A/N: So I wrote this as a part of a Secret Santa thing on the P/C fanfiction forum. Really all my pieces seem to come there lately. Anyway, one of the choices the recipient offered was something set between Jack's death and the first season. She also mentioned something perhaps with Walker. Also she didn't want anything with too much space travel or negotiations or technical stuff or too melodrama-y. So I tried my best to fit those parameters. I hope you like it because it was actually kind of cathartic for me to write for whatever reason. Oh and like most of my things I based this one off a song. The song I chose was Breathe Again by Sara Bareilles. Look it up if you have a second and listen to it while reading; it's an amazing song.

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters just the story idea.

…

"facing the ghosts that decide if the fire inside still burns

all I have, all i need, he's the air i would kill to breathe

holds my love in his hands, still i'm searching for something

out of breath, i am left hoping someday i'll breathe again

i'll breathe again…"

- breathe again, sara bareilles

…

Breathe Again

1. all i have, all i need…

She sat alone on a bench in their favorite park and watched the two little boys as they played quietly on the playground nearby. They seemed quite content for about a minute and a half but she could see, even from a distance, that the pull of the earth was too much for them to resist. Jumping to their feet, the boys looked at each other then took off in a sprint toward a hill bordering the playground. After chasing each other for a few minutes they tore back down the slope, their carefree laughter tumbling with them through the dirt. The sound made her smile. It had been such a long time since she'd heard him laugh. It was a refreshing sound to her ears.

Closing her eyes, she absorbed the moment and let her heart beat freely for the first time in months. As her body began to relax, a gentle breeze brushed against her skin, carrying with it a scent she hadn't encountered in a long time. Her eyes snapped open. She spun in her seat and searched the area, frantic to find the origins of that smell…that cologne. There was only one man who wore it this well. There was really only one man she wanted to wear it. And he was the only man she needed to see more than life itself.

Suddenly a heavy hand fell hard on her shoulder, causing her to jump.

"Sorry, kid, didn't mean to startle you," the lyrical voice said.

She sighed and shook her head; her questing eyes finally halting their frenetic search to turn toward the voice. "How many times have I told you to stop calling me kid?" she groaned as she moved to fully face her companion.

The tall man scrunched his face and thought. "A few dozen perhaps," he said as he dropped onto the bench next to her.

"A few million is more like it," she bit back. A long sigh slipped past her frowning lips.

"What's the matter?"

She inhaled deeply. "Do you smell that? Or have I officially lost my mind?" she asked wearily.

He mimicked her intake of breath then turned on the bench to look at the perimeter of the park. "Are you referring to what I think you're referring to?"

"I don't know. Are you referring to…him?"

"Are you?"

"Stop playing games and answer the question, old man."

He laughed loudly and dropped his arm around her shoulders. "You know it's impossible, Bev," he said gently once his laughter dissipated. "He's in deep, deep space. Probably the delta quadrant. You know that's how he prefers things."

Her frown deepened as she slumped against his arm. "Have you heard from him lately?" she asked quietly, hating how vulnerable and needy her voice sounded.

"I don't think I should answer that."

"Walker, please. You're my only connection to him. He won't answer any of my communiqués. I need to know he's okay."

His eyes softened as he pulled her closer. "He's fine, Beverly. I promise you that."

"You're worried about him too," she stated as plainly as if it were written in the sky. "Aren't you?"

"I hate when you do that, you know," Walker said with a roll of his eyes.

"Then you need to work on your tells."

His eyebrow rose. "My tells?"

"How else do you think I bleed you dry every week at the poker game, Walker?" She chuckled lightly.

Walker joined her laughter. "I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about."

Beverly shook her head and settled into his side. After a few moments she closed her eyes and rested her head on Walker's shoulder. The silence slid over them as easily the warm spring breeze. Once her heart had calmed a bit, Beverly opened her eyes and shifted to look at her friend.

"Next time you talk to him will you tell him I said hi?" she asked almost shyly.

"I always do, Bev."

Beverly smiled sadly and bravely nodded her head. Then, as she often did, she stowed the sadness away. Once everything was neatly filed where it should be, she stood and looked around the area. She breathed in the surrounding air one more time, hoping for another hint of his scent. When she detected none, she sighed and turned her head slightly toward the bench.

"Let's get Wes home. It's starting to get dark," she said. Shifting her head toward the playground, she called out Wesley's name then walked off in the direction of the swings.

Walker absently nodded his head in response to her statement as a poor excuse of a smile positioned itself on his lips. He stood and watched her head toward her son. As she bent to pick up the very displeased six-year-old, a gust of wind rushed by him. He turned into it, letting it blow away the heaviness that had settled in his features. It worked for a few seconds until the moment he breathed it in. As it surrounded him, his brow furrowed.

'I know that scent,' he thought.

Straightening up to his full height, he searched the area in front of him. There was a loud rustling to his right. He swore that he saw movement. Blinking a few times he shook his head to make sure his vision wasn't clouded by Beverly's wishful thinking.

Turning fully, he quickly took note of a group of nearby trees whose branches were swaying a little too violently. He knew the wind wasn't strong enough to cause that kind of displacement. Just as he took a few steps in the direction of the trees her voice called out to him.

"Come on Walker! It's time to get home!"

He waved absently in her direction and narrowed his eyes, trying to see what was lurking behind the trees.

"Walker, come on or I'm making you deal with this child when he has another tantrum."

He sighed, his shoulders drooping. "Fine," he muttered then turned toward her. "I'm coming," he yelled as he began jogging toward the young mother and her fussy little boy.

…

Beverly sighed and plopped down on the couch. "I am exhausted," she said closing her eyes and rubbing the back of her neck.

"You're exhausted?" Walker sank down next to her and leaned his head back on the couch cushion. "That was the longest ninety minutes of my life."

She laughed at his incredulity. "You forget, Walker. I do this every day of my life…alone. I'm exhausted every second of every day."

"Sorry, Bev, I didn't mean…I wasn't thinking…I…"

"Walker," Beverly said gently. She smiled and placed her hand on his shoulder. "It's fine. I didn't mean…" She sighed. "I'm just a little sad today."

"Why?" he asked, turning his head toward her.

She shrugged her shoulders and offered him poorly constructed half a smile.

"The park," he said a few seconds later. "The smell."

He watched as another half smile flashed across her face. For a few moments he continued to stare at her, contemplating if he should tell her what he saw just before they left the park. As the sadness settled in her eyes, he took a deep breath.

"Bev," he said in a low voice. "I have something I want to tell you. But I need you to keep a level head about it. You can't blow it out of proportion. Okay?" He lifted himself from the couch and stood directly in front of her.

She eyed him suspiciously, trying to figure out where he was going.

"Beverly," he said with warning.

She immediately recognized and understood the significance behind the tone in his voice, knowing if she didn't agree he wasn't going to tell her. "Okay, okay," she responded, her eyes widening slightly. "What is it you need to tell me?" she asked, her voice reflecting his seriousness.

He paced back and forth. "It's about the park…and about that smell." He paused for a long moment. "When you were getting Wesley, I think I may have seen something. I saw it right after I smelled…"

"So it wasn't just wishful thinking," she interrupted. "It wasn't just in my head!" She clapped her hands together and covered her mouth as a look of hope sparked in her eyes.

"Beverly, come on," Walker said through clenched teeth as he glanced toward the stairs. "We just got Wesley down for the night. I don't want go through another hour and a half of that."

"Sorry," she responded quietly. Her head dropped as a frown spilled onto her face. "Though you know he'll wake up again."

"I know." Walker sighed. A brief silence passed between them as they each thought of the little boy's torments. "So he's still getting the nightmares?"

"You've only been gone a week," she said staring at him. After a brief moment her severe look dissipated into a sad smile. "He's been having them for a year. They aren't just going to disappear." Beverly exhaled slowly then shrugged her shoulders. "They aren't as often as right after," she continued softly, "but they seem just as bad."

"And you still don't know what's causing them?"

"He won't talk about them."

"Perhaps you should put him in therapy."

"He's been in therapy," Beverly responded angrily as she stood and started to pace. She stopped suddenly then took a deep breath. "I'm sorry. It's just that he's seen everyone here. No one can get through to him."

"What does Doctor Quaice think?"

She looked at him, the shock radiating from her eyes.

"Beverly," he scolded carefully. "I know you. Of course you'd take him to see Quaice. You trust and value his opinion more than anyone. What did he say?"

"The same as everyone else," she responded as she shook her head. "That most effective way to break the cycle is to get him to confront his fears."

"And how are you going to do that?"

She stared straight ahead and breathed in slowly. "Take him into space," she said quietly.

"Bev, you know there isn't a captain out there who will allow a child on to their ship permanently."

"I know of one who might," she whispered.

Walker stalked toward her. "Don't even think about it, Beverly Crusher. That man has been through enough. Get it out of your pretty little head right now. He'll never allow it."

"He owes him! He owes me!"

Her tears came faster than a flash flood as she sunk to the ground. She curled into her knees and shook violently from her sobs. When Walker saw her start to fall, he bolted the rest of the way to her. He immediately wrapped his arms around her and hugged her to his chest, as best he could.

"Shhhh," he murmured into her ear. "It's okay."

He held her for several minutes as her body continued to shake and her tears continued to fall and flood around them. Finally her breathing evened and her head lifted. She sat still for a few moments. As she stared down at her still shaking hands, she tried desperately to compose herself enough to speak. After drawing in a deep breath, she licked her lips and cleared her throat.

"I know he's here, Walker. I can feel it." She looked up at him, her big blue eyes still overflowing with tears. "You know I'm right. You saw it yourself."

"To be fair, Beverly," he responded gently, "I didn't see anything but rustling tree branches."

"But you smelled it. You smelled him."

"Okay, I admit I smelled it. But anyone could be wearing that cologne now, Beverly. It's not as close a kept secret as it once was."

"It smells different on him."

Walker sat back on his heels and stared at her, scrutinizing every centimeter of her face. "Why are you so insistent that it was him? Why do you need it to be him so badly?"

"I don't expect you to understand," she said coldly as she stood and wiped her hands down her pants.

"Then why don't you explain it to me?" he asked, following her to the sofa.

"I don't think I can."

"Why not?"

"I don't know."

"You're going to have to do much better than that, kid."

She glared at him, her lips pursed and her arms crossed over her chest. "Have you ever lost a husband?" she asked the bitterness of reality stinging her words. "The father of your child?"

"No," he whispered.

"Then I can't do any better than I don't know." Her face fell. She bit her lip and shrugged her shoulders fruitlessly. "I really don't know how to explain it. But I just need to know he's okay. Something in me just doesn't feel complete. With Jack gone and…" She sighed quietly. "I just…I need him."

"Why him, Beverly?"

"Why not him?"

"He can't replace Jack."

She flashed him a sharp look that softened a few seconds later. "I know." Her eyes turned to his skeptical face. "I do. I know that. I don't want him to replace Jack. But…" She shrugged her shoulders. "I…"

"Don't know."

"Yeah."

She stood still as he stared silently. After a few moments he rose from the floor and crossed to her. In one swift movement he pulled her back into his embrace and whispered apologies in her ear.

He was sorry he wasn't Jack. He was sorry he wasn't Jean-Luc. He was sorry neither man was there. He was sorry she had to all of this on her own. He was sorry she was so miserable. And he was sorry he couldn't do anything to help.

Her warm tears slid down his neck as she gripped tightly to his shirt. After several minutes, she'd finally exhausted the last of her tears. She pulled away from him and looked into his kind eyes. A slow inhale filled her as her lips tried to form words of thanks and gratitude. Only nothing came out when she tried to speak.

He smiled at her and took her face in his hands. "You don't need to say anything, Bev. I know."

Her bottom lip trembled as she nodded her head and attempted a smile. He wrapped his arms around her again and hugged her tightly. Several minutes later he pulled back and looked down at her.

"I think I've done enough damage tonight." He smiled weakly and gave her another tight squeeze. "I should probably be going now," he said quietly. "Are you going to be okay?"

She nodded her head again then followed him as he moved toward the door. They exited the house quietly and walked out on to her front porch. When the sky was visible, they automatically looked up toward it. The silence between them lengthened as they each saw what they desired in the stars.

Several moments later Beverly finally found her voice. "Thank you for staying with us tonight," she said softly.

"I can't say I helped."

She smiled. "You did. Believe me, you being here…seeing you…it helps more than you'll ever know."

"But I'm still not him."

"Walker," she admonished.

"I know you care about him, Beverly. You get this look in your eyes when his name is mentioned or when you think about him." He sighed. "And I think I can understand how you're feeling but that doesn't mean I think it's healthy."

"You can think what you want about my 'unhealthy' feelings. But it's not going to change what's in my heart. He was one of our closest friends. He is one of my closest friends. There's a special place in my heart for him. There always will be." She took in a steadying breath and looked up at her dear friend. "Just as Jack will always have his own special place in my heart and just as you will. That will never change."

"I just want you to be happy and safe, Bev. And not just because Jack was one of my best friends." He smiled at her and placed his hands on her shoulders. "I care about you too."

Her eyes closed, tears slipping from behind the closed lids. "I know," she whispered.

He smiled again then bent down and placed a gentle kiss on her lips. "I'll see you soon."

"Okay," she answered quietly. She watched as Walker took long strides toward his car. Even once she lost sight of him past the thick bushes, she waited. After a few minutes she heard the telltale sound of his engine starting. Within seconds she saw his headlights turn on and heard the abrasive noise of his horn sounding. She smiled and waved blindly in his direction, knowing he'd expect it even if she couldn't see him.

Once the brightness of his headlights faded she leaned against the railing in front of her. Her eyes traveled up and down the nearly abandoned street. The night was unusually quiet except for the occasional breeze. Taking in a deep breath she looked down at the moonlit front lawn.

"Oh, Jean-Luc," she said as her eyes closed. "I hope you're okay." She bit her lip as the tears slipped silently down her cheeks. Opening her eyes, she looked to the sky again. The stars drew her in, causing an ache deep in her chest. "I wish I could see you right now," she said to the man who was probably galaxies away. "I miss you." Dropping her head back down, she sighed. After another deep breath, she wrapped her arms around her waist then turned to go into the house.

…

Shadows moved and danced in the midnight moon. The breeze breathed in large sighs, weaving a familiar scent through the tree's branches until it reached the sky. Once there it embraced the clouds and twirled through the dark expanse.

Below on the earth one lone figure stood. For a long time it didn't move. It just observed…absorbed its surroundings. Finally it crept forward. As it progressed its shadow stretched ahead, covering the front door of the house before it.

A hesitant fist reached out to lightly knock but just as it was about to make contact the door swung open. The figure paused for a moment before it slid smoothly into the house. It moved through the space reverently, taking in everything…touching every surface…smelling every scent. Everything was as it was supposed to be…as it was remembered.

…

She woke with a start, her chest heaving for caught breath and her skin gleaming with a thin sheen of perspiration. Her heart pounded and her body shook. It was that dream again. The one with him.

The room spun as she sat. She steadied herself on the bed and looked around the darkened room. It seemed bigger…colder than ever before. If she had to venture a guess as to why, she would have to say it was that smell…that feeling screaming to her that he was near.

As she continued to sit, her eyes began adjusting to the darkness. Slowly, she began to extract herself from the warm sheets and comforter. A few seconds later she absently grabbed her robe from the bottom of the bed then tiptoed out of her room and down the hall. Pulling on her robe, she made her way down the stairs and into the kitchen. Once there, she didn't bother turning on the light. She knew this path well; she'd taken it in the middle of the night more times than she'd like to count.

Grabbing the tea kettle from the stove, she swung it into the sink and turned on the faucet. As it filled, she let her mind wander back to the dream. It had felt so real…just as it always had. Shaking her head, she reminded herself that it was in fact just a dream. After a deep breath, she shut off the water then replaced it on the stove and ignited the flame under the burner. While the water warmed she let the stillness of the night engulf her.

The shadows watched her, taking in every part of her.

She looked troubled. She looked tired.

Gone was the ease she had in her youth. Gone were the laugh lines and the sparkle in her eye. Gone was the happiness she embodied just a short year ago.

Her sigh broke through the careful study of her. As the shadow shifted, it happened. His name floated around the silent kitchen, completely shattering all illusions. The shadow swayed and carefully considered the repercussions of the action its impending action.

"Still having trouble sleeping, I see," came a low, hidden whisper.

The figure cloaked in darkness leaned back and switched on the light above the dining room table. Suddenly the room flooded with light. She gasped and jumped then spun toward the voice. Her entire body shook visibly as she stared at him. Reaching up, she rubbed at her eyes. She was sure that they were playing tricks on her.

"I'm sorry if I frightened you," he said softly. His head bent toward the top of the table. "And I'm very sorry for the intrusion…but…"

The sight of him took her breath away. "How…" She took a tentative step forward. "Are…are you real? Are you really here?" she asked in a trembling voice.

"I am," he responded almost inaudibly.

She took another step toward him. "I don't understand," she stated as she took yet another step forward.

"So, you and Walker look cozy," he said, bitterness cutting into his rich voice.

Her slow pace toward him faltered as she tripped on his animosity. The sudden change in his demeanor shook her. When his eyes lifted to hers, the look in them stabbed through any harbored hope she had of an easy reconciliation.

"Excuse me?" she asked, her eyes widening.

"You and Walker," he repeated. His eyebrow rose condescendingly. "You two look happy together. I'm happy for you."

"What are you saying?" she asked, taking a few more cautious steps toward her kitchen table.

"It's perfectly natural to turn to someone you trust in a time like this, Beverly."

Her eyes narrowed as her mouth flattened into a tight line. "I don't think I like your tone," she responded as she stared him down. "Are you implying what I think you're implying? That Walker and I are sleeping together?"

"I'm not implying a thing. I've seen you. I see how you touch. How you lean on him. How you look when he kisses you."

She marched toward him, coming to stand just on the other side of the table. Planting both hands firmly on the top she leaned forward. "I don't know who you think you are or what you thought you saw. But you couldn't be more of an ass…" She inched closer to his face. "…or more wrong," she finished in a calm, low voice. After staring into his cold eyes for a moment longer she stood slowly and crossed her arms over her chest. "And if that's what you think is going on," she continued evenly, "then get out of my house."

"Beverly," he said quickly, a bit of regret singeing the edges of her name.

"Don't 'Beverly' me, Jean-Luc. Just get out." She turned her back to him and shook her head. "And to think I was worried about you."

Jean-Luc rose from his seat and started to move toward her.

She felt him move and swung back around. "Stop," she said harshly. Straightening up, she backed away from him. She eyed him suspiciously.

"Beverly," he said evenly. "I…" After a long sigh he extended his open palm toward her. "I'm sorry." He cautiously took a step toward her. "I didn't come here to antagonize you."

She shot him a sharp look. Her eyes surveyed him, searching for any kind of deception. After a long moment, she took in a deep breath. "Then why are you here?"

He bowed his head before the blush overtook his face.

"Jean-Luc?"

"I can't really explain it," he said quietly.

Her eyes slowly drifted to his face.

"It's ridiculous, I know. But I just felt this pull…this need to…"

"…make sure you were okay," she finished for him.

Their eyes connected. Each stared at each other with wonder. Slowly they shifted toward one another.

"Yeah," he whispered once they were standing mere centimeters apart.

She stared at his mouth, her breath coming in rapid waves. "Jean-Luc," she whispered.

His knees weakened. "Beverly." Without thinking, he brought his hand up to her face and brushed his fingers down her cheek. "I'm sorry," he murmured. Closing his eyes he leaned toward her and drew in a deep breath.

Instinctually her head bent forward. Time slowed as their foreheads met. She sighed at the emotional currents the connection shocked through her.

"I don't know what to say."

"Why don't you start at the beginning," she responded gently.

"The beginning…"

"Of why you're sorry. Of why you're here." She bit her lip then smiled at him, urging him to keep talking to her.

He nodded with a resigned look on his face. Reluctantly he pulled back and stared into her eyes. With a weak nod, he took a step back and inhaled deeply.

"The beginning," he said quietly as he shook his head. "I don't think that would be such a good idea."

"And why not?"

"You're just going to have to trust me on that one for now."

She nodded as she chewed on her bottom lip. "Will you tell me one day?" she asked quietly as she gently crossed her arms under her chest.

"Perhaps."

Her eyes shone with hope as she closed the distance between them. "I'd like that," she said, her voice crackling with emotion. "Why don't you tell me why you're sorry?"

He started out hesitantly and quietly. But as slowly as they came, the words wouldn't stop. His eyes bore into her as he spoke. He said whatever came to mind.

Stories of missions. Passages from books. Odd foods he'd come across. How beautiful the moon and stars were over the waterfalls on a planet far away. And how much he wished she could see it.

Then came the questions. Questions of her life. Questions about Wesley.

And finally he spoke of Jack. His memories. The laughter. The love.

For hours he spoke only pausing long enough to draw in a quick breath before he was talking again. Finally when he'd exhausted his voice, he stopped and looked to her. He stared into her eyes, scared at how intensely they were looking at him. Standing, he sighed.

"You look sad."

"I've missed you," she responded, not missing a beat.

"And I you," he murmured.

And just like that she was in his arms, clinging to him as if he'd dissipate into vapor.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I should never have left after he died. I should never have ignored your attempts."

"Why did you?" she asked as she looked up at him, her eyes laced with tears.

"It hurt."

"It hurt all of us, Jean-Luc," she said gently. "We could have helped ease your…"

"No. That's not what I meant."

Her eyes crinkled in question.

"Not now," he responded, not needing her to say the words steeping in her chest. "Maybe one day."

"I don't understand."

"You will. Just not now. Please."

She nodded her head. "So what now?"

He shrugged his shoulders, knowing there were still so many demons lurking beyond the surface. But it had been a long day. He was exhausted both mentally and physically.

"I think you should get some sleep," she suggested. "You look like you haven't slept in a year or two."

He smiled as his head lolled down and to the left.

"You will stay, won't you?"

His eyes lifted. He searched the depths of her blue to make sure she wasn't just making a concession to appease him. What he now saw there shocked him.

"I don't know if that's a good idea, Beverly. So much has happened. I don't want to…press our luck."

She laughed lightly. "You just don't get it, do you?" She shook her head. "And the sad thing is you probably never will. Will you?" She paused for a second before she took his hand and pulled him toward the stairs. "Come on."

He allowed her to drag him up the stairs. After all, he never was able to say no to her. And with a slight twinge of heaviness in his heart, he knew he never would.

With a heavy sigh, he followed her to the guest room that was nestled between her own and her son's. He closed his eyes tightly as the nerves in his stomach knotted. He couldn't do this. He couldn't be this close to her…couldn't lie in bed knowing she was on the other side of the wall…couldn't live with the guilt of the pain he'd caused her.

"Beverly," he started.

"Not another word, Jean-Luc," she said as she gently placed her finger over his lips. "I know you're trying to guilt yourself out of staying here and I know you're going to try and guilt me out of letting you stay. So you're not to say another word. You're staying." She smiled warmly at him then squeezed his arm, reinforcing her comment. "I'll be right next door if you need anything."

Walking toward the hallway, she smiled to herself then turned around to look at him. Her eyes travelled over his body to his face. She took in every part of him, trying to convince herself that this wasn't a dream. Without a word, she turned and walked out of the room. Just as she turned to close the door, she popped her head through the opening and smiled brightly.

"Good night, Jean-Luc," she said in a whisper. "Sweet dreams."

Then she was gone, only the whisper of her perfume lingering in the air. He breathed it in then sighed. Deep breaths filled his lungs then emptied in a slow cadence. He couldn't calm his wild heart. It beat furiously. It screamed furiously.

It was furious.

How could he put himself in the position?

He closed his eyes and cursed his weakness. When he'd traveled to Earth a week ago he'd sworn he wouldn't become enraptured by her again. He promised himself he would seek out Walker and inquire about her then move on with his leave. But when he went to see Walker, he saw her and every plan and promise flew from his mind.

For days he watched them. Watched her. His greedy eyes took in every one of her features, reacquainting himself with them.

She was still beautiful. She could still disarm him with one smile. She still held his heart in her hand.

With a sigh, he flopped down on the bed and closed his eyes. He hoped sleep would quickly claim his tortured conscience and for once let him rest. But he knew it was useless. He hadn't had a good night's sleep since the moment he met her.

As he suspected, sleep came in choppy segments. Each time he awoke in the night he found himself disoriented. This room was too familiar. It held too many memories…too many ghosts.

At one point when he jolted from sleep, he swore he saw Jack Crusher standing at the end of his bed like the bloody ghost of Christmas past. But after he shook the haze from his eyes, he realized it was merely an abandoned coat stand. He almost laughed at the absurdity.

The next time he woke, he rolled over to look at the clock and realized that the sun had finally risen. With a grateful sigh, he pulled himself out of bed and headed for the bathroom. Once he was finished he crept downstairs quietly. He convinced himself it was so that he would not disturb her not because he was trying to avoid her. But when he reached the kitchen he saw that she was already awake. He cleared his throat gently then bowed his head, not ready to meet her eyes quite yet.

"Good morning," she said once she turned around. "Did you sleep well?"

Unable to climb over the wall of silence that stood between them, he simply nodded. She smiled knowingly then turned back to the stove.

"Why don't you have a seat," she said without turning around. "I'll fix some breakfast."

She heard the chair scrape the tiled floor as she busied herself around the stove. A few moments later, she walked over to the table with two mugs in hand.

"It will be a few more minutes until everything is ready," she said. "I'm afraid I wasn't expecting you to wake up so early."

As she lowered herself in to the seat opposite him, she watched him carefully. His face appeared tired but otherwise impassive. With a sigh she pushed one of the mugs toward him.

He picked it up and took a deep breath. As the steam circled around him, he immediately recognized the tangy aroma of his favorite brew. "Thank you," he said before taking a sip.

She smiled as he discovered the cup's contents. While she waited for him to drink some of his tea, she carefully regarded the differences in his face. He seemed tired…older…worried. She wondered what changed within him and why. And for a brief moment considered asking him. But when he placed his mug back on the table, she lost her nerve and settled on something that seemed safer.

"So how long are you home?"

He looked up, his eyes fogged with regret. "Just a few days, I'm afraid."

"Oh."

"I wish it could be more but…"

"I know." She smiled sadly and nodded her head in understanding. "I'm sure your ship doesn't function as well without its captain."

"Beverly."

She looked up and shook her head in an effort to hide her imminent tears. "I really do understand, Jean-Luc."

"No," he said sharply. "It's no excuse. You're my friend and I don't get home very often. I should make more of an effort to…"

"Please, Jean-Luc," she said with pleading eyes. "Please don't make it harder than…" When her throat suddenly closed up, she just nodded her head in hopes that he'd understand.

And he did. He always would. Especially when it came to her.

After a few moments she nodded her head once more then picked up her mug. Silence again stood between them as they each sipped their tea. Slowly a smile crept onto her face. She tried to hide it behind her tea, but he saw it.

"What?" he asked.

She shook her head. "Nothing."

"Something has you over there laughing to yourself." He raised an eyebrow and cocked his head in her direction.

"I was just thinking how ridiculous this was. You know if Jack were here he'd tell us we're acting like a couple of fools."

He laughed. "You know, I think you're right."

"You know I am. Jack never tolerated awkwardness." She paused and shrugged her shoulders. "So I think in his memory we shouldn't either." Her piercing blue eyes turned to his hazel ones. She locked him in a steady gaze and smiled. "Do you agree?"

For a moment, he considered the ramifications of refusing her offer. With a shake of his head, he dismissed his contemplation and looked into her eyes. "I do," he said holding out his hand.

After grasping his outstretched hand, she shook it firmly then smiled. "Good. I'm glad we got that settled."

Once they'd sealed their little agreement with a handshake, Jean-Luc seemed to loosen up. The mere mention of Jack seemed to lessen the tension. He still stood between them, as tangible as a real person but at least they both knew neither had forgotten him.

By the time Wesley was up and about, Beverly and Jean-Luc had fallen into easy conversation. When Beverly saw Wesley enter the kitchen, rubbing his eyes and yawning she stopped midsentence and pulled her son up into her lap. She ran her fingers through the boy's unruly hair then placed a kiss on his forehead.

"Good morning, sweetheart," she said, the gentleness in her voice caressing everyone in the room.

Jean-Luc's breath caught at the sound. He realized at that moment just how much he'd missed her and how much his heart ached when he was around her. He sighed as his heart continued to flutter in his chest.

"Wesley," she said looking into his still sleep face, "do you remember Jean-Luc?" She smiled when he eyed the captain then shook his head. "He is one of daddy..and one of my friends. He used to visit here all the time with Walker."

As soon as Jean-Luc smiled at Wesley, the little boy jumped slightly then buried his face in Beverly's neck. She rubbed her hand down his back then then stroked his hair. After a few seconds she looked up to Jean-Luc and shrugged.

"Honey, what's wrong?" she asked Wesley. "Are you being shy?"

Wesley burrowed deeper and tightened his hold on her. She sighed and got up from the table.

"I'm sorry, Jean-Luc," she whispered as she walked past him. "I don't know what's gotten in to him." Her eyes darted toward her son for a split second. "He's been doing this a lot lately," she whispered. "I'm just going to get him cleaned up then I'll be back down. Help yourself to anything."

Once he was left to his own devices, he exhaled audibly. He loved being around her again but was severely unprepared for the hurt. It shouldn't have been a surprise to him. He'd lived with it for as long as he'd known her but somehow over the course of a year he'd suppressed it so deeply that he'd forgotten.

He'd forgotten about the flame…the burn…the constant, intense pounding ache.

When she returned several minutes later, she caught him so lost in thought that she startled him when she placed her hand on his shoulder. "Sorry," she said with a chuckle. "I didn't mean to startle you."

He looked around her, his eyes searching for her son. "Where's Wesley?"

"Upstairs playing in his room."

"Is he okay?"

She nodded her head. "Just a little shaken up, I think."

"Because of me?"

"I think he remembers you but he's not quite sure from where which for a six-year-old is very unsettling." Her shoulders lifted briefly. "I also may have made his anxiety about the situation worse when I mentioned his dad."

Jean-Luc turned a curious stare to her.

"He, uh, he still hasn't fully accepted Jack's death," she stated. "And before you say anything, I know it isn't healthy but I just…I don't know. It just breaks my heart to see him hurting and not be able to do a thing to stop his suffering."

He cleared his throat and slid his chair closer to hers. "I'm not very good with children," he said slowly.

"I know you aren't, Jean-Luc. I don't want you to think that I expec…"

He stopped her by lifting his palm to stop her. "As I was saying, I'm not good with children but I can…I'd like to try and help. Just tell me what I need to do."

Her eyes narrowed. "You really want to?"

"Of course," he said taking her hands in his.

She smiled and gave his fingers a light squeeze. "Well alright then." Standing she held her hand out to him and waited for him to take it, which he did without any questions or hesitation. "Come, I'd like to reintroduce you to someone." Her radiant smile flashed across her face as she led him up the stairs.

…

Jean-Luc and Wesley's reintroduction didn't go as smoothly as Beverly would have liked but it also wasn't a complete disaster. For that she was thankful. She needed her son to accept the captain in his life because she somehow knew it would be the captain who would teach her son what it was like to be a man.

The thought brought a lightness to her heart. If Wesley couldn't have Jack, he would have the next best thing. Jean-Luc Picard.

After the first few tense moments with Wesley, Jean-Luc was skeptical that he would be any help with the little boy. But every time he would look to her and express his worries, Beverly would reassure him and tell him he was doing everything just fine. He'd relax his shoulders and turn back to Wesley who would stare for a few seconds then contentedly return to his puzzle.

As the days passed, Jean-Luc felt Wesley's attitude toward him shift. Slowly the boy started adjusting to the captain's presence and began to open up to the older man. Jean-Luc also found himself more at ease as he fell into a rhythm with the Crushers. In fact, the day he realized he was quite content and happy with them he was so surprised he had to sit.

Hours later on his day of this realization she found him in the living room, staring at the dormant fireplace.

"Are you okay?" she asked as she sat next to him.

He smiled over at her and nodded. "More than," he responded simply.

Her brow furrowed as she watched him but she didn't intrude on his thoughts. Instead she settled into the easy silence she'd come to love. There was something about his presence that soothed her restless soul.

She sighed and leaned back on the couch. The muscles in her exhausted limbs slowly loosened. As her breaths slowed, her eyes began to droop and her head started to dip.

He watched her fight sleep for several minutes. It was a valiant battle but in the end she lost. With a soft chuckle he brushed his fingers through her hair and murmured a soft lullaby that he'd learned from his mother.

A smile formed on her lips as she exhaled softly and curled onto her side. Little by little she edged her way toward him, seeking his warmth and his protection. Finally her semi-conscious body found his. As she wrapped around him, her sigh joined his in perfect sync.

…

TBC…