The Freelancer Seal issued a challenge ('what I want is to have Picard using letters in Beverly's name to flirt with her') and was incredibly patient while I struggled with figuring out how I was going to answer it. Well, the letters bit is in here, but I didn't make that the whole story. My challenger - and fabulous beta - approved it, so I guess I did a pretty fair job.
I own nothing StarTrek except for some cards for a game I never knew how to play, a TNG 'communicator' pin, and a great many fond memories of people I've 'met' through fanfiction.
Set just after the end of the series.
Telling Beverly
By E. Wallace
2010
Rising from his seat at the desk when the door chime sounded, Jean-Luc couldn't resist checking the setting of the dining table one last time. He told himself it wasn't nerves, just paying attention to the small details. "Come."
"Hello, Jean-Luc," the lovely redhead was through the door and talking before it fully opened. "Sorry I'm late, but -"
"But even with the holodeck safeguards, the Fre'lanseal cliffs plus inexperienced climbers is a combination that can't end well for everyone," he finished for her.
Beverly's smile was warm and teasing. "Now, how did you know that?"
"I thought the shift was going to end quietly but then I saw the preliminary reports coming from Sickbay. When you're flooded with patients, your mind is on them, as it should be; letting your dinner companion know that you might be late isn't on the priority list."
"And what is the inventive Captain Picard's solution for a delayed and preoccupied guest?"
"Nothing more imaginative than having the computer notify me when you left Sickbay," he admitted sheepishly. "With the replicator to do the cooking, it was quite simple to adjust my timetable. I even included time for you to go to your quarters and change." Nodding to her black leggings and the blue sweater that had been part of her wardrobe for as long as he had known her, he tried not to stare at the creamy shoulder so tantalizingly peeking out. It was the left one this time. "Shall we eat now or would you prefer to wait a bit?"
"Now, please; lunch was quick and a long time ago." She let him escort her to the table before she asked her next question. "Why were you so sure I was going to change clothes?"
"You're off duty for the next two days and you always like to get started early," he said, filling her wine glass then his own.
"Fair enough." She sipped her wine. "Mmm, an excellent Picard vintage." Another sip, this time using all the tasting techniques he had taught her. "The '61?"
"Close, the '63. You're developing quite an educated palate."
Beverly shrugged off the praise. "When everything else I drink is synthahol, it's easier to pick out the finer properties of the real thing. So what's the occasion?"
"Do we need an occasion? Can't two friends enjoy a simple meal?"
"They can... but I'd still like to hear the real reason."
"That is the real reason." He raised his glass in a toast. "Here's to the pleasant company of a charming woman and a dear friend."
Beverly returned the gesture, though it was clear she still didn't believe him.
Before she could press the issue, Jean-Luc changed the subject. He did have an ulterior motive for the evening but he wasn't prepared to reveal it at this moment. It was time for a bit of redirection. "Tell me about the latest exploits of Starfleet's finest. Were they adventurous or merely foolhardy?"
oxo
Jean-Luc kept up a running dialogue of small talk throughout the meal, a skill honed at the dullest of Starfleet functions. It helped that this time he was genuinely interested in the answers. He filled their glasses again before they moved to the sitting area.
Taking her usual place in the corner of the sofa, Beverly couldn't completely conceal her surprise when Jean-Luc sat next to her on the sofa rather than the chair he normally occupied. She eyed him speculatively. "Out with it."
"Out with what?"
"Something is on your mind and it involves me."
"Why do you say that?" he hedged.
"I'm the only subject you hesitate to bring up." She cut off his protest. "You're dithering, Jean-Luc, and you are not a dithering man. You've faced down the Klingon High Council. Surely I'm less frightening."
"I've never," he took her hand and laced their fingers together, "been in love with the Klingon High Council."
"Jean-Luc -" There was caution in her voice but she didn't pull away. That gave him courage.
"Hear me out, Beverly, please." He paused, waiting until she nodded for him to continue. "After Kes-Prytt, after you said maybe we should be afraid of our feelings, I didn't want to make the mistake of pushing too hard so I made the opposite mistake of not pushing at all. I let you walk out without asking if that 'maybe' was real or just the protective habit we had both developed. I'm not going to press you about your fears. We'll discuss those when - and if - you're ready. Besides, I can't very well ask you to open up to me if I'm not willing to do the same."
"Why now? Does this have something to do with all that time hopping you were telling us about? Those other time lines?"
"It was an impetus, yes. In one of those time lines, I told you the future isn't carved in stone. We've proven that because in this time line the anomaly hasn't appeared. I will admit that finding out I don't have the genetic defect for Irumodic Syndrome is a great relief." He added silently, 'And it eliminates one reason for a divorce.' He hadn't yet told her all the events he saw in his time jumping but that part of the story could wait just a little longer.
"That was only one possibility. There are still any number of diseases you could contract, unpredictable events that could befall either one of us," Beverly pointed out.
"Those are facts of life in or out of Starfleet." He squeezed her hand. "I love you, Beverly, and that will never change. If you can't feel anything more than friendship for me, I'll accept that."
"Could that really be enough for you?"
"It's been enough for nearly thirty years." Friend or lover, he would have her in his life, of that much he was sure.
She slipped her hand from his, raising it to press against his cheek. "You are a dear, sweet man with a patience I don't deserve. I am still afraid, but I don't want to be controlled by that fear any longer. I love you, Jean-Luc."
There was a quaver in Jean-Luc's sigh as he leaned in to rest his forehead against hers. "I've imagined this countless times, spent endless hours trying to come up with creative ways to convince you to give us a chance, and it turns out all I had to do was ask."
She gently pushed him back to look into his eyes. "Creative? How creative?"
He knew she was stalling, but she deserved all the time she needed. "I said trying. Mostly all I've managed to write is some incredibly trite and insipid poetry, among other silly schoolboy things."
"What sort of silly schoolboy things?"
"Beverly..." He never should have mentioned it.
"Come on, tell me."
"All right, I spent an entire evening trying to come up with words for every letter in your name." He could feel the heat of embarrassment suffuse his face.
"What kind of words?"
He had tried it from several angles but thought it best not to mention the one using body parts. There was a safer option. "Adjectives mostly."
"What adjectives?" she prodded.
"Beautiful, effervescent, vivacious," he tucked a lock of auburn hair behind her ear, "elegant, radiant, lively."
She waited for him to finish, but when he didn't she pointed out, "You're short a letter."
"I know. I could never think of anything for the Y except 'yearning', which, of course, was more about me than about you." Her mouth twitched. "I see that smirk. Yes, unrequited love makes almost anyone feel like they're twelve years old."
"How does requited love make you feel?
"Like the happiest man in the galaxy." The joy that lit his face seemed to come from his very soul.
She turned away to stare out the viewport. "We've wasted so much time."
He stared at her profile. "And we're not going to waste any more time on guilt. I'll be grateful for one day with you because I know a hundred years won't be enough."
"You make it sound so easy."
"I know it won't be easy, Beverly, but we're not the first couple with obstacles. While there's still a lot to talk about, we don't have to do it all tonight. The good part is that I enjoy talking to you so much."
"Is talking all we're going to do?"
"To begin with, yes, but just so you know, I want to make love with you. I want to go to sleep with you in my arms and wake up to your beautiful face. I want to argue with you and make up with you. I want sit at my desk working on reports while you're on the couch reading medical journals. I have a career, now I want a life, as well."
Drawing Beverly into his arms, Jean-Luc slowly lowered his mouth to hers and -
"Crusher to Picard."
The page startled Jean-Luc, and he banged his knee on the desk. A quick glance across the room showed the table set for dinner and the wine un-poured.
It was a fantasy still.
"Go ahead, Doctor."
"I'm running a bit late, Jean-Luc. I've only just left Sickbay thanks to a bunch of daredevils who decided to test the limits of the holodeck safeguards."
"I saw the preliminary reports. You can tell me the whole story when you get here."
"Give me a few minutes to go to my quarters to change and I'll be right there."
"Take your time, Beverly. I'll be here whenever you're ready." The channel closed, and Jean-Luc sat back in his chair with a sigh.
'Just what I need... more time to chicken out.' The childish term brought a smile to his lips and a new strength to his resolve. 'You can do this,' he told himself firmly. He could also avoid some of the mistakes he had made in his fantasy. Skip the dithering and not mention the bad poetry or the schmaltzy games played with her name for starters.
Her praise of his patience was a bit of egotistic fancy he should probably let go of as well.
Years as a Starfleet officer and countless diplomatic encounters had honed his intuitive instincts, but they didn't make him a mind reader. Whatever Beverly's fears were - and he quite likely shared more than a few - tonight was about beginning the dialogue.
Jean-Luc had planned this special dinner because he, too, was off duty for the next two days. He looked down at his cranberry and black uniform. 'Perhaps I should get the same head start as Beverly.' Hurrying into the bedroom, he quickly changed into gray pants and a gray-green shirt she had admired.
When the chime sounded ten minutes later, he unconsciously tugged at his shirt. In the instant after he said 'Come', he decided to alter one last detail.
Beverly was surprised but pleased when he greeted her with a hug and a kiss on the cheek.
He took it as a positive sign that she was wearing the blue sweater and black leggings he had imagined.
Complete with the left shoulder exposed.
The End