BEST LAID PLANS 6

by mabb5

The Conclusion. Beverly and Jean-Luc reconcile. Geordi gets married. Lwaxana dances around. Riker gets his chair. And Jean-Luc says good bye... Adult.

THE BEST LAID PLANS:

CHAPTER 6: A LITTLE ROMANCE

"A Little Romance..." Will comes to terms with his Imzadi. Jean-Luc and Beverly reconcile. Geordi gets married. Lwaxana dances a bit. And Jean-Luc says good bye... To be continued in THE SKY IS THE LIMIT which has been posted. Definitely adult. All the usual disclaimers apply.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Will Riker rubbed his beard, finished off his coffee, and punched open the screen door on the porch to the lodge. He walked down the steps and paused, debating whether or not he should stroll over to Lake Tinoret, or explore the trail that veered off to the left.

He waited. And he was not disappointed when Deanna joined him. She had thrown a cloak over her personalized weather front. Wisps of pink steam escaped from around her collar and through the opening to the front of her ruby cape. He found her enchanting, in the subdued twilight of her homeworld.

"Deanna?"

"Yes, Imzadi?"

"I've never quite seen an outfit like this one before. It certainly made an impression on Worf. And on me. Where did it come from?"

"Risa II. They've started exporting some of their fashions. I couldn't resist this when I saw it. I knew that sooner or later, I would find the appropriate time to wear it. I figured our honeymoon was it.

"I must agree. I will forever remember you, Imzadi, and the way you looked tonight. Storm front and all. I'll never be able to view the weather in quite the same way again."

"Thank you, Captain." She hooked her arm through his as the ambled toward the lakeshore.

"Where's Worf?"

"I made him promise that he would stay in the bedroom. He protested, but he did give his word."

"Good. I thought he'd be beaming out on you the moment he got the chance. He was rather angry there, for a few minutes."

"Yes. But a great deal of the anger was directed toward himself."

Will paused, and picked a scarlet Janaran orchid, handing it to Deanna. She tucked it behind her left ear. "What are you going to do with him?"

"Apologize. And then kiss him until he forgets why I was apologizing to him even though I was really in the right."

'I don't think that I'd mention that fact to him, at least not for a few years. You took quite a chance with your scheming, Deanna."

"You knew, I was planning something, didn't you, Will Riker?"

"Yes, Deanna. I suspected that I'd be facing a reckoning the moment you placidly agreed to everything that your Mother and Worf wanted, without a single word of dissent."

She considered his words. And the expression of his face. "Something tells me that I am about to lose my Husband Number Two."

With a low throaty chuckle of agreement, he embraced her, pulling her against the comforting strength of his broad chest. His body reacted as the memories flooded through them of similar embraces. Hugging her closely, he whispered against the flower in her hair, "I'm tempted to stay, Deanna. At times, it would be paradise again. I do remember, Imzadi. Every passionate moment."

"We once knew paradise, Will."

She looked up at him, the dark pools of her eyes glistening with tears.

He brushed them away with his lips. "Imzadi. I will love you forever."

"Always in my heart, Will. Always."

He kissed her brow, and then sighed, resting his forehead against hers. "I presume that being Number Two will be an honorary title from now on?"

"Afraid so."

He accepted her decision with the good graces that characterized his philosophy of life. "Pity. I would have enjoyed bedeviling Lwaxana as my mother-in-law."

"Well, I don't suppose that we have to tell her just yet, about your honorary status."

"Who knows? If I make her life so miserable, she might even be inclined to appreciate her Number One son-in-law more, and call her Woofie by Worf's real name."

Deanna tittered at the thought. And then she kissed Will. He turned it into something deeper, more passionate. Then he stepped back. "I did have to kiss my bride on our wedding day."

"Of course. You're not regretting your decision, are you Will?"

"I have a feeling I'm going to curse my decision every day until I die, Imzadi." Then his mood changed. He became serious. "Deanna."

'Yes, Will."

"That night in your room - the passion between us really did happen, didn't it? I was not certain."

"Yes, Will. I thought I was having another dream of you. An erotic, fabulous dream, but a fantasy, nevertheless."

"Damn. I get you in my arms again, and I remember all of the passion but none of the details." He slipped his hand underneath her cloak and gently stroked her breasts, reverently fondling them, tarrying for a moment as he felt a dew-clad nipple stiffen beneath his fingers.

She relished this contact for the last time before she patted away his hand. "Will," she chided. "You're incorrigible."

"My true middle name," he teased. But he did reluctantly remove his hand. "Still the best a man could yearn for, Deanna."

She flushed, still thrilled by his compliments, even after all that had happened between them. And the she sighed with regret over what might have been.

He knew why she sighed. "I wish I could be someone else for you, Deanna. A less ambitious fellow."

"I wish I could have waited. But, by the time you're going to actually be ready to have a family, I'd be a Vice-Admiral." She rested her head against his shoulder and hugged him tightly. "Will…" She raised her head and kissed him again. "Do you really understand?"

"I understand that I will always be your Imzadi." He kissed her again. "Now, Deanna, you'd better go and explain the changes in our relationship to Worf, before he decides to arrange matters himself. Or rearrange this face of mine with a bat'leth.

"Will you be happy, Will Riker, as captain of a starship? Is it truly what you want?"

"It had better be. It's what I've worked for most of my life. I won't change course in mid-stream, now. What about you, Deanna? Where will you find happiness?"

"A home here on Betazed with Worf."

Her ready response somewhat surprised him.

"And not on Qo'noS?"

"Worf doesn't really want to raise his children there. One day, if they should choose to return to Qo'noS, then that will be a different matter. It will be their decision."

"One day, when I am captain, I'd want both of you as my senior officers, Deanna. Any objections if you joined my crew?"

"You're so positive that you're going to get a command, Will?"

"Yes. One day, I will."

"Then you'd better continue to be my honorary Husband Number Two. With your reputation and our past, imagine the sort of gossip your crew will invent. They won't need a Holodeck to keep them entertained."

Will laughed at this. "Speaking of entertainment, what are you going to tell Worf?"

"Maybe one day I will tell Worf that you cheated at cards tonight, Will."

"Well, I just had to see what you would do if you did win, Deanna. I rather liked the thought of both of us being at your mercy."

"Sorry I am not able to fulfill any of your fantasies, Will."

Will shuddered at the thought. "Believe me, Deanna. After one night with you and Worf, I'll never desire those kind of dreams again."

This time, when he kissed her, it was a passionate kiss of bittersweet farewell. Will Riker knew that this embrace would never come again between them as long as she loved Worf. He knew what he had to do, but he would indeed regret this choice for many years to come.

Deanna waited until he faded away before she walked up the steps to the lodge.

"Worf?" she called out from the porch.

"Here."

She turned and saw him by the card table, pouring two more flutes of champagne.

"It would be a dishonor to Captain Picard's family if we did not drink his wedding gift."

"I suppose so. Human honeymoons and champagne do seem to go together." The natural coquette within Deanna's soul asserted itself. "Are we going to have a proper honeymoon, Worf?"

Worf walked over to Deanna and handed her a flute. Years of observing human female behavior had taught him much. Sometimes, the direct approach was best. He unbuttoned her cloak and shoved the garment to the carpet.

"Yes," he promised. "I am no longer angry."

Some of Deanna's clouds had been dampened down a bit by the weight of the cloak, but they were still swirling about her curves.

He smiled. "I suppose the Captain told you how much he liked this dress of yours?"

"Yes. Will always notices my outfits. And thinks to compliment me."

"I will remember that. And you are beautiful. But you already know that."

"I still need to hear it now and then from you."

He growled as he pulled her close. "Then read my heart, Deanna. And you will know what I believe." Then he amazed Deanna by twining his arm through hers, and offering her a sip from his champagne flute. She wondered who had told him about this romantic tradition as she provided her own wine to his lips.

"Dixon Hill…" he whispered, before he put down his flute. A moment later her goblet tumbled to the floor as he picked up his bride and carried her into the single bedroom. It was a spectacular room with a breath-taking view. And most importantly, a very large, very sturdy bed. It would take Worf almost a week before he would notice the scenery.

"How do I remove this outfit of yours?" He was polite, restraining himself from taking his bride immediately.

"You kiss it off, Woofie," she purred.

He forgot all constraints with these words. Many hours later he announced, "I am angry with you." Considering the many things he had done to her during the last few hours and the way he felt when he moved within her, she didn't really believe his words.

"Why, Worf, not Woof?"

"Tell, Lwaxana. She does not hear my name." He kissed her before he asked, "When were you going to tell me that Riker cheated at poker? He helped you win."

"What makes you think that I knew that he was cheating?"

"Then you do admit that Will cheated!"

She raised herself up on her elbows, surveyed his massive, strong nude body, and debated the best way to distract her husband.

He knew she was plotting. He wasn't skilled enough to discern what she was scheming, but that would come with time and experience. He was beginning to get the hang of this faint psychic connection relationship between them.

"Is Will to remain Husband Number Two?"

She stopped nibbling on him. "He is my Imzadi. But, as of tonight, his title as Husband Number Two is strictly honorary."

"This is truly what you wish?"

"Yes, Worf. I am married to you, Worf. I can only handle one husband at a time."

"You could deal with both of us if you so wished it," he honestly acknowledged.

She smiled at his admission. "But would I survive? I would rather look to our future together than dwell on what is past, Worf. Love me, Worf. That is all that I ask. Love me as much as I love you."

"We will have a good life between us."

"Yes, I rather think that we will."

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Jean-Luc Picard was still amused by the image that Mr. Barclay had sent him of his former Number One and Chief Tactical Officer with flowers in their hair and wearing nothing else. He truly wished he had been informed of the ceremony in time to have made the arrangements to attend. He had a feeling that it was a most eventful affair.

Sighing, he entered the transporter room.

He felt a tiny hand touch his. He looked down and smiled at the shy little girl who was standing before him.

"Don't go," Harla pleaded. "You haven't taught me how to castle in chess yet."

"I promise, Harla, that one day I will play chess with you. Soon." Picard looked about the transporter room. Nella, Mela and the twins had come to say their goodbyes. Captain Jellico had sent his regards via a yeoman. Captain Picard already knew all about Captain Jellico's regards.

"You understand your travel arrangements, Mela?" Picard politely asked, glancing over to Mr. Mordock who had assured him that he would take care of the lady as long as she was on board the Cairo.

"Oh yes, John Luke. Thanks to you, I will finally get a chance to travel on a real cruise ship!" She couldn't contain her excitement over this travel arrangement.

"Yes, you'll be meeting the Princess Ardella at SB G-6. Commanders Barclay and LaForge will meet you there on board ship, and accompany you to Earth."

"I will try to convince Jorge to come with us, Jean-Luc. All he really wants is to be a farmer - not a rebel."

Picard nodded. "Captain Jellico will release him from the brig into the custody of your quarters if you wish it, Mela."

"I don't know," she whispered. "I don't want to argue with him in front of the children. He's been cursing something about a divorce…"

Picard studied her for a moment. She did not exactly look devastated by the prospect of a divorce. What she did look was determined.

"With or without your husband, you are welcome at Château Picard. Marie is looking forward to meeting you."

"Thank you, John Luke. For everything."

He bent and kissed her cheek. "Take care." He hugged Harla, shook Jory's hand and then surprised Nella by taking her in his arms and kissing her with a touch of passion.

"I should have done that the last time I said goodbye to you, Nella," he explained before he released her.

Nella laughed, not at all bothered by his demonstration in front of her fellow crew members. "Couldn't. You were the captain of the ship. It would have been an unthinkable gesture for you, then." She kissed him back for almost a minute. Then she added, "You know, Jean-Luc, there may be hope for you after all. Now, you'd better leave before Captain Jellico decides to make you hitchhike back to Gaudete II. Or I shanghai you into my service." On his almost-scandalized look she added, "I'm forming a musical society on board the Cairo. Care to play around?"

He stepped onto the transporter platform and nodded to the chief at the controls.

"Goodbye. Bon voyage…" And with that, holding onto a small ditty bag, he beamed down to the archaeological side on Gaudete II.

He was greeted, rather passionately, by Vash.

"Merde," he groaned under his breath.

Vash's presence was a fact that Beverly had neglected to mention to him during the brief conversation he'd had with the lady on board ship. It wasn't that he didn't mind seeing Vash. It was just that he was wishing that it were Beverly who had chosen to greet him in such an impassioned manner. Finally able to distance himself from Vash's clinging arms, he looked around for Beverly. He saw her standing next to a Vulcan.

He broke from Vash's clutches. "Aren't you going to say anything to me, Jean-Luc?"

"It's good to see you, Vash. Have you smuggled everything off the planet, yet? Oh, my mistake. There still must be something of value left since you are still here."

"Such a suspicious nature, Jean-Luc. That's probably why I like you so much," she retorted.

He stepped around her and strode over to Beverly. He knew that look she gave him. It was a mixture of long-suffering annoyance and barely contained anger. He'd seen that look directed at himself, many times before. Now, he was just happy to see it at all. And he hoped that it was actually steered toward Vash, and was not solely directed at himself. He searched her face for some sign that she was happy to see him.

"Beverly," he cautiously greeted.

"Jean-Luc." Her lower lip trembled.

He took that as a sign, drawing her into his arms, kissing her with every ounce of passion and relief at seeing her, that he possessed. With unspoken words, he tried to tell her how much he had missed her.

For a moment she returned the kiss. And then she broke away from him slightly flustered.

"This is Dr. Storal, Captain Picard."

Jean-Luc released Beverly and raised his hand in the traditional Vulcan five-finger salute.

"Honored, Doctor. During my brief association with Ambassador Sarek, I learned of his respect for your work. I've been an interested amateur follower of your writings ever since."

Dr. Storal immediately changed his original impression of this human. He had assumed that anyone associated with Vash was as mercenary and as superficial as she was - a necessary evil with anyone involved in intergalactic antiquities dealings. The fact that this man was a Starfleet captain held no weight with Storal. The mention of associating with Ambassador Sarek did.

"Welcome, Captain Picard. When you are ready, I will show you the site. And at dinner, I would like to learn of your association with Ambassador Sarek."

Vash came up next to Picard and wrapped her arm about his. "We both will, Jean-Luc."

She was slightly piqued that he had willingly kissed Beverly, and not her.

He looked up and noted the sun's descent toward the horizon.

"If it is acceptable with you, Dr. Storal, I would like to begin tomorrow morning. I need to get some rest."

Storal agreed.

About an hour after dinner, after meeting the crew, Jean-Luc decided to take a walk away from the camp site. He'd been assured by Vash that there were no dangerous indigenous life forms in the area. Still, he did carry with him his Tricorder and phaser, just in case.

There were two things that were giving him hope. The first was that Beverly had stayed on Gaudete instead of immediately leaving after he'd been rescued. Of course, he did consider the possibility that the only reason she'd remained was so that she could reproach him in person. He had sensed some hostility from her during the evening. He suspected that it was based on more than just Vash's cloying, clinging presence.

The second thing that indicated a possibility that he might be able to straighten out his relationship with Beverly, had been when she placed his luggage in her shuttlecraft.

Of course, this could also mean that she preferred to harangue him in private.

He sighed. And wondered how his life had become so complicated; gone so awry. All he originally had been seeking was only a simple few weeks of peaceful excavation.

Climbing up a hillside, he found a place to sit down on a flat, smooth rock ledge, against a grass slope by what he assumed was some sort of native goat path that he had been following. He estimated that he had almost an hour before sunset. He watched the sky for a while as deep gold spears intersected with rose to amethyst to emerald hued striations. He briefly remembered watching the sun with Ro at dawn.

In a distance, he could see a river flowing into a misty purple to celadon jade lake.

It was a clear night with lazy warm breezes rustling the leaves of the few trees that were growing behind him. From over the hill's crest he heard an occasional plaintive bleating from some sort of animal herd. Overhead, Picard could already pick out four of the system's planets twinkling in orbit about Gaudete's sun. It was as near perfect a planet based night as Picard could ever recall, short of his childhood days at LaBarre.

For a moment, he was a Starfleet officer mentally calculating his astral position in this particular solar system, searching out the evening sky for common constellations. He observed a familiar NGC 7174 galaxy about 90 degrees off the horizon, and knew that this was where he had just been.

The sounds of stones being crunched down the path alerted him to the fact that someone was approaching. He hoped it was Beverly. So he waited. A minute later, he spotted a lantern winding toward him.

A familiar spicy floral scent floated on the mild wind.

Beverly.

He smiled to himself, approving of her decision to confront him in private. In many ways they were so alike.

But then he remembered words that Vash had once said to him about the similarities of his personality to hers. At the time, he had scoffed that such an affinity could be possible. Ro Laren had shown him otherwise. There must have been a rogue, rakehell or pirate amongst his ancestry that Maurice Picard had neglected to mention to him in the official family history.

He liked this adventuresome side to himself, something that he had suppressed for far too long after being forced to channel these desires into more acceptable proper outlets.

"Jean-Luc?" Her voice was soft, concerned. "Are you all right? How are you feeling?"

"Beverly. I'm all right. Lovely night, isn't it?" He stood and bowed, waving his arm toward the wide rocky ledge he'd been using. "Come and sit. Please."

She did, placing her lantern to the side behind them. They watched the sun in its final throes of descent. "It's been a while since I've looked at a sunset," she casually mentioned when it didn't seem as if he were going to be the first one to speak.

Unwittingly she gave him the opening he needed.

"I saw a sunrise on Thelka, a few days ago."

"Thelka?"

"Yes, a free-trader planet populated by gamblers, Ferengi, desperadoes, assassins, Cardassians and the Maquis. With all of the attendant vices. It's quite an entertaining place."

"It doesn't sound like the kind of planet that you would prefer. Riker, perhaps."

"But not me? I wasn't always a stuffy Starfleet officer, Beverly." He chuckled. "I'd stayed up all night gambling and then greeted the dawn." He glanced over at her and could see her amazement at his words. "Yes, you are correct. It is definitely a planet that Riker would visit on leave. It has an element of danger to it that Will would find stimulating."

"You did, too."

"Yes, I did. I had good time."

"While the rest of us were worrying about you." She sent him a reproachful glare. "Is that where Captain Jellico found you?"

"No. But that is another story. I'll enlighten you with the details of it later."

For a while, she said nothing. She just watched as a few native night swallows soared about the beautiful starry sky. The moon was on the far horizon beginning its ascent.

"Starfleet thought that you had defected to join the Maquis."

"I had not considered that they would even think such a thing about me until I was on Thelka. My companion mentioned the possibility."

"Companion?" The way he had said the word told her that he had been with another woman.

"Jellico didn't tell you?"

"No. He only sent Mr. Data a message that you had been rescued."

"Jellico wasn't the only one who saved me."

"Captain Jellico did mention a woman named Mela. He told Data that the lady was quite fond of you."

Picard was clueless as to Beverly's feelings. Her voice was quite cool and neutral sounding.

"When I met Mela and her twins, Jory and Harla, she was almost eight months pregnant. We became friends. I made arrangements to send the lady and her family to LaBarre. My home will be a safe haven for them as it once was for me. Her husband divorced her after she gave birth to their son."

"Oh." Again, her voice was non-committal.

"Mela named her son John Luke."

"Oh." The professional in her stirred. "Is the baby all right?"

Picard smiled as he remembered holding the baby and counting his toes. "Yes, my godson is fine. I helped with the delivery."

Her eyes widened in surprise. She had not imagined Jean-Luc willing to do such a thing.

"And?"

"Helping with the birth - I find it to be an extraordinary experience." He briefly thought of Mirabor and Batai. "I understand why you were always so inspired, rejuvenated, whenever you had a delivery. New life fills the soul with hope for the future, to such infinite new possibilities in one newborn child."

Jean-Luc had just described what Beverly had always felt when she delivered a baby.

"It's even more profound when it's your own child, Jean-Luc."

"I know." His voice was soft. She could barely hear him. And he did not bother to explain.

Beverly sent him a look, trying to understand what he meant. It took her a few moments before she realized that he might be referring to what happened with the Kataan. He had told her very little about that incident. She decided that one day she would need to know more about that psychic possession.

They sat in peace for a while longer, before he finally stated what was troubling him.

"Ro Laren saved my life."

She stopped breathing for a moment as she tried to understand everything that he had just said and his implications.

"Ro Laren?"

"Yes. She is still a friend of yours."

"I…" She shut up for a moment, thinking. "Actually, I always thought Ro was closer to Deanna than to me."

"Well, she is loyal to you."

Again, she thought for a while. "What did you do to Ro to cause her to mention me?"

This time he was quiet for a minute. "We were lovers."

Her heart stopped for an infinitesimal moment. Then she took a deep breath before she turned to stare at him.

"On board the Enterprise? I always suspected that there was some one on board…"

"No, not then. And not Ro Laren."

"Of course." She wanted to inquire as to the identity of the other woman on board the ship but decided that this was a discussion best left until a much later time.

He answered her look, meeting her stare. "Ro Laren saved my life by persuading a vicious pirate captain that I was her lover and therefore could not be Starfleet. That I was, instead, Maquis. I acted the part."

"She could get you to act when I never could drag you onto a stage?"

Picard ignored Beverly's attempt at levity. "I was responsible for the lives of a pregnant woman, her two children as well as my own life and Ro Laren's life. I behaved as I was forced to do in order for all of us to survive in a very unstable, dangerous situation. That Vorlo captain could have just as easily killed us as he kept us alive."

"So, it was all a pretense."

"The part to convince Captain Ragner that I was a fellow mercenary was a ruse."

Beverly understood what he was trying to tell her, but she needed for him to actually speak the words. She waited. And waited.

"I was Ro Laren's lover, Beverly. Our relationship went beyond pretense."

"Then, you love her."

He was silent for a moment before he spoke. "No. I am not in love with her."

"Oh." Beverly was troubled by his words.

"I could not lie to you, Beverly. Not about Laren. I used her at first. Then I came to realize that I did care for her as a… friend. Perhaps I always had."

"And I am supposed to accept this?" She buried her hurt under a mountain of ice.

"I chose to return to you and not to stay with her. There was a part of me that was sorely tempted to join her fight. It would have been a different challenge from being a starship captain."

His words shocked her. "You have Maquis sympathies?"

"Let us just say that I understand the reasons for their actions far more easily than I do Starfleet's rationalizations behind the preservation of the peace at all costs with the Cardassians." Then he remembered that he was talking to an active Starfleet officer. It was prudent to say no more.

"What happened to Ro Laren?"

"I asked her to come back to Earth with me. I would have done my best to help her minimize her troubles with Starfleet."

Beverly hid her surprise. "You didn't actually ask her to go to LaBarre, did you?"

"Actually, I did."

"Jean-Luc! What were you going to do? Open up a hotel? First me, then this Mela and now Ro Laren. Who's next? Vash?"

"Never Vash," Jean-Luc firmly stated. "I had not thought of opening a hotel. I suppose it is one solution."

She did not know if he were teasing or not.

Then his thoughts took a sober turn. "Laren turned me down. Circumstances forced me to trick her into coming on board the Cairo with me. I - that is, it is a very lengthy story. I will bore you with the details of it one day if you still will wish to hear them by then. The gist of it is, I had Ro Laren arrested. She felt I betrayed her, actually. Somehow, she then escaped. Then Jellico brought me to Gaudete II."

"And that's it?" Beverly looked at him, realizing that she had known him too long not to know when he was concealing something.

"Dr. Selar sends her greetings."

She groaned. "So, the problem is now, what am I going to do with you?"

"Why did you stay, Beverly?"

She wouldn't answer him. She chose to converse about the obvious. "I will hold you to your promise to tell me the unexpurgated story, Jean-Luc, one day."

"As you wish, Beverly."

"What I actually want to know is why Ro Laren even mentioned me in the first place."

"She didn't know that we had been lovers on Caldos until a few hours before I had her arrested. She was offended with what she regarded as my betrayal of you."

"But you don't think that you betrayed me?"

"We were separated, Beverly. I did not know if I would ever even see you again. Our parting words - I truly regret them."

"I know what you mean. I've replayed our final argument over and over in my mind. That's one of the reasons why I came to Gaudete. To apologize."

"And I went on my journey to Gaudete in order to have time to consider our relationship. The peace and quiet of the ruins were supposed to be conducive to introspective thinking." He captured her hand again merely just to hold it as if he needed to remind himself that she was really there. "When I was with Ro Laren, I created a sophistic argument to rationalize my actions. She was there, unconditionally."

"Oh, really? Are you saying that I put reservations on our relationship?"

He didn't have to be a Betazed to sense that he'd said something that Beverly did not like hearing. "We have always been in a state of negotiations about our feelings for each other, Beverly. Not once has it ever simply been about our love. There have always been barriers between us. It started when you married Jack. And the complications only seemed to exponentially expand from that point onward."

"You had other goals when I met you, Jean-Luc. You didn't want a permanent relationship with anyone but your captain's chair. My needs were different."

"It would have been wrong for me in our past, to have tried to form a permanent personal relationship with you Beverly. I wasn't willing to risk it."

"And now? Do you still desire Ro?"

He turned away from her then to look at the moon rising above the mountains. He knew that though he had to tell her the truth, how he spoke - the words he would choose - could determine his future with Beverly.

"I could have stayed with Laren. And I would have found a measure of contentment. But something was missing. I would not have been complete."

"You still haven't answered my question."

"I have already told you what is in my heart, Beverly." He turned his head to study her again. "You have never admitted to me that you love me. Not that this is an excuse for what I did, but it is one of the reasons why I felt some justification in being with Laren…"

"So if I say I love you, Jean-Luc, that will resolve matters between us?"

"No. But it would be a start." And then he smiled.

Beverly had almost forgotten the sensual power of his smile. Some of her anger melted. She remembered the man whose thoughts she had shared on KesPrytt. She remembered the gentleness of his touch, the passion of his body, the honesty still in his heart. She remembered why she trusted this man, at last. That absolute trust was the most important part of her feelings for this man.

She moved quickly. Suddenly Jean-Luc found himself in the arms of a woman determined to kiss him senseless. He cooperated.

He sent star wards a silent thanks to whatever gods ruled this planet for creating such a pleasant night. He had no difficulty with the idea of making love to Beverly under the aegis of this warm, starry night.

Now, all he had to do was to persuade Beverly that it was a sensible idea as well.

He adjusted their position and she was now resting more comfortably across his legs.

He eased out of his tan suede jerkin, dropping it flat against the rock.

She didn't mind as her fingers stroked the softness of his dark green silk shirt.

His next kiss was no mere kiss. Beverly couldn't tell if the sudden dizziness that she was experiencing was because she was feeling lightheaded or because of his expertise. All she knew was that she was losing track of her surroundings. His touch was all that mattered, the focal point of her feelings.

Somewhere along the way, her blouse was discarded. She could tell that he was pleased to discover that all that was underneath was a lightweight tank top, which he moved aside.

He lowered his mouth to hers again as one hand stroked her breast, lightly; kneading her silken flesh with knowledgeable touches.

She pulled away slightly from his kiss in order to assault his mouth. She gently nipped his lower lip, wetting it with her tongue. She trailed kisses along his jaw line, until she reached his earlobe. She touched her tongue to the sensitive area behind his ear, blowing her warm breath against it. She felt him instinctively shudder. Encouraged, she continued to trace with her tongue the shell like portion of his ear until she reached the part of his head where his hairline receded. She had always wanted to freely kiss him like this. Before, she'd never had the courage, thinking that perhaps he did not care to have her pay attention to his hair and its lack. But the way he felt in her arms, told her that he had no objections right now.

Emboldened, she placed her hands against the sides of his head, tugging him lower, till she could easily place a random trail of kisses all over his pate.

Instead of protesting, he responded by nuzzling whatever portion of her body that he could reach, concentrating on hot-breathed light nips against the outline of her collarbone, and the slope of her graceful neck.

One hand lifted her breast up so that his lips could more easily reach the nipple. He sucked the soft tit, like a man thirsting for his answers to the question of universal truths.

Deep shafts of desire stabbed through her flesh as he continued to suck against her nipple. She was momentarily distracted from her kissing by the heat generated with his kisses.

"Jean-Luc," she broken gasped as she tried to put a little of the cooling night air between them. It was a warm night. Besides, he wouldn't let her go. "Do you know what you're doing?"

These words caused him to raise his head, nearly bumping her chin. "Mon coeur, you wound me, " he scolded.

She remembered what he'd done to her the last time she'd questioned his love making skills. And though a repetition of that night was something to be sought, a hard rock on a strange planet was not the place to repeat that history.

"Jean-Luc." She tried to sound reasonable. "We're out side."

"Observant of you, Beverly."

He moved his lips over to her other breast, lightly tracing a circle with his tongue around the nipple. After a few moments of this, she practically shoved her breast against his teeth when he refused to do anything more than just tease her areola.

She squirmed against him, struggling to rise up on her elbows. She gazed down the winding path toward the campsite, looking into the gathering darkness. "What if someone comes?"

He lightly bit her breast causing her to shudder. She realized then that he didn't intend to stop their lovemaking. It was up to her.

"Jean-Luc, there is a nice, private shuttle only a few kilometers from here."

"Later, Beverly." He pushed her back down onto the ledge, then moved his suede vest under her head. He added his shirt to the pile.

"But what if someone comes?"

"That is not likely, is it?"

She thought about it. Most of the diggers were probably in bed or playing cards. Dr. Storal would be consumed by his research notes. There was only one person to worry about…

"Only Vash would dare."

Jean-Luc chuckled. "I've never been inclined toward ménage a trois. It somehow seemed undignified to me. We'll just have to send her away if she does dare to come."

She swatted his chest in mock anger. "If she does show up, I'll demonstrate a few of the tosses that Worf has taught me."

"I think I'd relish seeing that."

"You just like the idea of two women fighting over you," she grumbled. She swatted him again though her fingers tarried a moment. "What about insects? The biting kind? If you remove any more clothing we'll both be vulnerable."

"Has anything bitten you so far?"

She realized that he was not going to change his mind about making love to her out of doors. She ungraciously admitted, "Yes. You."

"Then I will continue to do so with milady's permission." He took her in his arms. "Unless you truly do want me to stop." He brushed his thumb across the softness of her lips. "If you are truly uncomfortable…"

"No, Jean-Luc. Let's make love under the stars. It's been a long time since I've done something this ridiculous…"

"Or juvenile? Or since before we made love for the first time on SB 74?"

This time when she tried to swat him, he captured her hand and brought it down to his groin, bringing her fingers to bear against his manhood. For a moment she squeezed him, liking his response to her touch.

"You're as randy as a teenager tonight, Jean-Luc. What's gotten into you."

"The company I keep, mon coeur."

"Damn you," she laughed. "I can never stay angry with you when you're like this."

Before he completely succumbed to their passion, he had to ask, "Do you forgive me?"

"No."

But then she kissed him. He had a suspicion that she was in the process of doing so.

She looked into his eyes believing for the first time, that she could see herself reflected there. And smiled. "One of these days, I may forgive. And only because you did have the good sense not to invite Vash to LaBarre."

Picard laughed out loud, a sound filled with the joy of his heart.

It was a pleasing sound to her. She'd so rarely heard his laugh this carefree before. All worrisome thoughts were banished before they had a chance to fester. She had a feeling that for the first time, she was encountering that part of him that was searching for his freedom. She didn't think he'd ever revealed this fragment of his soul to her before.

Relaxing against her, stretching out to lie next to her on the rock and its framework of soft, scented grass, Jean-Luc returned to the task of pleasuring his lady. "Beverly."

"Yes, Jean-Luc." Her voice was breathy as she guided his hand to the tie at the waist of her wrap-around skirt. When his hand encountered the warm silken flesh of her thighs, he stopped fingering her long enough to whisper, "Beverly."

And then he waited. This time she did not disappoint.

"I love you, Jean-Luc."

He devoted himself to Beverly, satisfied that they were at last in accord. Jean-Luc teased her nipple until it was red and swollen. Beneath his ministrations she began twisting against him, needing something more from him that mere touches. He skillfully kneaded her nipple, scissoring his fingers until it was hard to his touch. And then he repeated his actions.

Beverly moaned, lost in the rushing sensations of his actions. Slipping her hand between their bodies she released his manhood after fumbling with the closure to his slacks. He pinned her hand between his legs when it at last found its way underneath the khaki linen.

"Hold me, my love," he instructed as he returned to worshipping her breasts.

She did more than that as she rubbed him, searching out every millimeter of him, torturing him with fairy guided touches.

He retaliated by slipping his fingers under her panties, ignoring the way she was trying to move against his hand. A moment later, the Risian silk was gone as he position himself, replacing his fingers with his tongue.

This time she gasped when he touched her. He slid two fingers into her moist channel. Wherever he touched her, her skin felt seared. She couldn't take much more of this. He sucked and licked her pink flesh, moving aside her copper curls until that most sensitive part of her being was begging for his attention. And when he kissed her, a cry broke from her lips. The deeper he stroked with his tongue and fingers, the greater were her tremors. He slid his other hand under her bottom, lifting her even closer to his mouth, as one finger toyed with her flesh there. She was now shuddering from this contact. And when he sensed that she was at the brink of her orgasm, he lashed her mercilessly with his tongue, until her keening began. She lost control.

He rested his head against her thighs. He continued to soothingly stroke her as the pleasure enwrapped her until the time came when she was quiescent under his loving touch.

"Why, Jean-Luc?" was her weak response.

He lifted his head but didn't answer her question. The laughter in his eyes told her that it indeed had been a foolish question.

"Damn you, Jean-Luc," she groaned as she crossed her arm over her eyes."

"You're still flushed," he idly commented.

"If you can tell that in the moonlight, you have better eyesight than any ordinary human."

"If you can speak to me with such coherent phrases immediately after what I just did to you - well, I must be losing my touch. I will endeavor to do better the next time."

She mentally groaned again, as she tried not to react to the promises behind his words. Then she felt his hands moving again, touching her mound with almost worshipful fingers.

"Your turn?"

He moved up her body, placing random kisses along the way, finally getting around to removing her tank top. Her breath was uneven as she shifted to accommodate him.

"Our turn," he finally got around to explaining as he removed his pants and short boots, Then he returned to loving Beverly.

There was a heightened awareness between them as he settled on his side against her. The way the tips of her breasts brushed against his hairy chest was arousing. The pressure of her long legs as they started to move against him, stimulated him to greater lengths.

Wordlessly, Beverly reached again between them and began to stroke his manhood, this time applying an expertise that she had never before demonstrated. She knew how to pull, how to glide, how to tug - how to drive him mad. It was his turn to groan out loud, now. She seemed to know just how much he could take and then she would change the tempo and method of her attack.

"No fair," he heaved when he realized that she was not going to give him his release this way. She was only touching him to torment him. And arouse him even more.

"Shall I kiss you?"

He stiffened even more at her softly spoken words, which Beverly had not thought physically possible. Before he could concentrate into forming an answer that would make sense, she moved, blowing hot breath against his ultra-sensitive mushroom tip.

"No." He tried to warn her. He was too close to coming.

"All right." She released him and sat up.

This wasn't quite what he desired.

"Pity you didn't bring any wine, Jean-Luc," she casually observed, as if they were on just a picnic.

He needed to take a few deep breaths before he could speak to her with a modicum of sense.

"When I'm with you Beverly, I don't need anything else to intoxicate me."

"Damn you, Jean-Luc…"

He rolled over onto his stomach and fumbled about the edge of his jerkin, finally finding a pocket. He removed a small ancient silver flask.

"Brandy."

She took the flask from him, opened it, shoved him back onto his back, and then splashed some of it onto his lower stomach and groin. He responded precisely the way the doctor in her expected him to do. Before he could form the words of protest, she returned to tantalizing him, licking and kissing him with purposeful intent.

"Give in, Jean-Luc. You know you want to…"

She licked a few more times, pleased with his reaction to her touch. Then she lifted her head, brushing her long hair away from his body. "That's real brandy!" Even in the moonlight she could see his physical reaction to the alcohol and her lips.

"Yes." He managed to choke the word out.

This time her kisses and licks were more soothing, cleansing, thorough. Her actions had created a volatile situation between them. But when she tried to engulf him, he stopped her.

"No," his voice rasped. "Together."

Unable to restrain himself any more, he caught her up to him, and pulled her on top, kissing her fiercely. With deep passion. The time for torturous teasing had passed.

Suddenly he swung her about. Before she could completely follow what he was doing, she found herself on her hands and knees with her head resting on his clothing. He separated her thighs, and positioned himself.

"Beverly?" It was an unspoken question, as if seeking her permission.

"Jean-Luc."

She rose up against him, inviting him with her body. She was so wet with her own desire that he easily slid into her. He pumped back and forth. Each stroke was the sweetest of tortures, bringing her closer and closer to the edge, yet not quite pushing her over it.

Raising her hips even higher, she wiggled trying to bring even more of his cock deeper within her body. Finding a rhythm, she moved her hips to match his measure, relaxing into the pounding feel of him. When he was driven with the need for even greater force, she started to moan with his every lunge. They were almost there. This time, they were going to expire with pleasure, together.

Gasping along with her contractions, Jean-Luc lost his controlled pacing. Pure animal instinct dominated. She twisted beneath him, for even greater friction. Resting his weight on one strong arm, he reached underneath her writhing body to touch her breasts. His lips traced her spine. His other hand moved lower, until he was touching her mons Venus, probing her with his fingers. He massaged her nub. She screamed as her orgasm shook through her, rippling through her body until it connected with him. As she convulsed, he stiffened. Then his hot seed rushed into her body. He collapsed on top of her. They both fell with a thud onto the rock. Neither noticed the slight scrapes that they had just earned.

For a brief moment, Jean-Luc wondered if he had bruised her. He waited until her breathing was more calm before he tried to move away from her. She wouldn't let him go. She shifted on to her hip so that they were now face to face again, in each other's arms.

Kissing him lightly on the tip of his nose, she sighed, "Thank you, Jean-Luc."

"What for?" he teased, as if it was too much of an effort to say the words.

"For loving me enough." She drifted off, permitting him to hold her in his protective embrace, as sleep claimed her. The past few days had been quite trying, and until she had known that he was well and truly safe, she had had little sleep.

He was amused. Usually, she was the one who admonished him about falling asleep in her arms in post-coital bliss. He would tease her about this in a little while. But for now, he was almost content enough to hold her and gaze at all the glory of the stars above. They equaled the glory he was holding in his arms.

Hours later, she moaned. Her abused muscles protested against any movement.

"I'm sleeping on a rock," she muttered to herself even before she opened her eyes.

"True," her lover whispered, placing a kiss against her forehead.

She looked about, noting the blackness. The moon had set. But then she sensed a slight growth of light from over the hill. "Damn. It's near dawn. Jean-Luc, we have to get back to the camp." She sat up, searching for her blouse. "What are we going to tell people."

"If we do encounter anyone, we'll tell them that we're early risers?"

She found his silk shirt and put it on instead. "Pray we don't meet anyone." She said this through gritted teeth. Her body was not used to sleeping on rocks. It was protesting. A lot.

"Yes, Beverly."

She tried to straighten out her clothing. Considering what they'd been doing on top of their clothing only a few hours earlier, trying to appear presentable was going to be impossible.

She stood and tied her skirt about her, stuffing her panties into a pocket. Then she watched him. Some time during the night he had put on his pants and boots.

"You can always blame me, Beverly."

"You better believe I will."

"It's a good thing that Number One isn't around." She could see his broad smile in the few rays of light left from their lamp.

He stood and picked up her blouse and chemise, then tucked them into his jerkin pocket.

"Don't worry about Will, Jean-Luc. Deanna's told me enough about his antics. He won't ever dare tease us."

Picard paused before donning his jerkin. He was almost afraid to ask what Beverly had told Deanna about him.

She took a few steps down the path. "Jean-Luc?" She held up high the lantern.

"Beverly."

He walked over to her and took the lantern from her hands, holding it up so that the light spilled across her face. He kissed her lightly.

"Yes, Jean-Luc?"

He kissed her again. "This campout was a lot more fun than the one on KesPrytt."

She controlled her laughter as she followed him down the path, holding onto his free arm. "Are you going to do this to me every morning? Annoy me and love me at the same time?"

"Only with your permission, mon coeur…"

She smiled in acceptance. "I am not going to take the captain's chair on the Clara Barton."

He halted their progress. "Why ever not? Why did you change your mind?"

"At first I accepted. But then I came to realize that I will always be a doctor first, and then a Starfleet officer. You made some valid points about my loyalties, Jean-Luc. It is better that I be what I was meant to be. I've already told the Admiralty that I prefer to be a doctor."

"I hope that they consider it to be Starfleet's loss." He gazed at her a moment thinking that she'd never looked lovelier. "I'll come with you if you wish, on board the Barton. As a civilian."

"Jean-Luc, only family is usually allowed."

"I think they'll make an exception in my case." He grinned. "As an amateur archaeologist on occasion, I've had the opportunity to discover where quite a few bodies are buried in the Admiralty. They will accommodate my request."

Six days later, Beverly was beginning to understand why Jean-Luc was so enthusiastic about digging in the mud. They'd already found a proto-Vulcan hand-hammered ceremonial neck plate that was an astonishing and beautiful example of an early metalworker's art.

Picard made sure that his Tricorder had a perfect record of the necklace. He knew that he'd never be able to obtain the original for private ownership. It did belong in a museum.

But one day, he would have a metal smith recreate this piece for Beverly.

Beverly hoped that the nature of her passionate relationship with Jean-Luc would go unnoticed, even though every night they retired together to the shuttle. Even Vash had been oddly silent about it. She had stopped trying to seduce Jean-Luc almost every waking moment. She only made half-hearted attempts a few times every day, more as a matter of principle than of actual desire.

In the dig, Jean-Luc was the soul of decorum and proper behavior. He worked hard and taught Beverly her duties as well. It surely didn't matter to anyone with the dig, that Jean-Luc and Beverly took a long lunch together, every day. Or so he thought.

Later that day, Jean-Luc told Beverly that he was going to leave the dig. The work that Dr. Storal needed to have done required someone who could devote at least a year of working full-time on it. Jean-Luc could not be that person.

So, he made his apologies to the Vulcan. Fortunately, the Vulcan was as logical as other members of his race, accepting and understanding Picard's explanations.

During their final dinner together, Dr. Storal thanked Jean-Luc and Beverly for their help. And for Jean-Luc's interesting theories about proto-Vulcan cultures. He had not realized that some Federation officers had found the topic to be fascinating.

Dr. Storal also did comment upon the fact that he did not know that humans went through pon farr too.

The look on Picard's face was priceless…

Vash laughed so hard that she fell off of her chair.

Later that night, Jean-Luc took a walk about the camp. After he'd made his duty farewells, Vash accosted him on the way back. "Weren't you even going to say so long, Sweetheart, Jean-Luc?"

"Of course I was. Tomorrow."

"That's not what I meant, and you know it."

She put her arms around his neck and wouldn't let him step away. "After all I did for you to try and save you? I deserve at least a kiss. Beverly can spare that much at least." And kiss him, she did.

For a moment, Jean-Luc recalled precisely why he'd found Vash trouble in the first place.

"Will you miss me, Jean-Luc?"

"Possibly."

She knew him well enough to know that he would not relinquish an inch. "Well, I know that our paths will cross again."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Why, Jean-Luc. You've seen life beyond Starfleet. They'll try, but they won't be able to keep you in their safe little boxes any more. You've tasted freedom."

"Vash, I am in Starfleet because that is precisely where I wish to be."

"And Beverly?"

"None of your business."

"Okay. But I will be seeing you, Jean-Luc." She turned to go.

Jean-Luc stopped her.

"What, Jean-Luc?"

He pulled her back into his arms, and kissed her lustily. Properly. "Vash, thank you. And adieu."

The next morning, Jean-Luc and Beverly left Gaudete II. They spent the remainder of Beverly's leave on Risa. Not that where they spent it really mattered. They rarely left their suite.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

"Geordi, why can't we get married right away? It would save us both time and energy if we could get married here or at G-6."

Geordi put on his visor, and scanned his beloved. He could tell she was agitated in spite of the fact that they both were naked in bed.

"Leah, I only plan on being married once in my life. And that is to you. I want my father and my sister at my wedding. I want all our friends. I want a bachelor party. I want to remove a garter from your lovely leg. I want us to eat our wedding cake together. And I really want to us to dance our first dance, to a real live band. I want all of the schmaltz. And the fun. And the angst. And to carry you across the threshold on our wedding night."

"And you probably even want Data as your best man."

"Yeah. I'd like that too."

Leah looked about the Embassy suite they were sharing as they waited for Will Riker to return from wherever it was he'd gone off to.

"Will and Reg are here, Geordi. Wouldn't they be enough? We could throw a large party when we get back to Earth for everyone else."

"Leah." He lifted up her hand and kissed her palm. "Why don't you tell me the real reason as to why you want to get married right away?"

"You've never met my family."

"And?" He waited.

"That's it."

"You're afraid they're not going to accept me? Because I'm blind?"

"No, of course not, Geordi."

"Then what, Leah?"

"They're crazy! They're normal! Mundane! My mother alone will send you running away screaming, in only a few minutes."

"I've met Lwaxana Troi, remember? Is she worse than the Ambassador?"

"Well, Mrs. Troi is rather unusual, I believe. I rather liked her though. My mother is nothing like her at all."

"Just remember that it took a Klingon warrior to find the courage to put up with Lwaxana as a mother-in-law…"

She put her arms around Geordi's neck. "Let's compromise."

"I like the sound of that."

"We'll have your grand marriage on Earth. I'll even learn how to dance. But until we do get married, we'll live together, okay?"

"Sounds like a plan to me."

"I've yet to tell you about my brothers. My two big, older brothers. They're the worst. They both are professional athletes. You know anything about football?"

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Will Riker politely knocked on the door, expecting to get tossed off of the porch. Instead, Mr. Homm bowed and let him in.

"It's late, Will Riker," Lwaxana announced standing in the hallway to her private wing.

For a moment, Will was distracted. She was wearing some sort of lime and purple thing. It was assaulting the darkness, glowing in what appeared to be random, violent patterns. Then he found his voice "Care for a little discussion, Lwaxana Troi?" He glared at Mr. Homm. "In private?"

"Mr. Homm, go to bed." She waved her hand, summarily dismissing him. "Come, Will. Or should I call you son-in-law Number Two?"

He followed her into what he only assumed was her lair, although normal people might refer to it as a library.

"I can sense that you're accusing me of something, Captain. What, might I ask?"

"How could you do what you did to your own daughter, Lwaxana? I can understand how you might not care for me…"

"I love my daughter, Will Riker! I would do nothing to hurt her!"

"And what if Worf didn't understand your motives? You could have broken Deanna's heart."

"You did that!"

"And I will continue to pay for that mistake the rest of my life. But you risked more than that, Lwaxana. I know Worf. I know him well. He is Klingon! You could have pushed him beyond the point of no return. And destroyed two lives in the process. Were your foolish games worth such a risk?"

"Worf loves Deanna. I sensed that he was worthy of her the very first time I met him."

"Klingon rules of conduct are different that ours!" Will was disgusted with her, and made sure that she felt his feelings.

"You are wrong, Will Riker. When I created the Parallax holoprogram for Alexander, Worf got in the mud baths along with us. That is when I knew he loved my daughter the right way, for he let Deanna see him like that. Can you imagine a Klingon deliberately covering himself with mud? It had to be love."

Will found the bar and poured himself some Bajoran whiskey. He poured a glass for Lwaxana too.

"Don't interfere with their marriage," he warned.

"You know, you've never forgiven me for what I did to you all those years ago."

"I don't feel inclined to have a forgiving nature toward you, Lwaxana."

She nodded. "I understand. I haven't forgiven you either for all your nasty thoughts about me." She dramatically sighed. Then finished off her whiskey in one gulp. "Pity you're not really Deanna's husband Number Two. You'd have made such beautiful babies with my daughter. That's the one thing you have in your favor over Worf."

From the opposite end of the room a metal sculpture crashed to the floor. Lwaxana had been so occupied with dealing with Will, she hadn't paid attention and noticed if there was anyone else in the room.

Helena Rozhenko held up a book. "I couldn't sleep so I came in here to get something to read." She ignored Will Riker. "You were saying something about my son? If you don't want Worf's grandchildren, then I will be their grandmother alone!"

"That's not what I meant and you know it!"

Neither lady noticed when Will retreated. He had a big smile on his face. Lwaxana had met her match with Helena.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Beverly rolled over in their bed and watched Jean-Luc get dressed. She appreciated the view. "What did Captain Halloway say to you?"

"Admiral Nechayev wishes to see me when we reach Utopia Planetia. Halloway mentioned it after he gave me our travel arrangements to the Enterprise memorial ceremony."

"For shame! Halloway is not our travel agent. Is that any way to treat the captain of this ship who has welcomed you so graciously?"

Jean-Luc sighed. Beverly was right. Captain Thomas Halloway had been more than gracious in the treatment of ex-captain Picard. Halloway had respected his opinion, and even asked for it on occasion. The first three months of the maiden voyage of the U.S.S. Clara Barton had gone quite smoothly, thanks to an occasional assist from a civilian math teacher.

It had taken Jean-Luc several weeks before he'd finally gotten around to explaining to Beverly why he'd laughed so hard when he found out that Halloway was the captain of the Barton. For in an alternate universe, Captain Halloway had been Picard's captain when Q had turned Lieutenant Picard j.g. into a dreary man with a tedious job.

His time on the Barton had been good for him. To actually have all the time for Beverly that he wanted was a unique experience. And now, all of that was going to change.

"What are you going to say to Admiral Nechayev? Are you going to ask for a ship?"

"I'm not sure, Beverly. It is a definite possibility. There are some other choices as well." He knew she did not care for his answer, but his words were the truth. Jean-Luc knew what he was going to ask Alynna Nechayev to do for him. But he wasn't going to mention that option to Beverly until he learned of the Admiral's opinion - and cooperation.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

There was a different look about Will Riker now. It showed in his face, his attitude, the bounce in his step. He was a man who had finally accomplished one of his life's major goals. In less than five months, he would become the captain of the U.S.S. Enterprise 1701-E.

Though the formal announcement wouldn't be made until the ship was in its final stages of preparation, the informal announcement would be made privately after the memorial service for the Enterprise D in a few hours.

In the mean time, he'd flown a skeeter ship to Earth. For Data had mysteriously summoned him. He met Data at Carrie's home.

Carrie escorted Will to the room that Data now used as his office. Data had moved in with Carrie when he'd returned from Picard's rescue. It was a mutual decision that pleased them both.

Once the door was closed, Riker looked at Data in amazement. And amusement. "That woman pinched me!"

"Carrie is like that. Besides, Captain Riker, your reputation preceded you. Both Nella as well as myself have enlightened Carrie with a few stories." Data grinned, imitating somewhat, Captain Riker's own style of smile. "As I now understand human humor, Carrie has a weird one. I am sure the pinching of your bottom was nothing personal. Just an appreciation of your callipygian attributes which is a comment that others have made about you as well, Captain."

Somewhat bemused by what the android was saying, Will sat down. "Why the urgent summons, Data? We're going to meet at the ceremony."

"I needed to speak to you in private. I did not want any record of our conversation."

Will's joviality disappeared. He sensed that Data's intent was serious. "Go on, Data."

"You know about Jean-Luc. Will?'

"Only scuttlebutt."

"That is my difficulty, Will."

"What, Data?"

"I do not know how to proceed. Permit me to explain. Do you recall Daimon Bok's relationship with Captain Picard?"

Will tried to hide his annoyance at Data's words. "Of course, Data. I don't think that any of us will forget that Ferengi."

"The Ferengi government paid Captain Picard a considerable amount of latinum in reparation for DaiMon Bok's actions. Twice actually. For the Stargazer revenge incident, and then with the matter of the DNA used to create a fake son for Captain Picard."

"And the issue is?"

"There is a substantial amount of credits in those accounts. Initially over twenty-two million bars of latinum." Riker blinked. "And someone, with Captain Picard's apparent permission, has been withdrawing latinum to purchase, amongst other things, questionable large amounts of quintotriticale, a five-lobed wheat hybrid."

"Why questionable, Mr. Data?"

"The grain is going to planets considered to be under the control of the Maquis."

Now, Will was beginning to get nervous. "What else is being purchased?"

"Medicines. Teaching programs. Plows. Seeds. Soap. Replicators. Fertilizer."

"Enough, Data. Is there anything being bought that is a direct threat to the Federation, Starfleet or the Cardassian Peace Treaty?"

"No. But these purchases are not the only issue of concern. There is more."

"Any of it directly traceable to Captain Picard?"

"Yes, Captain." Data nodded, and turned on a terminal. "Captain Jellico asked me to review the tapes of Ro Laren's escape. He seemed to think that Captain Picard in some way, assisted with Lieutenant Ro's flight from Federation custody."

Riker let out a sigh of relief. He had suspected ever since first hearing about what had happened on board the Cairo, that Jean-Luc had somehow been involved with the Bajoran's disappearance. So far, there had been no proof. But, something was disturbing Data.

"What?"

"Four days after Ro Laren escaped, Dr. Selar made a notation in her medical logs that she had removed a subcutaneous transponder from Captain Picard's arm. According to Captain Picard, this transponder was a way for the Vorlo captain to keep track of his crew."

"So, that's how Ragner found Ro Laren. Why is this a problem?"

"Why didn't Captain Picard mention to Captain Jellico the likelihood of Ro Laren having a transponder somewhere on her person?"

"Perhaps he didn't know Ro had one."

"Or, perhaps he forgot," Data suggested.

Will glared at Data. They both knew that this was highly improbable.

"And your point is, Data?"

Data's concern was evident on his face.

Riker continued. "Perhaps we both should forget it. Period."

"Sir. I do not think that certain members of the Admiralty will view this information with the same understanding and acceptance of Jean-Luc Picard's character as we do."

Will knew that Data was right about this.

"I once said in an eulogy for myself, something about to know him is to love him. And to love him is to know him."

"I remember, Data. That was not one of the highlights of your speaking career."

Data accepted this criticism and moved on. "I know that we both hold Captain Picard in very high regard. That we, in one sense, love him. And because we both feel this way about him, we must do something. I see no reason to report any of my findings to Jellico or to anyone else. They prove nothing, and would only cause needless speculation and gossip."

"True. What would you want me to do?"

Data looked at his friend, and for the first time, searched for the proper words, knowing that Captain Riker could misunderstand his request quite easily. "Captain Riker, perhaps you could monitor, discreetly of course, Captain Picard's activities?"

Will barely kept himself from exploding. "Data! I will not spy on Captain Picard!"

"But what if the unthinkable is the truth? What if, for some reason, as impossible as it may seem, Captain Picard has become Maquis?"

Will Riker slammed his hand down onto Data's desk. Padds rattled. "How could you even think such a thing?"

"I must consider all possibilities." Data studied Will. "And because I deduce that you have considered such a possibility yourself, Sir. We suspect the same thing, Will."

"We are Jean-Luc's friends, Data."

"Captain Picard is a man of deep convictions. If, for some unexplainable reason, those convictions have altered, then as his friends we will be in a position to offer him our assistance to him as well as to protect Starfleet."

"Understood." He stood and nodded toward the door. "I'd better go. I'll see you at 1800. But until then, Data, consider this: what if Jean-Luc Picard helped Ro Laren to escape simply because he was her friend? And because no good purpose would be served if Ro were incarcerated? Remember, Data, that is the reason why I let Ro Laren escape, too."

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Rear-Admiral Alynna Nechayev absentmindedly nodded to the officers they passed by, acknowledging the respect they showed her rank. But she didn't really notice them. Her stroll with Captain Picard about the observation decks at UP was occupying all of her attention. Jean-Luc Picard was polite, congenial and absolutely infuriating. If she wasn't aware of all of the eyes that were observing them, she would be presenting another, much angrier face to this impossible man.

"My office - now!"

"As you wish, Alynna."

Once away from prying eyes, she turned on him. "You know what you ask? How impossible it is? How little chance there is for you to actually succeed?"

"But there is a chance, Admiral. Peace in the DMZ."

"If I sanction this…"

"I'm not requesting that, Alynna."

She wearily sighed and leaned back against her fancy desk. "Are you sure you wouldn't rather have a ship? I've got a very pretty one that will be available in almost a year's time. It will be the greatest ship in Starfleet and you'd be her captain again."

"I'd heard that Will Riker was being offered that big chair."

"There's nothing official. Riker can wait."

"So can I."

"But you can't." She stood and glared at him. "You cannot wait, Captain. Jean-Luc, if you don't take this particular captain's chair, no admiral at Starfleet Command will ever offer you another captain's chair again."

Picard closed his eyes. "I know…"

For a moment, she just looked at him; damning him for being the officer and gentleman that he had always been. Sometimes, he was just too damned noble for his own damned good. She accepted his decision, admiring the courage that it took to make his decision, yet feeling pity for her captain at the same time. He would be giving up so much…everything that he held dear…

=/\= =/\= =/\=

The stein clunked against the clear aluminum window as Jean-Luc picked it up. He straightened up and then drank deeply from his tankard of amber ale, staring out into the space. There were thirty-seven different viewing lounges in the Utopia Planetia station that was orbiting Mars. Picard found the one that was closest to where the 1701-E was being constructed - the Greystoke lounge.

And he sat alone in this lounge, drinking his ale, and watching the ship of his heart being built. He would never ever be her captain…

He unbuttoned the collar to his dark blue civilian dress jacket, then took another sip of ale.

"Pretty ship."

Picard glanced over at the speaker and glared at her.

"I thought I'd find you here."

Picard wasn't surprised that Guinan had found him. Guinan had always found him during the turning points of his life.

"Guinan, I have told you not to refer to the Enterprise as a pretty ship. You know better."

"That was your Enterprise, Jean-Luc. This Enterprise belongs to Captain Will Riker. Pretty women. Pretty ships. That's Riker."

"Wonderful character assessment, Guinan."

"Glad to hear that you still have your sense of humor, Jean-Luc. I was wondering if you still did. Besides, you did your job in teaching Will how to be a ship's captain. Soon it will be my turn to instruct him."

Jean-Luc audibly sighed then motioned to the pitcher of ale. "Care for some?"

"What? No swanky Picard family vintage wine for this Enterprise?"

"When this Enterprise is actually launched, I'll provide Captain Riker with the appropriate bottles." He poured some more ale into his tankard. "Tonight, I simply felt like drinking ale."

Guinan poured a glass and glugged down quite a bit of it. "That was a nice memorial ceremony. Did you like it?"

"I did not care for it and you know that. Having to politely smile at all those diplomats, officials… politicians." He said the later as if it were a Klingon curse word.

"Your decision, Jean-Luc. Are you still a captain? For rumor has it that you are about to become an admiral."

He sent her a scathing look. "And since when did you pay attention to gossip?"

"I am a barkeep. I always do." She drank some more ale. "When does it become official?"

"Soon. Too soon."

"What does Beverly thing about your plans?"

"I have yet to tell the lady."

Guinan laughed. "When it comes to women you're still a fool, Jean-Luc." She patted his hand. "You're a brave man over just about everything else, but when it comes to Beverly, you're still a fool. Tell her."

She finished off her drink. "You have some sort of vision about resolving the Maquis problem. You really think that as an admiral you can mediate between the Maquis, the Cardassians, the Federation, and everyone else in between?"

"Why not include the Romulans as well?"

"Sure. Why not. They all trust you, Jean-Luc." Guinan ignored Jean-Luc's sarcasm. She sat down next to him, carefully draping her raw umber robes about her body. "You are determined to do this, aren't you, Jean-Luc? Regardless of the high personal cost?"

"Guinan, you speak as if I have a choice. I will do my duty. Peace demands it."

"And what of Beverly? Does she even suspect what you are planning? Or have you convinced her that you like playing house on board the Cairo? That you're content?"

"No."

"I wonder why I tolerate you, Jean-Luc. You're no fun."

With these words, Jean-Luc softly laughed.

"What? Did I miss something, Jean-Luc?"

"First Q, and now you. I can assure you Guinan, that when given the opportunity, I have been known to have fun. Just ask Beverly."

"Now, that would be an unbiased opinion. Woman is besotted with you."

Jean-Luc perked up when he heard the word besotted. "Really?"

Guinan shook her head in disgust. "What's gotten into all of you, turning the Enterprise into a love boat. First you. Then Geordi. The comic opera that is Will, Worf and Deanna. Even Barclay and that Maquis friend of yours - Mela."

"What?"

"She met Reg on the trip back to Earth. He's been attempting to court her ever since. But, you know Broccoli." Her nose wrinkled as she thought of something. "You should have given him some pointers. From what Marie says, that man stutters every time he's around Mela."

Picard mentally noted that Guinan knew his sister-in-law. He wasn't that surprised. Guinan looked at him as if she was expecting a response. "Fortunately Mela is a patient woman."

Guinan snorted. "None of this is part of my grand plan."

"Then you admit that you do manipulate events?"

"Of course." She serenely smiled. "That's what my people do. Ever since I promised the captain of the Enterprise that I'd take care of his ship, I've been doing it to you."

Picard considered her words. "When did you make that promise to me?"

"Whoever ever said I made it to you?"

"Guinan."

She knew what that implacable tone of voice meant. "My vow goes back centuries. But, more recent events did include James T. Captain Kirk is one of the reasons as to why I sought you out.

The Nexus…

"I thought we met when I was an ensign."

"You were always captain of the Enterprise D. You just didn't know it way back then."

"And now that I am to be an admiral?"

"You don't need me any more. Riker does."

"I'd like to think that in some ways, I will always need you, Guinan. You're a dear friend."

Guinan chuckled softly. The wings of her hat undulated with her movements. "Well, don't tell Riker. I like my starship captains off balance. Easier to control, that way."

He clasped his fingers together, almost touching the tip of his forefinger to his nose.

"And I was that easy to control?"

"It would serve you right if I agreed. Truth is, I can only count a few times when I ever had the advantage."

"I see."

Guinan almost smiled as she read his mood correctly. "I never shared Captain Kirk's bed, Jean-Luc. My advice was strictly platonic."

"I didn't ask, Guinan."

"But you wanted to, Jean-Luc."

He harrumphed. "And your relationship with Captain Riker?"

"None of your business, Jean-Luc." Guinan shook her head before he could speak again. "Leave it be, Jean-Luc. Believe it or not, Will Riker has a great deal to learn."

"I almost envy the man your lessons."

"There are some areas where you never needed any instruction, Jean-Luc." And Guinan offered him her fondest smile. "Riker will have to work rather hard in order to be half as good a captain as you once were." She shrugged. "But I'm not going to tell him that. Not yet, anyway. I wouldn't want to discourage my newest pupil."

"I don't think I've told you thank you often enough, Guinan."

"Your welcome."

They sat in silence for a while, staring at a ship being built.

"You're my friend, Jean-Luc."

He smiled, then poured himself some more ale. He refilled her glass too. "Actually Guinan, we moved beyond friendship ages ago. Or was it centuries?"

"So we did. So it was." She finished off this glass. "So we did my friend." She stood and stared off towards the promenade beyond the lounge's crystal doorway. "Maybe we should be getting back to the memorial reception." She straightened out her robes. "Beverly is looking for you."

"And I've found you," a voice said from the shadows. Beverly stepped into the starlight.

"Hello, Guinan." She glanced over at Jean-Luc. "Did you know that Q is here?"

Guinan nodded, smiling in anticipation. "Don't worry, Jean-Luc. I'll tend to Q. He'll behave. I have his promise."

Beverly looked a little nervous. "Guinan, he's been singing something very strange to Worf. Something about: And we'll have fun, fun, fun, 'til Nechayev takes the E Bird away. Do you have any idea what this means?"

"It means that Captain Will Riker is about to inherit some of your old problems, Jean-Luc." Guinan cast up a hairless eyebrow. "Think he's up to handling Q?"

"If I were a betting man, my money would be on Will Riker."

Guinan snorted. "Jackass."

For a moment, Jean-Luc was lost in his ruminations about the very idea that Q had decided to honor the Enterprise-D with his presence at the memorial ceremony.

Beverly sensed his wandering thoughts. "Jean-Luc, have you forgotten about Data's concert tonight?"

"Of course not." He stood, tugging down his formal jacket. "I look forward to it."

Guinan almost believed him too. "Give Data some credit, Jean-Luc." Guinan stepped into the shadows, softly adding, "I'll see you at Geordi's wedding, tomorrow. I'm tending bar."

Beverly walked with him toward their quarters for a while, before she dryly commented, "I would have never guessed that Guinan was the one… But now, she does seem to be the perfectly logical choice."

"Guinan is the one, what?" He was the picture of perfect captainly innocence.

She held her tongue. This was a conversation she definitely wished to hold in the privacy of their bedroom at the appropriate time.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

"I will understand if you wish to rescind your offer," Worf gruffly stated.

Riker hated it when Worf was at his most serious, dedicated Klingon best. The effort it took to get beyond the officiousness required time that Riker didn't feel like spending at the moment. He had other things on his mind - Deanna being foremost. News of the lady's pregnancy had come as a major shock to him.

"Worf. I want you as my second officer. Hell, you might even end up as my first officer if I can't convince Data to join me."

"I do not want either position."

Will bit back his first response. "Worf, what is the matter?"

No answer.

"Lieutenant Commander Worf, I order you to tell me. Is there something wrong? With Deanna?"

"No."

This time Will sighed out loud. "Worf…"

"Deanna's child. It is a boy."

"That's good news, isn't it, Worf?"

"You are the father." Worf grunted, knowing that this bit of news would leave Will Riker without a tongue. He was right.

They were conversing during the cocktail reception before Data's composition would be premiered by the Edgar Rice Burroughs Philharmonic Orchestra. Neither man noticed a radiant Deanna approaching them on the glistening crystal promenade.

"Riker would be a fine name for a Klingon son. Riker Rozhenko," Worf formally stated.

Will hoped he didn't look as green as he felt. "What are you going to tell people? Starfleet?" Riker questioned, when he regained use of his vocal cords. "Uh, won't someone notice that your son isn't half-Klingon?"

Worf didn't know how to answer him.

"You were the sperm donor," a musical, sweet voice said from behind the backs of the two gentlemen. Both men whirled and almost spilled their synthehol ales on their dress uniforms.

Will shook his head as conflicting emotions waged war with his common sense.

"It is the truth," Worf observed, suddenly pleased with Deanna's explanation, relaxing with the knowledge that everyone's honor could be mutually preserved.

Sperm donor…

Will Riker had to admit that he never, ever thought that would be the way that Deanna would one day describe him.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Ro Laren looked about the school compound on Macias, and smiled, wondering if Jean-Luc Picard would ever know about all that his credits had wrought. She'd asked the miners of this Maquis settlement to name their new school after their benefactor - John Luke Galen. She had a feeling that if Johnny ever learned about this dedication, he might be amused.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Jean-Luc Picard could not even imagine what Data with his newly acquired emotions would compose. He just knew that it would most definitely be of interest. Sitting next to Beverly, they waited for the conductor to approach the podium, to guide the orchestra in the final offering listed in the concert program.

Beverly leaned closer to him and whispered, "Have you read the program?"

He opened up the glossy holographic brochure.

Tasha Yar… K'ehlyr… Eline… Lal…

They were the titles to the segments that formed Data's tone poem, Memoriam…

Beverly leaned even closer to him, her hair falling off of her shoulder, brushing against his cheek. He was momentarily distracted.

"Eline… Wasn't she from Kataan…"

"Yes. Somehow, Data has learned of her…"

The music began. Data performed a violin solo along with other soloists, each playing in their turn a Vulcan version of a cello, a Valtese flugle horn and a flute. Picard listened for a while, then closed his eyes as the tears formed. He suspected that future musicologists would make note of the importance of this date in Martian concert history.

The next afternoon, Jean-Luc wandered into the bar adjacent to the ballroom where the Brahms-LaForge reception was being held. It was going on in full force with all the flair of a Riker planned party. And as Geordi LaForge's former commanding officer, he had never suspected that his chief engineer was such a traditionalist when it came to marriage. Or that Geordi and Leah would invite just about everyone they knew including the Daystrom Institute and the boisterous riggers and builders from the Utopia Planetia yards.

He sought refuge as Guinan in her imperial purple flashing robes, drew him a tap ale. For the moment, they were alone in this silver and blue room with its solid clear aluminum wall, floating above the bay where the new ships were under construction.

Guinan handed Picard a steaming blue Tanoogian Tanker. "Here. You'll need this."

Picard was about to ask for an explanation when Riker and Worf entered the bar. Riker was sweating.

"Damn. That's some band." He nodded his greeting to Guinan. She placed more Tanoogian ales in front of them. Riker wiped his brow on his sleeve and then grabbed the closest tanker. "I wonder in they'd let me join them."

"The band members are friends of Data. They're professionals."

Riker gave Guinan his best wounded little boy look. "After all those jam session in Ten Forward, you don't think I could succeed as a professional musician?"

"No."

"I've been practicing my Night Bird."

"Practice won't help you," Guinan remarked as she sent an all-knowing glance in Jean-Luc's direction. The former captain of the Enterprise was hiding his laughter behind blue bubbles.

"She's right, Number One. You'd be better off remaining a starship captain. You have more of a talent for it."

"Et tu, Jean-Luc?"

"Enough!" a frustrated Worf snapped. On Jean-Luc's somewhat censuring look, he explained, "That woman!"

"You put your right foot in, you put your right foot out…"

Three heads pivoted in the direction of the door. Worf didn't have to explain anything more to the soon-to-be Admiral Picard.

Lwaxana Troi stopped her singing when she saw the men standing at the bar. "Oh, there you are, Woofie." She swooshed over to them, quite zaftig in her luminescent aqua gown which rivaled Guinan's for its flapping power. "Don't these humans have the quaintest dances at their weddings? Who would have ever guessed that shaking something would be a Terran tradition? I usually thought that the hoking poking part happened during the honeymoon..."

"Mrs. Troi." Picard patiently greeted the lady.

She ignored Jean-Luc and walked over to Worf, twining her arm through his. "And how is my favorite son-in-law today? Are you well? You left the dance floor rather quickly."

"I don't think that Klingons know how to put their right foot in," Riker drolly explained as he surprised even himself by leaning over, kissing Lwaxana's cheek. "Hello, Lwaxana. You look radiant. I didn't know that you knew Commander LaForge well enough to be invited to his wedding."

"Since when does a Daughter of the Fifth House of Betazed need an invitation?" she haughtily sniffed. "And I feel radiant because I share what my daughter feels." She scowled at Worf. "At a time when a daughter needs her mother most."

"Deanna needs to be with her husband," Worf argued. Weariness colored his voice.

"Her mother!" Lwaxana retorted.

Picard had a feeling that this was not the first time Worf and Lwaxana had had this discussion.

"Let Deanna decide," Will suggested.

"Stay out of this!" both Lwaxana and Worf retorted together. "You've already done your part, Will Riker," Lwaxana added.

"Now, this is getting interesting," Guinan whispered to Jean-Luc. "I've heard rumors…"

"Mother! There you are!" Deanna stood in the doorway to the bar. Everyone turned to look at her, a beautiful sight in cherry red floral silk. She was accompanied by Beverly who was gorgeous in a peridot to azure gown.

Worf strode over to them, dragging Lwaxana along. "Doctor - is something wrong? Is Deanna in pain?" He reached for his wife.

Lwaxana tugged on Worf's arm. "If my daughter were in pain I'd feel it! I feel all her emotions!"

"All her emotions?" Guinan innocently asked as she walked over to the little group and handed the ladies two pink lemonades. Perhaps her smile changed slightly as she watched a human blench, and a Klingon etiolate. Her mission accomplished, Guinan returned to watch the entertainment from behind the bar.

It was Riker who escorted the two ladies to a table, for now it was Worf clutching Lwaxana's arm. He wouldn't let go as the mother tried to get to her daughter.

"Do not upset Deanna!" Worf ordered.

"Stuff it, Woofie!"

Not feeling inclined to mediate between a Betazed ambassador who was foolish enough to do battle with a Klingon, Jean-Luc opened several bottles, then served as waiter, distributing filled champagne goblets.

"It's not French, but it will do," Jean-Luc stated as he went to stand by Beverly. Before he could lift his glass, more people came into the lounge. Data, Geordi and Leah, Reg and Mela received champagne glasses as well. Jean-Luc proposed a toast. "To Geordi and Leah. May they live long and prosper."

Guinan spoke up. "To all the newlyweds!"

Lwaxana had no choice but to drink to this toast. "Worf, say something!" She prodded him in the ribs.

"To all the captains of the Enterprise - and the future!" He placed his hand on Deanna's stomach. Then he realized something. Worf roared, "YOU called me WORF!"

"Oops. I forgot."

Beverly added, "And to her crew…"

For a moment all were silent.

"To our brilliant composer," Deanna mentioned choosing to ignore her mother.

"How were the reviews, Data? Were you as well received by the critics as you were by the audience?" Riker politely asked.

"Yes, Captain. Forty-seven different reviewers seemed to approve of my tone poem. And nine of the reviews did not even mention the fact that I am an android."

"Very good, Data. I am sure that I speak for all of us when I say how very proud of you we all are," Jean-Luc formally remarked. For a moment his eyes glowed with the pleasure that he was feeling over how far Data had come. "Your composition is an extraordinary orchestral work, Mr. Data. It truly touched my heart. And your use of an old folk melody meant a great deal to me personally."

Data seemed to understand this and nodded in agreement, taking a glass of champagne himself. "To all my friends. I thank you for all of your support as you teach me how to become human." He actually sipped and then analyzed the chemical composition of the champagne.

Lwaxana ignored Data as she focused her attentions of Dr Leah Brahms-LaForge who was stunningly beautiful in a long gown of embroidered gold silk. Lwaxana didn't mind a bride outshining herself on a wedding day.

"Doctor, are you pregnant?"

Unaccustomed to associating with someone as original as Lwaxana Troi. Leah - Dr. Brahms professionally and Leah LaForge privately - began to consider the possibility that all of Reginald Barclay's stories and her husband's surely exaggerated tales about this flamboyant Betazed might actually have some basis in the truth. She looked over at Geordi who seemed to be having some sort of trouble breathing, paused, and then replied, "No. Are you pregnant?"

Lwaxana reacted to her daughter's thoughts and complained, "Don't think such things to me, Little One! Leah and Geordi's daughter would be a perfect candidate for a genetic bonding betrothal with my grandson…"

"Nooo!" Deanna wailed, mortified. Then she started pounding her head against the closest broad masculine chest which just so happened to be her hovering husband, Worf. Near babbling, Deanna burbled into Worf's dress tunic, "Great-Grandchildren! She's already plotting for her great-grandchildren!" She cast her horrified gaze upon her husband's face. "She's never going to stop her scheming!"

"Well, someone has to scheme!" Lwaxana huffed. "How else do you think you are going to get grandchildren?"

"Where are you going on your honeymoon, Geordi?" Guinan asked, deciding to avert attention away from Deanna, privately judging that red was a good color for Deanna when she wore it, but was not a good color for her when she was it.

"Uh, Risa," Geordi commented, still fascinated by the rapidly changing readings he was scanning between Deanna, Worf and Will.

"You'll love it," Beverly commented to Leah. "It's such a restful planet. And there are so many wonderful restaurants."

"How would you know?" Lwaxana cattily asked. "You never left your hotel room the last time you were there!"

Data scanned the crowd and their varying reactions, and decided that he must do something to aid his friends. He researched his memory bank, came up with a facial expression that he believed would approximate the charming smile of a long-dead actor named Valentino with a reputation for roguish magnetism, acquired the mannerisms of another actor catalogued as Cary Grant, and then strode over to Lwaxana Troi. He firmly placed one arm about her waist and the other upon her shoulder. He lifted the lady up about twelve centimeters off of the deck. His smile twisted somewhat as he politely asked, "Shall we dance?"

"Data? What?" Lwaxana sputtered.

He lifted her higher off of the floor. "Tango. I shall instruct you if you do not know how. I have had the best teacher."

He stepped toward the ballroom as Lwaxana continued sputtering.

"PUT ME DOWN!"

Data leaned closer to her ear and whispered something. He stopped moving when she started to struggle, pounding her hands against his android shoulders, shrieking, "WHAT! WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU ARE FULLY FUNCTIONAL?"

Data embraced Lwaxana more closely, swirled her about until she was dizzy, and then did something that shut her up. She now meekly went into the dance.

After they left, there was silence in the bar for a very long moment. Deanna lifted her head off of her husband's chest and looked about her friends, wondering how her Mother could have possibly missed embarrassing Reg and Mela. Usually, Lwaxana was more thorough.

"Now that was worth the price of a wedding present," Guinan observed as she walked about refilling champagne goblets.

Several hours later, Jean-Luc and Beverly strolled down a starlit corridor toward their quarters. They both were feeling rather mellow and pleasantly tired at the moment. Jean-Luc had his arm tightly embracing Beverly's silk clad waist. Every now and then, when there were no apparent observers in the corridor, she would pause and kiss him. Then he would have to stop to return the favor.

"Thank you, Beverly," he mentioned between kisses.

"For what? For getting you finally out onto the dance floor?"

"I must confess…"

Beverly was rather interested in hearing any confession from him.

"…that dancing with the Dancing Doctor was something that I had feared. I've not had much practice - dancing."

She stiffened in his arms. "How long have you know about that nickname? And who told you?" She demanded to know.

He distracted her with a kiss. It was a fairly successful attempt because neither one noticed an ensign flanked by a security guard approaching until the Antarian ensign cleared his multi-ruffled throat.

Jean-Luc automatically reacted as if he were still in Starfleet. "Yes, Ensign?"

The ensign politely nodded then stated, "Captain Crusher, Admiral Blackwell requests your presence at ops. Mr. Picard, if you would please accompany us as well?"

Picard nodded, then followed the guard keeping pace with the ensign. He shared a look with Beverly, each knowing better than to ask out loud any questions of this ensign.

A few minutes later they were at the ops center. Picard inwardly faltered for a moment when besides Admiral Blackwell. He also observed the presence of Admirals Haftel, Kennelly, Nakamura and Nechayev. Will Riker was there as well along with Jellico, Worf and Mr. Data.

Admiral Blackwell led all of them into the adjoining conference room. Sitting down, she studied Beverly and Jean-Luc for a moment before she announced, "Captain Crusher, I regret to inform you that the USS Clara Barton was in a battle five hours ago. She was escorting supply ships to the Federation outpost at Minos Korva when the Barton was attacked by what we believe were two heavily armed Maquis ships. Two cargo ships were plundered."

Riker stepped forward and demanded, "My people - the skeeter cadets from SB G-6. This escort duty was their latest assignment. Were they involved?"

"Three cadets and their ships are listed as missing, Captain Riker - Cadets MacIntyre, Yamasaki and Cartwright."

Riker paled as he recalled the face of each cadet.

Blackwell focused on Beverly again. "You will return to your ship immediately. Captain Halloway is among the seriously wounded. You will assume command and withdraw to Lya Station Alpha to tend to the wounded and for repairs."

Riker exploded. "How could the Maquis successfully attack a galaxy class starship? They don't have that kind of weaponry!"

Admiral Nakamura spoke up. "Apparently, they do. A ship bearing Klingon trade registry codes approached the Barton. At the right moment, this ship called the Galen, dropped her shields and fired off a quantum torpedo."

"The Maquis have quantum torpedoes?" Worf could not believe what he was hearing.

"That is a major security breech!"

"The Galen?" a scared Beverly whispered to herself, mutely looking toward her lover for an explanation.

"Impossible!" was Picard's immediate response.

Worf didn't notice the by-play between his two former officers. Instead, he spoke out. "Admirals, request permission to lead the investigation into how the Maquis has managed to get such weaponry. If there are traitors, I will find them!"

Admiral Blackwell nodded. "Agreed." She looked over at Picard. "Mr. Picard's report on the trading climate of Thelka II is the place where you should start."

"Admiral Blackwell, request permission to review the tapes of the attack," Jean-Luc firmly asked. "I might be able to help." He ignored Admiral Nechayev's silent protest over his words.

"Were any civilians injured?"

"No." Kennelly glanced at Nechayev and started speculating. "Are you now requesting a return to duty, Captain?" Admiral Kennelly added, enjoying interfering with Admiral Nechayev's machinations. The fact that Kennelly was still an admiral had been a surprise to some who had thought that his actions with the Cardassians over the attack at Solarion IV should have been enough to end his career. But thanks to the Borg, senior officers, even marginally competent ones, stood a better chance to keep their careers since there literally was no one to take their place.

"If that is what I must do in order to help Starfleet," Picard answered Kennelly's question.

Data approached Admiral Blackwell. "May I offer my services? I already have a working hypothesis. However, I do not wish to return to Starfleet duty at the present time. My human emotions programs is not yet ready."

Blackwell agreed. "Mr. Data, as a civilian consultant, please work with Mr. Worf. We have to find the source of these weapons and stop them, otherwise no Starfleet ship will be safe."

Captain Jellico approached, imperiously ordering, "Worf. Data. You're with me."

Worf stared at Jellico. He had not forgiven the man for the way he'd handled the Cardassian kidnapping of Picard. "I am assigned to Captain Riker's staff."

But Riker wasn't paying attention to Worf's contretemps. Instead, he was watching the silent interplay between Beverly and Jean-Luc as the name Galen played around in his head. Beverly was upset. And he knew the good doctor well enough to know that it wasn't just because of the news of what had happened to her ship.

There was something in her eyes - a knowledge of something that chilled Riker's heart. He tried to focus on what Worf was saying. "Commander Worf, for the moment, work with Mr. Data and Captain Jellico. But report back to me."

Jellico nodded in acceptance of Riker's words, somewhat surprised that Riker hadn't even offered a glare of protest over his own highhandedness.

After the other admirals left, Nechayev nodded at Picard and ordered, "Come with me."

Sending an apologetic look toward Beverly, Picard followed Nechayev.

A few minutes later, Riker went after Beverly. He found her alone, in the quarters she was sharing with Picard.

"Beverly."

She had ignored him when he'd come after her. Instead, she was concentrating on packing.

"Beverly."

This time, when he repeated her name, he spoke as a Starfleet officer.

"The Galen!"

She shook her head in denial. "It's a coincidence, Will. Nothing more" She turned and faced him, dropping her coat onto the bed. "You cannot seriously believe Jean-Luc would have anything to do with the Maquis?"

"I'd believe you Beverly, if you believed in what you are saying."

"You don't know what you are saying, Will!"

"You have to ask him, Beverly."

"No! I WILL NOT ASK Jean-Luc Picard if he has betrayed the Federation!"

"That's not what I am saying!"

"Isn't it?"

They glared at each other.

Will stomped about, his long legs covering the space of the small guest quarters rather quickly. "You'd better be right, Doctor!"

She dodged his path, grabbing his arm. "Will! What are you going to do? You're not going to go after him, are you?"

He froze for a moment, not trusting himself to speak. Then he faced her, lifting her hand off of his forearm, and squeezed it for a brief second before he let her go.

"No. I'll protect Jean-Luc Picard to the best of my ability. But, I will have Data investigate. If we have these suspicions, others in Starfleet may as well. And I think that Jean-Luc Picard would prefer the scrutiny of his friends, at the moment."

"Thank you, Will." She released a deep sigh as if she were free to breathe normally again.

"Only thank me Beverly, after you tell me the truth."

"What do you mean?" She turned away from him, trying to disguise what she feared.

"There is something - I saw it in that look you gave Jean-Luc. What do you suspect, Beverly?"

"You saw nothing!"

"What is it, Captain Crusher? What do you know?" He seized her shoulders. "TELL ME!"

She shook herself loose from his grip. "Jean-Luc - when he was telling me about his time with Ro Laren. There was a moment when I thought that he was also speaking of a ship - other than the Vorlo vessel. Nothing more."

"You have to ask him, Beverly. You can't really expect me, much less Starfleet, to believe that a Klingon Maquis ship was named after a dead Federation archaeology professor."

"Richard Galen spent some time with Klingons, Will. Maybe there is a Klingon who was choosing to honor him?"

"Or maybe it was a Starfleet captain."

=/\= =/\= =/\=

"Jean-Luc."

Admiral Nechayev motioned towards a seat on her inner-office's dark grey sofa. After he sat down, she handed him a brandy snifter and joined him as well. "Captain." She amended herself, slightly smiling.

"Alynna. Admiral." He took a sip of his brandy. "Napoleon. Quite smooth."

"Thank you, Jean-Luc." She tasted her liquor, and then put the glass down on a steel side table with a decided clank. "You should not have so readily agreed to Admiral Kennelly's suggestion. The admiralty board is meeting in fifty hours. Your promotion would have been confirmed by then. Now, others will feel that they have a right to interfere with our plans."

"You won't let anyone interfere, will you Alynna?"

"No, Jean-Luc. You may proceed." She glanced over at a clock on her desk. "Beverly's transport ship to the Barton is due to leave in fifty minutes. After this mess is straightened out, I will assist you in whatever posting and living arrangements you and the lovely Doctor wish to make. Now, go and say your goodbyes. And tell her that you will see her soon. Then report back to me at 1900. Dismissed."

Jean-Luc found Beverly in their quarters, her bags placed by the door.

"Beverly? He stepped into the darkened outer room, looked about and then went into the bedroom.

"Here."

He turned and found her sitting in the shadows, wearing her duty uniform. He stood in front of her, mentally debating what he should be telling her. "Alynna Nechayev has assigned me to her staff. I'll stay with her though she has promised to post me as close to you as possible. Once this matter is settled, we can decide what we are personally going to do."

"And can this matter be really settled?"

He did not know how to interpret her mood, but he suspected that he knew at least one possible source of discord.

"Do you think that I have joined the Maquis?"

"No. Of course not. But I hate the fact that part of me even thinks it - much less feels that there is a reason to think it." She stood and hugged him for a moment, relishing the feel of his body pressed against her own. She couldn't help but wonder how many more times she would have him all to herself like this, in the future. Holding him, she bravely whispered, "Why was that ship named the Galen?"

She feared his answer…

"If it is the ship I believe it to be, I named her." He felt her stiffen but still she held him in her arms.

"How?"

"On Thelka II, Ro Laren and I bought a fast ship to use as a possible escape vessel from Ragner after we'd rescued Mela. I obtained Klingon registry for the ship - don't ask me how. I do not know that this is the same ship, Beverly. The one that Ro Laren took has a cloaking device. If the Maquis were going to go against a Starfleet convoy and a galaxy class ship, surely they would have used it? But this ship didn't."

"I don't understand."

"Neither do I. For one thing, if this is the same ship, Ro Laren broke her word to me. She promised that she'd never use my ship against Starfleet."

"And you would accept Ro Laren's word after all that she has done?"

"On this matter, yes." He kissed her briefly, hard, memorizing her taste. A sense of change was flowing through his veins. This instinctual knowledge was coursing into his consciousness as well. "Someone else must have gotten the codes. I will ask Data to investigate."

"And if it is Ro Laren?"

Instead of answering her, he kissed her again. He brushed his fingers through her hair, taking down a few strands as he did so. He played with their silken flow for a moment. Then he cupped her head, slowly grazing his thumb against the velvet of her cheek. "We will abide." And then he let her go.

This time it was her turn to kiss him goodbye. "Come with me to the transporter room?"

"Damn." And then he chuckled.

"What?"

"I'm a Starfleet captain again. I cannot kiss you in public when I feel so inclined."

She eyed his dark grey silk shirt and dress slacks. "You're not dressed in your uniform…"

He ruefully smiled. "But I would know." Picking up her bags, they slowly walked down the long corridors toward the transporter room. Almost there, Worf interrupted them.

"Captains," he formally greeted, then announced to Beverly, "Your departure has been delayed, Captain Crusher. If you would please proceed to the command officer's waiting lounge, you will be informed of the changes." He looked at Picard. "Captain Picard, come with me."

Something in Worf's manner sent a frisson of fear down Beverly's back. She studied Worf trying to peer behind his unyielding Klingon demeanor. He looked quite formidable at the moment. Her dread grew.

"What is it, Worf? What's wrong?"

"Captain, please do as you are told."

Picard would have reacted to Worf's heavy-handed behavior except that he too, sensed something in the Klingon's manner that was out-of-the-ordinary. "Captain Crusher is correct, Commander Worf. What is wrong?"

"Captain, you are to come with me. Now."

Worf's very insistence solidified Beverly's concerns. She was about to protest when Worf looked at her, whispering, "Beverly, please. We have little time."

Beverly nodded. "Of course, Worf." She took her bags from Jean-Luc and was about to walk away from them.

"Doctor." The way Worf said her name stopped her instantly. "You had best say goodbye."

She dropped her bags and kissed Jean-Luc with all that was in her heart. A few moments later, Worf pulled her away from Jean-Luc.

"Mev! Now!" He jammed Beverly's two bags into her arms, and shoved her in the direction of the door to the corridor for the waiting rooms.

Not even bothering to see if Beverly was leaving, Worf gripped Jean-Luc's arm and moved him down the corridor, effectively forcing the captain to follow. When Beverly was out of sight, Jean-Luc stopped moving.

"Explanations, now. Commander."

"You are my cha'DIch." Worf said this as if it explained everything. When Picard still wouldn't respond, he added, "Please, Captain. Mr. Data said that you must do this now."

Unsaid were words such as your life depends on it, but the implication was there. Picard nodded and accompanied Worf. Picard realized as they walked, that they were taking the lesser traveled corridors along a circuitous route. More puzzled with each passing step, he followed his Klingon warrior, walking toward his destiny.

They walked for a while until they reached a cargo transporter room. It was empty.

The moment the door slid shut, Picard turned on Worf. "Commander, what is going on?"

"The Hegh'ta is waiting. Once you are on board her, the ship will leave and go to the Klingon Empire. Gowron and my brother will protect you until matters are decided."

"Worf - what matters?"

Worf didn't respond. Instead, he looked expectantly at the door.

On another deck, Beverly paced back and forth in the small grey colored waiting room that was by the transporter room.

"Beverly."

She whirled about when she heard Will's voice. "Will. What is going on?"

"Where's Captain Picard?"

She paused, looking at her friend, and experienced fear. There was an expression on Will's face that she had never seen before - not even when he'd been battling the Borg.

"What is it, Will?"

"WHERE'S PICARD?" He practically roared the question, grabbing at her shoulders, shaking her.

"I don't know. He went off with Worf."

Still holding her, Riker hit his comm badge. "Computer, location of Commander Worf."

"Unknown. His badge has been reported as malfunctioning."

"Computer, scan for Klingon life forms in this section of the station. How many readings?"

"Two."

"Location?"

"One is in Holodeck 59 on Deck 187. One is in the Beta cargo transporter room on Deck 3, Section 42.

A grimly determined Will Riker half-ran to the exit with Beverly chasing after him, leaving her bags behind. Whatever was going on concerning Captain Picard, she was going to be a part of it.

Racing down the corridors, Riker and Crusher reached the cargo transporter room almost together. Riker burst into the room.

Even as Worf and Picard were reacting to his entrance, Riker did the unthinkable. He dove at Jean-Luc Picard. For a brief instant, Picard saw something flash across Will's face. - a look of hatred that was stunningly pure and intense. Distracted, Picard didn't comprehend Riker's actions until it was too late. Riker swung with an energy powered by rage, hitting his former captain directly on the jaw, slamming Picard so hard that Picard bounced backwards against a wall. And then he collapsed to the floor.

"DAMN YOU, PICARD! THEY WERE ONLY KIDS! YOU KILLED THEM!"

A phaser blast from behind felled Riker before he could swing again at the captain that had once called him Number One.

"Captain Riker is only stunned." The imperturbable voice of Mr. Data announced as the android entered the cargo room, physically locking the door behind him.

Beverly knelt by Will, checking his pulse, restraining her gut impulse to become hysterical and scream her head off. "What is going on?" She blindly reached for her comm badge when Data grabbed it off of her uniform.

"No, Doctor. Do not summon help just yet. I used the minimum setting of the phaser. Commander Riker should be regaining consciousness shortly."

Speaking to Worf, Data explained, "I have arranged for the monitoring devices to malfunction. You have four minutes forty seconds before this problem is noticed."

Data picked Picard up from off of the floor, checked to see if anything was broken, and then handed him some information chips. "I have alerted the Ferengi bankers that you will be handling your own accounts, Captain. I will transfer all invested monies into the liquid assets accounts within the next twenty-eight hours. Any Ferengi banker and their connections will be able to provide you with credits." He brushed Picard off. "You must leave within six minutes. Gowron has granted you sanctuary."

He let Beverly fuss over his jaw for a few seconds. "What set Will off?"

"I have uncovered evidence that you purchased two quantum torpedoes on Thelka, Captain. One you disabled. The other, the attackers have possibly obtained and used against the Barton. And then the raiders destroyed the skeeter escort ships. When I informed Captain Riker of this fact, he became quite upset and started searching for you.

Picard blanched. "I disarmed that torpedo. There should not have been any way for the Maquis to fire it without my new command codes."

"The evidence is circumstantial, Captain, but it also quite damning. Admiral Kennelly was already requesting your arrest even before I had uncovered any factual information. He must have been monitoring the progress of my investigation. Admiral Kennelly then issued the arrest warrants and gave them to Captain Jellico. Captain Jellico did protest that there was insufficient evidence..."

Worf stepped forward and interrupted Data. "You must leave in order to be free to fight for your honor, Captain. If Captain Riker does not have me arrested, I will not rest until your innocence is proven. Your enemies will not destroy you."

Picard put his hand on Worf's shoulder, accepting Worf's vow. But he had to know. "Do you think I've become Maquis, Worf?"

Worf was steadfast in his belief of Picard's honor. "If you have become Maquis, Captain, you would have spoken of it. You would not hide this fact and betray Starfleet."

"And if I had really become Maquis?"

"You are a man of honor, of great conscience. My loyalty would remain pledged to you, Captain Picard. If I have to resign my commission, then it will be done." He glanced down at the still unconscious Will Riker. "And then, my loyalty is to Will Riker. He acted in anger against you. He will thank me for what I did when his blood cools and he begins to think with a clear mind again. He will then know then that you are not a traitor."

"Maybe I am, Worf. If the quantum torpedo that was used on the Barton really is the one that I purchased on Thelka II, then it was my responsibility to see that it did not fall into the wrong hands. If I failed, then I am responsible for the deaths of those officers."

"Not in your heart, Jean-Luc Picard. The Nuch! that fired the torpedo is the only dishonorable one responsible." He clasped Picard's forearm in a Klingon salute.

"Captain, you have three minutes, ten seconds before you must depart," Data coolly announced. "I will dedicate myself to clearing your name, Captain. As a civilian, I will have options that a Starfleet officer will not."

"Understood, Mr. Data. I am sorry that you are having to deal with this. You should have much better things to do…"

"Actually, Captain, proving your innocence is part of my program to learn how to cope with my emotions."

"Really?" Even under the most dire of circumstances, Data could still surprised Picard.

"Yes, Captain. After all, is not embarking on a most impossible quest part of the human endeavor? I shall make your truth my Holy Grail."

"Please don't suggest that the odds of clearing my name is akin to those of finding the Holy Grail…"

"Actually, Sir, your odds are greater." A little snip of a smile crossed over Data's lips.

Another time, Jean-Luc would have enjoyed continuing this discussion, but right now, there simply wasn't enough time. "Data, I look forward to the day when I can converse with you in the future. I trust though, that this quest will not be too impossible."

Data would have continued this conversation except that he noticed that Captain Picard was no longer paying attention to him. Instead, the captain was enfolding Beverly in his arms. So Data stopped talking.

Jean-Luc could not kiss away all of her tears. Unlike their earlier farewells, both knew that this time could truly be the last time that they ever saw each other. "Beverly, promise me one thing."

"Anything, Jean-Luc," she said in a voice that was not quite a sob, but those around her knew how very close to breaking she was.

"Beverly, this matter - it will either be resolved very quickly, or will not be settled at all. If the latter should occur, you must not wait for me. You - your work - is too important to be destroyed by an association with me."

She blindly reacted to his words, choosing not to think for the moment. Instead, she asked, "Where will you go?"

"I may not be Maquis, but that doesn't mean that I cannot find refuge on one of their worlds. Perhaps I will become a teacher after all." He pressed a kiss against her lips. Then spoke with utter seriousness. "I need your promise, Beverly. I will know no peace if I think that you are senselessly worrying about me."

"I will always worry about you, Jean-Luc." But she knew what he meant. "If I deem the situation to be truly hopeless," she leaned closer to him and then threatened, "I'll quit Starfleet and then make you pay. Will that do for my promise?"

"Beverly…" He knew that she meant every word. She would sacrifice herself for him. "Do not. I could not accept such a decision. Grant me this peace, at least."

She nodded, her forehead resting against his, as she understood that he was asking for, indeed needing, her release. "Yes, Jean-Luc. As you wish." But she would not hide the sorrow in her gaze. She couldn't bear to lose him.

"Captain Picard, you must leave in one minute, thirty seconds," Data quietly intoned.

"I love you more that truth or duty or honor." His lips were soft against her mouth as he whispered his heart's truth. Her lips trembled against his, as the sudden realization that this was their last kiss created a spiraling devastation within both their hearts.

"Beverly... Je t'aime… Je vous adore… Take care, mon coeur."

"Jean-Luc..." She couldn't say the words.

He understood, and then smiled. "I know."

Jean-Luc stepped back and looked at Data. "Worf, Beverly - please leave. I must speak with Data and it is best that you not hear my words."

"Jean-Luc…" she almost protested. But then, she acquiesced. Silently, they left with Beverly pausing, turning to look at him one more time before she stepped through the door. "Goodbye," she whispered. Her heart was breaking..

He finalized arrangements for communicating with Data. Then Worf returned. Before Picard could say goodbye, Worf swung, connecting with the bruise that was already beginning to form on Jean-Luc's jaw. Picard slumped to the deck.

"Commander Worf, why did you strike the Captain?" Data was quite curious as to Worf's motives.

"It is the honorable thing to do so that we can speak this truth. Captain Picard did not willingly leave to avoid arrest."

Moments later, Picard was beamed over to the Hegh'ta which then did a Klingon skedaddle out of Federation space.

Hours later, Worf, Beverly, Data Deanna and Will were being interrogated by Admirals Kennelly, Nakamura, Nechayev and Blackwell. Captain Jellico was asking the questions.

"When Data informed me of the source for the quantum torpedo that killed my cadets, I went in search of Captain Picard," Will Riker patiently explained for the second time. "I was angry. I lost my temper. I struck my former captain."

"You blame Captain Picard for the death of your cadets?"

"Yes, Captain Jellico. I do. Picard purchased a quantum torpedo that either fell into the hands of the Maquis, or was given to them. After everything else that I learned today, I suspect that this was not an accident."

"Who shot you?"

Jellico nervously paced about, his jerky movements betraying his mixed feelings over Captain Riker's statements. On one hand, Jellico was pleased that his suspicions about Jean-Luc Picard were finally being confirmed. But on the other side, there was the fact that Will Riker was the one doing the talking. And Jellico could not forgive or forget his dislike and mistrust of this officer.

"I don't know. After I hit Picard, the momentum of my blow caused my body to swing around. I was then shot in the back. Picard probably did it then."

"You don't know for sure, Captain?"

"Hell, when I got hit by the phaser blast, I didn't know anything past the pain, Captain Jellico. And then I was unconscious, so I saw and heard nothing more."

Jellico turned on Worf. "And you, Commander Worf. Did you shoot Captain Riker?"

"No, Sir."

"What happened?"

"I was defending my captain. I did not see who fired."

Jellico wanted to probe further but there was something about Worf, the way that he was sitting with his arms crossed over his chest, that indicated his Klingon would not have his word questioned by anyone. Instead, Jellico focused on another area.

"According to his earlier statement, Captain Riker said that he could not reach you. That your comm badge was malfunctioning."

"Yes."

"Was this part of some plot to assist Captain Picard in his escape, Commander Worf?"

"No. Captain Picard did not willingly leave Utopia Planetia."

"So your broken comm badge was just a propitious coincidence?"

"Yes."

"Explain, Commander."

"My mother-in-law…" Worf mumbled, sounding embarrassed.

"What did you say, Commander?"

"My wife's mother, Ambassador Lwaxana Troi of Betazed. She broke my comm badge."

"Why?"

"It kept beeping during our meal. She… did not care for the sound." He apologetically looked over at Deanna. "My mother-in-law said that the noise was upsetting my wife."

"What, Commander?" Captain Jellico sounded quite incredulous. Of course, he had yet to meet Lwaxana Troi. "What did she do?"

"When I was summoned, she ordered her servant Mr. Homm, to bang my comm badge with the mallet that he uses during the thanksgiving gonging for the Betazed food ritual."

"And you permitted this?"

"A Klingon warrior does not quarrel with his mother-in-law's employees, regardless of the temptation. It would not be honorable or dignified." Worf did not add that this was also Lwaxana's bright idea to disable his comm badge in such a manner.

"And then what happened?"

"I met Captain Picard, went to the cargo bay to receive a delivery from the Hegh'ta, tried to prevent Captain Riker from getting hurt, and then saw Captain Picard beamed off the transporter platform."

"You don't know who transported him away?"

"Captain Jellico…"

"If I may interrupt," Data interjected. "The console was set for automatic beam-out. I have ascertained that it was programmed that way for several deliveries during the transporting to the Hegh'ta. It is possible that somehow during the melee, the console was activated."

Jellico faced Data who was unperturbedly looking back at him. "And you expect me to believe this?"

"Captain Jellico!" Riker objected. "All of this concern with minutiae is resolving nothing. Picard has escaped. My cadets are dead. I want permission to go after him and get some answers. We are wasting time." Riker was the very image of a truth-seeking Starfleet officer out for vengeance.

Captain Jellico looked over at Dr. Crusher who had remained quiet during all of this interviewing. "And have you anything to add, Captain Crusher? Considering your relationship with Captain Picard, are you surprised by what happened?"

Beverly stood, anger fueling her righteous indignation. "I refuse to believe that Jean-Luc Picard is a Maquis traitor. If he wanted to join the Maquis, he would have done so openly. He would not have acted against the Federation." She looked at Will. "Captain Riker, Jean-Luc respected and honored you. He considered you to be a friend. He did not kill those cadets. How can you even think that he could be involved?"

"Doctor, you are not answering my question."

"All I know, Captain Jellico, is that you are blaming a man who is innocent for a crime that he did not commit. Shame on any of you who are dismissing Jean-Luc Picard and his years of loyal service and sacrifice to Starfleet for so weak an excuse as possible involvement with the Maquis." She pointedly stared down as every admiral seated about the table. "There isn't a person in this room who does not know someone who has left the Federation and joined the Maquis. Are we all to be condemned simply because of a prior association?"

"And what about Ro Laren? Did Jean-Luc tell you what happened with her?"

Beverly calmly stared back at Jellico. "If you ever catch and keep Ro Laren, why don't you ask her about her relationship with Captain Picard?"

"This is going no where," Jellico grumbled, frustrated by the seeming lack of information that all of these friends of Picard were displaying. Jellico glared at Counselor Troi. "And I suppose that you were with your mother while all of this was going on?"

Curls bounced as Deanna woefully shook her head. "My Mother has not been willing to let me out of her sight…There is nothing left to tell."

"I'm not going to get anything more substantive out of all of you, am I?" Jellico muttered to himself.

Data heard him. So he stood. "That is a correct assessment, Captain Jellico." He looked over at Captain Riker. "I shall continue my investigation with your assistance, Captain, as well as working with Commander Worf." Data walked over to the door and stood under the doorjamb. "Are we dismissed, Admiral Nechayev?"

"Dismissed." She spoke quickly lest someone contradict her. No one dared.

In the corridor, the five former line command officers awkwardly looked at each other with only Worf seeming at ease with the situation.

"Captain Riker," Worf began.

Riker interrupted him. "Where can we speak in private, Data?"

Data let them to a conference room, keyed some instructions on the comm panel by the door, and then entered the room, scanning the interior with his Tricorder. "We may speak freely in here, Captain Riker."

"Captain Riker, I will not be able to serve under your command if you truly believe that my cha'DIch is a traitor to Starfleet."

"Worf," Deanna warned, sensing how close to being overwhelmed by the days events was her Husband Number Two.

Riker ignored Worf. Instead, he beamed one of his better have I gotten away with something! Little Boy smiles directly at Beverly. "Thanks for the acting lessons, Beverly. Think I show any promise?"

Beverly relaxed, weakly slumping onto a chair. "Will…" She shook her head in relief.

"Captain!" Worf protested.

"I believe that Captain Riker has resorted to some subterfuge," Data calmly explained. Then he too smiled, regrettably trying to copy Will's current smile. He didn't succeed. "Way to go, Will!"

Worf ignored Data. "Captain, you hit Captain Picard with anger! A Klingon knows when there is fire in the blood."

"Yeah, I was angry. But then someone who is lucky that he is not an active Starfleet officer at the moment, otherwise I'd be forced to court martial him, blasted some sense into me. I knew then that I had made a mistake."

"Then, why?" Worf wondered.

"Someone has to work with the enemy, Worf. How else are we going to know what is going on? Besides, if we all appeared to be unreservedly supporting Jean-Luc Picard, all of our reports would be suspect.

"You will spy?" Worf did not care for the word.

"I think I'd rather call it guile, Worf." And then Riker grinned again.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Jean-Luc rolled over. This was a mistake. The narrow hammock that was his resting place, swung back and forth, bouncing him against two of the greasy bulkheads that formed part of his narrow cabin on board the Ferengi cargo ship, the Kago. He groaned as his muscles protested further mistreatment. There was no ministering flame-haired angel on board this cargo vessel. Looking about the cabin, Picard was almost nostalgic about his former quarters on board the Unk. Those were spacious in comparison.

He'd been traveling ever since his ignominious departure from Utopia Planetia.

"From almost an admiral to Starfleet's most wanted fugitive in only one day," he mused as he rubbed the fading bruises on his jaw. Riker was going to have to work out more intensely if he ever hoped to pack the wallop that their mutual Klingon friend had in his punch.

He didn't remember much about being on board the Hegh'ta. He'd been pretty groggy when they'd transported him over to the Kago. Though he didn't have his exact location, Picard had a feeling that they would soon be approaching the no man's space that the Maquis controlled.

A Ferengi that Picard knew as Birk, stood in the small cabin's hatchway. He had not bothered to knock before opening up the door.

"Captain Picard, your sssship is here," the Ferengi lisped.

Wondering what Birk meant by ship, Picard carefully slipped off of his swaying hammock and stood, pressing the webbed open fabric against a bulkhead in order to stand. "What ship?"

"Your ship," the Ferengi patiently stated, wondering if this Hu-man was as addled as the rest of them. The Ferengis on board the Kago had been treating this Hu-man with respect ever since they'd learned of Picard's bank accounts within the Ferengi systems, as well as the fact that not once, but twice, Picard had forced the Ferengi government to pay him restitution money - a very rare feat indeed. This Hu-man might be worthy of respect.

Following after Birk, Picard wondered what he was facing now. He was still dressed in the clothes he'd been wearing on board the space station. He hadn't seen a shower - sonic or water - since then either, since cleanliness was not high on the list of daily necessities for either the Klingons or the Ferengi.

"There is a messssage for you," Birk said.

A moment later in a cramped ward room, Picard received his message on a view screen.

"DaiMon Behlk," Picard respectfully said.

"Captain Picard," the Ferengi banker deferentially replied. "I have a message for you - the raiders who attacked your hospital convoy did not use your ship. My late ex-associate sold some information."

"You have proof of this?" Picard didn't ask who had sent the message. He could guess.

"It will be provided. You will be rendezvousing soon with the source. I trust that we will be involved with profitable dealings again, quite soon. Your ever loyal servant…"

An hour later, Picard found himself beaming aboard the Galen. Standing on the transporter platform, he looked about, expecting to see her. She wasn't in sight.

An unknown Bajoran middle-aged female approached him. "I am Ara. Captain Ro…"

Picard hid his amusement at Ro's promotion.

"…will be joining us shortly. She had business with the Ferengis." The woman wrinkled her nose, sniffing the air. "You smell as if you have slept with the Ferengis."

"And Klingons…" Picard added under his breath. "I'm going to clean up. Ask Captain Ro to join me at her earliest convenience."

"The ship is on autopilot. I will be leaving now. Please beam me over."

The first thing Picard did was to check all of the ship's systems. Then he pulled up whatever news broadcasts he could monitor. He wasn't that surprised to see the news headlines proclaiming him to be a wanted suspect accused of murder, piracy and betraying the Federation. One commentator even went so far as to say what could you expect of the man who was Locutus of Borg…

Thirty minutes later, when Ro still hadn't shown up, and after having showered and eaten his first hot, edible meal in days, Picard succumbed to his exhaustion and collapsed on his very big bed. He was tired in body and weary in soul.

The method of her attack was unmistakably Ro Laren's. His body was being most pleasurably assaulted. Unlike previous encounters, he tried to resist her, while memories of Beverly were still fresh in his heart.

"Don't worry, Captain," she whispered, rubbing her breasts against his silk-clad chest. She was doing her damnedest to arouse him.

"I have messages for you. From Data: no status change. Will Riker hopes that one day soon, you'll be able to press charges against him. Guinan said something about seeing you in the future."

"Guinan?" That message was unexpected.

""Yes, something about the Fates... What about you?" When it became apparent to Ro that he was not willing to play with her at the moment, she slid off of him and put on a green robe. "Will you admit at last, that it is time for you to join the Maquis?"

"I will not become Maquis," he warned. On her questioning look he added, "But I will consider it," he conceded.

"Or, you could become a pirate," Ro suggested, sitting on the bed, fondly gazing down at him. Up until a few days ago, she had sort of believed that she would never ever see him again. Or have a chance to experience such intimate associations again. "I hear that there is a Vorlo ship available."

His voice was stern. "I will not become a pirate. Or willingly work with Vorlos again."

She kissed the tip of his nose. "Pity. I hear that Ragner is willing to make you a most generous offer if you would only become his Ferengi front man."

Relaxing a bit, but still keeping her at arm's length, he stated, "I will, however, consider referring to myself an entrepreneur." He offered her a welcoming I am glad to see you kind of smile. "I take it that you've made your peace with Captain Ragner?"

"We've reached an agreement. And it didn't even cost me that much."

He sat up and rested against the bulkhead when Ro reached over and handed him a cup of tea. He suddenly realized that she had not expected to seduce him right away for the tea was still hot. "And what of you? What have you been doing? And what is going on?"

After explaining for almost ten minutes, Laren remarked, "Now that your immediate future is settled, I have another message for you."

"And that is?" He was wary about this communication, considering the way that Ro was devilishly grinning over at him.

"Beverly sends her love."

He blinked. And then wondered why he always found himself bedeviled with outrageous women.

He waited. "And?"

"And she specifically asks me to take care of you. Friend to friend." She knew what the look he gave her meant. He was shocked by her words and questioning the veracity of them. "Don't look like that, Jean-Luc."

"And how would you have me look, Laren? I am not mistrusting your words - I am just surprised by them." He tried to change the direction of their talk. "You owe me proof of your innocence in the attack on the Barton."

"I thought that you had accepted my word?"

"Actually I do." Unexpectedly, he smiled.

She understood his words for what they were worth. "You already checked the armory and found your quantum torpedo, didn't you?"

"We'll discuss this."

"Later?" she hinted, sliding closer to him.

He reached over and placed his hand on her arm, pausing her movements. "No. This situation isn't fair for you."

"Or for you and Beverly, correct?"

"I will not apologize for loving Beverly."

"But you may never see her again if things don't work out. You'll be stuck with me."

"That is not the way I would have phrased it, Ro Laren." He tried not to sound to confounded by the unexpected recent turns in his life and plans.

Laren leaned over, capturing his face between her hands. She kissed him. "I made a deal with Beverly." She ignored his sudden nervousness.

"What?"

"Beverly gets your tomorrows." Ro's smile turned sinful. "But me, I'll settle for your tonights."

The End

(N.B. The sequel to this novel, THE SKY'S THE LIMIT is now posted in its entirety on fanfic.)