seen such fear in her eyes.
And yet somehow she seemed stronger because of it. Listening to her
steady voice, her calm, professional words, he found that he was just a
little bit stronger as well.

"Don't put the air unit on until you absolutely feel lightheaded," she was
saying, "It will buy us a few more minutes. We'll need to try to stay as
close together as possible, the body heat will help. We've got four
blankets here. We should each wrap ourselves individually in one and then
wrap the other two around us both. That will prevent the escape of heat
better." Beverly surveyed the scene in front of her and, satisfied, she
stood up. "Well, I guess that's it," she said and then hesitated a bit
before she added, "except for one other thing."

He looked up at her. "What's that?"

"I love you."

The words, spoken in such a matter-of-fact tone, caught him completely off
guard. He stopped what he was doing and stared at her. The only sound he
could manage was a soft, "Oh."

"I just wanted to tell you before--well, before." She swallowed hard.

"How long before the power fails?"

"Uh," he stammered, "twenty-one minutes."

She nodded and raised her eyebrows at him. "Well, now we wait."

"Yes, we wait," Jean-Luc said as he watched her settle down on the floor
opposite him.

They settled into an uncomfortable silence, each thinking about the words
that she had spoken, yet reluctant to discuss it any further.

After several minutes, Beverly laughed.

"I know about the surprise party."

Jean-Luc smiled. "How did you find out?"

"Let's just say that Data has yet to master the art of whispering," she
said with a radiant smile.

"You know we tried damned hard to plan that party without you finding out
about it. I think half the crew was in on it."

Her smiling eyes twinkled merrily. "It was a nice sentiment." She cocked
her head to one side, her fiery hair sliding down over her shoulder. "So
what did you get me?"

"Nothing."

"Oh. Thanks."

He laughed that beautiful laugh of his. "I didn't mean it like that. I
didn't *get* you anything. I painted something for you."

"Really?" she said softly.

"Yes, I painted the view from your grandmother's back porch. The
highlands. I know how much you love it."

Her expression changed and she looked like she might cry again, but she
didn't. She was unbelievably touched by his gesture. "How did you know?"
"It was the last thing you looked at before we left Caldos after the
funeral. I guessed that it would always remind you of home. Was I
right?"

She reached for his hand and brought his fingers to her lips in a gentle
kiss. "You were right. You're always right about me."

Their eyes locked and communicated all the feelings that words were
somehow inadequate to convey. At that moment, they both they knew that
their souls had always been intertwined from the very beginning and that
it had not been mere chance that they had shared so much of life together.
Nor was it chance that they would face the end together. It was right.

It was the way it was supposed to be.

Just then, the shuttle fell into utter darkness as the power finally
failed.

6.

"Are you comfortable?" Jean-Luc whispered in her ear.

She nodded. "You?"

"Yes."

They lay together on the floor of the shuttle, spoon fashion. They were
each wrapped in their own blanket as she had directed, but Jean-Luc had
loosened his blanket some to allow one arm to slip around Beverly's waist.

He pulled her tightly to him under the cover of the blankets, nestling
his head next to hers, their warmth shared in the pervading cold of the
shuttle. They clasped their hands together tightly in front of her.

"Keep wiggling your fingers and toes, okay? And try to stay awake," she
said quietly.

He nodded.

"You have your air unit?"

"It's right next to yours."

"Okay." She seemed like she would settle down, then she grew agitated
again. "Remember, not until you get lightheaded."

"I'll remember."

"Okay."

They grew quiet then she spoke again.

"Try and stay awake."

"I will."

Another silence. And then he spoke.

"I love you."

They hugged each other close.

7.

"The last of the mines has been destroyed, sir," Lieutenant Commander Data
reported.

"I've located the shuttle, Commander," Worf said.

Riker stood and squinted at the image on the main viewscreen. "Damage?"

"The shuttle has lost all power, including life support."

"Oh my god," Deanna whispered in horror.

"Life signs, Data?" Riker asked.

The android was quiet as he looked over his console.

"Data?"

"I cannot tell, sir. As anticipated, the electromagnetic discharges from
the destruction of the hunter-mines has interfered with the sensors. I am
getting conflicting readings."

"Transporter Room, can you get a lock on Captain Picard's and Doctor
Crusher's communicators"

"Yes, sir."

"Transport directly to sickbay now," Riker barked, then said, "Mr. Data,
you have the bridge. Counselor, you're with me."

8.

By the time Riker and Troi reached sickbay, the doctors and nurses were
already in action. Deanna gasped when she saw the bodies on the biobeds.
Their skin had taken on a bluish purple tint and they appeared positively
stiff. In the flurry of activity around them, they could see no more.

One of the nurses came close enough to the two standing by the door for
Riker to ask through the lump in his throat, "Are they alive?"

The nurse looked grim. "Just barely. We got them out before they
asphyxiated but they're in deep hypothermia. They were holding hands and
they were so cold that we had to pry their fingers apart."

"Will they make it?"

She shook her head. "I don't know, Commander," she said, then rejoined
others as they worked on the captain and doctor.

Troi and Riker could only watch from a corner.

9.

"How are they?" Geordi La Forge asked as Deanna reentered the bridge.
She sank into her chair.

"They're still unconscious," she said wearily. "The doctors are gradually
raising their body temperatures back to normal but they need to do it
slowly. They both suffered some minor tissue damage to their fingers and
toes that the doctors were able to repair without incident. Now it's just
a waiting game for them to regain consciousness."

Geordi let out a sigh of relief. "We got to them just in time."

All Deanna could do was nod.

10.

The lids parted slightly and the two pupils shrunk to pinpoints at the
bright light before them. The lids squeezed shut momentarily against the
blinding intrusion, then opened again. This time the pupils adjusted and
the blue eyes looked around.

*Sickbay?*

*Sickbay! Oh my god, we're alive!*

"Jean-Luc," croaked the raspy voice.

"Dr. Crusher!" Alyssa Ogawa rushed up to her boss's bed, a relieved smile
on her face. "Dr. Crusher, how are you feeling?"

But this wasn't the voice that Beverly Crusher wanted to hear.

"Jean-Luc," she whispered again.

"Doctor, he's right next to you. Right over here."

"I can't--" She struggled to turn her neck but found that it was
difficult.

She felt Ogawa's soft, warm hands on either side of her head. "Let me
help you, Doctor. Your muscles are just stiff. You'll be all right once
you start moving around." She gently turned Beverly's head until her eyes
rested on Jean-Luc's profile.

"Jean-Luc, wake up," Beverly managed weakly. "Please wake up."

But he remained still, his only movement was the steady rise and fall of
his chest.

"Jean-Luc, please," she rasped desperately. A tear escaped her eye and
slid over the bridge of her nose to trail across her cheek. "Please wake
up."

Still no movement.

Another tear followed the path of the first.

11.

The lids parted slightly and the two pupils shrunk to pinpoints at the
bright light before them. The lids squeezed shut momentarily against the
blinding intrusion, then opened again. This time the pupils adjusted and
the hazel eyes looked around.

He heard a voice, soft and hoarse, but blessedly familiar. His soul
rejoiced. He knew who it belonged to.

"Beverly," he whispered.

~~~
Epilogue
~~~

"I want to thank you again for the painting, Jean-Luc," she said as they
entered his quarters. "It's beautiful."

He smiled at her and went to retrieve a bottle of wine. "I'm glad you
like it, Beverly," he said as he filled the glasses.

"I love it. Thank you."

"Did you like your party?"

She laughed. "Yes, it was the best. This has been a really good day."

He handed her a glass and held up his own. "Happy Birthday, Beverly."

"Thank you, Jean-Luc."

They touched glasses and took a drink. Then they lapsed into silence as
they were wont to do since the shuttle accident. It had only been four
days and they were both still on medical leave for another two. Beverly
had argued that they were both fit to resume their duties, but Dr. Selar
was adamant. They spent a lot of their time together, but they did very
little talking. Instead, they read or caught up on some work. They did
not speak about what had been said on the shuttlecraft. The silence
seemed safer.

And that was how they sat now: in a safe silence. But the words, spoken
and unspoken, hung between them and their eyes made them alive.

After another glass of wine, Beverly stood. So did Jean-Luc.

"Well," she began quietly, "This has been a wonderful evening."

A small smile lit his eyes. "Yes, it has been."

She swallowed. "I guess I should be going."

Jean-Luc remained as still as a statue, his features totally impassive,
while his soul cried out to hers, "Please don't leave me!"

Beverly flinched slightly, then blinked. "Well," she turned toward the
door, "Goodnight."

"Goodnight," he whispered.

She walked to the doors. They parted for her obediently.
But she never walked through them.

Instead, she turned around to face him again, a light in her eyes.

"Jean-Luc?"

"Yes, Beverly."

"May I stay for breakfast?"

~~
The End
~~