Disclaimer: Everything belongs to CBS, its parents and affiliates. Just taking the characters out for a jaunt around the galaxy, I warrant they will be returned in the same condition I borrowed them.
At the sound of the unexpected chime at her door, Beverly secures the gold pump to her foot and unlocks the door, wondering to herself who could be calling. Brows rising, Beverly is surprised to find Jean-Luc Picard, donning his dress whites, standing in front of the door with a wry smile.
"Hello, Doctor," Picard nods, his eyes soaking in her floor-length emerald green cocktail dress as he folds his arms behind his back.
Lifting a brow, Beverly's lips curl in a tiny smile. She can barely hide her obvious pleasure at discovering him at her door, dressed to the nines and apparently ready to accompany her to the dreaded dinner. "Hello, Captain. What are you doing here?"
"It turns out, a dry-docked ship can survive without its commanding officer for a few hours," teases Jean-Luc as Beverly steps back to permit him entrance into her modest San Francisco high-rise apartment.
"Is that so?" jests Beverly as the door slides closed behind Jean-Luc.
"You're in need of an escort for dinner. Does the invitation still stand?" inquires Jean-Luc hopefully, trying to keep his gaze focused on her eyes instead of roaming over her body. There are so few occasions he can see her out of uniform, and seeing her in an evening gown after all this time apart is a sight for sore eyes.
Half-smiling, Beverly bobs her head of loose curls. "Of course. You want to spend the evening schmoozing with the Admiralty?"
Pursing his lips, Jean-Luc shakes his head. "No. I'd prefer to dance with you."
Eyes dilating, Beverly cannot contain her smile. "You want to dance?"
"Yes," whispers Jean-Luc breathily, his eyes lingering on her exposed shoulders in the sleeveless gown.
"You're really bored in dry-dock, aren't you?" teases Beverly, retrieving her gold clutch from the small table by the door.
"No," confesses Jean-Luc, reaching for her hand, stealing a look at the swell of her hips in the gown. "I just…missed you."
Pausing by the door, Beverly appraises him with concern and warmth. "I miss you, too, Jean-Luc."
Averting his eyes, Jean-Luc briefly surveys the apartment, the indistinct living space that is essentially devoid of any personal touch. To him, it does not even appear that Beverly lives here. "Come with me."
"Yes. We'll leave now. Cocktails will be starting soon," agrees Beverly, squeezing his hand affectionately.
"No," corrects Jean-Luc, his voice gravelly. "No." Glancing up, he meets her questioning eyes with his determined ones. "Come home."
Absorbing his impassioned plea, Beverly's heart beats profusely against her chest. "Jean-Luc…."
"I want you to come home," implores Jean-Luc, his eyes begging. Gripping her hand, Jean-Luc draws her closer, grasping her other hand. "Beverly, you belong on the Enterprise."
Lips trembling, Beverly attempts to swallow the lump in her throat, her clutch falling to the floor. "Jean-Luc…"
"This isn't right," insists Jean-Luc. "This isn't your life. Your life is on the Enterprise. You belong on our ship. You belong in Sickbay. You belong with our crew, our friends…with…"
"You?" Beverly whispers, pressing closer, so close she can feel the heat radiating off of his chest.
Staring resolutely into her eyes, Jean-Luc runs a hand along her arm. "Yes."
"I'm here now," replies Beverly ruefully. "I'm in charge of Medical."
"You left," points out Jean-Luc, grief plaguing his feature. "You left me."
"I didn't leave you," retorts Beverly. "Jean-Luc, I'd been on the Enterprise for ions. I needed a change of scenery, a change of…pace." She cannot look him in the eyes and tell him that after all the time they had served together, her resolve had finally broken. She had finally seized the chance to make a new life for herself, knowing that they would never make it work between them, knowing that their convoluted past would always prevent them from pursuing a future together.
"You left," argues Jean-Luc, dropping a hand to her waist, his eyes boring into hers.
Swallowing hard, Beverly bobs her head, running her tongue along her lips. "Yes."
"I want you back," Jean-Luc demands, pulling her hips flush to his. "Come home."
Moaning, Beverly's response is muted when his lips capture hers in a hard, probing kiss.
One hand flies up and tangles in her hair as he backs her against the wall, gripping her hip and kissing her desperately.
Grasping his shoulder, Beverly's head spins as she absorbs the myriad of sensations fighting for dominance within her. Breaking off, she inhales heavily, trying to catch her breath. "I thought you came for a dance."
"Among other things," Jean-Luc teases seductively, sliding a hand up her torso.
Resting her forehead against his, Beverly pecks his lips. "You've caught me off guard."
Tracing her swollen lips with his index finger, Jean-Luc smiles sensuously. "You should call in your regrets. You won't be making dinner."
Grinning playfully, Beverly toes out of her heel, her hand massaging Jean-Luc bicep. "Why not?"
Pinning her to the wall with his pelvis, Jean-Luc buries a hand in her hair, recapturing her lips in a slow, penetrating kiss. "Private… reservation for two."
Cradling his head in her hands, Beverly pulls him back slightly to take a long breath of air after their passionate embrace. "That sounds like a much more enjoyable evening."
Cupping her neck, Jean-Luc kisses her jawline, trailing a path down her neck. "Then, we're packing your bags. You're coming home."
"Home," sighs Beverly contentedly, closing her eyes. Fighting the dizziness, Beverly is overwhelmed by the turn of events, but entirely elated. She's coming home.