Chapter Seventeen
Decisions

She crept into the house quietly, setting her bags by the door before making her way up the stairs. She had caught the late shuttle from Caldos hoping to catch him still asleep, herself unable to sleep another night without him. To her surprise the bed was still neatly made; there was no sign of him at all but something told her where he would be. A small smile turned her lips up as she headed back downstairs to the library.

He was there; stretched out, his back to her as he slept on his side. She watched him for a minute, stepping closer with each of his even breaths. No longer able to resist touching him, she reached for his shoulder, calling his name softly as she touched him.

He turned over slowly, squinting against the morning light. "Beverly," he repeated trying to convince himself it wasn't a dream. The smile moved closer to him, met his lips. It was real.

"Good Morning," she said pulling back to inspect the short beard now covering the lower half of his face.

"You're back," he said ignoring her inspection. "Why didn't you let me know? I would have met you."

"I wanted to surprise you but it looks like you've managed to surprise me," she said letting the prickly hair tickle her fingers. He smiled and pulled her to lay on top of him. "Did you plan on shaving before I came home?"

"I hadn't really planned on anything. This just sort of happened." She tested his lips again, trying to determine if his new look was going to interfere with her enjoyment of his lips. "Well, what do you think?"

"Hmm, I'm not sure. I'll let you know after further testing," she said kissing him again. She settled her head onto his chest as he held her tight in his arms. They rested like that for quite sometime, just enjoying the feel of each other.

"Data's considering taking a position on Earth," he said after a few minutes. He wasn't quite sure why he told her that but it seemed like an appropriate remark somehow.

"I would think they were all anxious to get back into space," she said not lifting her head.

The opening was clear. Why was he so hesitant to ask. Beverly, what do you want to do? The discussion would follow from there. He would tell her what he wanted, she would tell him; a compromise would be reached, everything would work out. Wouldn't it?

She pushed up to look at him, to ask him, when suddenly she found herself staring into a tiny pair of green eyes that had appeared over his shoulder. The eyes were as startled as she was but they were too busy trying to master the climb over the top of the sofa arm. Her smile grew as climber mastered the hill then began calling for breakfast.

"Meow."

The small voice caused him to follow her gaze over his shoulder. She sat up and gathered the kitten close to her, enjoying the feel of the soft grey fur against her cheek.

"Careful," he warned her, "they're still kind of wild." But the little furball seemed determined to prove him wrong, reveling in the touch of her knowing hands.

"Where did it come from?" she asked as the kitten began to call anew for breakfast. "It's hungry. Where is her mother?" she asked checking to make sure it was indeed a her.

"Well . . ." he began scratching his beard. His expression beginning to tell the story before he spoke.

"You didn't?" she asked accusingly.

"No. Not me. One of the workmen - it was an accident," he said defensively. "He was moving a stack of materials, when. . . well, let's just say he felt terrible. He wanted to take them home with him, but-"

"Them? How many of them are there?" she asked scanning the floor for other stray cats.

"Come on," he said pulling her to her feet. "They're in the kitchen. Or at least that's where I left them."

She peered into the box, counting 3 sets of ears poking out from the tangle of colored fur. Their sister called out to them, announcing her presence. The 3 matching sets of eyes slowly peered up and began to join in her cry for breakfast.

"They're just weaned," he explained. "Not that they had much choice," he said as he pulled a bowl from the counter. "The Vet gave me this formula to get them started. Come on, it's easier if I feed them in the barn." He handed her the bowl and the formula then gathered the whole box in his arms. "They can make quite a mess I found out."

She smiled fondly, following him outside, quite amused by the whole scenario. Watching him care for these orphans was providing a rare look into one of her favorite sides of him.

"What are their names?" she asked as they watched the kittens happily lapping up the substitute milk.

"They don't have names; they're barn cats. That's why I kept them. You can't have a barn without cats," he said eyeing the still empty stalls.

"And here I thought you actually liked the things," she said following his eyes around the barn.

"I do. It's just that my father would never allow us to name them." Her gaze turned sharply, asking the question again. "All right," he sighed. "The grey one is Bounce - she springs around like she's on a trampoline. I haven't figured out names for the calicos yet but the black and white one is Albert."

"Albert?"

"I had a schoolmate who used to get himself into the most interesting situations. I think this little guy has already used 3 or 4 his lives. He came very close to following his mother - well, never mind." He smiled as she wrapped her arms around him, hugging him tightly.

"The building looks great; you've done a great job," she told him. "If I were a cat I think I'd be very happy here."

"Well, if you want to stay in the barn, I'm sure I can find a place for you."

"It must quite cold in here at night."

"No, I put in a few upgrades. Carefully hidden of course," he explained walking over to the nearest wall, running his hand over the simulated wood. "The panels can store heat as well as reflect extra heat keeping it quite comfortable in here."

It was interesting to watch him walk this tightrope he'd created for himself. His eye had that same rebellious look like when he placed his boots upon the coffee table. He was finally free to make whatever technological improvements he wanted and yet he still seemed determined that they be hidden. No one but he would know of his betrayal.

"So, it's quite comfortable in here - even at night?" she asked.

"Yes," he replied as he inspected the place he had marked to add in some shelves.

"Then why were the kittens in the house?" She was determined to make him admit it.

"Oh. . . well," he began, "I thought-." He scowled at her, knowing what she was getting at but unwilling to let her score this point. "And how was Caldos, Darling?"

She laughed lightly. "Lonely. I missed you."

"I missed you too," he said taking her hands in his. She quickly pulled them up to inspect the new textures she felt. In addition to the calluses, there were several scratches and a long cut across the back of his left index finger. "Not the hands of carpenter," he joked hoping to diffuse the worried look on her face.

"You better come inside so I can take care of this one."

"Are you going to fix my hands everyday?" he asked.

"Are you going to be doing this type of work everyday?" she asked turning her eyes to look into his suddenly troubled expression.

"Speaking of work. Marie was concerned you wouldn't be back in time for Valentine's Day."

"The roses - I didn't forget. Every good gardener knows; cut your roses back on Valentine's Day." She smiled at him warmly. "I know it's better for the bushes but I always have problems cutting back healthy plants."

"I know what you mean. Mama used to wince with every cut; it was as if she felt every snip personally. But it was the lesser of two evils; either she did it or she had to let my father at them." He smiled at the memory. "It's quite a different touch with the grapes than with roses."

"I hope I can do them justice. Do you think Marie would be willing to come help? It is still her garden."

"She left yesterday." He cast his head down, watching the kittens as they began their morning baths. "It's strange," he began, waiting for her prompt.

"What's strange?" she said watching him squat down to pet one of the calicos.

"For the first time in my life I actually feel as though I belong here. Almost as if I'm needed."

She bent beside him taking the other calico in her hands. "This is your home, Jean-Luc. Now that. . ." she stopped not wanting to say anything more, hoping she hadn't already said too much.

"Now that they're all gone," he finished for her. He stood up and went over to retrieve Albert who was half-way up the ladder leading to the hayloft. "Come inside. There's something I need to show you," he told her evenly as he placed the kittens back into the box for the moment.

He switched on the monitor, pulling up the schematics Starfleet had sent him. She took a seat at the desk studying the plans carefully, glancing over her shoulder as he began to explain some of the features. The gleam in his eye was unmistakable. He fought to keep his expression even, hoping his voice could contain the anticipation beneath the surface.

"Jean-Luc, You've come to a decision haven't you?"

He turned to look at her, unsure of what to say. "What about you? Did you find what you were looking for?"

"Have you told Starfleet yet?" she asked.

"I wouldn't make that decision without talking to you first." He pointed out the reports that had been sent for her and said, "Dr. Cassell sent Andre with those for you to look over. I offered to send them to you but there didn't seem to be any rush."

She picked them up, running her finger along the edge of the computer pads. "Amazing, isn't it? A lifetime of research compacted into a few data pads. We doctors can do so much and yet there are times we can't do anything at all - except watch."

He bent down to look into her eyes, placing his hands over hers. "Beverly, why did you leave so suddenly?"

Taking a deep breath before meeting his eyes, she started quickly, "Do you have any idea how difficult that is? To just watch? Helpless, as someone you care about is - is -" her voice broke off as she swallowed hard. Dammit, this isn't the way this was supposed to go Beverly, she heard herself say inwardly.

"Yes. I know exactly how difficult it is," he said holding her eyes even though she had turned hers to look away from him. "Are you going to tell me what this is all about?" he asked softly.

"Cassell's work deals with Neurologic regeneration. I did some research while I was away and discovered a planet, just outside Federation space, where a virus had caused widespread damage to the population. One of the side effects was rapid degeneration of certain brain cells," she explained then waited to see if he understood her meaning.

He stood, crossing his arms across his chest, understanding more than he wanted. "And?"

"They've done extensive rehabilitation and are right on the brink of discovering a way to combat the degeneration." She stood, hoping he would understand her urgency as well. "Don't you see? If they can identify and stop this process before it has a chance to do any real damage then not only this virus but a whole host of other Neurologic disorders could be treated this way." She finished stepping closer to him and placing a hand on his arm.

"Beverly, there's no reason to believe that Irumodic Syndrome is going to be a part of my - of our future -"

"But even if it isn't this work is too important to ignore. And if I'm right this would guarantee-"

"Guarantee? Dammit, Beverly! There are no guarantees." His voice straining to regain an even tone. "I don't want to be your patient. I want to be your husband."

She wrapped her arms around him from behind and hugged him tight. "Why can't you just lie to me and tell me everything is going to be all right?"

He turned in her arms, holding her as he said, "Because you're strong enough to handle the truth. There are so many promises I wish I could make to you - but I can't. No one can. The only thing I'm sure of is that I love you. And that will never change."

"Loving you, trusting you, that's the easy part. I just want to make sure I'm doing everything I can so that we have the chance to keep doing that," her eyes pleading softly for understanding.

His breathing remained steady as he thought about her choices. Wouldn't he do the same for her? Hell, he'd do everything in his power to make sure she was safe.

"Oh, Beverly," he sighed lightly. "There's a part of me that wants to keep you here, safe with me. And yet . . ."

"And yet?" she prompted as he stepped away from her to scan the room again, as if he could see the ghosts watching him from their hiding places.

"There are no guarantees. There's a little boy who should have been safe here . . . and yet-" his shut against the image of that boy trapped in the fire.

"Don't do that to yourself, Jean-Luc."

"It was just so bloody senseless. If he had only-"

"Stop it. I won't let you do this to yourself." Her arms encircled him, held him close as he tried to keep his breathing even. He was past tears but the anger was still too intense. Slowly his fists loosened as he brought his hands to rest on her hips, then pulled her closer against him.

He understood why she had to follow up this research; even if it was only a possibility that was enough. He knew even admitting that it was a possibility somehow made it more of a possibility, more real.

"I suppose you're going to insist on visiting this planet personally?" he asked.

Her eyes lit up in response. "I still have Cassell's work to catch up on and if I'm-" she stopped as a new thought struck her. "How long until the new ship is ready?"

He smiled. "Unfortunately, I don't think Starfleet would approve of their new Flagship's maiden voyage being outside Federation space."

"How long before she's ready?"

"Well, if you believe the builders, at least a year. But if you believe the designers, 6 months."

"6 months? Why that's barely enough time to get a crew assembled."

"And a wedding planned," he added. She pulled back a bit to see the slight uncertainty in his eyes. "Unless you've changed your mind?"

"Not a chance." Her lips came to meet his, assuring him of her pledge. Suddenly the enormity of the undertaking began to dawn on her. "Six months?!"

The morning was cold and clear. Valentine's Day in France was always colder than he would have preferred but at least the rains could be controlled. It wasn't exactly the way he'd envisioned spending their first 'official' Valentine's Day but at least they were together.

He watched as she studied her 'patients.' Eyeing each potential bloom, trying to see the potential it hid; wincing as she snipped the smaller ones away. They would never make it for dinner in Paris if she continued at this rate.

Reluctantly he left her alone with the roses. He found Jacob among the aging casks, making sure the conditions were just right for the wine.

"I understand you'll be leaving in a few months," the vintner said, his soft voice echoing through the cellar.

Picard watched as the man tested a small sample from one casks then moved onto the next. "If everything works out, right after the last harvest has been put to sleep and the vines are cut back."

Jacob handed the next sample to Picard, waiting for his reaction. "Well?" he prompted. They had played this scene a few times before; it was difficult to tell who was testing who sometimes.

"You know I trust your judgment," Picard said trying to defer this round.

"That may be. But it's not my name that's going on the label."

Jean-Luc tasted the dark red again. "Are you sure I should be making this call? I told you I trusted your instincts."

"And I trust yours," the master vintner said.

Picard took a deep breath, the aftertaste still fresh. "She's ready."

The master smiled and turned away, heading for the next barrel. "You see, that wasn't so difficult."

"Well, are you going to tell me if I'm right?"

"That remains to be seen, Captain. But at least now I have someone else to blame if I was wrong."

Jean-Luc smiled and turned to leave him to his work. He knew everything would be in good hands when he and Beverly did have to leave. And for now they would do their part to keep everything as it should be; always looking forward, never back.

He had planned the evening so thoroughly, dinner, the opera, then dancing under the stars. His plans almost went astray when she appeared in the dress she had bought in the village. They barely made it to the restaurant on time. Then half-way through dinner when she looked at him with that I-have-something-else-in-mind-for-dessert look he knew no staged production could compare to her improvisation.

The show was the season's finest - or at least that's what the review said. They gave their Opera tickets to a young couple waiting at the end of the standby line before heading home.

Perhaps tomorrow night they would try the standby line themselves.