Warning: Yes, this is the story entitled Mr. & Mrs. Picard from the AOL library.... but, there are some additions and I finally did some editing I needed to do.

   by: Sylvia3747

   Sylvia3747@aol.com

"Where is he? Where is he?"

"Doctor-"

Beverly shoved passed her medical personnel, stumbling into the room. He was there, on the center table. Parched white.

"He's dying." Alyssa Ogawa came up behind her.

"What about surgery?"

"We attempted."

Tears filled her eyes. As her personnel cleared the room, shutting off machines, she started forward. She touched his hand and then grasped it; it was cold.

"Jean-Luc," she whispered.

The mechanical eye opened and focused on her.

"Jean-Luc," she called again. She reached out and touched the side of his face. The robot eye followed her movements.

Tears escaped her eyes and fell down her cheeks. "Jean-Luc, its Beverly... come on... I know you're in there." She paused, "please come to me."

His human eye fluttered.

"That's it, Jean-Luc. I'm right here." He seemed to be surfacing, responding to her voice. The man was responding to her. Maybe if she could just draw the man away from the machine. She leaned down and kissed him warmly.

"Assimilation is eminent," the machine spoke, "There is only-"

She cut it off and kissed him passionately, pressing herself against him. "Can you feel me? Jean-Luc? I'm not leaving you." She kissed him again.

His lips moved against hers.

"...Beverly..." he breathed.

"Yes," she cried, "yes it's me. Oh, come back to me, Jean-Luc." She kissed his warmed lips again.

He was a little more audible this time. "Help me," he whispered.

"We can't do anymore -- you have to fight."

"I can't fight, I can't..."

"He is Borg." The machine's eyes focused on her. "He is Locutus-"

She kissed him again; this time he kissed her back. "Jean-Luc fight for me. I'll be here when you wake up."

His fingers wound around hers.

Beverly straightened. "Doctor Selar! Alyssa!" The officers stopped cleaning the room. "We're going ahead with the surgery! Now! I want a bio scan monitoring everything -- starting now. Twenty cc's of eucylin and a transplant of his blood, ready to go." The doctors snapped at attention around her as she leaned over him again. "Jean-Luc, open your eye. Open it." She waited for him.

His eyelid groggily opened.

"There," she sighed, "now keep it open. We're going to start the surgery. And you're going to be just fine."

Deanna's finger caught painfully in her hair. She rose from her chair, twisting her finger loose away from the dark curl.

Her appointment schedule had been light on this, her first day back on regular duty. The whole ship was slowly working its way back to the norm. The list of appointments had proven it. At eleven hundred hours there had been an appointment with Julie Simms on her claustrophobia. Then at thirteen hundred hours there was Lieutenant O'Neill, dealing with his negative behavior reports.

She ordered her coffee and then lifted it from the replicator. With only one anonymous appointment remaining, Deanna was ready to call it a day. Besides, it was the anonymous appointments that sometimes decided not to show.

The door sounded, calling her attention. "Come in," she called. The door opened and Beverly stepped inside.

"I hope I'm not interrupting-"

"No, no. Just waiting for my next appointment." Deanna sat, placing the coffee mug on the small table beside her.

"Well, actually," Beverly took another step forward, "I am your next appointment."

The Counselor smiled easily. "Alright," she gestured to the couch beside her, "have a seat."

Beverly did. "The last time I was here was about Wesley...." she trailed off and then sighed.

"Take it slow." She lifted her mug to her lips. "I want you to close your eyes, and concentrate on my voice," she paused, "it's about last night, isn't it?"

Beverly nodded.

"Why don't you tell me what happened," she suggested softly.

"Starfleet held me a long time. The de-briefing went on forever... And well, by the time I was released, and made it to Sickbay, my staff had exhausted their efforts to save Jean-Luc. I thought I was too late."

Deanna watched the tension spread through Beverly's closed eyelids and forehead.

"I was frantic. He was dying, and I couldn't do anything... and then an idea came to me. He was still part man and part machine. I knew if I could draw the man back to me, he would be stronger. So I did." She fell silent.

Deanna waited a moment. When it became clear she wasn't going to elaborate, Deanna leaned forward. "How?" she prodded.

Beverly opened her eyes and lowered her head. "I kissed him, Deanna. I kissed him a lot," she forced a laugh and then shook her head, quieting.

Deanna sat still as her friend's warm emotion washed over her.

"I shouldn't have."

"It saved him," Deanna answered.

Beverly leaned back against the couch. "It did. But now I can't control..." she trailed off.

"What can't you control?"

"My feelings! For the first time, I am," she waited, searching for the right words, "My head spins when I walk into Sickbay to see him laying there. My heart races every time I have to run a simple scan over his body. I can't believe this..."

"Why not, Beverly?"

"I always kept our relationship strictly professional -- always friends. I did."

"Did he want more than that?"

She smiled. "It was never as simple as that." She folded her hands. "He was never able to boldly take a step forward. Neither was I. And then... yesterday..."

"You took the first step."

"And then I erased it."

"What?"

"We erased the time from his memory. The surgery would have been too painful to remember."

"So he won't remember any of it?"

"There's only a slight chance he might. I hope..." Beverly trailed off.

"You hope?" Deanna leaned forward. "What?"

"I don't know."

"Does he remember?" Beverly looked up at Doctor Selar, who stood in the doorway of her office.

"No."

She sighed. "Good, very good." She tapped the scan readouts beside her. "How are the results?"

"Surprisingly good. A little scarring, but that can be removed later on."

"Of course." She studied the screen's charts. "Listen, I can take it from here, he won't wake until morning."

"Goodnight then."

"Goodnight."

After a moment, Beverly shut off the computer and rose. Sickbay was silent. She moved to the main room. He was the only patient there. Slowly she walked to his bed. Sitting beside him, she took his hand. He seemed so calm now, so rested. Her eyes fixed on the steady movement of his chest, up and down. It's rhythm hypnotized her; it was a sign of life, strong life. She almost wished he would wake up now and see her, only her.

Beverly sighed; he didn't stir, and she knew he wouldn't with the sedative she had given him. Glancing around, she climbed onto the bio bed next to him and curled up beside him. Filled with the thought of almost having lost him, she nestled closer to him. He would never knew if she just stayed beside him. Her hand draped around him, caressing his neck gently. She knew he wouldn't wake. And she pretended, just for a moment, that it would always be like this.

Picard faced his quarters alone. The day had been full of non-stop requests since he had been released from Sickbay that morning.

Finally he was able to breathe a sigh of relief.

He walked to his desk and settled into his chair, gently resting his head back. He closed his eyes to the piles of reports that waited on his desk.

Breaking through his thoughts, his desktop screen beeped. He activated it.

"I was really dismayed to find you hadn't been in your room all day."

Beverly was off and running before he could even say hello. He took his time in replying.

"So where've you been?" she prodded.

His gaze moved over her hair; it fell in soft waves around her face. Her blue eyes were bright and sparkled as she smiled.

"Jean-Luc-"

"Have you been checking up on me all day?" He leaned forward, raising an eyebrow. He was delighted to see a blush creep into her cheeks.

She pressed her lips together, suppressing a smile. Her eyes moved over his face and then she leaned forward as well. "Maybe I have." She paused, "But you still haven't answered my question."

"How about a different question?"

"Jean-Luc!" She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. "I've asked you one simple question and you insist on becoming as difficult as possible."

He loved the way her mouth moved.

"All I want is an answer. Doctor to patient-"

"No," he sighed, "I would like an answer. Anything but doctor to patient, Beverly," he paused, "will you have dinner with me tonight?" He smiled at her surprise and then at her failed attempts to mask it.

"Of course," she hesitated and then went on, "in ten-forward?"

"No. My quarters."

Her eyes met his. Then she looked away. "Good -- we can go over some outstanding reports and-"

"I believe I'm under orders to relax -- something my Chief Medical Officer told me." He cut her off with a smile. "Nineteen hundred hours?"

She swallowed, hard. "All right."

He leaned back in his chair once he had ended the transmission. Even after closing his eyes he still saw her image. A swell of emotion rose and he opened his eyes. All day he had thought of her -- it had been so long since he allowed himself that much freedom. Coming out of this experience... well it was like something in him finally broke... things had to be different. If anything, he had become painfully aware of life's brevity. And he was tired of coming home to empty quarters, tired of sleeping in an empty bed. His heart yearned for her now, just as strongly as it did twenty years ago on the day they met.

"So then Starfleet completely de-briefed me. I tell you," Beverly shook her head, "I was ready to force my way out of the room." She replaced her wineglass. Dinner finished, they still sat facing each other, just a wine bottle between them.

Jean-Luc smiled, nodding slowly. His gaze never left hers.

"Sometimes their protocol gets a little too daunting." He was still watching her. "Well, I'm just glad it's over." She glanced away and then back -- his eyes were still on her. She met his gaze and smiled.

He put down the glass in his hand, leaning back in the chair. The candlelight set her titian hair aglow -- a warm red. The flames sparkled and danced in her eyes. It was an effect he found dazzling.

The silence seemed unbreakable. She didn't know what to say. Her eyes took in his appearance. He seemed slightly healthier... The hazel green color to his eyes shone bright with the green shirt he wore.

Slowly, his hand slid across the table and touched hers. She looked down. His fingers lured hers away from the stem of the wineglass; she gave in, letting his hand fold around hers.

Then she shook her head, sighing. "I guess I should be going," she said softly.

But she was still smiling; he didn't understand. "Go? Why?"

She glanced away.

"I thought this was going fine." He worked to catch her gaze again.

"It was," she looked back at him. "It is."

"Then stay," he prodded.

She shook her head, placing her napkin on the tabletop.

"You'll miss the wonderful dessert I planned."

"You planned dessert?"

"Of course."

She smiled. "Still I-"

"And, it happens to be your favorite..." He rose and walked to his desk.

"Oh well now you've really got my attention." She laughed, swiveling her chair to watch him go.

At his desk, he activated a program on the top pad. Instantly soft music played overhead. "Good." He turned and faced her. He extended his hand. "May I?"

She rose slowly and walked to him. "May you what?" she asked. She felt his arm slip around her waist, and then his hand took hers.

She stepped closer to him and rested her hand on his shoulder as they danced. "What happened to dessert?" she asked, smiling.

"I figured having your complete attention was too good an opportunity to waste."

"Oh, really," she moved her hand along his shoulder until it rested against his neck, "why, what do you want to know?"

"I had some questions about the procedure you used to heal me."

Her eyes widened. "About," she swallowed, "what?"

"How did you manage? I heard the other doctors failed."

She looked away. "Oh, luck I guess. I dismantled the machine part of you. And then to protect you we erased the time from your memory."

"Yes! That's what I have questions about. I think I can remember some things."

"You... you can?" She stared at him. "What do you remember?"

"Well, the Borg ship -- part of it. A steady commanding voice in my brain, the cold... and," he paused, "you."

"Me? During the surgery?"

"No. I don't think so. I think before."

"Why?" she breathed. "What do you remember?"

He was leaning closer to her. "Your bedside manner."

"What?" Her head was reeling.

"And how sweet," he came even closer, "it was."

She watched his eyes flicker down to her lips. Her heart fluttered and she found herself leaning toward him. She felt his arm pull her closer.

"And there's something else."

His nose touched hers, and she closed her eyes. "Oh?"

"It seemed like a dream." He brought their hands in close to his chest. "But... there was this woman lying beside me... she fit right against me... I wonder, who could that have been?"

"I don't-"

He kissed her, pulling her to him the rest of the way.

She urged herself to just relax to just... forget everything.... everything but him. Before she could think, his other arm had slid around her waist.

Her hands clutched his shoulders, as if making sure he was real. Warm relief poured into her, cleansing her from head to toe.

He pulled back. Their eyes remained locked. Then his eyes wandered down to her lips again. He could still feel her breath against him.

She lowered her head.

He stayed close, their foreheads touching. "What is it called? Getting a taste of your own medicine?" he joked, chuckling warmly.

She smiled. "I can't believe you knew," she sighed, "I just-"

"Don't say anything..."

She obeyed, relaxing against him. She could just catch the scent of his cologne. She breathed in, and her lips brushed against his cheek. And then, before she realized, she was kissing his cheek and ear.

He nuzzled against her, his lips moving along her skin to her neck. For the first time, he discovered the sweet smell her hair carried.... and the perfume on her neck. He lifted his head and met her gaze.

She took a breath and then kissed him, submerging herself in the warmth that was his mouth. His lips on hers, his kiss, was like water all around, and his touch like a rush of air bubbles as she sank to the bottom of his wonderful, wonderful lake. Finally letting herself to feel, to let go and hold him, she sighed and kissed him again.

He matched her fervor, holding her to him. His hands went to her hair and let it slip through his fingers, loving its soft feel. He tilted her head back, delivering one last warm kiss to her lips, and then trailed his kisses to her neck. After so many years, so many day dreams, he tasted her skin slowly, tracing patterns with his lips. He listened carefully to her sighs, eager to learn what she enjoyed.

"Jean-Luc," she murmured breathlessly, "What are we doing?"

His answer came against her ear, "You tell me."

"I can't," His intoxicating kisses had stopped and she breathed in, clearing her mind, "This can't happen."

He kept his arms around her. "Beverly," he began; he was aware of her body against his, how warm she was, "I don't want to lose you."

"Lose me," she touched his chin, "Why would-"

"It's obvious there are less days ahead than behind."

"Jean-Luc-"

"-please," he stopped her, shaking his head. "What I can feel," he continued quietly, "for you..."

She watched him; he was practically squirming. Warm emotion flooded through her.

"I know," he lowered his voice even more, "what I feel for you I will never feel for another woman."

"Jean-Luc," she began.

"And in my condition I won't be returning to duty for a while-"

"Jean-Luc."

"And," he tightened his grip on her, "our next month or so is filled with charting expeditions."

She quieted him with a finger on his lips. "Jean-Luc," she whispered, "I know that in the past I've been the one to push you away, to step away altogether. But, it hasn't been because of you. It's been me." Her finger caressed his cheek.

He closed his eyes and leaned against her hand as it moved across his skin.

She watched the strong man she knew so well, crumple with emotion at her touch. And her thoughts flew passed Jack, passed Wesley to a new calm. There were feelings she hadn't ever allowed herself to feel. Watching his emotion, hers grew. It seemed to grow and grow with each minute she watched him.

"I was afraid, Jean-Luc," she confessed, "But you're not going to lose me." She curved her hand around his jaw.

And he raised his eyes to hers.

"I do feel it," she whispered. "I do. And I have, for a long time."

He raised an eyebrow. "You never-"

"Shh," she shook her head. "I'm tired of hiding."

"Then you... we?" His hand touched her chin.

She nodded and kissed his fingers.

He watched as her lips move over his palm and then as she kissed his thumb.

His eyes were bright and wide as he looked at her, as if he were a child, viewing a piece of candy. She had never seen him like this; he was pulling her to him again. "What happened to that dessert?" she laughed.

"What dessert?"

She met his gaze. "You liar."

He smiled.

* * * * * *

"You didn't!" Deanna gave a little screech. The waiter passing their table turned his head at her outcry. Deanna leaned forward. "I don't believe you did it!"

Beverly smiled. "I don't either."

"Well," she prodded, "tell me everything!"

"Deanna..."

"Come on," she whined, this time lowering her voice. "Beverly don't think I haven't noticed a change in you. In your mental patterns! I've been ignoring what my mind is telling me just to hear it from you! Now come on!"

"Well, it's only been a week and a half now-"

"A week! You didn't tell me for a week?" Her fist pounded down on the glass tabletop.

"-and we're still feeling each other out."

"Oh?" The Counselor raised an eyebrow.

"That's not what I meant! That's not.... oh, forget it." She shook her head at her friend.

"So then there's been nothing... to... speak... of?"

Beverly sipped her drink and then shook her head.

"Don't lie to me," Deanna warned.

She stopped shaking her head and met her gaze.

Deanna took the invitation and let her mental guard down, just a drop... "Oh God!" She had to lower her voice again. "Oh," she whispered, "you did!"

Beverly nodded, her eyes watching the door to ten-forward.

"And? How was it?

"He's here-" Beverly smiled at him across the room.

"Don't let him come over, I want to know how it was!"

Beverly kicked her friend under the table as Jean-Luc appeared at the table.

"How what was?" he asked.

Deanna turned all sorts of colors, lowering her head.

"It was excellent," Beverly answered. Her eyes met Picard's.

The tips of his ears turned red as he realized what they had been talking about. He struggled to smile at her. "I guess I'll know better the next time I interrupt you two," he replied.

Deanna raised her head, aware she couldn't possibly cause anymore embarrassment.

"I'll see you later," he touched Beverly's hand and then left, heading toward the bar.

"I'm so sorry," Deanna whispered hoarsely.

"Yes, what is the matter, Counselor? You seem extremely eager to live vicariously through someone else. Is the home front not so active?" Beverly joked, her eyes following Picard to the bar.

She shrugged, lifting her hot chocolate.

"Oh, that you don't want to talk about," Beverly laughed, "I see."

Alone in the velvet balcony, Beverly and Jean-Luc drank in the sweeping melody of Madame Butterfly. The beautiful music swelled in the enormous opera house, filling their bodies with its spirit. It was impossible to believe the poignant music was all a holodeck creation.

Beverly caught her breath as tears filled her eyes. She remained still, letting the melody carry her thoughts elsewhere. Then gently, she felt his hand creep into hers. She glanced toward him and could see tears in his eyes as well. His grip tightened on her hand. She leaned over and touched his chin with her finger.

Slowly, he turned to her. Their gaze met. Before them the music was softening, become more and more delicate. His eyes moved over her face, shining in the stage light.

"I love you," he whispered.

She blinked. Had she heard right? He had just said it. Just blurted it out. She had wondered if and when he was going to say it. And if she was going to return it. She hadn't spoken those words to any man since Jack died... but this... she hadn't expected to find this in another man. So without another thought, she replied. "I love you."

And she felt him pull their interlocked hands to his lap.

* * * * * *

Picard paced anxiously in his ready room. He knew she could do it... he knew she'd be fine... still... He sat and leaned back in the cushioned chair. His hands found the clear crystal that was set on the desk before him. He watched it slide through his fingers; it's sparkling was so calming... so reassuring...

Well, this would have to take some getting used to. He was sure of it. Their first assignment back in the real world of missions and dangers and already he was worried sick about her. In the past he had let go... he had backed off. Not this time. She was an experienced officer, as was he. They both had to do their jobs. And slowly, he realized... whatever time they have together - that was important. Not that she could be hurt... or that he could be hurt. What was more painful was thinking of her hurt without him there. He just wanted to be with her... always. He rose and left the ready room.

Out on the bridge, Data raised his head. "Sir, we're coming back into orbit."

"Excellent," he slowed on route to the turbolift.

"We should have the away team up in one hour and three minutes."

"Thank you, Data." He disappeared into the lift.

Beverly grabbed the last two medkits and piled them against the wall. She turned, and took in all of Sickbay's main room. Usually there were one or two patients occupying biobeds, but tonight it was empty. She ran a hand through her hair and sighed, turning back to her office. "Computer, lower light intensity to 12%," she ordered. The computer obliged. She moved toward the glass doors of her office.

There were two glasses of champagne standing on her desk.

She stopped. "What?" the word barely escaped on her lips.

Jean-Luc stepped into view, holding the bottle.

She smiled and shook her head. Laughing, she stepped into the office. "What are you doing?"

"Well, it's been about two months now, and we've just survived our first mission." He placed the bottle on the desk.

"Have we?" Her eyes implored his, "I was beginning to worry. You didn't come after we returned, and I thought..."

"I was detained. I received the report from Riker and then I had to relay back to Starfleet..."

"Business as usual."

"Yes."

"That's very good."

"It is." He lifted his glass. "I had the time to think while you were away, and I don't think it will be easy, but I do think we can do it."

"So do I. Couples on board do it all the time. I don't see why we can't." She lifted her glass and tapped it against his. Beverly sipped the cool champagne and then smiled. He seemed nervous. Why? She stepped closer to him. "Jean-Luc?"

"Just one other thing." He put his glass down, then took hers and placed it beside his. "These two months have been the happiest for me-" His eyes glanced out of the office; there was no one there.

"Me too." She reached over and took his hand.

He stepped closer to her, raising her hand to his lips. "And I am so in love with you," his voice lowered.

She moved even closer to him. "And I with you..." she returned in just as soft of a whisper. She smiled against him, their noses touching.

And then, suddenly, there was something else in her hand. It must have come from inside his, she thought, because there was no other explanation for it. Her eyes lowered to it as she turned her palm over. It was a delicate velvet box.

Her heart started pounding.

Seeing her hand waver, he pulled open the box for her. An elegant emerald and diamond ring sparkled up at her from a bed of black velvet.

"Oh God, Jean-Luc," she breathed. Her eyes filled with tears.

"I want to make you my wife," he whispered.

She smiled; she loved how it sounded more like an order than a question.

"It feels so right, Beverly," his eyes searched hers, "marry me?"

She was silent.

"I'm rushing you," he sighed, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have." He took the box from her.

Tears spilled down over her cheeks. "No, no. You're not rushing me."

"What?" he stopped.

"I said," she took a deep breath, "you're not rushing me."

"I'm not?"

"No." She met his gaze. "I," she took another breath, "would love to be your wife, Jean-Luc."

He hesitated for a second and then pulled the ring from the box. He couldn't believe his ears.

She wiped her face free of tears and then extended her hand. He pushed the ring onto her finger.

"It fits," she cried. New tears formed in her eyes. "It's perfect." She kissed him breathlessly. "I love you," she said it against his lips and kissed him again.

He wrapped his arms around her and hugged her tightly.

* * * * * *

"Should I tell him?"

Deanna wiped her mouth free of cake. "Of course, Beverly!" She pushed her fork back into her cake. "I mean, it's always good news." She was intent on cutting her cake.

Beverly's piece remained untouched. Distractedly, her eyes moved around the crowded room. Jean-Luc was over talking to some old friends Beverly barely recognized.

Sensing her gaze, he turned and smiled at her.

She turned back to Deanna who was still muttering to herself.  "So, I should tell him now."

"What?" Deanna raised her head from the cake. "Oh, yes, of course."

"Congratulations again, Beverly." Will Riker stepped up beside them.

"Thank you, Will," she nodded.

"Dare I ask?" he smiled, "have you set the date?" Riker leaned in. "The Captain reveals nothing."

"Really?" Beverly laughed. "Well, in this case there is nothing to reveal. There is no date, Will."

"That's fine. Why rush, right?" he agreed, a smile on his face. Slowly, his gaze turned to Deanna. "How is the cake, Deanna?"

She lowered her fork. "I missed dinner," she answered defensively.

"You shouldn't fill up on cake."

"If you have something to say about my weight Commander, go ahead and say it."

Riker's eyes traveled from her hips to her face. "I have nothing to say about your weight." He raised an eyebrow, playfully.

Beverly smiled at Deanna and then looked down at her cake.

Deanna licked her fork clean, her eyes on Riker.

Then abruptly, he looked away, across the room. "I'll be right back. Don't move." And he left.

"Deanna!" Beverly stepped closer to her. "How long has this been going on?"

"What?" She shrugged, scraping the empty plate with her fork.

"Haven't you seen what he's doing?"

"No." She sighed and then looked away. "Yes... I don't know."

"He's..." Beverly caught her gaze again. "He's made a decision."

She humphed and laid her fork on her plate, licking her thumb.

"An important decision." Beverly looked over Deanna's shoulder to see him. "I don't believe you're ignoring this! He's still watching you!"

"Beverly!"

The Doctor looked back at her. "You're nervous?" Beverly's mouth dropped open. "I don't believe you."

"I'm not. I'm not!"

"Okay, okay," Beverly rushed, "he's coming back over. Here give me this-" and she took her plate away, "-and you've got a ... right there..."

Deanna wiped her cheek off.

"Don't say no!" Beverly ordered through a fierce smile.

Riker walked up beside them again. "Good news. I don't have to go back on duty for three more hours."

"That is good news," Beverly mused.

"And well, actually, I missed dinner too. If Beverly can spare you, I was wondering if we could catch dinner together." His eyes were on Deanna.

"I can spare her," Beverly shrugged.

Deanna's gaze blared at Beverly. "Well, I don't know if you want to put up with my eating habits." her eyes shot back to Riker. But all she saw there was warmth and playfulness. She watched him smile down at her, his blue eyes sparkling.

"I would love to put up with your eating habits. Just keep in mind we only have three hours."

She swatted him playfully in the stomach. "I'll go just to torture you!" She pushed him out of her way. "I'll see you later, Beverly."

Riker grinned at Beverly.

She raised her eyebrows and nodded at him.

"And you better tell him!" Deanna called back to her.

Beverly's smile faded.

"...even though I'm not usually one for parties, this one was... enjoyable." Jean-Luc shrugged, walking from the room.

"That's positive!" Beverly called from the sofa. "I'm glad you finally agreed to it."

"Although I'm surprised Will left early..."

"Oh, I wouldn't worry about him." Beverly sighed and then rose. She moved to the bedroom doorway.

He was walking toward her.

She let out a shaky breath, the words were right on her lips... just tell him... she swallowed hard. "I," she paused, "I think I should go."

He stopped before her. "What? Why?"

"I have an early shift tomorrow-"

"I have one more hour until I go back on duty. I thought... you would... stay."

She felt his finger touch her arm. Looking up, she met his gaze.

He took her hands and walked her back against the wall.

"Jean-Luc," she began.

"Shh," his nose rubbed against hers.

She put her arms around his neck, seeking the safety she felt in his arms. "I have to tell you something."

"Yes?" he murmured against her.

"Well," she was shaking. Could he hear her heart pounding? "I think it was last week-"

He closed his eyes, listening to her whisper, so close to him.

"that... oh God... I'm just going to say it... okay?" Her eyes fluttered open and then closed again.

"Mm-hmm," he urged.

"I'm pregnant."

"What?"

The word was soft and drawn out. When he opened his eyes, she was already watching him.

"You heard me," she whispered.

"I heard... I'm just... not sure." he shook his head.

"I'm going to have a baby." She smiled. "Yours and mine."

"Oh," his mouth dropped open, "my God." His hand ran over his face and then covered his mouth.

"You are happy," she caught his gaze, "aren't you?"

"Yes!" He took her face in his hands. "Oh, my Beverly!" He kissed her quickly. "You are an amazing woman." He wrapped his arms around her.

She leaned against his shoulder and breathed in, deeply. His cologne just reached her nose. She moved closer so her face rested against his skin.

"A baby..." he sighed, "our child." The thought warmed him completely.

She wrapped her arms around his lower back and breathed in again. Where before there was tension, she was filled with relief. She kept her eyes closed.

"Beverly?"

"Hmm?"

"What risk is there? I mean for you?"

"Let me worry about that..."

He pulled back to look at her. "Don't say that. I want to know."

"Well, Starfleet medical is going to monitor my health. They say I should be fine. I'm healthy and strong..."

"Good. That's all good..." His eyes searched hers for affirmation.

"It's very good," she nodded.

"And we do this together -- I want to know everything."

Her eyes studied him. "I wouldn't want it any other way."

* * * * * *

"He's an angel," she whispered.

"When he's sleeping."

Beverly turned to him, eyebrows raised. He touched her lips with his fingers, smiling. Her eyes sparkled playfully as she led him back into the living room.

"He's your son too!" Beverly swatted his arm.

"I know," Jean-Luc replied. The smile remained on his lips.

Beverly walked passed him, to the replicator. "Feel like something to drink?"

"Beverly," his tone was serious, "you've just been released from sickbay having given birth to our son, who is healthy and asleep in the next room, and you still want to do things for me?" He walked toward her.

"Well, I... I just," she shrugged. "It's just a drink, Jean-Luc."

"You know what I mean." He pulled on her bathrobe ties and the warm fabric slid open. His arm curled around her waist. The cool nightgown warmed at his touch.

Her eyes watched him curiously.

"Computer," he began, "run 'welcome home'."

Beverly's eyebrows rose. The computer scanned its banks and then soft music played from above.

He took her hand in his and guided her closer to him.

"Oh, Jean-Luc," she breathed. She gladly stepped into his arms. as they began to dance. Her hand curled around his neck and she kissed him quickly.

It was her breathless, rushed way of kissing him that drove him crazy. It seemed as if he had to catch them in the moment she gave them or they were gone forever.

There was a woman's voice singing softly in French, along with the music.

Beverly leaned her head against him as they danced further toward the center of the room. "What is she saying?" she asked.

He brought their hands in, close to his neck. Then he hummed the tune for a moment, thinking.

She could feel his voice vibrating deep within his chest.

"When you kiss me heaven sighs, and though I close my eyes, I see... La Vie En Rose," he translated.

"What else?" she murmured.

"And when you speak angels sing from above. Everyday words seem to turn into love songs," he paused, listening. "Give your heart and soul to me, and life will always be, La Vie En Rose."

Violins swelled gently, taking over the melody.

Beverly raised her head. Her eyes were watery. She slipped both arms around his neck. "And what does 'La Vie En Rose' mean?" She leaned close to him.

"It's you."

"No," she laughed, "please tell me."

"It means the good life. Or more specifically, as the Frenchmen meant it, 'to see life through rose colored glass'."

A tear rolled down her cheek.

"Is this what the doctors warned me about?" he asked. "High levels of emotional sensitivity?"

She shook her head and met his gaze.

"I will never be able to tell you how happy you make me," he whispered. "You-"

She cut him off with a kiss.

This one he caught and returned.

* * * * * *

"Mommy?" the small voice called again. There was no answer. The little boy raised his fists and thrust them into the water around him. The splash flew everywhere throwing him into a fit of giggles. "Mommy!" he yelled. "Mommy! Mommy! Mommy! Mommy!" He leaned forward. "Mommmieeeee!"

Beverly raced into the bathroom. "I'm back, I'm back!" She answered breathlessly. She kneeled down beside the bathtub.

"Where did you go?"

"Did you wash behind your ears, like I said?"

"Where?" He stared at her. "Where?"

"Rene, did you wash your ears?"

"I want to know where!" He pounded on the water again, splashing the walls behind him.

"You didn't, did you." She sighed, "I was talking to Aunt Deanna. She's outside waiting to see you."

"Aunt Deanna!" He yelled. "I want to go!"

"Oh no, you don't." She grabbed the soaked cloth and wiped off his face, including his ears. He sat, finally obedient. "Deep breath!"

He gasped in a huge breath and she dunked his head underwater. He counted on his fingers to three and then she pulled him up. "I can do five, Mommy, I can!"

"I bet you can." She dropped the cloth to the rim of the tub. "And you'll have plenty of bath time to practice in."

"How much can you do?" he asked.

"Much more than you," she poked his stomach.

"No!" he laughed and splashed her.

"Uh-oh," she looked down at her wet uniform. "Don't make me splash you!"

He laughed and splashed her again. She cried out and poured a handful of water over his head.

"No, no, no!" He spit out water, a mass of laughter.

"Come on, let's get you dry to see Aunt Deanna. Come on," she stood and handed him a big towel.

He grabbed the edge and then rolled in it until he was a toweled bundle against her legs.

"Let's go. Come on," she laughed. He walked with her, his arms around her legs as they walked into the main room.

Beverly walked from Rene's bedroom out into the main room. Jean-Luc sat at his desk, reading something off the computer monitor beside him.

"He's asking for you," she said softly.

"I'm almost finished."

She leaned against the desk beside him. "Jean-Luc," she began, "I have something I need to talk to you about."

He turned in his chair. "Finished." He caught her serious gaze. "What?"

"I need to talk to you."

"What is it?" he asked gently. He took her hand and pulled her to his lap.

She swung her legs over the armrest and leaned against him. "Well, Deanna and I were talking about it earlier today... and well..." she trailed off.

"This is about that communiqué you got yesterday, isn't it?"

"They asked me to serve aboard the Nautilus." She met his gaze.

"But that's a much smaller medical ship. That doesn't make sense. You're more experienced than that."

"Jean-Luc, they want me as Captain."

He froze.

"Yes... I know.. its-"

"It's what you wanted," he finished.

"Father?" Rene's little voice called tentatively from the other room.

Picard looked away toward it. Then he looked back at Beverly; she nodded.

"Father!"

He eased his wife off his lap and walked toward Rene's bedroom.

Beverly sighed. She walked across the living space to the replicator. "Wine - white. Three degrees Celsius." She took the wineglass that appeared and then turned. Something on the bookshelf caught her eye. Beverly walked over to it.

It was a stiff father/son portrait that was taken a month ago on Rene's sixth birthday. The holograph had caught the rambunctious boy she knew so well with a serious look about him. He looked so much like his father there. She touched the holograph gently, as if she were touching her son himself. Then as she shifted footing, the glass case caught her reflection as well. Her hair was up, hiding the gray hairs she knew were there. She studied the fine lines around her eyes and examined the long line that ran from her nose to her mouth. It wasn't as pronounced as she thought it would be by now, but yet, there it was.

Startling her, two arms wrapped around her midsection. "He's asleep," Jean-Luc whispered.

She smiled and leaned against him, pretending for just a moment that they didn't have to continue their discussion.

He kissed her hair. "So now what do we do?"

"I've thought long and hard about this, Jean-Luc." She turned to face him.

"We could explain it to Rene, split the time..."

She walked passed him, shaking her head. "It wouldn't be fair to him." Beverly moved toward the couch. "I heard a lot of advice. I heard my own want. But the one thing I kept coming back to was Jack. Remembering how he kept recording those messages for Wesley. Missing birthdays, report cards, exams, friends..." she trailed off and sat down. "I don't want that."

He moved after her and sat down beside her. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying I'm not going to go." She turned to him. Her eyes were welling up.

He looked away. "And nothing I can say will dissuade you?"

"No. Nothing." She put the wineglass down. "This has been horrible, me not telling you. But, I had to know what it was I wanted before I discussed it. And I don't want it."

"Liar," he looked back at her.

She shrugged. "Well, maybe, but my family is too important right now. If Rene were older... then..." she trailed off.

"I'm not going to lie to you -- I'm happy you want to stay."

She looked at him.

He could see all the pain in her eyes.

"Just tell me you'd do the same thing for Rene and I."

"I would do the same thing for Rene," he smiled. "For you," he reached up and touched her cheek, " I would rip the stars from the sky." He leaned forward and kissed her. His hand reached around and pulled the clip from her hair.

It fell down around her neck, over his hand. She kissed him again and leaned back on the sofa. He followed, down over her. "Rene is sleeping," he warned.

"I know that," she whispered. Her arms slipped around his neck. "We'll be quiet."

* * * * * *

"And these are my quarters." Rene proclaimed proudly. The twelve-year-old led a girl his age toward the double doors. "Don't look!" he cried, leaning over the door pad.

"Why?" she asked.

"I have to punch in the secret code."

"There is no secret code."

"There is to the Captain's quarters."

She flipped a blonde braid over her shoulder and turned around, angrily. He pushed the door button and the door slid open.

"There!"

They both entered. There was the smell of food in the air.

"Rene!" Beverly looked up from over the stove. "Where have you been?"

"Mom, this is Alice. I'm showing her the Captain's quarters."

"Hello, Alice, it's nice to meet you." She smiled at the young girl. "Alice West, isn't it? I remember delivering you-"

"Mom," Rene whined, "she doesn't want to hear about the day she was born."

"Do you both want a snack?"

"No," Rene answered quickly.

She frowned at her son. "Do you Alice?"

Alice shrugged, eyeing Rene.

"You can if you want to," he answered nonchalantly.

The girl hurried to the counter and climbed up onto one of the stools. "This is galactic, Dr. Picard!" She spun herself on the stool. "My mother doesn't have a kitchen."

Rene glanced over at her and then walked over. "Only we do."

"That's because it's an experimental feature. Not every family has time to, or wants to cook, Rene."

Alice became still. "Is the Captain home?" She whispered.

Beverly grinned. "No, he's still on duty. What would you two like?"

"An Andorian shake!" Rene cried.

Alice shrugged.

"How about," Beverly lifted the cover of the pot in front of her, "I feed you," she reached in with metal tongs and pulled out the boiling lobster, "lobster heads!" The two children screamed in disgust. Quickly their cries turned to laughter. Beverly smiled and replaced the crustacean.

The doors to the quarters slid open, admitting Picard.

"Come on Alice. Wanna see my video games? They're really galactic!" Rene was down off his stool and across the room in a second.

"Rene! Say hello to your father!" Beverly called.

"Hello Father!" And he disappeared into the back room. Alice followed, eyeing Picard.

He walked over to Beverly at the counter. "What was that?"

"He has a new friend." She watched him for a second. He seemed lost in thought, then he started to turn away. "Hey-" she grabbed his arm. "Hello to you too."

He leaned over the counter and kissed her. "Hello."

"Please can Alice and I go back to the games now?" Rene asked again, "please? Please?" He looked from his mother to his father.

Beverly glanced up at Jean-Luc. He hadn't raised to eyes the whole evening. Now he was busy cutting his lobster. "Yes, go ahead Rene."

He bolted from the table.

"Rene! What happens first?" she called.

He froze and then turned. Slowly he moved back to the table and lifted his dish.

Eyes fixed on Picard, Alice took her dish and then followed Rene to the sink.

"I'll take that, Alice," Rene offered. He helped her put the dish away.

Beverly smiled to herself, and waited for them to go. "Have you noticed how attentive he is to Alice?" She turned back to Jean-Luc. He hadn't looked up. "Jean-Luc?" Still he was silent. She sighed, re-arranging the last lobster pieces on her plate. "I met the new science officer today," she began, "he's very good looking. Young too -- about twenty four," no response; she continued, "he's got a smile that would melt you away. Anyway, he's going to take me out tomorrow. Just thought I'd clear it with you-"

"What?"

"Ah, there you are. I was wondering if you could help me: I'm looking for my husband. He's about my height, slightly older, but attractive, yet curiously distracted." She studied him.

"I'm sorry."

She shrugged. "Want to talk about it?" She spooned some more lobster sauce on her fish.

"No."

At that she raised her head.

He speared another piece of food with his fork. He could feel her eyes on him. "Dinner was really wonderful."

"Liar. You haven't tasted a mouthful."

"I think this kitchenette is really working out-"

"Don't change the-"

"I'll have to notify Starfleet about it soon." He fell silent. He could feel her stare. He ran his fork through the remains of the lobster sauce on his plate. He knew she wouldn't give up on this... no matter how hard he tried. His fork slowed, and then he threw it back down at the plate. "Damnit, Beverly!" He swiveled around in his chair to face the window.

"Whoa," she breathed, "What's happened?"

"I didn't want to tell you this way," he sighed and rose, walking to the window. Folding his hands behind his back, he lowered his head looking at the stars below them.

"Tell me what?" She leaned back in her chair.

"War has broken out with the Romulans."

She leaned forward, replacing her wineglass. "I see."

He still didn't face her. "I received the transmission this morning. They want me to go."

"Well, I guess that's it for mapping deuterium crystals. Personally, I'm crushed," she joked.

"No, they don't want the Enterprise, they want me. There's this new ship, the U.S.S. Roosevelt. It's smaller, but believe it or not, it's faster."

She rose and walked to him. From behind, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, leaning her head against him. "Are families allowed aboard this ship?"

"No."

"I didn't think so."

They were silent a moment.

"I've been thinking about this all day," he whispered. "I have to go."

"What?" She raised her head.

"They need me."

She stepped back, staring at him.

He turned to look at her. His hand took hers. "Please say you're not mad..."

"I can't." She turned and walked back to the table, picking up her plate. She centered her fork and knife.

"Beverly...."

"What about the Nautilus? What about my decision? What about, 'I'd do the same for you and Rene'?" She moved to the sink.

"Don't tell me you're still-"

"It was the position of a lifetime!" The dishes were dropped into the sink.

He winced and moved toward the table. "And you chose not to go."

"I chose my husband and son." She lifted his plate and grabbed his utensils.

"This is not a promotion, Beverly, this is war." He took his glass to the sink. The water blasted on.

"Were you drafted?"

"No..."

"Then you're choosing those damned Romulans over your wife and son!"

"No, I'm going to kill those Romulans to keep my wife and son safe."

"Oh, don't give me patriotism, Jean-Luc." She rinsed the plates and then let go of them again, covering her face with her hands. "What do we tell our son? What do we tell Rene?"

"We tell him his father went to war."

"But that's not all that's happening. Is it?" She turned off the water. "You can't say 'no', can you? Don't we mean anything to you?"

"You mean everything, Beverly!" He took her arms, turning her to him.

She shook herself loose.

"It's the truth."

She met his gaze. "But I never had to ask before." She walked away from him.

"Where are you going?" he called.

"To send a transmission to Starfleet medical."

"What for?"

She whirled around. "I'm going to beg them to reconsider my decision. And then, maybe, maybe if I'm lucky they'll offer me as good of a position."

Beverly folded her arms across her chest and stared out blankly at the stars. The thick glass before her was cold and lifeless to the touch, an unfeeling separator between her and the dazzling stars. Her eyes fixed on one star, watching it glimmer in the distance.

Behind her, she could detect movement in the room. There were two or three security officers moving Jean-Luc's luggage from the room. She couldn't tell if he was there or not. Knowing his ship-out time was in half an hour, she guessed he was there. She kept still, listening. Their voices were lowered as they moved into the living room. There... that was his voice. Her eyes closed. The words were undetectable, but the tone of his voice was deep and warm.

Then the familiar swish-swish of the doors and everything was silent. Had he left completely? Her eyes opened, heart pounding. She had at least wanted him to talk to her... did she? Faced with the possibility he had gone, her heart screamed for her to turn and make sure.

"Beverly?"

He was there. Relief washed over her; she stood a moment, filled with it's warmth. Then slowly, the anger returned, consuming her.

"It's time for me to go."

She struggled to remain still. Letting out a shuddered breath, she closed her eyes. "What are you waiting for?"

Silence. She could hear him shift positions and then sigh.

"I guess," he paused, "nothing."

Deep inside her, she felt something separating... like a hole, an empty space... What was he doing? She could hear him walking toward her.

"I do love you," he whispered.

She didn't face him. Pain was filling the space inside, rising slowly to her heart, cramping her lungs.

For a moment, she felt his hand against her hair and then against the back of her neck... and then nothing. Muted footsteps walked from the room, pausing a moment in the living room and then -- swish-swish.

She gasped for breath as her throat constricted with the pain. Her heart screamed at her, filling her head with pounding commands. She whirled around. He was really gone. She raced to the living room. Tears spilled down her cheeks, clouding her vision. Through them she saw her way to the door. It opened at her touch. She burst into the hall, turning her head in both directions, struggling to catch her breath.

He was just at the curve in the hallway.

Then, slowly, he stopped and turned around.

She stood, exposed, all the pain on her face for him to see. Her eyes met his, defiantly. He took a step back in her direction. She backed up, simultaneously.

Startled, he stopped.

What was he going to do? She wondered. What did she want him to do? Without her noticing, he had started forward again, closing the gap between them. She gasped for breath -- he was almost on top of her.

Frantically, she backed up.

He dropped his travel case and moved faster.

She broke into a run, turning from him.

He sprinted after her.

She could hear his footsteps quicken almost on her heels.

He reached out and grabbed her waist, pulling her back to him.

She cried out and pushed against his grasp.

He dragged her into the side hallway where the turbolifts waited, desperately trying to contain their argument. Taking both of her hands from him, he held her against the wall. "Say it," he whispered fiercely, "say whatever you mean to. Now. I want to hear it."

"I hate you," she spat. Her eyes flashed with anger.

"Is that it? You hate me? Are you sure that's all? No other insults?" He pushed her back against the wall. Slowly, his eyes were filling with tears.

"Leave me alone."

"Not quite as harsh as your first one. Come on, try again."

"What are you doing!" she yelled, pulling on his grasp.

"Get it out, Beverly. Tell me. Now. Everything."

"You conceited bastard!" she exploded. "Go to your prime directive, and your U.S.S. Roosevelt, and the Romulans. Leave me -- for them." She shoved his hands off her at last. "They’ll never love you, they’ll never hold you. Never.

The pain had crawled up and clutched at his heart. Though she had fought him off, she had stayed put. He stepped closer to her.

She was breathing heavily, uncontrollably.

As he moved closer, he saw her red eyes and tear stained cheeks, and knew he had caused the pain. His hand raised and wiped her cheek dry.

She took a nervous breath. She knew what was coming... she knew she shouldn't... but when his lips touched hers, the kiss was so gentle and pained she easily returned it. She renewed the kiss with more interest, her hand raising to his face.

He flattened her against the wall, the pain rising to his throat. He kissed her again and again, hungrily as his eyes clouded with tears. He could taste hers on her swollen lips. The touch of her hand on his neck was soft and tender... like he remembered. "Say you love me," he breathed before his next kiss.

New tears fell from under her eyelids. Her hand clutched his shoulder, grabbing at the fabric of his uniform. "I..."

He interrupted her with another kiss, urging her to respond.

"I love you." The words were almost missed between them. The pain flooded through her again, renewed at the tender words. It closed in on her throat and she pushed him away. "God damn you," she muttered, wiping at her lips. Without meeting his gaze, she turned away pulling at her hands.

As she left the archway, he saw something sparkle and hit the carpet floor. Starting forward, he bent and lifted it... her wedding band. His hand formed a fist around it with such force he thought a moment about crushing it. Heart beating, he threw the ring away down the hall, crying out as the pain filled him completely.

Beverly shuddered at the cry; she felt the same terror. But she refused to turn again and walked away, back to their quarters.

* * * * * *

Days turned into weeks as the crew struggled to adapt to their replacement Captain. Beverly lost herself in her work, surfacing only to meet Deanna once a week for lunch. She left her quarters before breakfast and returned late at night, hours after her shift should have ended. Rene matured, finishing classes aboard the Enterprise at thirteen years old. She tucked him in, cooked him meals, loved him to death... but even he could tell something within her had changed.

He lay awake late at night, waiting to hear her enter their quarters. He waited patiently while the shower ran. He had become a master at determining her mood... a long shower meant she was tired and worn out, a quick one meant she was willing to stay up and read a little while. The shower stopped and he gave her a few more minutes. Then, "Mom?"

"What is it, sweetheart?"

She called to him from the other room. "I can’t sleep," he lied. He hadn’t seen her all day. He listened as she walked from the bedroom through the living room, to his room, all the while telling him how bad it was for him to get into bed late.

And then she was there, smelling fresh and wonderful, sitting on his bed, leaning over his legs. He closed his eyes as she smoothed back his hair, humming softly; he could tell she was thinking of father, he could tell because she always grew quiet and distant.

Beverly smiled down at Rene. He had his father’s nose, his strong jaw line... and as she caressed his forehead, she thought of Jean-Luc... out there alone, and their ridiculous fight.

"Mom?"

"Yes, love?"

"You never finished that story from last night."

Beverly smiled. "Yes I did -- you had fallen asleep."

"Can you finish it now?"

"Let me see," she sighed, "how about a quick summary and then you get to sleep."

"‘Kay."

"Where did I leave off?"

"Father was kidnapped by the Borg."

"Yes," she nodded, "they took him from us and changed him into a..." she searched for the word, "a machine... a robot."

"Awesome."

"No, Rene," she laughed, "it wasn’t awesome. He couldn’t remember any of us."

"Was he a robot with tubes and metal?"

"Yes."

"Cool."

"Your father went through a lot to save the Enterprise, and himself. The Borg assimilated him and he fought back."

Rene was quiet a moment and then, "So is he still part robot?" he asked.

"No, love," she laughed, "he isn’t."

Rene fell silent a moment. "I like your stories Mom, but I like how father tells them better."

Beverly just nodded.

"I miss him, mom."

She let out a shaky breath, "me too, sweetheart." The tears were forming in her eyes. "Me too." She leaned in and kissed his forehead.

He felt her warm tears on his skin. "I love you mom."

"I love you too, Rene. And your father loves you, very much."

"I know." And he turned on his side, closing his eyes.

She patted his leg and then smoothed the comforters. "Goodnight, sweetheart." She rose and walked back to the living room.

"...Beverly, I suppose you’re not there..." Jean-Luc’s voice was in the room. "I’m sorry I missed you." His voice again.

She was frozen in place.

"I don’t know how much longer we’ll be kept here."

She blinked and then realized it was a transmission. Feeling returned to her body.

"Tell Rene I love him." He paused. "I miss you."

She started for her desk, heart pounding.

"And Beverly," he sighed audibly. "Happy anniversary."

She knocked her desk chair out of the way. "No -- wait, Jean-Luc!"

He didn’t respond.

Groaning, she realized she’d forgotten to hit the button. She slammed down on the key. "Jean-Luc!" But his transmission went black and her message light went on. "Damn it!" She lowered herself into her chair and covered her face. "I love you..."

It was his wedding day. She stood there, across from him, looking the way she had ten years ago on that day... beautiful in the sunlight. His eyes traveled up the soft dress she wore, watching the way it floated around her body in the breeze. Her hair glowed bright red in the sunlight and her eyes looked just like sapphires, sparkling at him.

"I, Beverly Howard Crusher, take Jean-Luc Picard to be my lawfully wedded husband," she was saying, "to have and to hold, in sickness and in health..."

He felt her hands holding his, and then she slid the ring onto his finger. He saw her ring, already gleaming on her left hand, and he loved the way it looked there.

"For as long as we both shall live, until death do us part."

He looked at her again. She still wasn’t showing, though she was five months along in the pregnancy... It was their secret, for the time being... that she was carrying his child. Their child, their son... God how he loved her, he held her hand tightly and thought of their son...

Their son.... Picard sat up in bed. The bedroom was dark, and her side of the bed was empty. He looked over at it, confused; she should be there. Then, he remembered, and he heard what he had been listening to.

She was singing softly in the other room, and he knew she was up feeding him. He loved to lay awake and listen to her sing their child to sleep, her gentle voice... so near. He got out of bed and walked to the living room. She was stretched out on the sofa, nursing little Rene, humming quietly now. In the room he could hear his son’s suckling noises and smiled, leaning against the doorway. Well, Picard, he sighed to himself, this is definitely the first thing you and Rene have in common... a penchant for Beverly’s breast. He smiled at his own little joke.

Then he heard her pull him upright and rise from the couch. Her singing continued as she rubbed and patted his back.

"Baby Mine, don’t you cry..." she sang softly.

The words trailed away from him as she began to walk the room.

She turned back in his direction. "... cute as can be, precious to me, baby of mine..." And she saw him standing in the doorway. She gestured for him to come closer, while still patting Rene’s back on her shoulder.

He walked toward her.

"Hello, papa bear," she whispered.

He kissed her gently. "Why don’t I take him, you sleep." She was close and he could smell the perfume that still clung to her from the day before. Perfume and baby smells. He kissed her again.

She leaned in to whisper in his ear. "I hope this reaches you..."

Jean-Luc turned in his sleep, and wrapped the comforters tighter around him.

"I don’t know quite what to say..."

He opened his eyes and the dream of Beverly faded. Gone was his son, his wife... those years ago...

"Rene’s grown so much you’d hardly recognize him. And he loves you so much. He’s going to look a lot like you..."

He sat upright in bed, confused as hell as Beverly’s voice echoed from the other room.

He got out of bed and padded out into the living room -- he’d left his screen on, and now a transmission was coming through.

"Please, Jean-Luc, I..." and she trailed off. "I just, I hope to see you soon."

"Beverly," he walked around to the desk, fumbling over the chair in the dark.

"Goodbye."

And she was gone.

He sank down to his chair and then sighed. He pulled the chair up to the desk and played back her message... once ... twice... three times... until he fell asleep to the sound of her voice.

* * * * *

"...and then right in the middle of the battle they just awarded him Admiral," Rene laughed. "The Romulans swooped in closer, because the Roosevelt had stopped firing, and then father blasted them out of space." The fifteen year old was smiling ear to ear. "It must have been great! I just wish I heard from him more often... the past few months I guess he's been really busy."

Beverly nodded at the view screen. "And how are your classes?"

"The school’s great, mom. Just great. And they’re starting the prep for the Academy! Alice is in two of my classes-"

"My sympathies to the professors!"

"Funny, ma. I gotta go, class soon."

"Alright-"

"Listen," he quieted, "I have to ask you, mom..." He sighed, "Have you talked to him, mom?"

"Him - who?

"Father." He watched her lean forward and then nervously fix her hair.

"Well, I meant to... but-"

"Mom, he misses you."

"He said that to you?"

"No, but I know he does."

Beverly smiled. "You get to class."

"Yes ma'am." The boy smiled.

"I'll talk to you later," and she ended the transmission. She leaned back in her chair and looked around the small, but comfortable Captain's quarters of the medical ship, Maxell. She hadn’t talked to Jean-Luc in what seemed like forever. They had talked once, and it had been awful... awkward and painful. He did manage to leave her a communiqué every once in a while... but even those had dropped off now. She wondered if this was really the end... if such a foolish fight would separate them forever...

Slowly she rose and walked to the bathroom. An unrecognizable woman looked back at her from the mirror. Her titian hair was now mostly silver/gray around her face and it was pulled up onto her head. Her neck was lined, as was her face. Most of her face remained smooth, remarkably. She raised her eyebrows. It was just around her eyes and mouth that most of the damage was done. Maybe she should make an appointment at that hair/nail salon down on deck twelve. She took her hair down, and it fell to her shoulders. The back of her hair was still mostly red. She could colorize the rest of it... then get one of those facial treatments...

She stopped herself. For who? Why? She ran a hand through her hair... Jean-Luc had loved her hair down.... Tears formed in her eyes. They hadn't formally separated, she knew that much. He was at war... she was far away on the other side of the galaxy. It had been a difficult time, true, and they hadn't made a good decision.

"So now what?" she asked her reflection.

"Captain Picard?" her First Officer came through. For a second she thought he was going to answer her question. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but we've arrive in the Estarn sector."

"Acknowledged," she answered and pulled her hair up, fastening it with a tight clip.

* * * * * *

"Thank you for coming, Captain. Picard."

Beverly shifted uncomfortably. She eyed the two older Admirals before her, and then folded her hands together in her lap. "I have to admit, you've peaked my curiosity."

They glanced at each other. "Well, Captain, I'm sure you must be worried as to why your husband has ceased his communications with you."

She faltered. "No, actually he doesn't-"

"We have learned that he was taken prisoner," Admiral Robertson continued, "and for months we didn't know where."

"Months?" Her heart was pounding. Jean-Luc had been imprisoned for months?

"You understand, this is all very confidential." Admiral Bernard added.

"But, we've just found where they've hidden him. Just outside of Jech'tha, in a refugee camp."

She couldn't move. She just stared at him... what had gone on in those months? he had been so abandoned... no one had known...

"As you know, Captain, Jech'tha is the center of medical research on the Romulan planet. In fact, the whole city is filled with hospitals, research buildings, clinics... the list goes on." Robertson leaned forward. "Only a skilled physician would be able to survive on the streets of Jech'tha. Without medical knowledge, an infiltrator is sure to be noticed."

"What are you saying?" she breathed.

"We want you to go in and get him."

Her stomach dropped. "What do you mean, me?"

"Captain, regardless of your personal affiliation, your medical knowledge and experience with the Romulans could not be found elsewhere. Of course we will provide you with a minimal team. Two or three others... you will have to brief them. We are giving you full go-ahead with this mission, Captain. You will receive the names of the others that will accompany you. You will pick them up with your ship. Once they are ready, you will be contacted with the coordinates of an abandoned Romulan shuttlecraft. From there, it's up to you." Robertson glanced at Bernard. "The Federation has faith in you, Beverly."

"We'll only expect to hear from you when you return with Picard."

Beverly closed her eyes and leaned back in the soft cushioned chair. The conversation played on and on in her head.

"...the Federation has faith in you Beverly...."

God. How could she do this? Stupidly, the fact that they had fought was holding her back. She hadn't seen him in a year... then just to find him? What sort of captivity do the Romulans have? Is he alive? Was he tortured?

Tears burned behind her closed eyelids.

"...regardless of your personal affiliation..."

Personal affiliation was everything! She grabbed hold of the chair's armrests and pushed herself up. How was she going to do this?

They would have to be disguised... maybe if she didn't reveal to him who she was. That way she could avoid all entanglements and still get him home. Home. Home to her? Warmth flooded through her at the thought. Would he come home? Would he retire? Would everything work its way out? There was no way of knowing. One day at a time, she assured herself, one hour at a time.

"Captain." The voice of her First Officer interrupted overhead. "We're receiving a classified transmission from Starfleet."

Beverly walked back to the terminal and put it through. The materials scrolled down before her. "Lieutenants Olivia Grew and John Ragnor," she read. "Here we go..."

"From here on, only speak in Romulan."

The gentle voice was startling, coming from the face of the Romulan woman. She leaned over the other two Romulans, staring out at the small view screen.

"Aye sir." The two others whispered. Skillfully, they flew the shuttle craft through the asteroid field before them.

"Captain, getting a transmission," the hushed voice stopped quickly.

"On screen!" The female leader ordered, this time in loud Romulan. A Romulan official appeared before her, dressed as they, with a much thicker sash.

"State your business," he demanded.

"Shuttle craft 3446 returning to airspace, sir," the leader replied.

"Gert'ya? Is that you?"

"Sir?" She eyed him evenly.

"Well!" he chuckled. "It's good to have you return. We had heard rumors your craft was ransacked."

"We were sir, I lost some crew."

"Ah," he nodded.

"The craft isn't functioning properly either."

"Put down in Teypur for re-assignment and repairs."

"Aye, sir."

"And, Gert'ya... report to me, as soon as you land." His eyes seemed to be studying her. "It has been a while."

"Too long," she answered. And the transmission was terminated.

The female Romulan at the helm turned to face her leader. When she failed to make eye contact, she leaned forward. "Captain Picard!" she hissed.

Beverly turned to look at her, eyes wide. "Not another word!" she ordered in crisp Romulan. She was watching the view screen as they cleared the asteroid belt. Romulus loomed before them. "Initiate," she commanded, with a wink.

The helmswoman turned and began working furiously over the control panel. "Course... laid in, sir." She glanced up at the Lieutenant beside her.

He took the go-ahead and turned to his terminal. "Captain! Experiencing engine failure!" he cried in perfect Romulan.

Beverly had to admire his acting. "What?" she cried. "Engage auxiliary engines."

"Trying to compensate, Captain. Failing...." the helmswoman answered.

"Get him back for me," she tapped the Lieutenant's shoulder. He pressed more buttons and then the official reappeared on the screen.

"Gert'ya?"

"Our engines are failing! We must put down at nearest port!" Discretely she tapped the woman beside her. Immediately, static filled the screen. "Losing communications!" she yelled. The craft began to shake.

"Put down in Jech'tha. Nearest... to.. craft..."

"You're breaking up! Must-"

And Olivia cut the transmission. Beverly nodded in approval. Both Lieutenants sat back, hands off their terminals. Without words, Beverly motioned for them to follow into the back of the craft. There they strapped themselves onto cushioned life preserver chairs. Through the open hallway, Beverly could see the planet growing in the view screen. And as Romulus rushed up to meet them, Beverly took both their hands... and waited.

"Captain? Beverly?"

Out of the darkness came fuzzy light, and then muffled sounds. As the light grew brighter, the voices became clearer.

"Captain?"

She groaned and opened her eyes. There was a Romulan woman leaning over her. Beverly recoiled and scooted backward.

"Captain! It's me, Olivia."

"Oh God," she moaned -- a dull pain was spreading through her forehead. She nodded slowly. "Did we make it?"

"Barely." Olivia moved after her. "You got pretty banged up."

Beverly reached up and touched her forehead. Blood came away on her hands. "Where's John? And the craft?" She pressed her hand to her head and looked around. They were in a darkened alley, between two tall buildings.

"The craft is totally ruined. John went out to scout the area." She pulled a small bag from under her Romulan robe. "Come on, we've got to change your identity."

"Okay, okay." Beverly leaned against the building behind her and closed her eyes. "Get out the skin grafter too." She bit her lip. "God this hurts."

"Shh, I'll only be a second. Relax... deep breath."

"Halt. What district?"

The Romulan guard stood between the three and a circle of tall medical buildings.

"Military assistance. District Gamma Eros." Beverly replied sternly.

"Who are they?"

"Security personnel."

"Identification."

The three presented their holographic key cards. Slowly, the guard stepped out of the way. They entered, eyeing the buildings around them. The Lieutenants kept an eye on Beverly, trying to read her next move.

Beverly scanned the Romulan writing above the doorways and then turned nonchalantly to the one that read 'Military'. The other two stayed close behind. They were able to stroll right into the building, having passed the outer security. The place was teeming with Romulan doctors. None were dressed as they had anticipated, so they were given an odd glance or two.

"Greetings," a voice came out of the crowd. A young male stood beside them. "Newly assigned? I have been waiting for more staff."

"Yes," Beverly answered quickly. "First day."

"I am Rechteck, the supervisor. We welcome the aid-"

"Rechteck! We leave now!" A large Romulan stepped out of nowhere. "Where's the assistance I require?"

"I haven't gotten to-" Rechteck turned to him.

"We must leave now, or we will not make it out in time."

Rechteck's eyes landed on Beverly. "Here, take her. She is new." He turned to the other two. "You both, follow me."

"We won't be going together?" Olivia asked.

"No. The team only needs one. You." And he pointed to Beverly again. "Now come with me."

John and Olivia disappeared with Rechteck.

"Keep your mouth shut, and do as I say," the large Romulan ordered. He threw a heavy backpack at her and then the team started on their way out of the city.

"What is this place?" Beverly whispered in Romulan.

"The torture camp." One of the male Romulans standing near her, leaned in, answering her.

They stood at the end of a long cement hallway. The building was flat, one floor, and had been situated at the center of the camp. All along the hallway were closed doors... and from behind the doors... came screams and cries of all different sorts.

From the door nearest them, exited a large Romulan male. He caught sight of them and then nodded, gesturing toward the door.

It was then that Beverly realized their job. They were the clean up crew.

Upon entering the room, she saw there was only one table. Different machines she didn't recognize stood along the wall. There was a body on the table and it held her attention. It was human... a human female. She was striped naked. Bruises, gashes, and swollen lumps dirtied her pale skin. She remained still and silent.

Beverly fell into place with the others, around the table. The woman's face was distorted -- the eyes gouged out, the hair a tattered, bloodied mess. Beverly averted her gaze, lowering her head. Watching the others, she began to wash the wounds. Her fingers touched the skin.

"She's dead," she blurted out, dropping her cloth.

The Romulan who had been kind before caught her cloth and pushed her back toward the body before the larger one looked up. "Clean her," he whispered.

She nodded, numb with shock.

The job was done quickly, and soon they were moving to the next room.

"Why did we clean her if she was dead?" Beverly ventured, beside the other male.

"She will be a present. A token," he whispered back.

"To who?"

"The Federation."

Beverly felt her stomach turn as they entered the next room. This patient was alive, and moaning in pain. Again, they did not dress the wounds, just cleaned them, the table and the blood spattered machines.

Moving out into the hallway, there was only one other room left. From there they heard the hum of machines. There were no cries, like other rooms, just the sound of the beatings.

The team waited outside the door until the guard exited. They entered slowly. It was another human, this one sobbing, strapped to the table.

"Not this one..." the Romulan male sighed.

She detected a hint of emotion in his voice. But then she turned her attention to the sounds rising from the table. She froze. The human was mumbling between sobs... she could just make out the words.

"...forgive me..."

Tears filled her eyes as the group moved toward the table.

"...please... Beverly." He was repeating her name, over and over as if it were a prayer.

Beverly felt her legs weaken. Her Romulan friend grabbed her arm and steered her to the table.

"He talks... all the time," he breathed. He was right next to her ear, holding her at the table. "...beyond his body, his soul is tortured."

She lifted her eyes to look Jean-Luc in the face. His eyes were swollen shut, and blood oozed from behind his ear. Sweat covered his bare skin, carrying the blood further, down his neck to his shoulder. There were three gashes across his chest, one open and bleeding. The bruises were everywhere along with scars Beverly knew hadn't existed before.

She swallowed her tears and shoved her aching heart to her stomach. Lowering her head, she wiped his skin free of blood and sweat. All the while, he mumbled and sobbed... at times it was as if he were talking to her. She concentrated on the job, as if she were in Sickbay, as if it were some experiment.... diagnoses raced through her mind.... his arm was broken... his gash would need grafting... I need the bio scan, she thought foolishly.

Before she was ready, the team was packing up to go. She lingered, washing out her cloth, fixing the lock on her kit, adjusting the strap on the backpack. But then, it was unavoidable... she left with the others.

"Halt! There! Halt!" A voice yelled at them, running from the low building.

Beverly froze.

The med team turned.

The Romulan guard approached them, slightly out of breath. "The one... the last one.. he's still suffering."

"So?" The large leader stepped forward.

"So, he is of no value if he dies." The guard answered evenly. "Give us one of your team. He must be tended to."

Beverly was shoved forward by her friend.

"Take the female."

The group turned to look at her. Then the leader nodded in approval.

"Yes, the female." He walked toward her. "Unpack what you need and take it with you."

"Yes, sir." She knelt, re-opening the large knapsack. Her heart was pounding. She couldn't believe her luck. The Romulan who had volunteered her bent beside her, helping her. "You've been so kind," she whispered.

"I have a feeling you can help us," he breathed.

She raised her eyes, staring at him.

He glanced around nervously; the med team had moved away, conversing with the guard. He grabbed more supplies for her from his own pack. "You know them? In there?"

She remained silent.

"Help them. I am a doctor: tortured bodies are so painful... and these torture sessions are unnecessary. This whole war is unnecessary."

"Thank you," she whispered.

"Female! Get going! We can't wait all night!"

The order came from the others.

She nodded, keeping her head low. Her Romulan helper closed her knapsack and then handed it to her. He cracked a brief smile and then stepped back to the others. She separated from them, following the guard back to the building.

"He's down here," the guard lumbered down the narrow stone steps. There was a series of cell blocks underneath the building.

She picked her way after him, listening to the cries that rose from all around them. She had no idea there were this many prisoners... and she was here to only save one of them.

He led her down a long row of cells to the last one.... the darkest one. Squinting, she could see the form of a man, lying on the stone ledge provided as a bed. The guard unlocked and opened the door, and then re-locked it after her.

"I'll be back to check on you," he nodded and then moved away.

She turned to the black cell. It seemed like it was empty, but then she heard a faint moan from the corner. Working her way over to him, his form became a little clearer. His chest was still bare, he was sparsely covered. She knelt beside him, on the floor and opened her knapsack. Hands shaking, she opened the bottle of clean water and poured it into the pan. Next she pulled out the clean clothes. After soaking one in the cold water, she draped it across his swollen eyes.

He stiffened.

Tears filled her eyes, and her lower lip quivered. She bit down to hold in the sobs.

"...I want..." he was mumbling again, "don't... help..." His voice was barely audible "...to ...die.."

She covered her mouth with her hand, forcing herself to remain silent. Hot tears ran down over her hand and she allowed one muted sob. Slowly then, she released her mouth... without a sound. Gently, she reached over, taking his arm in hand... the broken arm. Her trained fingers felt the break, below the skin... a large break. Taking a deep breath she pushed on it, hard.

He screamed out in pain.

But the arm slid into place. New tears fell over her cheeks as she wrapped another cloth around the arm, tightly binding it into place.

She lifted the warmed cloth from his closed eyes and dipped it back into the water.

"What are you doing?" he mumbled. He was sobbing, crying softly. The cool cloth was draped over his bruised eyes again. It was such relief... such tender care... so foreign.

Beverly fished down in her bag again and found her Romulan friend had pushed a blanket into it. She pulled it out and opened it. Gently, she draped it over his body. It covered everything, including the open wound on his chest. Her fingers tucked it neatly around his arms, then smoothed it around his neck... and then her finger brushed against his skin, his jaw. The skin was so clammy and cold it felt as if he were dead.

"Leave me alone."

He must have summoned all his energy to command her. A smile spread across her face.

"Let me die."

God she wanted to tell him... she knew she could ease his pain with three words... I love you... Instead, she lifted the warm rag from his eyes and cooled it again.

"Are you alright?" the guard called from the bars.

She rose and conversed with him in low tones, arranging to spend the night in the cell. The guard easily agreed, saying he'd be just down the hall.

Kneeling beside Jean-Luc's body again, she lifted the eye rag again, inspecting his swollen eyes. Her fingers traced behind his ear and dabbed at the cut there with the cool rag.

He stiffened, sucking in a breath of air.

Then rinsing out the cloth, she replaced it over his eyes. Her hand smoothed it against his hot skin, then her fingers moved away, caressing the top of his head.

His lips parted as if to command her again.

"Shh," she whispered. Her fingers touched his skin lovingly. "Is it helping?" she spoke quietly in English.

He remained still... the words died away and seem to have never existed. He couldn't have heard right... it was him, hallucinating again. Nothing seemed real. "What?" he tested.

Tears filled her eyes again, and quickly spilled over. "Am I helping?" she sobbed softly.

"My God," he tried to move, "I am dreaming... hallucinating."

"No, love," she bent over him, touching his cheek, "I'm here." She kissed his cold lips quickly. "I'm here," she repeated.

"Beverly?" he whispered. His good hand flew to touch her.

She caught it and brought it to her lips.

He moved his hand so it touched her cheek and then curved around her jaw. "This is a dream," he breathed.

"No," she assured him.

He quieted. Her hand still held his, their fingers interlocked.

"I'm going to get you out of here," she whispered, "but I don't dare move you."

He kept quiet a moment. "What's my name? Say my name."

Curious, she leaned forward. "Jean-Luc." Her eyes searched his shadowed face for a response.

He let out a shuddered breath. He was sobbing without tears.

She touched his cheek, caressing it slowly. "Shh," she breathed, "it's going to be fine... you're going to be fine." The cloth over his eyes was warm again, so she lifted it and re-soaked it.

He struggled to lift his eyelids and succeeded in gaining only a hint of vision. She was just a figure beside him, a shadow.

"Keep your eyes closed," she instructed.

The cool compress spread relief through his eyes. Then he was aware of her lifting his head slightly. When he lowered it again there was a cushioned fabric as a pillow.

Beverly tucked the knapsack under his head and then sighed, staying close to him.

"Just talk to me," he whispered, "I need to hear your voice..."

And she did. She whispered different stories throughout the night, keeping him conscious until he slipped into a peaceful sleep near morning.

"You!" The guard shouted from outside the barred cell.

Beverly whirled around. The guard was hurriedly unlocking the door accompanied by her Romulan medical friend.

"You are a traitor!" The door swung open.

She jumped to her feet. "What?"

The guard started forward.

She backed away to the wall. Her eyes met the doctor's. "What is going on?"

"The truth had to come out."

The guard grabbed her arm and pulled her to him.

Her eyes flickered over to Picard's body. Would they hurt him? Would they... Her gaze fixed again on the male she had thought of as an ally. He was walking toward her. "Why?" she implored him.

He reached up and took a handful of her black hair. The wig came off with little difficulty. His eyes moved over her red hair as it tumbled down to her shoulders.

She struggled against the guard's grip. "The Federation will find you and kill-"

With a sharp slap, he silenced her.

When Beverly raised her head, blood trickled from her lip. She tasted it, wetting her lip. For a moment, she waited, eyeing the Romulan in front of her. Then abruptly, she elbowed the guard in the stomach. His grip loosened. She spun free and kicked out at the Romulan Doctor. He doubled over, stumbling backward. From behind, the guard grabbed her and turned her to him. One of his arms wrapped completely around her, trapping her.

His eyes met hers, widening into black pools. "Reck'sha."

-Death.

And she felt an odd pain in her stomach... the pain intensified. Then came a warmth, spreading through her clothing. She lowered her eyes. Blood stained her jacket. Startled, she shook in pain.

He pulled her to him, minimizing her convulsions.

"Dethya! Dethya! Gedfri brizx thya vekdi!" The Romulan doctor pushed the guard away, separating him from Beverly.

The guard stumbled back.

The Doctor bent over Beverly's crumpled form. "Redfri wedch kilds?" he spat toward the guard. Roughly, he ripped open Beverly's clothing down to her thin blouse. It was soaked with blood. From his bag he pulled a long cloth. At first he pressed it against he wound. Then he tied a tourniquet around her midsection.

Beverly opened her eyes and groaned. Slowly, the Romulan Doctor's form came into focus. Feebly, her hands moved to push him away.

He pulled her arms from him and fastened the cloth. "You will be fine," he spoke slowly in English. Then, he turned around to the guard, speaking in Romulan. "She needs to be well to stand trial! Only then can she be sentenced to death!" He turned back to her and took her arm. Slowly, he helped her up, supporting her. "Bring the man. The orders are for him to testify against her."

The guard bent over Picard, pulling him up.

"No, no, no." Beverly argued weakly. "Don't move him...don't..." But she could hardly move. She watched the guard drape Picard's arm over his shoulder and drag him out of the cell.

The doctor moved forward, bringing Beverly with him.

"Shh...."

As Beverly groaned, opening her eyes, she was quieted gently.

"You lost consciousness," a voice spoke slowly in English, "but the wound is not fatal."

The Romulan Doctor was leaning over her.

"Get away," she closed her eyes again, turning her head.

"Stop," the Romulan paused, unsure of the words. Then he continued in Romulan. "You must listen to me." He waited.

When he didn't continue, she turned her head.

"There are two guards outside the room-"

"Where's Jean-Luc? Where is the man I came here with?" she mumbled.

"Wait-"

"I need to know where he is," she tried to sit up.

He pushed her down. "Listen to me."

Her eyes widened and she waited.

"I have two guards outside this room. They are who you call Olivia and," he paused, "John. They will make sure no one enters the room."

"What?" she breathed.

"I had no idea he would injure you. You must forgive me," he sighed. "I did not mean for that to happen."

"What are you saying?"

"I knew that if you had not escaped by morning you would be doomed. It was the only plan I knew of that would work. The man is over there, he is asleep."

"How do I know you're not lying to me?" She sighed. "How can I trust you?"

"Don't then. But a Ferengi who owes me a favor is leaving the planet in two hours. When I get you, your companion and your two guards safely aboard, then you can trust me."

Her eyes moved over his face. "What is your name?"

"I think it's better you don't know." He leaned back. "Rest."

"Jean-Luc," Beverly whispered. Her fingers caressed his forehead, easing him out of sleep. "Jean-Luc..."

He stirred. His eyes, still damaged, were bandaged.

"Are you awake?"

"Beverly?"

"Yes. It's me... I have some wonderful news."

His hand reached up toward where her voice came from.

She brought it to her face. "We're on our way home."

"How? Where are we?"

"On a Ferengi vessel. It'll take us safely to my ship."

"Your ship?"

She smiled, folding his fingers against her face. "Yes. The U.S.S. Maxell." She paused, "And I hear you're an Admiral now."

"Do you know," he began hesitantly, "there wasn't a moment I didn't think of you."

Her eyes moved over his face.

"Are you still there?" he chuckled.

She climbed up onto his bed and lay next to him. "Right here," she whispered.

His other hand moved to find her waist and then pulled her closer to him.

"What's happened to us?" she asked him softly.

"I don't know." He breathed in deeply, with some difficulty.

"I don't know what to do." Beverly closed her eyes. "But I need to do something... I need you..."

He took another breath before speaking. "The temptation to go on the missions will always be there," he paused, "but if you're not with me, it's not worth it. Every time I won a battle... made a decision... there was no one at home to share it with." His good arm found her fingers and folded around them. "I'm trying to say I was wrong," he sighed.

"Shh," she quieted him. "Apology accepted."

"I want to see you," he turned his head toward her. "I've seen you in my dreams for months... now these silly bandages...."

"Soon. As soon as we get home."

Beverly's eyes flickered up again to his face. Jean-Luc was still watching her. She smiled and looked down at his wounds. The large sickbay back on the Maxell was filled with personnel. Nurses rushed around, providing Beverly with all the tools she needed.

A slight blush crept up into Beverly's cheeks; she could still feel his eyes on her. Throughout the hour they had worked on him, his gaze had never left her face. His broken appendages were healed, the bruises were being treated and the gash across his chest was gone. Simultaneously, the scars were being removed.

As she finished, Beverly glanced up at him again. His gaze was so candid, showing unveiled emotion. Her blushed deepened. She turned away and walked back to her First Officer.

"Sickbay's planning on keeping him here over night," he began.

"I agree." She folded her arms over her chest, turning back to the room. She knew Jean-Luc wasn't going to be happy with the arrangement. She smiled at the thought. "I warn you, he won't like it. But don't you dare give in. Tell him he's under my orders now."

Her First Officer smiled knowingly. "Understood, Captain."

Through bleary eyes, Beverly struggled to find her bathrobe. Finally she grabbed hold of the soft fabric and stuck her arms through it.

The door chimed again.

Frantically, she tied it around her waist and stumbled from the bedroom. Who had the nerve to knock on her door at oh-three hundred hours anyway...

It chimed again.

Finally she reached the door and hit the button. But when the door opened, she forgot all her frustration. Jean-Luc was leaning against the doorframe, barely able to stand. A thick coat of sweat covered his entire face.

She grabbed hold of him and pulled him into her quarters. "Jean-Luc?" she cried.

He leaned on her and then straightened. "I can stand, I can stand."

"You can not!" Gradually they made it to her bedroom where she laid him down on the bed. "What on earth are you doing?" She sat down beside him.

"Came to see you." He grimaced and then shifted to be more comfortable.

"Funny. Do you need a glass of water?"

"No."

"I should order you back to Sickbay."

"But you won't," he turned to her.

She sighed. "Why are you here? Is it the fever? Did the fever come back?"

"No." He chuckled and then coughed. "It's just that the bio beds in your sickbay are awful," he answered.

"Fine," she rose and removed her bathrobe, "Don't tell me."

He watched her drape the bathrobe over the bedside chair... watched the way her white nightgown floated softly around her as she moved, the way it revealed and then masked her curves. He shifted over as she pulled the blankets over him and then climbed into bed beside him.

"Do you feel better?" she asked.

"Much." He let her turn onto her side, away from him, but then slipped his arm around her waist, pulling up behind her.

She smiled to herself and then settled back against him. Closing her eyes, she was sure she was dreaming already... it had been so long.

"The truth is," he began slowly, "I had this awful nightmare. And no matter how many times I woke up, it repeated."

"The torture?" She hated saying the word, and could hardly imagine what he had gone through.

"Yes."

"Don't think about it." She knew it was almost an impossible request. "Imagine a house in France, flowering gardens, a modest vineyard... where only the best wines are made." She closed her eyes. "You and I spend evenings by the fireside and mornings on the balcony outside our bedroom. You're finally retired... Rene visits... he brings his girlfriend to the house, you scrutinize her endlessly over brandy in the living room. But then once he goes, you’re all mine." Behind her, his breathing had become even. She exhaled and covered his hand with hers. "I love you, Jean-Luc," she whispered, caressing his hand.

He was still asleep when she left early that morning, and when she checked on him at twelve hundred hours.

However, when she went off duty at twenty hundred hours he was nowhere to be found. The bed was made and her quarters looked untouched.

She shrugged and then gathered some loose fitting clothes, eager to remove her uniform. She took her time in the bath, letting warmth and relaxation seep into her skin. And then she carefully fixed her hair, styling it onto her head. For the first time in a long time, she had a reason to.

When she finally emerged from the bathroom, the dining room table was set and two candles were lit.

"Jean-Luc?" she called.

Her answer was the sound of music from above. It was a song she recognized... and it only took her a moment to remember -- La Vie En Rose. She smiled. He had to be there, somewhere.

"Jean-Luc, where are you?" She moved into the living room, cautiously. There wasn't a sound.

Then, from around the corner, he grabbed her and pulled her to him. She cried out and then laughed as he pressed her to him.

"Where have you been?"

"Taking care of something," he answered evasively. Before she could interrogate him further, he kissed her. The scent of her perfume and body lotion swept over him. He kissed her ear, her jaw, then her neck, drinking her in. "You smell wonderful," he whispered.

"Thank you." She met his lips with hers and then met his gaze. "But, where were you?"

"I had to get something you needed."

She raised an eyebrow. "I'm tired of these cryptic answers. I saved your life -- I have a right to know!" she poked him playfully.

"All right," he pulled something out of his pocket. "Give me your hand."

She did.

"I hope you'll accept this. It would mean a great deal to me." And with that he slipped a wedding band onto her finger. It looked exactly like his... exactly like the one she had thrown away so long ago...

She smiled and then took the side of his face in her hand. "Of course I'll accept it." She kissed him quickly.

He leaned back, keeping his arms around her. "I did something else too."

"Oh? What?"

"I talked to Starfleet, and we've arranged a partial retirement. I kept certain duties as Admiral, but can keep a home -- a house... somewhere in France."

She blinked. "Jean-Luc Picard..." she breathed.

"Yes, Mrs. Picard?"

"You amaze me."

"It'll be amazing if I can convince you to come with me."

"I'm not as young as I used to be, Jean-Luc. There does come a time when the dangers and missions become too much."

He sighed. "I thought that was just me," he smiled.

"I would love to go with you. I want more than anything to have a home. A place that is safe, and totally ours."

"Then you'll be my wife again?"

"I always have been."

* * * * * *

"... in his condition.... five or ten years..."

Three weeks later after the appointment the diagnosis still hung in Picard's ears. Even though they were safe at home, in the beautiful countryside of France, he couldn't shake the thought.... that damned diagnoses... irumodic syndrome... if he hadn't given in to Beverly and seen a Doctor they wouldn't have known... but then again she had always been his weakness.

But she had, by far been the stronger half. She had put up with his sulking and mood swings... granted the thought of dying didn't evoke joy.... but still she never let it effect her.

Picard turned his head and then opened his eyes. The fitful sleep hadn't helped; he still couldn't take his mind off it... off the disease. It was crawling inside him right now... killing him. Funny, he couldn't feel it. Maybe one day he would...

There was a noise elsewhere in the darkened bedroom. It sounded like a soft sigh. He turned his head back. Beverly was not beside him. He lifted his head an inch. She was sitting on the edge of the bed in her nightgown, knees tucked under her chin.

He sat up quietly.

Her shoulders shook in what seemed to be silent sobs.

"Beverly?" He moved down to the end of the bed. He caught her wiping her face of tears and then she turned to him. In the moonlight, he could see her twenty years ago with flowing red hair. The effect was dazzling. "Come here," he whispered.

Her eyes welled up again and she leaned against him. She felt his strong arms circle around her, warming her, and her tears overflowed again. She turned her face up to him and kissed his lips gently.

He turned her to him and kissed her again, his thumbs caressing the tears from her face. "I love you," he whispered.

She nodded, lowering her gaze. "I love you too."

"I've been meaning to talk to you about this..." he said and then stretched back on the bed, gesturing for her to follow.

She did, curling up next to him, her head on his chest. Carefully, she smoothed his chest hair and tried not to let her tears fall to his skin.

He felt them all the same and brushed her hair back from her face. "If this is too much for you, too painful..."

"No," she sighed, "no-"

"I hate the idea of withering away. I know you hate it too." He paused, his thinking weighing so heavily on his shoulders, "I was considering ending this before it began."

She whirled around to look at him. "Jean-Luc Picard, don't you ever say something like that to me again." Her eyes filled and then she sobbed, clutching his shoulders. "Don't you dare leave me, don't you dare..."

"I didn't want you to suffer..." He cradled her against him.

"I never suffer when you are with me," she looked at him, "I don't care what state you're in."

"Then forget I mentioned it," he kissed the top of her head, "please."

"Forgotten." She leaned up and kissed him. She felt his hands slid from her back, around his waist, pulling her up, closer. She held his face and met his kiss again as it intensified.

He thought of the disease again, filling him, and wondered how many more nights he had. How many more times he could make love to his wife... how many times he could hold her tightly... He pulled her to him with such strength he heard her gasp. But she seemed to understand, and understand his need. She moved down, her fingers working along his night shorts.

And when she raised her eyes she saw his were sparkling... with tears. She kissed his mouth, his nose, his tears. "It's all right, my love," she whispered, "it's all right."

* * * * * *

"Hey, Alice in Wonderland!" Rene grabbed her hand, pulling her to him.

"Rene," she whispered, "your parents!"

"They're in a world of their own. Believe me." And he kissed her gently. "I love you," he whispered.

"I love you." And she smiled.

"If you two don't start paying attention to this daughter of yours," Beverly cried out, "I'm going to adopt her!"

The young couple turned around. Beverly was being led into the garden by a five-year-old girl with red curly hair. As soon as she saw them, her eyes widened. She started tottering toward her parents.

Rene ran to her and swept her up in his arms. "I got her, mom," he said as soon as she settled on his hip. Alice joined them.

"It's so great to have you home." Beverly smoothed the baby's dress in her son's arms. "I love seeing that my red hair finally went to some good," she laughed.

"Beverly!" Picard's voice called out from the house.

"How is he, mom?" Rene asked.

"He's good." She faced the couple openly. "He is."

"We know," Alice glanced at Rene, "about it."

"It?" She looked to Rene.

"We talked to his Doctor, mom."

"I won't have it referred to as 'it', Rene. It has a name -- Irumodic Syndrome. And he is doing fine."

"How long does he have left, mom? A month -- two?"

"Rene," she warned.

"Come on," Rene shifted the girl on his hip, "you have to face reality."

"I am living in reality, Rene. I see your father dying a bit every day. You come and go whenever it pleases you!" she cried, her eyes filling up with tears. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry..." and she turned and walked back to the house, across the lawn.

"Take it easy with her, Rene," Alice sighed. "I can't imagine what she must be going through."

"He's her life, always has been. She's not whole without him -- part of her is dying too."

By the time Beverly reached the back of the house, her tears were dry.

"What is it, Jean-Luc?" She called. She walked through the open door.

"Beverly?" he called again.

"I'm here, I'm here." And she kneeled beside his armchair.

His hand covered hers. "Did you ask the children to stay for dinner?"

"Yes, love, I did."

"Will they?"

"They will."

He was silent.

"Would you like anything, my love?" She reached up and straightened his shirt.

"Tea."

"Of course. I'll be in the kitchen," she promised. As she rose, she kissed the top of his head.

"...and so the princess stepped out of her window and found she could walk on air..."

Beverly closed her eyes and just listened to her husband's voice as he told the bedtime story. Before them the lake glistened silently in the moonlight. It lapped the shore gently, providing a serene backdrop for the story. In the distance, she could hear Rene and Alice chatting as they walked along the shore.

"... she raised her arms and climbed higher and higher until she could reach the stars..." and he trailed off. There were moments of silence.

Beverly opened her eyes and looked at him. "Is she asleep?" she whispered.

Jean-Luc looked down at the child who's head rested in his lap, then up at his wife. "I thought you were too for a moment." He extended a shaking hand toward her.

She took it warmly and moved closer to him, leaning against him. "Can you hear them?"

"Rene? Alice?" he paused, "Yes."

"We were like them once..." her arm wound around his, "do you remember?"

"I like to think we are," he took another moment to breathe, "still."

She turned her head to him, letting her nose rest against his cheek, her chin on his shoulder. "When was the last time we..."

In his lap, the child stirred. They both glanced down. Once she became still again, he turned to her. "I don't know when," he paused, "but, it was good -- wasn't it?" His deep voice was hoarse as he joked.

"You tell me when you want to go in," she whispered. Her finger traced a pattern over his ear to the back of his neck. "And don't conveniently forget your medicine tonight."

"Oh, you know how to kill a mood," he grunted.

"Were you in a mood?" She laughed softly. "You haven't been in a mood for-"

He put a shaky finger on her lips. "I may be ill, but I am not dead." He leaned over and kissed her lips, replacing his finger. "And you've always put me in a mood," he whispered.

"Same here, Captain." She rested her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes.

Jean-Luc pulled his lap blanket over the child and rested his large hand over hers. The child sighed in her sleep and nestled closer to his hand.

* * * * * *

Beverly hummed to herself over the sink, as she cleaned the glasses. Out of nowhere that old melody of La Vie En Rose had come back to her. She settled the glasses into the dish rack and then turned off the water.

In the other room, another glass fell.

She turned her head. "Jean-Luc?" she called. "Jean-Luc did you drop that glass?" She grabbed the dishtowel and walked around to the living room.

He sat in his armchair, facing the French doors. His cup of tea lay in pieces on the wooden floor.

"Jean-Luc?" She crouched beside him, gathering the remains of the cup. His hand covered hers on the arm of the chair. She turned her head. "What is it?"

He looked at her. "Thank God you're here." The words escaped on his breath.

"Of course I am." She bent over the cup again. And then, suddenly, the grip on her hand tightened. She whirled around to look at him. He was closing his eyes... and she knew... "Oh God, no... no..." She rose to his eye level. "Jean-Luc?"

"Open the door... for me..." One of his fingers pointed toward the French door. She reached over and pushed it open. The warm breeze floated into the room.

"I love you, Jean-Luc. I love you." She reached up and held the side of his face. "I can't live without you... please..."

"Tell me you were happy."

"I was so happy -- the happiest woman alive." She leaned forward and kissed him, her warm tears flowing against his face.

A pain was filling her arm.

She shook out her arm and reached for his face. His lips moved against hers and then his eyes closed. "No... no..." she pulled his face closer to her, cradling him against her shoulder.

That damned pain was spreading.

Beverly looked down at her arm. The pain... her mind raced with diagnoses... pain in the arm, spreads to the chest... the heart goes into arrest... "I'm not leaving you, Jean-Luc..." She sat across his lap, leaning her head against his shoulder and waited.

And then a rose colored glaze coated the room, and all she saw.

There was Jean-Luc leaning over her, a young forty years old. He extended his hand. She shook out her long red hair, took his hand, and rose with him. They both walked out of the room, through the open door, and away across the lawn.

La Vie En Rose copyright 1957 (E.Piaf)