I feel like this must have happened. Old fandom, new fan; been a while since I've been this explicit. Paramounts toys, I'm just playing.

It wasn't hard to spot: a little flame flickering between the dark tones of mourning. It was unlike the reds of Starfleet uniform. It was warmer, softer, glowing in the overcast half-light.

She was wearing black. Her Starfleet formal wear lay folded neatly in some drawer at home. Today she wasn't a respectful fellow officer. Today, she was a widow.

Jean-Luc felt constricted in the starched red fabric. He waited as others said a few words about the members of the crew that had been lost in the Stargazer's final mission. As the (former) captain, he would have to deliver the final speech. Jean-Luc hated speeches, even on good occasions. He had lay in bed the night before, mouthing the words at the dark ceiling. Sleep had been a stranger since the accident; the bright blues of morning light were already slipping their fingers into his window pane by the time he had managed to drift off.

When he awoke the light had turned gray. His eyes felt like they were digging deeper into his skull with each passing day, and in those weeks he would acquire creases around his eyelids that would never fade.

When he finally stepped up to the podium, his eyes immediately found the one thing they didn't want to see: Beverly Crusher's crisp blue eyes, gazing up at him expectantly. HIs throat caught. Everyone waited as he swallowed, granting him a moment of patience as he stood over a row of coffins concealing dead tissue that was once men and women under his charge.

By now Beverly knew he was looking straight at her. She twisted her lips into a small, encouraging smile. The shadow of grief cast itself so deeply in that smile, Jean-Luc almost lost his composure. Then his eyes fell on the small boy clinging to her, gazing up at him with Jack's dark eyes. He deserved to hear the kind words Jean-Luc had spent all night chanting into empty air.

He licked his lips and began to speak. Through his whole speech he barely broke eye contact with Beverly. He wondered if he could convey between their gazes how incredibly sorry he was-how sorry he would be for the rest of his life. He watched her face change with each word. Her eyebrows drew together, her lips pressed tightly, and her eyes begged him, please, to not make her cry in front of all these people. He knew she at least made it to the end of his speech, before the two broke contact. They didn't seek each other out again through the rest of the ceremony, or the following reception.

Back at his apartment Jean-Luc dusted off an old bottle of wine he had intended to share with what remained of his grieving former senior staff. Yet as he sat alone in his glaringly empty temporary quarters at Starfleet headquarters, he didn't feel like he could really face them again today. He had talked to too many strangers about the loved ones that they would never see again. The room felt like a white and gray cube, closing in on him inch-by-inch as the sun crept across the sky.

He went for a walk. The heavy clouds put the world behind an eerie, low contrast filter.

By the time he was halfway to the destination he didn't even realize he was navigating towards, rain was falling heavily.

A cliche. It made him sick. He had wanted to part with Jack under bright, unforgiving sunlight.

Jean-Luc's already thinning hair was pressed flat against his face, making it hard to even see a few feet ahead of him.

At the doorstep, he sat down.

He was at one of Starfleet Acadamy's family housing complexes in the area; they were government-issue row houses stationed close to the main campus, reserved especially for Academy students with spouses and children. This particular one was for medical students.

He was honestly surprised when the door opened. He was barely aware of where he was, and there was Beverly, squinting at him through the dimly lit doorway.

"Jean-Luc, what are you doing here?"

"I... don't really know."

She waited a moment for him to elaborate, but he only continued to stare. She nodded towards his right hand. "Is that for me?"

Jean-Luc became aware that he was still holding the wine bottle in his hand. He only then felt the dull ache in his forearm from carrying it all this time. He stood up. "I suppose so?"

The rain filled the silence between them with the hiss of a frightened snake. The sound echoed like a threat in his ears.

"I didn't want to be alone." The statement was blurted out, half shouted to be heard over the rain.

Her eyes dropped to the ground and he wanted to eat his words. Loneliness had wrapped itself around her and made complex knots that would take years for her to undo, and he was the one who had woven the threads. It was low of him to bring it up in front of her in this pitiful way. He waited for the door to shut in his face.

Instead she reached into the rain and took his hand. The water encased her fingers immediately like a glove. "Come inside."

"I saw you through the window as I was passing by. You surprised me." Her words echoed through the dimly lit house. There was just one light on in the kitchen half of the main room. The hallway that lead to the two bedrooms and bathroom was a shadowy tunnel, and Jean-Luc could feel Jack's presence lingering somewhere in its dark depth. He felt a chill creep under his skin.

He set down the wine on the counter. "Where's Wesley?"

"I sent him to Jack's parents for the night. I thought it might be nice for them to be together. And I... needed to be alone."

"Do you want me to leave?"

"No."

Their voices were hushed, as though both of them were trying to not to wake Jack's sleeping ghost.

They gazed at each other for a while. There was little that could be conveyed with words at this point. They both knew the other's grief and knew they couldn't say anything to ease it.

"Let's open the wine." Beverly said at last, breaking eye contact to rummage aimlessly through one of the kitchen drawers. "Truthfully... I'm having trouble facing Wesley. I want to be there for him, but really, it's so tiring to keep my spirits up all the time. But I don't want him to see me so... torn up." She found the opener and began to struggle with the wet bottle. Her hands were shaking.

Jean-Luc closed the space between them and placed his hands over hers. "Let me."

"I'm sorry. It's been so long since I've opened a bottle." She let her hands fall to the counter, curling her fingers into her palms.

"Glasses?"

"Right."

He could hear her reach into the cupboard, rinse two of the few dusty glasses she had tucked away for special occasions.

They sat together on the stools at the counter as he poured the wine. Tentatively, he raised his. "To Jack?"

"To Jack."

The sound of their glasses tapping rang through the empty apartment.

Beverly took a sip tentatively. Then a bigger one. Then she downed the glass.

Jean-Luc laughed. "That is very good wine, Beverly."

She smiled also. "Sorry. I just welcome a little bit of real alcohol. I'll take the next glass more slowly." She poured herself another.

Jean-Luc stared at his glass and then drained it. "Well, I might as well keep up." He poured himself another. He shivered a bit as he took the next sip.

"Did you want to change out of those wet clothes?" Beverly asked, suddenly realizing that he was soaked to the bone.

"No. No, it's fine. The wine will warm me up."

They both knew it wasn't fine, but they both also knew the only thing she had to offer him was Jack's old clothing.

"At least take the jacket and shirt off."

Jean-Luc paused to consider, before nodding. He really was very cold. He peeled off the formal Starfleet jacket that he was still wearing, and then the shirt underneath, placing them on the empty stool next to him.

Beverly's eyes flitted over him for a moment, before she looked down into her wine. Their relationship had always consisted of looks like these. They were both aware that they found each other attractive (though Beverly had no idea of the depth of Jean-Luc's feelings), but up until now it had been a sort of mutual joke. Even Jack was in on it, constantly teasing Jean-Luc about not stealing away his beautiful wife. There was never any real threat, though; they both loved Jack far too much for it to even be a consideration. But now that they were alone, it wasn't funny anymore.

The two drank in silence for a little while, just basking in each other's company. They both came to the end of their glasses, and Beverly picked up the bottle to refill. As she was pouring his, he reached out and touched her hair. She stopped and set down the bottle slowly, holding his eyes.

He drew back his hand, shrinking under her gaze. "You cut your hair."

She gave him a slight smile. "It was silly, really. Jack and I had this deal, that I would keep growing it out until he got on shore leave, and we'd see how long it was then. But, after I saw his body... I just wanted to get rid of it. Because he'll never get to see it."

"I"m sure he would have thought it was beautiful."

"Does it look okay now?"

Jean-Luc wasn't sure if it was his imagination, or whether she was inching closer to him. "You always look beautiful, Beverly." Her proximity drew the words out of him against his will, but the way she smiled told him she already knew what he would say.

Her eyes took on a look of determination, and she leaned forward and kissed him. His hands gripped the edge of the counter and he was afraid to move. He wouldn't, couldn't encourage it, but he also couldn't bring himself to pull away. He stood very still as she kissed him, moved her hands against his chest.

"It's okay. Kiss me back, Jean-Luc." She whispered, her breath brushing his lips like coaxing fingers. She pressed herself against him and he couldn't hold back any longer.

He dug his hands into her hair and pushed her back against the counter. She opened her mouth to him and he parted his lips in response, giving her an opening to explore his mouth. They kissed clumsily, feverishly, their breath quickening with every touch.

"Beverly, we should—"

"Shh."

She left his lips and covered his mouth with her hand, biting and sucking the tense muscles on his neck. She could feel his sighs against her palm. With her other hand she unzipped the side of her dress. She released him, pulling the dress down her shoulders and letting the dark cloth fall to the floor.

Jean-Luc was lost for words. All of the fantasies he had ever had went reeling through his head in fast forward, before pausing with a jolt at this present moment. Only, this was reality.

She grasped his hands and drew him towards her, placing gentle pecks on his lips. "Don't hold back." She urged under her breath.

He didn't need any more encouragement. He grabbed her waist with both hands and lifted her onto the counter, parting her knees and fitting his hips between her thighs. He nipped at her neck, trailed wet kisses along her collarbone. He undid the clasp of her bra with a twist and tore the straps off, leaving trails of light scratches along her shoulders with his fingernails. With no pause, he was sucking her right nipple, scraping it lightly with his teeth as one of his hands traced its fingers over the left. She let out a soft gasp that was almost lost in their heavy breathing, and grabbed his hair between her fingers with one hand, scratching his shoulder with the other. He moved his mouth to her other breast and his hands down to her hips, tucking his fingers into the sides of her underwear. She shifted her hips to let him tug them off, adding to the pile of clothes next at their feet.

He wanted to give her what she was asking of him, the one thing that could give her temporary relief from the heavy emotions that were stifling her-simple, instinctive pleasure, uncomplicated by thought or reason.

He trailed kisses down her stomach, steadying himself on the counter as he leaned down, parting the soft petals between her legs with his tongue. The inside was wet and hot and he felt something stir deep in his stomach. She twitched in response, and made a sound somewhere between a sigh and a moan. Just as he was learning where to suck and trace to make her tense up arch her back, her fingers asserted them between her and and his mouth. He looked up at her, confused, but also deeply interested in the sight of her continuing his work. He tried to move her fingers away, impatient to help, but she kept pushing him away, before finally snapping her head up to meet his eyes.

Their sudden eye contact made their bodies flood with heat, both of them aroused by the other's heavy-lidded, yearning looks. "Wait." she said, slipping off of the counter and facing away from him. He pressed himself against her naked back, unsure of what to do as she put her fingers back to work. Finally he slipped a hand between her legs, sliding one finger, then two inside of her, drawing out a whimper. He held them still, letting her rock against him as suited her, digging his teeth into the muscle between her neck and shoulder, his other hand wandering to the part of him that was in much need of attention. He felt her tense and then suddenly close in around his fingers as she let out a short, breathy moan. He stayed inside her for a moment as she steadied herself on the counter, her breathing heavy. She twisted away from him and he drew his hand back as she turned around. Her cheeks were flushed in a very attractive way. Her eyes fell towards the part of him that had found its way out of his pants, and was resting lightly in his palm. Her eyebrows twitched and her mouth slid into a playful smile. He felt suddenly embarrassed and let his hand drop to his side.

"Sorry, uh. I... what just happened? Do you want to stop?" He formed the questions awkwardly. He couldn't quite remember how they got here, and the slight buzz from the wine left his thoughts fumbling to figure out what to do next.

"No... No, I..." She sighed and bit her lip. "I just needed to make sure that I could still feel these things before I tried anything with you. I needed to make sure I wasn't as completely numb as I've felt lately." She laughed, but there was barely any amusement in the laugh. Her eyes dropped back down. "You know, I have wondered once or twice what it might look like. Just briefly, a kind of amusing curiosity."

Jean-Luc wasn't sure how he felt about having it referred to as an "amusing curiosity". "Are you disappointed?" He asked, wondering if he should put it away or not.

She smiled and shook her head. "No, it's just about what I imagined." She reached forward and tugged his pants down, making him feel somewhat ridiculous as she untied his shoes.

As she straightened to stand back up, she paused halfway. "Oh. It needs some attention, doesn't it?"

"Bev—" He was cut off by the sensation of her mouth covering him. He reached for the counter to steady himself. She stopped and led him by her hands on his hips to switch places with her, his back now against the counter. She then continued, running her tongue along the bottom of his shaft with each dip, letting the muscles in her mouth contract around it as it plunged deeper. He gripped the counter as his muscles weakened, watching the kitchen light trace the edges of her hair at the base of his stomach. He loved the shape her back made as it met her hips each time she dipped forward.

He grasped the roots of her hair, tugging gently, before moving his hands to her shoulders to lead her off and back up to stand in front of him. He kissed her, missing the taste of her lips, and as he did so he switched their places once more, pushing her against the counter. He broke off and turned her around a bit roughly by her hips.

She wondered if they were going to repeat the same pattern, but instead she felt his hips draw near hers, his soft tip brushing her between her legs.

"Beverly." The way he whispered her name was somewhere between a question and a command.

"Please." She responded with the same intonation, her voice hoarse, her body tense with anticipation.

He slid inside her slowly and they both shuddered at the sensation. She was still very wet from her last climax, and the silky feeling against his skin overcame him for a moment. He finally regained his senses and began moving back and forth slowly, sliding in a bit deeper every time until he finally hit some corner of her that caused her breath to draw in sharply. He angled himself and tried hard to repeat the motion with each thrust, while snaking his other hand around her to where her fingers were already making small, steady circles. He took over, and she let her elbows rest on the counter as she closed her eyes, focusing in on the sensations. As she peaked both of them felt weak at the knees, the spasms he had felt against his fingers earlier now almost pushing him to the edge.

As her trembling subsided he brought them both to their knees, her hands still hanging on to the counter as she bowed her head, panting.

She turned around, pushing him off of his knees and down onto the carpet, sliding him backwards until his back rested against the back of the couch.

She straddled him, bringing herself down onto him once more, watching with satisfaction as his eyes fluttered closed in response. "You can't hold back much longer, can you?" She asked as she began rocking against him.

He shook his head weakly, his eyes meeting hers with a hazy expression. "Deep space has left me a bit out of practice, I'm afraid."

She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him behind his ears, running her tongue along its shell. "Wait for me." She whispered.

With that she picked up the pace, steady and deep, using her position to guide him in exactly where she needed him. He grasped her thighs with his hands, trying in vain to slow her down, do something to keep her from riding him in the most sensational ways, her occasional quick moans pushing him even further.

"Please—"

"—Wait—"

"—I can't—"

"—Just a second—"

"—I'm going to—"

Just as he thought he would have to leave her hanging he heard her inhale sharply, a moan louder than either of them expected escaping her lips at the exhale. The following spasms pushed him to come with her, twitching his hips erratically as he groaned softly into the crook of her neck.

They sat entwined on the floor panting, Jean-Luc still inside her. They pulled away and looked at each other.

Beverly reached up and touched his face. It was wet. "You're crying."

He reached up with both his hands and placed them on either cheek, weaving his fingers into her hair. "So are you."

They both knew why—why they were crying, why they had even gone through with this even though neither of them felt like it was right. The act, and their ability to partake in it, confirmed with finality that Jack was no long with them. Because if he was, they would never be like this, sweaty and wrapped up in each others arms.

They had no conception of how long they held each other and cried, slipping down to lie shamelessly on the carpet, eventually drifting off in each others arms.

At some point in the night, Beverly was vaguely aware of being carried in warm arms. She was too exhausted to argue so she remained in her state of half consciousness as she felt herself lowered into the cool sheets of her bed. She felt a gentle kiss on her lips, then her forehead.

The next morning she woke up naked. Her clothes were folded neatly at the foot of her bed. She slipped on a robe and checked the time. Jack's parents would be around to drop off Wesley in less than an hour. She wandered into the kitchen. The rain had eased to a drizzle, and this morning was emerging slightly less gray than the previous. The only evidence of what had transpired was an almost empty bottle of wine and two empty glasses. She would not see Jean-Luc again for many years.

"I didn't want you thinking me harsh, cold-blooded."

"Why, oh why would I ever think that?"

They both knew why. Jean-Luc couldn't bring himself to say it directly, so he diverted the conversation. "I didn't welcome you aboard personally, professionally. I made you come to me on the bridge. I yelled at your son. Who was, as you pointed out, quite correct."

Beverly looked down. So they weren't going to talk about it after all. His praise of Wesley brought her back to the present. It warmed her to hear. She smiled. "You've just won this mother's heart, Captain." She wanted to put him at ease. He looked terribly uncomfortable.

"Ah, but now... your uh, assignment here... I would consider..." He paused to steel himself, "and approve a transfer for you."

"Oh." Perhaps she was asking too much of him, coming here like this. "Do you consider me unqualified?" She asked instead.

"Hardly. Your service record shows you are just the chief medical officer I want." He said without hesitation.

"Then you must object to me personally." She was direct. She knew he would catch the hint.

"I'm trying to be considerate of your feelings, Doctor. For you to work with a commanding officer who would remind you constantly of a terrible personal tragedy..." Their eyes met and they were flashed back many years, kneeling on the carpet of her tiny medical school apartment.

"If I had any objections to serving with you, I wouldn't have requested this assignment, Captain."

They held each other's gazes for a long moment.

"You requested this posting?"

"My feelings about my husband's death will have no effect on the way I serve you, this vessel, or this mission." Beverly was firm in her meaning.

"Ah." Jean-Luc swallowed, understanding, and offered a hand. "Then welcome aboard, Doctor."

They would continue like this, leaving old things in the shadowy corners of their memories where they belonged.

Still, neither could ignore the electricity that still passed between their fingertips.

But that was something they might talk about later, maybe.