Travelling ceaselessly from one Federation science conference to another was taking its toll, and Dr. Beverly Crusher was tired. Not just tired, but bone-numbingly exhausted.
Absently running slender fingers through her long auburn hair, she sighed as she reviewed her notes – again. Her upcoming presentation at the Bolian Medical Sciences Conference would be her fourteenth in a little over twelve weeks.
Beverly understood the reasoning behind Starfleet insisting she present her research findings throughout the Federation. She didn't begrudge them their need to prove to the member worlds that Starfleet still held altruistic beliefs, and that not all their research was militaristic. In fact, she'd been thrilled when Admiral O'Connor had first approached her about taking her findings on tour. Her research had far-reaching implications and scientists throughout the Federation wanted to hear about it, but now she wished she had just submitted the damn paper and been done with it.
Beverly grimaced as she brought her now cold tea to her lips. She set the cup down and began to pace. The tiny guest quarters on the USS Glasgow didn't allow for much, but she needed to move while thinking.
Finding the movement less than helpful, she flopped back into her chair and stared unseeing, at the bulkhead. Wide awake despite her exhaustion and trapped on a ship where she didn't know a single soul, she wished she were home on board the Enterprise. She missed her quarters, she missed her sickbay, and she missed the crew.
She was surprised at the depth of her melancholy. I'm a veteran Starfleet officer, damn it! She thought, so why do I feel like an ensign on her first deep space mission? She shook her head as she realized her enforced idleness was to blame. She was used to the excitement of new missions, dealing with puzzling cases in Sickbay, and spending her remaining spare time in her research labs, not sitting in a cabin for days at a time with nothing but her own thoughts for company.
She chuckled to herself when she realized she missed working herself into exhaustion. What would Deanna say about that?
Thinking about her friends, she recalled her other battles with insomnia. On several occasions, the captain of the Enterprise had provided her with his Aunt Adele's hot milk toddy in an effort to help her fall asleep. Each time, both the drink and the comforting company had allowed her brain to relax enough to drift off.
"That's exactly what I need," she muttered as she moved restlessly across the room. Calling out the appropriate commands she soon found herself, steaming cup in hand, staring at the face of a sleep tousled captain.
"Beverly?" came his groggy query.
"Oh, Jean-Luc, I'm sorry," she sighed. "I didn't mean to wake you. When Worf patched me through to your quarters, I assumed you were awake."
He ran a hand across his bald pate as he replied, "don't worry about it. No matter the hour, I am always happy to see you." Smiling, he added, "you know that."
Feeling the corners of her mouth lifting in response to his, she replied, "yes, but if I keep dragging you out of bed, you might begin to change your mind."
"I can assure you," he quipped, eyes twinkling, "I will never tire of waking up in my quarters to find the lovely face of my CMO gazing at me."
Beverly blushed, "Jean-Luc!"
Jean-Luc laughed, "so, to what do I owe this impromptu subspace chat?"
Leaning back in her chair, Beverly decided to be honest, "I'm tired."
Jean-Luc raised an eyebrow and nodded for her to continue.
Sighing, she let her jumbled thoughts flow across the link, "I'm tired of the constant travel. I never know how long I'm staying or where my next transport is coming from. I barely have time to open my bags before I'm whisked off to an auditorium or amphitheatre to present, shuttled back to my room for a quick change in time for some formal dinner, which is followed by an uncomfortable night or three in a strange bed.
"Then there's the travel. I had forgotten how fortunate we are on the Enterprise. The guest quarters on these ships leave a lot to be desired. My current accommodations don't have a viewport, and don't even get me started on some of the quarters I've been assigned at the conferences."
She sighed again. "It seems all I'm doing is eating, sleeping, and speaking. I get no time to enjoy myself at the conferences, and the journeys between each one are frustratingly boring.
"I just wish it would end. I wish I didn't have to attend the Bolian Medical Sciences Conference on Tarvan IV, and I wish there weren't another six more conferences to go."
She read the sympathy in his hazel eyes and knew he understood.
Jean-Luc adjusted his bathrobe as he took a moment to frame his response, "Beverly, I understand how exhausting this must be for you."
She nodded in agreement.
"Frankly, I am little surprised at the gruelling schedule Starfleet has devised, and I can imagine the toll it is taking." He smiled, adding, "you never were good at managing boredom, and I can see you still struggle with it."
Beverly resisted the urge to make a sarcastic comment and let him continue speaking.
"I would be very disappointed to hear that you had cancelled your speaking engagement at Tarvan IV."
Puzzled, Beverly took the bait. "Why?" she asked.
Jean-Luc adopted a serious expression as he explained, "the Enterprise happens to be enroute to Tarvan IV from the Delios System, and I thought some of the crew and I might be there in time to catch your presentation."
"Jean-Luc!" she smiled as all traces of her exhaustion vanished. "That's wonderful!" Thrilled at the prospect of being reunited with her friends, it took her a moment to ask, "the conference is only two days away. How come you never told me you were coming?"
Looking slightly discomfited, Jean-Luc replied, "Commander Riker thought it would be fun to surprise you."
"Oh?"
"Yes," Jean-Luc continued. "He was looking forward to seeing your reaction to our unexpected appearance." He allowed his lips to quirk as he added, "he also mentioned something about getting even for your performance at the last poker game."
She laughed, "it was just a friendly impersonation!"
"Ah," Jean-Luc replied, "but I believe it followed immediately upon the heels of you bluffing him out of his night's winnings with a pair of twos, did it not?"
Nodding at the memory, Beverly chuckled, "you should have seen his face! I don't think Terran codfish can drop their jaws that low. Besides," she added, "he deserved it. He spent the evening teasing Deanna about the ceremonial hairdo she was forced to adopt for the Ligurian negotiations."
Sharing the memory of Deanna Troi, her hair bright green and tightly braided in an ornate pattern that vaguely resembled a fiddle-head fern, they lapsed into a companionable silence.
After a few moments, feeling much better, Beverly sighed, "thank you, Jean-Luc."
"Any time, Beverly," came his sincere reply.
"Somehow the Bolian conference doesn't seem so onerous now." She smiled, "I'll see you in two days, and I promise to act surprised to see you."
He tried to mask a yawn as he agreed, "two days."
"Good night, Jean-Luc."
"Good night, Beverly."
"Crusher out," she said as she watched Jean-Luc's image fade as the screen returned to the standard Starfleet insignia superimposed on a black background. Stifling a yawn, Beverly padded into the tiny sleeping quarters, crawled under the sheets, and drifted off to sleep.
***
"How's that, Doctor?" called Lar Shring as he made a few small adjustments on the console where he was sitting.
Beverly looked over her shoulder at the twelve metre screen behind her. She scanned the images sliding by and replied, "looks good, Mr. Shring. The focus is amazing."
The Bolian technician smiled and returned his gaze to the console, "then let's try the lighting."
Taking her place behind the podium, Dr. Crusher stared at the empty seats, waiting for the spot lights to come on. Suddenly blinded, she threw up her arm to cover her eyes and backed away from the podium.
"Sorry about that!" called Shring. "I'm afraid our facilities are a little out of date. You'll have to bear with me as we get things adjusted."
Shading her eyes, Beverly squinted in the direction of Shring's voice, "I'm sure we'll get it sorted out, Mr. Shring."
***
The auditorium was rapidly filling as the senior crew of the Enterprise took their seats. Picard took a seat in the centre of a row about half way up the floor section.
"This should accord us a good view," he said as Riker and Data took their seats on either side of him.
"Sir," Data said, tilting his head as he looked around, "This auditorium has been designed to provide a clear view to all spectators from any point. As you can see from the angle of the floor, and the scaling used on the balconies, I do believe there are no…"
"Thank you, Data," Riker interjected, smiling.
Deanna Troi took her place beside Riker as Geordi sat next to Data. Glancing around, Troi asked, "Where's Worf?"
"Here," Worf rumbled from the row behind them. "I felt it prudent to sit here. It provides me with a better vantage point from which to monitor the captain's safety."
"Worf," Deanna replied, "this is a medical conference! Surely you're not expecting an attack!"
"I am always expecting an attack." Arching an eyebrow, Worf added, "predicting an unseen enemy's actions always makes the day more exciting."
Chuckling, the crew turned their attention to the front as the lights dimmed.
***
The audience erupted into thundering applause as Beverly finished her presentation. Smiling and relieved it was over, she cast her gaze into the seats, trying to locate her friends.
"Doctor Crusher?" she felt a hand on her arm. "May I present Ambassador Flirsh?"
Smiling, Beverly shook the ambassador's offered hand, and found herself swept up in the crowd of dignitaries and officials all vying for the opportunity to be seen with her.
***
Riker sighed as he eyed the crowd on the stage. "I was hoping we could get up there and surprise her," he gestured at the milling mass surrounding their friend.
"And look," Deanna added, "the crowd trying to get onto the stage is huge too."
Geordi sighed, "we'll never get through."
Worf grumbled. "You give up too easily." Staring at each of his friends, he said, "if you wish to see the doctor, follow me."
The crowds in the aisle parted as the burly Klingon made his way toward the stage. Grinning at one another, the rest of the crew followed along in his wake.
***
"I'm sorry, sir," intoned the tired functionary at the bottom of the stairs, "but unless you have a VIP pass, I cannot let you onto the stage."
Worf eyed the man, apparently deciding on how to best dismember him, when Picard stepped forward.
"Excuse me, um, Terrence," he said, reading the man's name tag. "I'm sure you could make an exception for us."
Putting on his most diplomatic face, Jean-Luc Picard entered some of the most challenging negotiations he had ever participated in during his fifty years in Starfleet. Shocked, and mildly horrified at the dedication with which Terrence guarded the stairs leading onto the stage, the crew were relieved when he finally acquiesced and agreed to allow the captain to pass.
Reaching to unlock and open the gate, Picard placed a hand over his and smiled, "don't trouble yourself, I can handle this."
Picard shifted his stance so that he was between Terrence and the gate and gestured for the others to precede him up the stairs.
"Wait!" Terrence cried. "I never agreed to let them in!"
"We are all responsible for the safety and well-being of the captain," Worf glowered, towering over Terrence. "If something were to happen to him because you prevented us from doing our duty, I would be forced to hold you personally responsible."
Gulping and thinking that his job wasn't worth this type of stress, Terrence simply shrugged and allowed the troupe to pass.
"Thank you, Terrence," Picard said as he carefully closed the gate behind himself. "I can assure you that your flexibility in this matter is greatly appreciated."
***
The crowd on the stage seemed endless as Beverly smiled and shook hands with one delegate after another. Trying not to be obvious about it, she continued to scan the audience, hoping to catch a glimpse of her friends.
Realizing the futility of looking for her friends in a theatre with over twenty-thousand seats, Beverly began to wonder who would have beamed down to hear her speak. Jean-Luc and Deanna for sure, she thought. Probably Data. Will too, if he's still planning on surprising me. Worf and Geordi probably skipped the presentation and plan on catching up with me later.
She was pleasantly surprised, when moments later, she saw her Klingon friend working his way toward her.
Grinning from ear to ear, and no longer paying attention to the beings whose hands she was currently shaking, she perched on her toes in an effort to catch a glimpse of Jean-Luc. Spying Riker's distinctive beard, she quickly located Data as well, but was frustrated by the number of bodies preventing her from spotting him.
Time seemed to slow to a crawl as Beverly watched Worf make his way closer. She kept her attention on him as he served as an easily visible marker for Jean-Luc's position in the crowd. She tried to engage in polite conversation with the people she was introduced to, but she was beginning to think she would go crazy if she had to exchange pleasantries with even one more dignitary.
"Looking for someone?" rumbled a familiar baritone startlingly close to her right ear.
"Jean-Luc!" gasped Beverly as she spun around to greet her friend.
Hazel met blue, and the rest of the universe disappeared. A million thoughts flitted through Beverly's mind as she feasted on Jean-Luc's smiling countenance.
Some of those thoughts are definitely not appropriate to be thinking about your friend, she admonished herself. To cover up her discomfiture at having such ideas rush to the forefront, Beverly grabbed Jean-Luc in a tight hug and whispered in his ear, "I missed you."
Jean-Luc replied, "I missed you too."
Beverly pulled back from the embrace and searched his face, certain she had heard more in those words than he intended.
Captain's mask firmly in place, Jean-Luc smiled at her. Shaking her head, and blaming her own thoughts for reading more into things than was obviously there, Beverly smiled in return.
"Excuse me, Doctor," she felt a hand on her arm. "If I could present the foremost specialist in neuro-regeneration from Polaris IX…"
"Of course," she replied as she reluctantly let go of Jean-Luc. Turning back to face the delegates still waiting for a chance to meet her, she whispered, "stay with me."
"Always," he said as he stood reassuringly close.
***
Deanna marvelled at the social and political connections the captain possessed; not only were she, Will, and Data at the dinner with him, but the four had somehow become official delegates to the conference. As the official representatives of Starfleet, they had been accorded prime seats near the head table.
During one particularly heated discussion about the effects of the mass of neutron stars on the rate of orbital decay of planetary satellites, Deanna let her eyes and mind wander around the room. The dinner itself was wrapping up, and some of the attendees were taking their after-dinner drinks and moving to other tables to visit.
Expecting to see a small crowd gathering at the head table, Deanna was surprised to find the table almost deserted. Looking around the room, she noted several of the people seated at the head table had moved to mingle with the other guests.
However, there was one person she couldn't immediately see.
Letting her empathic senses guide her vision, she found Beverly standing at the coffee service. Smiling to herself, Deanna watched as Beverly tried to distance herself from a rather ardent admirer. Thinking to share the scene with the captain, she was surprised to look over and find his seat at the table empty.
Casting a confused look at Will Riker, he grinned and gestured with his head toward the wall where she had just been watching Beverly. Taking in the scene again, she almost laughed out loud.
It appeared as though two Starfleet officers were enjoying a cordial chat while they stirred and sipped their coffee. The fact that one of the officers was the guest of honour, and that no one was willing to interrupt the pair to speak to her, spoke volumes about Jean-Luc Picard's command presence.
***
He had no idea how much he truly missed her until he was sitting at the table, watching her but unable to speak with her. It was an exquisite torture to be so close, yet so far, and it drove him almost to distraction.
Even though he gave the appearance of engaging in the discussions around the table, his attention never wavered from her. So, as soon as she moved from her seat, he knew he had to follow. He had to speak with her, even if only for a few moments. Quietly slipping away from the table, Jean-Luc made a direct line for her.
***
She watched him throughout the dinner. No matter how tedious the discussions around her became, she found respite in watching him. She knew every gesture he used: the smile to put others at ease, the nod to encourage the speaker to continue, and the hand movement to emphasize a point.
She longed to be near him, to hear his voice, to claim that smile for her own. Noticing the other members of the head table mingling, she rose from her seat, intent on going to his table.
Waylaid by several guests, Beverly found herself next to the coffee service. Knowing that any further attempts to cross the room would be futile, she poured herself a cup of coffee and prepared to wait. She knew he would come.
***
"May I?" Jean-Luc asked as he gestured toward the empty coffee cups behind her.
"Of course," she replied, barely shifting her position, forcing him to lean into her to reach the handle of the nearest cup.
Deliberately brushing her thigh against his, Beverly leaned behind him to grab the cream. "Excuse me."
"Thank you." He allowed his arm to slide down hers as he positioned his cup to accept her offer to pour.
"Spoon?" Her fingers gently played across his as she passed him the flatware.
"Thank you."
Maintaining the outward appearance of professionalism, they each found subtle ways to make up for the emptiness caused by their eighty-seven days of separation.
"It was a lovely meal," Jean-Luc commented as he allowed her elbow to brush his chest.
"Yes," Beverly nodded. "It was." Looking closely at his tunic, Beverly pretended to find a speck of something, and reached over to brush it off. Her fingers lingered on the fabric a fraction of a second longer than was necessary.
"Your presentation today was extraordinary," he replied, trailing his hand up her back after placing his spoon on the table.
"Thank you," Beverly smiled, "knowing I had friends in the audience helped." She brushed her arm against his as she set her cup down.
"You really are a very engaging speaker," Jean-Luc continued. "I couldn't keep my eyes off you."
Surprised by his words, Beverly brought her cup back to her lips to hide her confusion. Gazing at him over the rim of her cup, she found herself staring into a pair of very intense hazel eyes.
Audibly swallowing, Beverly searched for a reply as the tension between them steadily increased, "Well, um--"
"Hey there, doc!" Will Riker called as he approached the couple. "You're turning into quite the diplomat; wining and dining with all these important personages," he grinned mischievously.
And if I weren't such a diplomat, I'd throttle you right now, Beverly thought as she smiled at the man who had deliberately interrupted their conversation.
Instead, she said, "thanks, Will." Glancing at Jean-Luc she added, "I've learned from the best."
"Oh, yes, the Captain is a very accomplished diplomat," Will chuckled. "Let me tell you how we managed to get onto the stage today."
"Number One, I don't think--" Jean-Luc interrupted as Will tried to steer Beverly back into the crowd.
Will looked over his shoulder as he replied, "I'm sure Doctor Crusher will love hearing the story."
"Besides," he added, smiling slyly, "her fans await. You can't keep her all to yourself, Captain." With that, Riker expertly guided Beverly back into the throng of dinner guests.
***
Beverly added the fifty-first option to her mental list of ways to kill Will Riker as she shook hands with another delegate. He knew she hated making small talk, yet here he was, apparently intent on making sure she spoke with every single person in the room.
She was fuming. Not only was he forcing her to keep a smile plastered on her face, he was enjoying every minute of it.
"You're doing this on purpose," she hissed during a brief interlude between 'people she just had to meet.'
Feigning innocence, Will said, "I have no idea what you're talking about." Glancing around the room, he looked back at her, "come on. I see someone you just have to meet." Gripping her elbow more firmly, he grinned, "he's the waiter who served me the salad tonight."
Sighing to herself, Beverly added a slow and agonizingly painful option number fifty-two to her list.
***
Revenge complete, Riker brought an exhausted Beverly over to the table where Picard, Troi, and Data were sitting, chatting quietly amongst themselves. Gracefully slipping into a chair, Beverly grabbed the pitcher of water from the centre of the table and poured herself a drink.
She took several large sips, sighed, and leaned back in her chair. Smiling at her friends, she said, "I hate these functions."
As she watched the servers trying to unobtrusively clean up the almost empty room, Beverly fought down her rising disappointment. "I finally get a chance to visit with my friends," she grimaced, "and the evening's almost over."
"You could always come back to the Enterprise for a quick nightcap." Deanna suggested, suppressing a knowing smile.
Beverly shook her head. "I better not," she said. "I received word before dinner that my next transport is leaving at 0600 hours."
"Doctor," Data tilted his head as he spoke, "you can beam aboard your transport from the Enterprise as easily as from the planet."
"Come on, Beverly," Deanna added. "You know a night in your own bed would do you good."
As she thought about her quarters and the comfort of her own bed, a wave of homesickness threatened to overcome her. "Alright," she acquiesced, "but I have to get my things before I can beam up."
***
They walked in silence along the corridors of the conference centre. Jean-Luc had offered to accompany her while Will, Deanna, and Data had opted to return to the ship.
Something was different, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it. Analyzing her thoughts and feelings as they walked, she tried to get to the root of the problem. She understood the feelings of happiness and contentedness, and chalked them up as normal reactions to being reunited with her best friend. Beverly even understood her need for close physical proximity; it was a natural physiological response designed to both reassure her brain that her friend really was there, and to rekindle the intimate closeness they had enjoyed during their day-to-day interactions.
What she didn't understand were the other, harder to define thoughts and feelings their reunion was generating. There had always been an underlying attraction permeating their friendship; one that neither openly acknowledged, though both were acutely aware. She was sure that was not what was affecting her tonight.
What she was feeling tonight went well beyond attraction. Her reaction to the presence of Jean-Luc was strong, magnetic, and almost visceral in nature. Despite her best efforts to control it, her body was responding to his proximity in ways she hadn't experienced in years.
No matter how firmly her brain argued in favour of keeping their friendship the way it was, her body countered with a stronger, more primal need that clearly stated that friendship was no longer enough.
She was shocked to realize she was lusting after her best friend. Beverly was even more shocked when she realized she intended to do something about it.
***
Blushing slightly, Beverly made a beeline for the bedroom as soon as they reached her accommodations. "I'll just be a minute," she called over her shoulder as she disappeared. "I never had the chance to unpack."
"Take your time, doctor," Jean-Luc replied.
Beverly paused as she emerged from her sleeping area. She admired the fit of his dress uniform as he wandered around the compact and austere quarters.
"You're right," he said as she moved into the living area, "these accommodations leave a lot to be desired."
Her breath caught in her throat. He stood partially illuminated by the moonlight entering through the window, unaware of the effect he was having on her. When he smiled at his own joke, she needed every ounce of strength she possessed to remain standing as her knees turned to jelly.
"Beverly?" he tried.
It's now or never, she thought as she nervously licked her lips. Besides, she smiled wryly, I'm leaving again for another seven weeks. That'll give me plenty of time to review my career options.
Having made her decision, she dropped her case, closed the space between them in three quick strides, grabbed his head, and kissed him with a passion neither expected.
Beverly felt him stiffen in shock. To her relief, his initial reaction was quickly replaced with an ardour that matched her own. Within moments she was pressed up against the wall, panting breathlessly.
Words were not required as they gazed into each other's eyes. She had the answer to her question. Smiling, she leaned in for another, more relaxed and languorous kiss.
She felt alive – truly alive. It didn't matter that she was standing in cramped and drab accommodations; his arms, and the way they caressed and held her, were all that mattered.
Beverly groaned when Jean-Luc broke their kiss. "Jean-Luc," she gasped as he trailed kisses down her throat.
"Jean-Luc," she tried again, finding it hard to think coherently. "Jean-Luc, we need to get back to the ship. People are going to wonder what's taking us so long."
"Beverly?"
"Think of it as a new beginning," she replied as she tenderly ran her hand down his cheek. Grinning seductively, she added, "and think of this, my dear captain," she covered his mouth with hers and pressed her entire frame against him, "as a promise of things to come."
***
Beverly walked into Ten Forward and quickly located her friends sitting at a table near the viewports. Striding over, she smiled as she joined Deanna, Will, Data, Worf, and Geordi.
"Where's the captain?" asked Deanna as Beverly took her seat.
"Oh," she replied. "He offered to drop my luggage off at my quarters so I could come straight here. He should be here shortly."
Beverly had just finished placing her drink order when the doors to the lounge opened again and Jean-Luc strode through. Taking the empty seat on Beverly's right, he greeted each of his senior officers.
The seven officers talked, laughed, and joked, enjoying each other's company. It wasn't until Deanna noticed that Beverly was struggling to keep her eyes open that the evening began to wind down. Saying their farewells, and wishing Beverly good luck on the rest of her speaking tour, five people smiled fondly as their captain offered Beverly his arm and gallantly escorted her from the lounge.
***
"Deck eight," Picard requested as they entered the turbolift.
It wasn't until they stepped into his quarters that she realized he hadn't followed the usual routine of walking her back to hers. Arching a questioning eyebrow, Beverly smiled at the man standing before her.
"I'm simply finishing what you began earlier," he whispered as he took her in his arms and began to nuzzle her neck.
She chuckled at the irony of coming on board the Enterprise and not actually getting to enjoy the comfort of her own quarters. Mind you, she thought as she felt Jean-Luc reach for the fastener on her dress uniform, if he keeps this up, I doubt I'll be getting much sleep anyway.
***
Beverly stretched luxuriously as she slowly returned to wakefulness. Feeling the familiar thrum of the Enterprise's warp engines under the deck, she smiled contentedly as she sat up in bed. Glancing out the viewport, she admired the stars streaking by at warp speed.
"Shit!" she swore as she leapt out of the bed and began to throw on her uniform.
"You would think," she muttered to herself as she frantically tried to locate her left boot, "they would have had the sense to make sure I had disembarked before leaving orbit."
Vainly brushing the wrinkles out of her dress uniform top, she continued, "why the hell didn't the alarm go off? Of all the damn times for the computer to malfunction," she griped as she flew across the captain's living area, heading for his communications terminal while trying to fasten her uniform jacket.
"Now I'll have to make my own arrangements," she ran her fingers through her hair, attempting to put it in some kind of order before placing her call to Starfleet Command.
"Good morning, doctor."
Beverly almost leapt out of her skin at the unexpected voice. Looking over, she saw Jean-Luc sitting on the sofa, book in hand.
"Jean-Luc!" she replied, still confused about her situation. "What the hell?"
"Would you like some breakfast?" he smiled as he gestured toward the table where croissants and steaming coffee awaited.
"Jean-Luc!" she cried, furious that he could be so calm at a time like this. "How can you just sit there? I've missed my transport! There's going to be hell to pay, and I'm going to look like an idiot when I call Command."
"Relax," he replied as he moved to stand by the desk. "You haven't missed your ship."
He spoke before she could launch into another tirade, "I didn't tell you everything when I said I pulled some strings to get the Enterprise to Tarvan IV.
"I had to call in a lot of favours," he smiled, "but the flagship of the Federation is your personal transport for the week-long journey to the Calvanes Sector."
"Why didn't you tell me this earlier?" she grumbled as she swatted him on the shoulder. "I almost had a heart attack."
Grinning lasciviously, he replied, "I had other- things- on my mind last night, I apologize."
She blushed slightly as images of the previous evening's activities came to mind. Running her fingers along his chest, she moved past him.
"Where are you going?" he asked.
"To take a shower," she called over her shoulder. "Then I'm going to change into a clean uniform and join you for breakfast."
Home, she thought. Relishing the idea of being on board for a week with no assigned duties, Beverly began to plan her itinerary. I'm going to lock myself in the lab for a few hours, give the plants in my quarters a good trimming, and top the day off with a luxurious bubble bath. After weeks of boredom, she couldn't resist the thought, I wonder if Selar will let me take a few shifts…
Beverly had most of her uniform top off by the time she reached the door to his bedroom. Glancing back, she saw Jean-Luc return to his seat on the sofa.
"Speaking of which," she asked, noting his casual dress with a look. "Why aren't you on the bridge?"
"I took the day off," he explained.
Her jaw dropped in astonishment.
Jean-Luc added, "I figured someone had to be here when you finally crawled out of bed, and," he smiled, eyes twinkling, "I thought, perhaps, you would enjoy some company on the first day of your vacation."
"Vacation?"
"Vacation, doctor," he replied firmly. "You know, the thing you're always pestering me to take?"
"But--" she protested.
"No buts," he interrupted. "Dr. Selar is performing admirably as acting CMO and the Enterprise is on a routine diplomatic mission. There's no need for you to report for duty."
"You," he added for emphasis, "are on vacation."
Beverly crossed her arms over her chest as she studied Jean-Luc's smug smile. Rapidly revising her earlier itinerary, she smiled mischievously. "Well, if you're going to keep me company, maybe you should take the week off too."
Beverly watched his eyes widen in surprise at her suggestion.
Jean-Luc replied, "I have duties--"
"Commander Riker is performing admirably as your First Officer and the Enterprise is on a routine diplomatic mission. There's no need for you to report for duty either." She grinned, throwing his words back at him.
"You can't order me--" he wavered.
"No," she smiled seductively as she sauntered over and straddled his lap. Running her hands down his chest and placing her lips against his throat, she purred, "but I bet I could persuade you."