All the Means To Make Us One
By
Monica Lynn Anthony

Standard Disclaimer: Paramount owns everyone and everything mentioned in
this story. The story, however, is all mine.

Author's note: This story is intended primarily for fans of the
Picard-Crusher romance. If you want to read a story with a lot of phaser fire and plot twists, skip
this now. Any comments, questions, etc. that you may have would be greatly appreciated.
Send them to MLA22@aol.com. This is my first attempt at fan fiction so I really want
to know what you all think.

And I want to thank Allison Martens (Future Anew, Mourning, The Diversion--read these stories, they are very good) for being the first person besides myself the read this and for her instructions on how to get it to the 'net.
Okay, here's the story.


*
The planet was called m'Arvai. The _Enterprise_ had arrived here eleven
days ago as the initial response to the distress call sent out for aid with a natural
disaster. The smallest, least populated of the four continents of m'Arvai had been ravaged by
heavy rains for over two weeks. The northeastern tip was hit the hardest, causing extensive
flooding in a low-lying farming province, where the ground was saturated after the first two
days of rain and the river up in the hills spilled over its banks and sent a wave of mud
and silt sliding down upon the nine thousand residents below. The _Enterprise_ crew had been
working round the clock to evacuate the people to the highlands to minimize the loss of
life if the river rose again.

Commander William Riker stood on the outer edge of the highlands camp and
surveyed the scene before him. The camp was comprised of forty tents set up in a
star-shaped pattern. These tents were used as living accomodations for the dislocated residents
yet to be moved to the villages in the highlands. Some of the tents were used as
makeshift hospital wards and science stations. The largest tent was in the center. From here the
relief effort was coordinated; assignments were given and crews dispatched, mostly under the
artful direction of Dr. Beverly Crusher. Riker had always had complete respect
for Crusher's abilities as a physician and scientist. In fact, he often believed her to
be a miracle worker, as if magic flowed from her fingertips. But these past several days she
had once again surprised him with her effectiveness as a field commander. He found
himself wondering if there would be any end to this woman's talents.

"Commander Riker!"

Will Riker looked up at the call to see Lieutenant Stacey making his way
across the field to his location. The young man looked tired (Hell, *all* of them were tired.
. .and dirty), his black hair damp and disheveled. His uniform was torn at the knee,
revealing a patch of golden brown skin that was smeared with the mud that seemed to cover the
entire continent.

What concerned Riker, however, was the look on Stacey's face. Oh, what
*now*, he thought as the lieutenant reached him.

"Commander Riker, we've got a problem." Stacey was a little out of breath
from running across the field through ankle deep mud.

"What is it, Lieutenant?" Riker said testily.

"Sir, we're going to have to move the water purification unit in the north
quadrant. The mud up there is starting to slide again from the last rains. If we don't
move it before the rain starts up again it will be lost. We can't afford to lose the unit up
there. It's the medical teams' primary source of fresh water."

Will Riker cursed softly and looked up at the sky. Sure enough, there
were menacing looking clouds off to the northeast that would probably creep up on them
in a couple of hours. He looked back to Lieutenant Stacey. "How long will it take you
to relocate the unit?"

Stacey shrugged. "Only about forty-five minutes, sir." He smiled a little, then added,
"We've had practice."

Will's mouth curved upward. Indeed, they had. "All right, do it. I'll
notify the medical teams."

"Aye, sir." With that, Stacey began the long trek back across the field.

The commander took a quick glance back toward the sky. The rain was
coming--again. He shook his head and went off toward the direction of the center tent to
find the Chief Medical Officer, muttering to himself, "She is *not* going to be happy."

*** *** *** *** ***

"Move it again? Will, this is the third time!"

The gathering clouds that Riker had been looking at earlier were nothing
in comparison to the rising storm of Beverly Crusher's temper. He had expected her to be
angry; her fuse seemed to be so short these days. Riker attributed this to fatigue and
stress. She had worked planetside ever since they had assumed orbit. In fact, she even
*slept* down here, a few hours at a time between running the relief effort and caring for
patients. He could not remember the last time she had been to the ship. Riker, himself, was responsible for many of the decisions made regarding the m'Arvaian.

However, he recognized that the demands on Crusher's time and energy were
much greater than his own, so he tried to help her as much as possible; at times, even
taking orders from *her*. Riker had to smile at the role reversal.

Will tried to sound sympathetic. "Beverly, I know it's the third time,
but there's nothing else that can be done."

Crusher rolled her tired eyes, sighed, then waved her hands in submission.
"All right, all right. Did you tell them to go ahead and move it?"

"It's being done as we speak, and before you ask," Riker added quickly,
"yes, extra water provisions are being sent down from the ship."

Beverly's mouth twisted into a crooked smile. "You're learning,
Commander." She pointed a long finger at him.

Riker caught her hand in mid-air and bowed deeply. "I was taught by the
master." He was about to kiss her hand, but stopped half-way through the gesture. He
examined her hand seriously.

Beverly frowned. "What's wrong?"

Will turned her hand over and looked at the other side. After a moment,
he looked up and eyed her from head to toe.

"What?" she demanded, pulling her hand away.

"I've never seen you this dirty before," Will said thoughtfully. "You
really could use a bath, Beverly."

She stared at him in disbelief. Then Will Riker smiled, his ice blue eyes
twinkling.

Crusher's eyes narrowed to dark slits. "Oh, you creep. I hate you."

She stalked to one of the tent's openings, went through and came back in
with a handful of grayish, brown mud. Turning to face him, she said, "We'll see who needs a
bath, Will Riker." Then she hurled the glob toward him.

Riker ducked off to the side just as it reached him. It sailed past his
shoulder. He laughed.

"Your aim is off, Doctor."

"Oh, I don't know about that, Number One."

Will turned around to see Captain Picard standing behind him. . .with
Beverly's *little present* splattered across most of his face and the front of his uniform.
Will's eyes widened and he quickly turned away. Unfortunately, he could already feel
the laughter coming up from his diaphragm. He looked back to the doctor. Her face was
scrunched up in an effort to control the giggles that were shaking her entire body.
She opened her eyes and looked at Will, biting her lower lip to keep from laughing. It didn't
work. They both exploded.

Jean-Luc Picard gazed at his two officers as he wiped the mud from his
face with a towel he had found on Beverly's work table. They were holding on to one
another, still laughing uncontrollably. At him. Picard waited patiently as they slowly
transformed themselves from giggling children to the professional officers he knew them to be.
He put on his best scowl. Beverly saw this out of the corner of her eye and nudged Riker in
the ribs. He looked over at the captain and they both snapped to attention.

Crusher spoke softly. "-uh, sorry, sir."

"Yes, sir, we apologize, sir," Riker echoed beside her.

Picard said nothing. He just continued to glare at them. Inwardly, he
was delighted at making the two senior officers nervous. He decided to let them squirm for
a minute longer as he slowly walked in a circle around him. Jean-Luc smiled when he left
their direct line of sight. They actually think I'm angry at them, he thought. Then,
another thought occurred to him. A year ago, he *would* have been angry. But that was then. One
of the many painful lessons that Picard had learned as a result of his trip through
time with Q was how to laugh at himself. More importantly, how to laugh at himself with
friends; and these were his friends. It pained Picard a little to realize that they did not know
this (he thought at least that Beverly did, and he was unsure if she putting up the front for
Riker's benefit or not). He resolved that he would have to show them, show all of them.

Still standing behind Will and Beverly, he said in a stern voice, "I came
down to tell you both that the _Mason_ has just entered orbit and will be taking over the
relief effort from here." He slowly walked back around to face them. "They would appreciate
a briefing on the current situation--if the two of you could take time out of your busy
schedule of horseplay." He eyed them coolly.

"Yes, sir," they said in unison.

Jean-Luc moved to stand in front of Beverly. There was a smudge of dried
mud on her forehead and another on her chin. Bits of mud were in her auburn hair and
on her uniform, especially on her knees, as though she had been kneeling in the stuff.
She was a mess. He smiled inwardly; she was adorable.

Crusher caught the look in the captain's eyes as he held her gaze. A
little smile played on her lips and she relaxed. Should have known, she scolded herself.

"You know, Doctor," Picard said lightly and glanced over at Will, "I
believe Commander Riker was right. You *are* rather dirty."

A grin spread over Riker's face and he relaxed his stance. "I *told* her,
sir. Maybe now that you've said something she'll go and get herself cleaned up. . ." He
shut his mouth then because Beverly was glaring at him, one of her chiseled eyebrows arched.

"Actually," Picard interjected, "It seems to me that Doctor Crusher is so dirty because she
has been doing so much work." He indicated Riker's clean black and red uniform.

"Exactly what have *you* been doing down here, Number One?"

Beverly laughed outright in Riker's reddening face. Picard chuckled and
winked at her.

"Ha, ha, ha," Will said sourly, but not really angry at his friends'
teasing. He sat in a chair as the captain leaned against one of the tent's supporting poles. He
thought for a second about what Picard had said. "Since the _Mason_ is here, when will we be
leaving orbit?"

"At nine hundred hours tomorrow."

"Where to from here, Jean-Luc?" Beverly asked. She and Deanna Troi had
already spoken to him a few days before about where they thought the _Enterprise's_ next
destination should be. She only hoped that he had been able to clear it with
Starfleet Command.

Picard had to smile at Crusher's anxious expression. "Relax, Beverly, you
win. We will be docking at Starbase 114 for ten days of much deserved shore leave."

A smile spread across Beverly Crusher's lovely features. In fact, she was
so visibly relieved that Picard suspected that his friend needed the rest more than
anyone. He stood up straight, and tugged on his tunic. "Well, I think that we should make
haste in our preparations to leave orbit. We haven't much time." The captain smiled
and added, "That is if the two of you can behave yourselves."

Will and Beverly gave him a mock salute, then Will turned to the terminal
on the table to begin ordering crews back to the ship. Beverly began to organize briefing
materials for the officers from the _Mason_.

Jean-Luc Picard hovered near the exit for a few minutes, watching them, an
idea forming in his head. Abruptly, he asked, "Do either of you have plans for shore
leave?"

They looked up from what they were doing, shaking their heads.

"No," Crusher said, "Just some rest."

"Same here, Captain," Riker replied.

The captain looked thoughtful, still working out the details of his idea.

"Good. Don't make any." He turned to leave, but paused at the sound of Beverly's voice.

"Jean-Luc, what's this all about?"

He smiled and headed out of the tent as he said, "A surprise, Doctor."

*** *** *** *** ***

Twenty-four hours later, as the _Enterprise_ was on her way to Starbase
114, there was a chime at the ready room door. "Come," Picard called rising from his desk.

Beverly Crusher breezed into the room with a determined look upon her
face. She stopped in front of the desk, hands on her hips. "All right, Jean-Luc, spill it."

The captain's brow creased. "Spill what, Beverly?"

She let out an exasperated sigh. "You know what I'm talking about,
Jean-Luc." When he did not say anything, she prompted, "Shore leave?"

"Ohhh, shore leave." He picked up a padd on his desk and focused his
attention on it, pretending to read. "I told you, it's a surprise."

Beverly rounded his desk, snatched the padd from his hands and put it back
on the desk. "I don't like surprises." Her chin was set stubbornly as she stood close in
front of him, capturing his eyes with hers.

Jean-Luc was captivated. . .and amused. He almost told her, then decided
against it. No, he thought, Beverly would have to wait for this surprise with the rest of
them, whether she liked it or not. He shook his head to her and stepped towards her,
thinking that she would yield and let him pass. She did not. His movement brought him so close
to her that their noses were nearly touching.

Once again, he found himself locked in her intense blue gaze, and the
warmth of her body seemed to reach out to envelope him like a pair of silken arms. Her eyes,
gods they were so beautiful, seemed to look right to his soul as they changed right
before him. No longer were they stubborn and challenging but warm, inviting, and completely
irresistible. Jean-Luc leaned forward to close the small space between them. Beverly closed
her eyes.

The intercom sounded. "Bridge to Captain Picard."

They froze just as their lips touched slightly. Beverly's eyes snapped
open and she took a small step back, allowing the extra distance to break the spell. He was
still looking at her and she was totally unnerved because she could not tell what the emotions
were behind his eyes. She wondered when this *thing* between her and Jean-Luc was going
to go away as a tiny voice inside her told her that it would never go away because she
really did not want it to--even though it scared the hell out of her. Suddenly, she wished
that he would stop staring at her. She did not want him to witness her private battle.
He did not comply to her hidden wishes. His eyes never leaving her face, Picard took a
deep breath before he answered his call. "Go ahead, Mr. Data."

"Sir," came the android's voice, "we are entering the Pagarian system and
will arrive at Starbase 114 in thirty-seven minutes."

"Thank you. Picard out." His eyes narrowed and he smiled as he watched
Crusher casually ease toward the door.

"Well," she said, "if we'll be there in thirty-seven minutes, then I'd
better finish packing. You did say to dress for autumn, didn't you?"

Picard nodded, amusement twinkling in his hazel eyes.

"Okay." The doors slid open and Beverly made her exit. She paused,
though, in the threshold to look back at him with a mischievous grin. "Pretty smooth
escape, huh?" Her voice was soft and lilting.

Picard laughed and shook his head. "Smooth, indeed."

She let out a soft giggle and disappeared around the corner. He was still
smiling when the doors slid closed.

*** *** *** *** ***

Jean-Luc decided to make one final walk-through of the house before the
others arrived. In the back of his mind, though, he knew that it was unnecessary. He had
arranged for everything. In fact, that had been rather easy. The house belonged to
Daniel Costin, an old acquaintance of his who had inherited it from a deceased relative. Since
Costin resided on the Starbase in orbit, the beautiful old Tudor and the dozen acres
surrounding it remained uninhabited. When Picard had arranged for the _Enterprise_ to dock
here, he thought that a few days on Pagar would be wonderful way for his command crew to spend
shore leave together. Together. The captain was aware that in seven years of service
with one another, this would be the first time that *all* of them would spend shore
leave together.

Jean-Luc wanted to be apart of that; he wanted them to no that he was not
just their captain, but also their friend.

As he took a final survey of the pantry, Picard wondered what really had
possessed him to ask them all here. After all, he knew that they already thought of him as
their friend. So why was it so important for you to bring them all together like this, he
asked himself. His answer came almost instantaneously. Because *you* didn't want to spend
*your* shore leave alone. They all would have gone off to their own plans, and you
would have been stuck reading some deathly dull book, or talking to equally boring people
who you haven't seen for years and really don't want to see now. (Picard was annoyed
that the voice in his head telling him all this sounded a little like Q.) Besides, in four
days, they will all be leaving to follow their own pursuits anyway. Deanna and Worf were going
to spend the rest of their vacation showing Alexander the station and the planet; Data
was going to be joining the Starbase orchestra in their concerts; Geordi's father's ship
would be in orbit for a few days, so the chief engineer would be visiting; and Will had found
out that a rather attractive *friend* from his academy days was stationed here. It occurred
to Jean-Luc that he did not know what Beverly was going to be doing for the remainder of
her shore leave.

The thought of Beverly brought back the memory of what happened in his
ready room yesterday. She had been so close. . .he thought that he could still
smell her soft perfume, still feel the warmth of her body reaching out to touch him--Picard shook
himself, trying to push the memory away, but found that he could not. He was shaken by the
effect Beverly had on him. She stimulated every part of him; his mind, his body, his
heart, his soul. When she was with him it was as if her very presence seem to fill the room,
dominating his attention.

But he did not understand her. Yesterday, she had once again followed him
to the brink. She had let down her guard, and, for the slightest of instances let him
see the emotions that he knew she had, the emotions that he had *felt* she had on KesPrytt.
She had held it all right there in her eyes--the loneliness that echoed his own, the fear, the
longing, and, yes, the love. But then, just as she had in his quarters after KesPrytt, she
backed away from him, closing him out of her feelings. He just did not understand. Was he
pushing her into something that she didn't want? Or, maybe she *did* want it, and was just
afraid, as she had said. Jean-Luc sighed. Conjecture would get him absolutely nowhere
since he would never know the answers, unless he asked Beverly herself.

Picard decided that the next time they had one of those moments, *if* they
had another of those moments, he would try to get his answers.

He heard a noise, so he headed toward the front of the house. Deanna Troi
came through the door, following by Geordi, Data, and Worf. The counselor gasped as
she took in her surroundings.

"Captain," she said breathlessly, "this house is lovely."

"Yeah, Captain," La Forge chimed in, "This will make a great place to rest
for a few days. Thanks for asking us."

"I'm glad you like it, Mr. La Forge, and you are very welcome."

At that moment, the captain noticed that Data carried a small case.
Seeing Picard's interest, the android held the open end up to reveal his cat, Spot.

"I am glad that you said that Spot could accompany me, Captain."

"It is not a problem, Data," Picard said with a smile. Then he added, "As
long as she doesn't make a mess."

Data took the cat out of her case and was rewarded by her loud purring.
"She is well trained and I have brought all her provisions."

"Good," the captain said then turned at the commotion coming through the
door. His eyes widened in surprise but he had to smile as his first officer entered the
house, laboriously carrying three shoulder bags. . .and a very smug Beverly Crusher.
There were chuckles from Geordi and Deanna; Worf grunted with what looked
like a smirk on his face; Data, as always, was impassive. Grinning, Picard stepped
closer to them to take one of the bags from a grateful Will Riker. He was not entirely sure
he wanted to know what these two had been up to this time.

Beverly smiled down at the captain. "Hi, Jean-Luc," she said gaily, blue
eyes sparkling. "The house is wonderful. You know, I think that this is going to be a
great shore leave because--" she hugged her arms more tightly around Riker's neck and cooed
into his ear--"it's starting out sooo satisfying." Her laugh was positively wicked.

Will Riker had had enough.

"That's it," he said as he moved to dump the doctor off his back.
However, she only tightened her very long legs securely around his waist and did not budge.

"I don't think so, Commander," her voice came in his ear. "The deal was
that you carry me all the way to my room. Remember? And since I have no intention of
sleeping in the foyer, you've got a little way to go yet."

"I don't remember those terms to the bet," Riker said heatedly, not at all
used to being on this side of the teasing. He wished he could glare at her, but, of
course, it's pretty tough to glare at someone whom you're carrying on your back.

"Actually, Commander, Doctor Crusher is correct," offered Worf
thoughtfully. "You did agree to piggyback her from the transport shuttle to her room." Riker
could have sworn the Klingon was on the verge of laughter. This did not improve his mood.

Riker groaned. "There had better be some bedrooms on the ground floor
because I'm not carrying you up those stairs." He indicated the long curving staircase.
Jean-Luc gave a little laugh and said, "Actually, there are four bedrooms
down here and four more upstairs. You are all free to chose which ever you like."

Riker gave a relieved sigh as Beverly pointed down the hall toward the
bedrooms. "I want a view of the garden," she said happily and Will began to move in that
direction.

The others gathered their things to go upstairs to find their rooms. .
.but not without a parting peal of laughter as they heard coming from around the corner of
the hall Beverly's voice crying "Giddy-up, horsey!"

Left alone in the foyer, Jean-Luc Picard smiled to himself. It was going
to be an interesting few days.

*** *** *** *** ***

Beverly crept silently into the kitchen and leaned against the doorjamb,
enjoying the sight before her. Jean-Luc's back was to her as he brushed
melted butter upon the croissants he was preparing for baking. He was so
meticulous about what he was doing; stopping now and then to reshape a
deformed croissant and making sure that every single one had the right
amount of butter. She smiled as she thought that while it sometimes made
him seem aloof and arrogant to others, his strive toward perfection made
him all the more adorable to her. It was just one of the myriad of things
that she found fascinating and, ultimately, loved about Jean-Luc Picard.

He moved down the counter to a pile of fruit which he began slicing. He
was still oblivious to her presence. As he cut the fruit, Beverly's eyes rested on
his back, observing the muscles moving under the fabric of his robe. She
traced the outline of his neck, his shoulders. Her eyes moved lower to
his waist. She imagined her hands touching him there, her arms encircling
to pull him close. Jean-Luc reached forward for a bowl as Beverly's eyes
travelled lower still. With one raised eyebrow, she took in his backside.
Very nice indeed. She swallowed hard. Unable to see his thighs because
of the robe, she moved down to admire his calves, then his bare feet,
before she allowed her eyes to move back up his body. She had moved much
closer to him--close enough to touch, close enough to *feel*. A part of
her wanted to stop as her hands reached out to touch those shoulders. But
she found that she could not help herself. Beverly was well aware of the
numerous battles she had fought with her feelings for this man over the
years, and it shocked her that now, of all times, she was losing the
battle. Her hands lightly touched his shoulders, so not to startle him.

But he did not jump at all. In fact, he acted as if he had known she was there
all along. Jean-Luc put down the knife he had been using and let his
hands rest upon the counter, while Beverly's hands moved down his back and
around his waist.

He leaned back into her as her warm hands found their way to the opening
of his robe, gently coaxing it apart. She slipped inside, caressing his
firm abdomen, then his chest, pressing him closer against her. Beverly
dipped her head down to place a hot, lingering kiss on his neck, her red
hair tumbling down over his shoulder to fall on his now bare chest.

Letting his head fall back, Jean-Luc shuddered and whispered her name:
"Beverly--."

"Beverly?"

Crusher's eyes snapped back into focus and she saw Jean-Luc looking at
her quizzically from across the room, just having noticed her standing
there in the doorway. Her eyes grew wide and she was aware of a burning
sensation on her cheeks. She knew that he was now watching her turn a
brilliant shade of pink as the color spread from her face and down her
neck. She tried to recover.

"Good morning," she said a little hoarsely, averting her eyes. She needed
a little time to pull herself together before she could look him straight
in the eye.

"Good morning," he said warmly, smiling at her. "How long have you been
standing there?"

"Oh, a while." She laughed a little, more at herself than anything, and
took a few steps into the kitchen, idly picking up a utensil. "Why in the
world are you up puttering around the kitchen this early in the morning?"

She was doing pretty well. Her voice was back to normal, and she was sure
that she must be less pink.

He smiled sheepishly. "Well, I thought that since I was the one who
invited you all here, the least I could do was to cook breakfast for you
on your first morning here."

"Ah." Now, having shaken off the effects of her daydream (including the
embarassment of letting her mind wander into such a realm in the first
place), Beverly was herself again.

She cocked her head to one side and asked, "Need some help?"

Her reward was a rarely seen brilliant smile from Jean-Luc Picard.
Working quickly and surprising each other with their culinary skills, they
managed to get breakfast ready before the others woke up. As they were
pulling out plates and utensils,

Data came into the kitchen.

"Good morning, Captain Picard, Doctor Crusher."

"Morning, Data," they said in unison.

The captain set the plates on the counter and Beverly went on without him.

"Sleep well, Data?"

"As you well know, Doctor, I do not require sleep in the same sense that
humanoids require sleep; sleep to me is the process of shutting down some
of. . ." His voice trailed off as the doctor waved him silent.

"Never mind," she said as she rolled her eyes and turned to retrieve the
coffee cups from the cupboard.

Data tried again. "I did run another one of my dream programs last
night."

"Oh. Did you have sweet dreams?"

Data's head tilted to the side. "I do not believe that I could accurately
categorize my dreams as being 'sweet.' However," he added quickly, "they
were pleasant."

Beverly laughed and shook her head. "Good enough, Data."

The android noticed the cups and saucers in Crusher's hands. "May I do
anything to help, Doctor?"

She nodded and handed him the dishes. "Set the table."

As Data went into the dining room to attend to his task, Beverly turned
back to the counter to begin brewing the coffee. She took a glance
sideways at the captain. She felt her cheeks starting to burn again as
the memory of her daydream returned to her once more. Where the hell had
*that* come from? she asked herself. Beverly took a deep breath and
pushed the memory to the back of her mind. She would deal with it later.
Breakfast went extremely well, which pleased Captain Picard to no end. As
he sipped his coffee, he watched the six of them chit chat about ship's
gossip and laugh at Riker's stories.

The dynamics between them fascinated him. More than any crew he had ever
had experience with in his career in Starfleet, these officers were the
closest. They were as relaxed with each other as members of a close-knit
family. And he was proud and, yes, grateful, that they considered him to
be a part of that family. Picard smiled behind his coffee cup as he
remembered the natural edginess they had had with each other when they
first came aboard the _Enterprise_ seven years ago. Soon that feeling had
melted away and the friendships began. With a touch of sadness, he
remembered Tasha, and how her death, while it had been painful for all of
them, nevertheless, brought them closer to one another. Picard then
thought about the year that his chief medical officer was on assignment at
Starfleet Medical. The ship had seemed different while Beverly was gone,
as if an important part of her was missing. Picard had always believed
that the senior doctor on board a starship, especially one with children,
had a role within the crew as important as that of the captain. Each and
every person aboard relied upon the CMO to keep them safe and healthy, so
the physician holding that post had to inspire trust and confidence. Beverly Crusher did that every
single day. Her vibrant personality seemed to tranfuse the ship and she
commanded the respect of the entire crew not only because she was a
medical genius, but also because she was a damned fine officer, one of the
finest Picard had ever served with. And, Picard thought with pleasure,
she was his best friend.

Inevitably, his eyes settled on her across the round table. Almost
immediately her brilliant blue eyes came up to return his stare. She
smiled warmly at him. As usual he was completely enchanted. Out of the
corner of his eye, he saw Deanna Troi's head turn sharply in his
direction, indicating that she had sensed her captain's intense emotions.
Ever discreet, the counselor gave him a small knowing smile and, after a
quick glance at Beverly, took a sip of her orange juice.

After breakfast, the group broke up to pursue their own interests. Deanna
and Worf deciding to go for a walk through the woods bordering the
property. Will could not resist the urge to go hiking in the hills about
a kilometer away and had roped Geordi and Data into going with him. He
had tried to get Beverly to go but she begged off, opting to explore the
property on horseback instead. She looked for the captain to join her,
but he was no where in sight. Too bad, she thought. She knew he really
would have enjoyed the ride.

*** *** *** *** ***

Jean-Luc took a deep breath and held it in his lungs for a moment before
he let it out. It was an absolutely beautiful autumn day, with the sun
shining in the clear blue-green sky and the air slightly brisk. Picard
loved his starship and loved exploring space, but there was just
*something* about being outdoors on a planet. It was life-affirming,
invigorating.

Shoving his hands into the pockets of his loose-fitting trousers, he
continued his walk along the path to the lake. After a few moments, he
heard hoof beats coming up behind him. He turned around and smiled at
what he saw.

Beverly was galloping toward him astride a chestnut stallion, her hair
made even more bright by the sunlight, flying out behind her like living
flames. She came up beside him and brought the horse to a stop. "Hey,
there you are. I was looking for you earlier," she said, looking down at
him.

"I decided to go for a walk around the property. I thought you were going
to go hiking with the others."

She shook her head, causing her hair to move against the thin white
sweater she wore. "Nope. I didn't really want to go hiking. I *wanted*
to go for a ride with you, but you left before I could ask you."

"Oh." He glance down at the ground and then looked back up at her. There
was a mischievous grin on her face.

"So, you want to join me?" she asked lightly, shifting forward a little to
make room for him.

Jean-Luc hesitated for a second then moved toward her. He mounted the
horse easily, sliding into the saddle behind her. For a moment, he did
not know what to do with his hands. He knew he had to hold on in order to
keep balanced, but he did not know exactly where he should touch her. The
horse lurched forward a little and Picard grasped her hips to keep from
falling off. The animal settled down under Beverly's calming touch and
they headed off up the path at a slow trot. As good a place as any, he
thought, relaxing his hands but keeping them exactly where they were.

*

Beverly gasped when they reached the lake a little while later. It was
breathtaking. The water was extraordinarily clear and it lightly
reflected the color of the sky. The sun not only caused the surface to
sparkle but also illuminated the multicolored rocks on the bottom. The
effect was stunning: the lake seeming to change to all the colors of the
rainbow as each wave reached the shore.

Mesmerized, they watched the water in silence for a time. The breeze
picked up a bit and Beverly shivered. She relaxed against Jean-Luc, her
back now pressed to his chest. After a moment, he lifted one hand from
her hip and his arm loosely encircled her waist. Acutely aware of every
inch of her body that touched his, she coaxed the horse into a slow pace
along the perimeter of the lake and hoped like hell that the hand resting
on her abdomen didn't feel how wildly her heart was beating. Silently,
she reproached herself. Get a grip, Beverly. He's your *best friend*.

Yes, she knew he was her best friend. But she also knew that they were
not *only* friends. Beverly would be the first to admit that her
relationship with Jean-Luc Picard was probably more complicated than warp
field mechanics. They shared a long, tumultuous history that was riddled
with suppressed love, guilt, anger, silence, and pain. And now, they had
this cherished friendship. . .and new feelings. Every day, they went
about their lives and tried to ignore the *thing* that always seemed to be
between them. The thing that had almost made them kiss in his ready room
yesterday and the thing that was responsible for the feelings she was
having right now. At moments like these, when it was so strong
that she felt as if it would overtake her, she wondered what it would be
like to just give in to it. What if she and Jean-Luc just stopped
fighting and let their feelings take them. . .?

The thought both delighted and frightened her. Beverly shuddered.

The arm around her waist tightened a bit.

"Cold?" came his voice in her ear.

She shook her head slightly. "No. I was just thinking of something."

"Unpleasant?"

She had to laugh. If he only knew. "No."

"Oh," he said, his tone amused, "Well, you've been lost in thought a lot
today, like this morning in the kitchen."

Crusher was glad that he could not see her face at that moment. Silently
she prayed to whatever gods would hear her that he did not ask her what
she had been thinking about.

"Beverly?" She felt his warm breath brush past her cheek.

"Hm?"

"What were you thinking about just then, in the kitchen?"

Oh no. She tried not to panic as her mind raced to think of something
believable. She stalled. "Why do you ask?"

"Well," he began, "you looked so far away and then you blushed so deeply
that even your feet turned pink."

She turned to look at him over her shoulder. "What were you doing looking
at my feet?"

She tried to lead him away from his objective.

It did not work.

"What were you thinking about?" he repeated, a smile playing upon his
lips, her
evasiveness intriquing him more.

Beverly turned to face forward again and got an idea. She sighed heavily
in supplication and said, "Well, if you must know. . ."

"Yes?" Jean-Luc was all ears.

". . .I was having an erotic daydream about you."

She resisted the urge to turn around to look at him again, but she was
almost positive that that little grin of his was gone. She now had one of
her own.

They were silent for a few minutes. Beverly was waiting for him to say
something, wondering if he thought she was serious or not. When she could not stand
the silence anymore, she turned her head to the side and said his name.
There was another moment of silence before he responded.

"An erotic daydream." His voice was quiet and thick.

She nodded.

"Well," he said with a sigh, "I'm glad that you finally decided to admit
it. I know that you've been having them about me for years."

Beverly's head whipped around, indignation seething from her eyes. "I
have not--" She stopped.

Jean-Luc was laughing.

As quickly as it had come, her anger dissolved away. She gave an
exasperated huff. "I don't know who's worse, you or Will Riker!"

"Oh, I definitely think that Will is worse," Jean-Luc said with glee, "but
I have my moments."

Impulsively, he hugged her close and kissed her temple. She looked at him
sideways as he relaxed his arms, a smile finally curling her mouth.

He definitely had his moments.

*** *** *** *** ***

Beverly turned over again, trying to get comfortable. She lay still for a
second. She turned on her back and opened her eyes. No use. She could
not sleep. She would have thought that it was because she was in a
strange bed, but she had slept like a baby last night. Deciding that a
glass of warm milk might help her, Beverly threw back the covers and got
out of bed. By the time she had gotten to the kitchen, a brandy seemed
more inviting than the milk, so she poured herself one of those instead.
Slowly, she walked back down the hall toward her room. Everyone else was
long since asleep, having tired themselves out with a rowdy and very long game of poker. The house was completely silent.

She paused by what she called the piano room. There was really no other
way to refer to it. It was a very large room, with, like the rest of the
house, polished oak floors. Because it sat in the corner of the house,
two of its sides were made up of large bay windows, that allowed the
bright orangish moonlight the stream into the room. There was very little
furniture in the room, only a small desk in the corner by the door. There
were window seats lined with soft cushions. In the center of the room was
the most beautiful, shiny black piano that Beverly had ever seen.
She ran her hand over the top of the piano, admiring its smoothness.
Carefully setting her brandy goblet down, she sat on the bench and allowed
her fingers to rest lightly on the keys. Beverly had not played the piano
in more years than she cared to remember. She wondered if she still
could. She positioned her long fingers on the keys and softly began to
play.

*

Jean-Luc Picard heard music. He sat up in his bed and strained to listen.
He heard it again. A soft, beautiful melody, played so low and with such
gentleness that it was barely audible.

"Who is playing the piano at this hour?" he whispered into his darkened
room. He got out of bed and reached for his robe.

As he came out into the hallway, he noticed that the door next to his own,
Beverly's, was open. Riker's, across the hall, was still closed. He
assumed that the others upstairs were sound asleep. By the time he
reached the piano room, he knew what he would find.

She was sitting a the piano, her head bowed slightly, her eyes closed.
She swayed a little, moving her face into the moonlight and Picard could
see the tears there. She looked so fragile, that haunting melody pouring
from her fingertips. He took a few steps into the room. Slowly, her eyes
opened and the music stopped.

Picard came to stand before her. "I didn't know you played," he said
softly.

She pulled her hands away from the keys to wipe the tears away from her
cheeks. "My mother taught me when I was little." She shrugged. "I
haven't played since she died."

The captain's brow furrowed as he thought about this. "Beverly," he said
incredulously, "you haven't played the piano in over thirty-five years?"

Again she shrugged. "I guess so. Probably the reason why I'm so awful."

"Oh no, no. That was lovely. Will you play some more?"

She smiled sadly and stood up. "No. I'm finished." She drank the rest
of her brandy and turned to look out the window.

After a moment, he came to sit on the window seat in front of her. He
took her hand. "Are you all right?"

She sat down very close to him and looked down at her lap. "I'm all
right," she said in a tiny voice, "Sometimes, I get a little sad when I
think about my mother."

Jean-Luc reached out to touch her cheek and she turned to look at him.
"Thank you."

He looked puzzled. "For what?"

Reaching up she cupped his face between her hands and looked directly into
his eyes. "For being the best friend I've ever had."

His warm smile chased away the last of her sadness. "I'm just returning
the favor," he said softly.

Beverly smiled back at him and they stayed that way for a few seconds.
Then she felt it. That *thing* that was between them was back and
threatening to make her lose her composure. The look in Jean-Luc's eyes
told her that he could feel it, too. Slowly, she withdrew her hands from
his face.

Picard knew what was happening as soon as he saw her eyes waver. She was
pulling away from him, once again hiding her feelings for some ever
elusive reason. Any other time he would have just the feeling slip away
to whatever hiding place it resided in when it was not haunting them. Any
other time he would have just said good night and let it be. Not this
time.

Lightly, he grasped her hands, not letting her break physical contact with
him. She looked a little surprised, but she found a smile anyway. He
just stared at her for moment. He, in effect, had her cornered and could
now (finally) get the answers to the many questions that had been puzzling
him for months. One question in particular found a quiet, grief-stricken
voice.

"Beverly, why did you leave me after KesPrytt?"

Her eyes widened a bit and she quickly turned her head back toward the
window. Even in the dim moonlight, Picard could see her pulse beating
nervously in her neck. He stared at her expectantly until she finally
spoke.

"Why are you bringing this up now, Jean-Luc?" Her voice was strained.

"Because I need to know."

"I don't want to talk about this," she said abruptly pulling her hands
free of his and standing up.

"Why? Does it frighten you?"

"I just don't!" She turned and stalked toward the door.

"You're getting rather good at walking out, Beverly," he said softly,
anger tinging every word.

Beverly froze. She could not believe that this was happening. Why didn't
he just leave it alone? Why couldn't he just let it go? She turned
around to face him. He was standing now, looking at her with such emotion
that she felt her stomach knot.

"Tell me," he said. He held his hand out to her making it a plea. When
she still did not say anything, he turned away from her.

Jean-Luc, you bastard, she thought as she felt tears stinging her eyes.
Didn't he realize that he was asking her to find the courage to tell him
everything that she was afraid to tell him? Didn't he know that he was now
bringing about the moment that both of them had been avoiding for
twenty-five years? But she had no choice. If she didn't tell him, she
would lose him for sure, their friendship irreparably damaged. So she had
no choice.

Legs shaking, she moved toward him and spoke. "I-," her courage and her
voice were failing her. She tried again.

"I'm sorry if that hurt you, my leaving that night. I never meant. . . I
just. . ." She was struggling. This was not going well. She was trying
to tell him but she was choking on the words. She sighed in frustration.
But now Jean-Luc turned on her, anger burning in his eyes. Beverly went
to take a step backward, to put some distance between them, but his hand
darted out and caught the front of her robe.

"You just what, Beverly? Dammit, you finish what you were about to say to me!" he hissed fiercely.

Beverly was startled, truly startled. Never, ever in all the years of the
quarter century that she had known him had she ever seen such a look upon
his face. It was a look of hurt and anger and. . .desperation. She felt
like she wanted to cry or throw up or something as his eyes bore a hole
straight through to her soul. She tried to hide from him, but he was
there, drawing it all out of her. Her mouth opened and the words came
out.

"I just wasn't sure if I was ready to risk losing your friendship," she
said in a strained voice. Jean-Luc was not sure he understood what she
meant by that and he didn't have the time to try to figure it out because,
as if a dam had burst, a torrent of words and feelings began to pour from
Beverly Crusher's mouth.

"Jean-Luc," she said, bottom lip trembling, "I have known you for over
half my life. You have been there when all the important things have
happened in my world. You were there when I got married. You were there
when I got my medical degree. You were there when I told Jack I was
pregnant, and you were there when we brought our son home. You brought my
husband's body back to me. You went with me to see him in the morgue.
You stood beside me at his funeral. You picked up the pieces that his
death had shattered. And, during all those years that we were apart, you
sent me letters to let me know that I still had
a friend out there."

Beverly's voice was wavering, but she continued. "When we began serving
together board the _Enterprise_, you were there for me again. You
befriended my son, giving him someone to look up to. You encouraged him
and challenged him in ways I never could. You were there during the
incident at the Academy. You were there when I had to let him go so that
he could find his true destiny. You were even there when my grandmother
died."

She took a deep breath and blinked away the tears that had been
threatening to form. "For most of my life, there has been one glowing
constant and that constant has been you. And these past years while we've
been serving together, our friendship has grown so deep and become so
important. . .I depend on it, Jean-Luc. You're my confidant. You're my
role model, there to inspire me and I try to make you proud of me. I cry
on your shoulder when I'm hurting. I laugh with you when I'm happy. I
rely on you to calm me down when my temper gets out of control. And you
do; I don't even have to ask, you know me so well. I share *everything* with you." She paused.

Picard had been staring into her face as she spoke. Now he looked away,
thinking of the times she had been there for *him*. He thought about the
time after the Borg had molested him. How many times had he dragged
Beverly out of her bed in the middle of the night to come and hold his
hand while he told her the things that he could never tell anyone, not
even Deanna Troi? How many hours had he spent crying in her arms after
the Cardassian had tortured him on Celtrus Three? How many times had this
friendship been *his* lifeline?

He looked up at her and she began to speak again.

"Don't you see? I *can't* lose your friendship. It would destroy me.
And yet," Beverly winced as if in pain, "and yet, there's something else.
It's been there since that moment we met. An attraction, so profound,
like two souls connecting. And I've tried to fight it, even leaving the
ship for a year. . ."

Jean-Luc looked at her sharply. He had never known that he had been the
reason that she had left the _Enterprise_. He had only hoped that he had
been the reason that she had returned.

As if she were giving him the time for this to sink in, she continued, her
voice almost a whisper. "But it's useless. I guess we both know that,
and what happened on KesPrytt only reaffirmed it. That feeling will
always be there between us. Always. And that's what I'm afraid of. If
we give in to it, we might lose our friendship; but if things stay the way
they are now, I'm afraid we'll lose it anyway."

For the first time, Jean-Luc spoke. "Beverly, I don't understand--"

Her words burst from her in an anguished cry. "Jean-Luc, I can't love you
this much and watch you become involved in relationships like the one you
had with Nella Darren!"

Jean-Luc Picard was stunned. He wanted to say something but found that he
could not. He looked down and realized that he was still clutching the
front of her robe. Slowly, he opened his hand, releasing her, and Beverly
sank down onto the window seat, the heels of her hands pressed into her
eyes. He knew that she was trying to keep from crying, trying to gain
control.

He was trying to gain control himself. He was shocked, more shocked than
he had ever been in his life. Finally, after all this time, he had his
answers. He finally knew what was in Beverly Crusher's heart. A part of
him was elated. She said she *loved* him. But he was also saddened by
her revelation that his relationship with Nella had hurt her so much.
Picard would gladly give his life to avoid causing this woman any pain.
He loved Beverly. He had always loved her and he knew that he would never
stop loving her.

Picard sat down next to her. She lowered her hands from her face and
stared straight ahead, not meeting his eyes. He reached out to touch her,
but she stood up suddenly and said in a quiet voice, "I hope that's what
you wanted to know, Jean-Luc, because I can't talk anymore. I'm going to
be sick." Then she walked out of the room, leaving him alone with the
piano.

*** *** *** *** ***

"Deanna, you look awful."

"Thanks, Will," she said, making a face at him. Collapsing into a chair,
she gratefully accepted the cup of coffee LaForge handed her.

"What's the matter, Counselor?" Geordi asked with a smile.

Data answered before she could say anything. "I believe the correct
expression would be 'hungover'," he said innocently.

Troi ran her fingers through her thick mass of dark curls, massaging her
scalp. "I am not hungover," she protested. "I'm just very tired.
Besides, I didn't have *that* much to drink last night."

"Actually," Worf said beside her, "you did ingest a fair amount of
alcohol. You forget what Beverly put in those chocolate sundaes."

"Oh, yeah, that's right," Geordi said with a touch of nostalgia. "Those
sundaes." He scooped some sugar onto his oatmeal. "Speaking of Beverly,
where is she?"

Riker took a bite of his toast before he answered. "She and the captain
are still asleep."

"Still asleep? Don't they usually get up much earlier than this. I know
on the ship, they would have been done with breakfast by now."

Riker just shrugged.

"Does anyone know if they were up late last night?" Deanna asked frowning.
The men shook their heads. "Why do you ask?" Worf inquired.

Her frown deepened. "Well, the reason why I couldn't sleep last night was
because I kept feeling these very intense emotions."

Geordi and Will looked at her sharply, lecherous grins upon their faces.

Deanna rolled her dark eyes. "Not *those* kind of emotions, you
perverts," she said with disgust.

Geordi shook his head. "You have to admit, Deanna, that it's not that far
of a stretch of the imagination."

"Yeah," Will chimed in, "I think we all know that there's a little more
than just friendship between our captain and chief medical officer--even
if they'd never admit it."

Troi had to concede the point. "True. But passion was not what I sensed
last night."

"What was it then?" Worf asked, his curiousity aroused even though he did
not normally partake in such idle gossip.

She bit her bottom lip, trying to vocalize the tangle of emotions she had
been privy to. "It was anger, some fear and confusion, and. . ." She
tried to remember. ". . .and sorrow."

She shook her head "They were so intense, so consuming I couldn't sleep
through them."

"And you think that they were coming from the captain and Beverly?" asked
Geordi.

Slowly, the empath nodded. "Yes," she said with growing confidence.
"Yes, I think it was them."

No one said anything for a minute. Then Data suggested: "Perhaps you
should ask Doctor Crusher when she wakes up."

"Oh no, Data," Deanna said taking a sip of coffee. "Judging from what I
was feeling last night, that would not be a good idea."

***

They were clearing the breakfast dishes when the captain came into the
dining room. He looked so weary that Will Riker knew that he had not
slept at all last night. But there was something else, a sadness about
him that Riker had never seen before. If something did happen between him
and Beverly last night, he thought, it did not go well.

Deanna must have sensed something because she went up to Picard and
pressed a cup of fresh coffee into his hand.

"Thank you, Counselor," he said absently. Taking a seat at the table, he
did not drink it, though. He only frowned into the cup.

Deanna Troi gave a look to Worf, Geordi, and Data who were standing in the
doorway. They knew what it meant. Making some comments about going into
town, they departed.

Deanna glanced at Will and mouthed the word "Beverly."

Riker nodded. Deanna was right. Obviously something had happened and if
the captain, who normally was able to mask such emotions, was this bad
off, then Beverly had to be worse. Leaving the counselor alone with
Picard, he went to find her.

*

"Captain--" Deanna began, but Picard cut her off.

"Counselor, I know that you are aware that something is wrong, and I do
appreciate your concern, but this is something that I do not wish to
discuss right now." He was still looking into his coffee cup.

She sat in the chair next to him, studying him, trying to get a feel for
his emotions. She began again in a quiet voice. "Yes, I know that
something. . .disturbing. . .has happened. And I also know when you are
experiencing emotional distresses such as this that you would normally
talk to Beverly." A sharp spike of emotion lanced through him at the
mention of the doctor. Troi's eyes widened a bit. "But since I suspect
that the cause of your distress has something to do with whatever occurred
between the two of you last night, I want you to know that you can talk
to me if you need to." She leaned a little closer
to him. "Captain, I'm not just your counselor. I'm your friend, too."

Deanna stood up to leave, but the Picard's hand on her wrist stayed her.
She sat back down, watching him carefully. Finally, his eyes came up to
meet hers. She nearly gasped at the level of emotion she saw there.

"Thank you, Deanna," he said in a sad little whisper.

She smiled warmly and squeezed his hand.

They sat in silence for a few more minutes, then the captain began to
speak.

*

Riker had knocked on Beverly's door three times before decided to enter
the room. Peeking around the door, he looked over at the bed. She was
not there. Coming further into the room, he noticed how chilly it was in
here. He called her name. "Beverly?"

"I'm out here, Will."

He turned and saw her. She was sitting in a chair outside the terrace
doors, wrapped in the deep green comforter from the bed. When he came
outside to join, he was shocked at his friend's appearance. She was still
in her nightgown, her feet bare. Her face was incredibly pale and her
hair was disheveled. She appeared to not even care that it was in her
eyes. Will had never seen her look so defeated.

He knelt in front of her and brushed the auburn strands away from her
face. She looked at him with puffy, red-rimmed eyes. Will cupped her
chin in his hand. "Beverly," he said tenderly, "what's wrong?"

She did not say a word. She just closed her tired eyes and leaned forward
to rest her forehead on his shoulder.

*

"I'm just not sure where to go from here, Deanna. Now, finally, after all
this time it's all out in the open and I don't know what to do." Jean-Luc
was pacing the living room.

"Do we just go on ignoring it or--"

"Or do you stop fighting it and let your passions take control."

The captain just looked at her. Troi took a deep breath, trying to think
of the proper way to phrase what she was about to say. She had sat here
and listened as the captain had explained everything that had happened
with Beverly last night. She knew that he was confused and torn between
what his relationship with Beverly was now and what it could become.
Although she was trying to remain neutral, she could not quite shake her frustration with the
matter. Jean-Luc and Beverly were torn between being friends or becoming
lovers. Didn't they realized that they could be both?

Rising out of her chair, she spoke. "Captain, normally when I am
counselling someone, I do not interject my personal opinions. However, I
am speaking with you as your friend, not as your counselor." She paused.
Captain Picard nodded for her to continue.

"Captain, you and Beverly belong together. I know this. You both know
this. Geordi, Worf, Data, and Will know this, too." Hell, most of the
ship knew it, but she didn't want to tell him that. She went on before he
could interrupt her. "You have a friendship that is so strong and so
binding that it is enviable. Most people go through life without ever
forming a connection with a person on the level that you have with
Beverly. It is a most remarkable thing and the two of you are quite right
to cherish it."

He shook his head sadly. "But it's complicated."

"Yes, it is complicated," Deanna agreed. "You share a rather tortured
past with her. You are her best friend. You are her commanding officer.
And," she touched his arm gently, "you are in love with her."

He was silent. No sense in denying what she already knew to be fact.
"And Beverly is right about the danger to your friendship," she continued.
"I remember the feelings I sensed from her during your involvement with
Nella Darren. She tried to hide it from me, but I know that it hurt her
nonetheless." She looked at the captain pointedly. "I also remember the
feelings I sensed from you during her relationship with Ambassador Odan."

Jean-Luc looked away, his eyes clouding with the memory. He had tried to
be a good friend to Beverly during that time, but it had hurt him to
discover that she felt love for the ambassador. Probably the same way his
love for Nella had hurt her. He sank into a chair and put his head in his
hands. "This is such a bloody mess."

*

"So what do I do now?" Beverly asked, sitting back against the headboard,
hugging her knees. "We can't go back to just being friends after what I
said last night."

From the other end of the bed, Will Riker nodded in agreement. "No, you
can't." He took her hand. "But Beverly, do you really *want* to?
Something made you tell him that you love him last night."

She turned her head to the side to stare at the wall, as if the answers
she needed were written there. "Sometimes," she took a breath, "sometimes
I wonder about what it would be like to be with him, to be more than his
friend. But--"

"But what?" Will interrupted. "Beverly, you love him and want to be with
him. Go to him. Don't wait anymore, because if you do, you might lose
him to someone else."

She studied him carefully, thinking about what he had just said. "You're
talking about you and Deanna, aren't you?" she asked gently.
Now it was Riker's turn to look away. "Yeah." He voice was very quiet.
"I always thought that, eventually, Deanna and I would get back together. But I
didn't tell her that. I waited and I never even considered that she
didn't feel the same way. And while I want her to be happy, every time I
see her with Worf, a part of me wishes that I was the one to help her find
that happiness." He paused and clasped Beverly's hands. "*Your*
happiness lies with Jean-Luc Picard and his lies with you. Don't spend
the rest of your lives without each other for no reason at all."

Tears tumbled from Beverly's eyes and down her cheeks as she shook her
head. Then, angry with herself for crying again, she roughly wiped them
away with the comforter. "If we try and it doesn't work. . .How can we
stay this close as friends after a failed romance? The damage would be
devastating."

A charming smile spread across Will's handsome face. "Then you make damn
sure that it doesn't fail. Understand?"

They looked at each other for a while. Then Beverly Crusher sighed and,
finding his grin to be strangely contagious, smiled at him through her
tears. She understood.

*** *** *** *** ***

Picard took another surreptitious glance at Beverly over his wine glass.
She was sitting on the softly carpeted floor of the den, her back against
the couch. Spot was curled up in her lap and purred loudly as Beverly's
hand stroked her golden fur. She seemed to be immersed in the soft and
beautiful melody that Data played on his violin. Picard did not even hear it.

He could not seem to take his eyes from her face. He had not really
talked to her since their encounter last night. When she had finally
emerged from her room earlier, she had behaved as if nothing at all had
happened, making small talk with him, and even smiling at him
occasionally. And yet, she had made sure that there was no opportunity
for them to be, alone together, virtually clinging to Will Riker's side.
Even now, the first officer sat very close to her on the floor playing
solitaire.

Jean-Luc could not understand what was happening. Was she going to
pretend that they had never had that conversation? Did she want him to do
the same? But surely she must know that things could never be as they
once were. He would not forget what she had said for as long as he
continued to draw breath. *Beverly loved him.* It changed everything.

Suddenly her eyes locked on his. He imagined that his heart stopped.
Then she smiled at him warmly, almost lovingly before she closed her eyes
and lay her head back against the couch to listen to the music once more.


*** *** *** *** ***
The applause was warm and appreciative. Data bowed for a final time
before leaving the stage to join his friends in the corridor outside the
Starbase amphitheatre. By the time he reached them, they were already
holding up their glasses in a toast. "To shore leave," Captain Picard
said warmly, looking to each of them in turn, "and to friends."

"I hope that you all enjoyed yourselves," the captain said after they had
lowered their glasses.

"It was nice to spend time together off the ship," Deanna said. "We
should do it more often."

Riker grinned and added, "Especially if the captain cooks us breakfast."
There was laughter and farewells as the group took leave of one another
until they returned to their posts on the _Enterprise_. Jean-Luc was on
his way back to the shuttle to go back to the planet (having escaped from
a dull conversation with a droning diplomat) when he spotted a very
familiar sight. He walked up to her.

"Beverly, what are you still doing here?"

"Waiting for you," she said lightly. "I thought we'd ride back down to
the house together."

Picard was confused and his face showed it. Before he could ask the
question, Beverly answered it. "Six days is a long time for you to be
rambling around the lovely house all by yourself. I thought you could use
the company." She tried to keep her voice nonchalant, but the truth was
that Beverly was scared out of her skull. She was not at all sure what
Jean-Luc felt. Knowing that he had talked to her, Beverly had asked
Deanna Troi. But Deanna had told her that if she wanted to know the
captain's feelings, she was going to have to ask him. Not able to muster
that kind of courage just yet, she studied his face to try to get some
clue.

She nearly died of relief when he smiled and took her arm to escort her to
the shuttle. So far, go good.

*

By the time they got back to the house, all the tension that had been
between them the last two days had disappeared. Neither of them had
spoken of anything that had transpired. Both of them knew that their
relationship had changed but they chose to seek solitude in the haven of
their friendship. It was comfortable.

They talked easily and drank tea well into the night, when they both began
to yawn. There was no awkwardness as they turned down all the lights and
headed off toward their bedrooms. Saying goodnight to each other in the
hallway, they went into their rooms and closed the doors.

*

Once again, Beverly found herself sitting in the cool air on the terrace.
She pulled the comforter tighter around her as the breeze picked up. She
had been trying not to think of Jean-Luc, who was sleeping in the room
next. Smiling a little to herself, Beverly knew that they would not be
able to keep up this act. Too much had been said. It would eventually
become too hard to pretend.

She thought about her talk with Will Riker. Maybe he was right.
Sometimes you are given a chance to grasp love and happiness and you can't
question it or expect any answers. You just accept it. Beverly knew that
she and Jean-Luc now had a chance, and at that moment she knew that she
could not let it pass them by. Not this time. Moving back into her room,
she gathered the comforter up around her and went into the hall.
She found him in the piano room. He was standing barefoot in his robe,
looking out of the windows. He turned around to face her as she
approached him, as if he had been expecting her. Beverly stopped a
distance from him.

They regarded each other in the moonlight, the only illumination in the
darkened room. There was so much emotion charged between them that it
raised goosebumps on her flesh. She felt that right now she stood face to
face with her heart. She did not know what she was going to do; did not
know what she was going to say. She was still very afraid of this new
relationship of theirs. She still did not know where all of this would
lead them, if it led them anywhere. But as she continued to look into his
eyes, these thoughts seemed to move farther away from her. The fears
seemed to diminish with each passing second. She found that the *thing* that had always been between them was back, drawing them closer. For the first time, Beverly did not question if this feeling
was right or wrong. It was love and it was stronger than any fear that
she had. So she did what she had always wondered about but never had the
courage to do. Beverly gave into it. She let her heart make up her mind.

One trembling hand emerged from the folds of the comforter to caress the
side of Jean-Luc's face. He closed his eyes and savored the feeling of
her touch. He was well aware of what had just occurred. He, too, had
felt the familiar tension of the feeling that had embraced them just now.
Since he had quit trying to fight it some time ago, Beverly had been the
one to keep it at bay. But she was not doing that now. She was not
moving away from him; she was not shutting him out of her feelings. She
was inviting him closer. He took the hand on his cheek in both of his and
kissed it. His eyes had filled with tears.

Beverly took a tentative step towards him. "It's not going to be easy,"
she said, breaking the silence. "And we have so much to lose. But I want
to try."

Her voice held an uncertainty that tore at Jean-Luc's heart as he realized
that she was not sure of how he felt. He had loved this woman for
twenty-five years and would love her for the rest of his life. Slowly, he
pulled her into his arms. He reached up behind her to bury his hands in
her silky hair and gently pulled her head back, exposing her neck.
Pressing his face into the smooth skin, he held her tightly against him.
He wanted to tell her that he loved her; he wanted to tell her that he
cherished her and would give anything to spend the rest of his life with
her. But he was so transfused with the love and emotion that he could not
speak.

The words were not necessary. She knew. Slowly she pulled away from him,
tears glistening on her cheeks as she smiled. Beverly leaned in and
lightly touched her mouth to his before drawing back again to look into
his eyes. They stood for a moment, arms around one another, a fire
building between them that would engulf them in the flames of a quarter
century of repressed desire. The flames spread and Jean-Luc moved his
hands through her hair once more as her lips parted to receive him. He
kissed first her bottom lip, then moved to the corner of her mouth before,
finally, pressing his mouth fully over hers. One of Beverly's arms went
around his waist, the other slipping inside his robe. She
immediately fell in love with the feel of his warm skin and wanted to feel
more of it. She drew the fabric from his shoulders.

Jean-Luc moved his hands from her hair to allow her to pull the robe down
his arms. He rested them on her waist before he reluctantly broke their
kiss. She looked at him questioningly, her face flushed with desire. A
very small smile found his lips and he very slowly sank to his knees in
front of her, as if he were a willing sacrifice offering himself to a
beloved goddess. Beverly stood very still, her hands resting upon his
shoulders, as she looked down into his eyes. She held her breath as with
agonizing slowness, he slid his hands from her waist and ran them down the
outside of her legs. When he reached the hem of the gown at her ankles,
he slipped his hands underneath to touch her bare skin. As slowly as
before, he moved his hands back up the sides of her legs. He found her
skin under his palms to be as smooth and luxurious as the silk of the gown that
was now brushing the backs of his hands Beverly's eyelids fluttered as
he moved over her thighs and past her hips to rest back at her waist. His
eyes had never left hers.

Hands still on his shoulders, Beverly joined him on the floor. Once on
her knees, from the inside he brought the nightgown up and over her head,
tossing it aside to join the comforter and his robe. They reached for
each other and the passion broke over them, capturing them, and compelling
them. And finally, on the floor, without fear or reservation, they
consummated the love that had been so long denied, with only the moonlight
and the shiny black piano to bear witness.