Title: The Future
Author: Singing Violin
Series: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Rating: T
Summary: Pillow talk following the events of "All Good Things."
Disclaimer: The Star Trek characters and universe are not mine.
"Jean-Luc, tell me about the future." As she spoke, she tangled her fingers in his chest hair.
"I told you, Beverly, I prefer to think of the future as something that has yet to be written."
She pulled back slightly, using her elbow to prop herself up and look him in the eye. "You know what I mean. The alternate future. The one that won't happen now that we've interfered. And you've already admitted that the Temporal Prime Directive doesn't apply."
He sighed and rolled over onto his back, crossing his arms over his chest. "I'd rather not."
She rolled partially on top of him, kissing his lips briefly before pulling away once more. "Please, Jean-Luc. The curiosity is killing me. I need to know. Besides, it's troubling you. Still. Even without those implants we got on Kesprit, I can tell. Maybe it'll help to get it off your chest?"
"Deanna died," he blurted out.
"Oh," she answered awkwardly. "How?"
"Some mission," explained the captain. "I don't remember the details. She'd been gone for some time already by the time I showed up."
"How did the crew take it?" Beverly asked warily.
"Mostly fine," explained Picard. "But Worf and Will weren't talking to each other. Each blamed the other. It was...painful to see them at odds like that. Especially as I'm pretty sure her death was my fault." Like Jack's.
Beverly reached over and squeezed his hand. "Maybe the mission won't happen now, and she'll live a long and healthy life." However, she sensed that this wasn't the only thing bothering him, and she silently implored him to continue.
"We were divorced," he whispered.
Her eyes widened as she sat up directly. "Well, that is troubling. Though I suppose I could look at the bright side...at least we got married."
Now he sat up too and looked into her eyes, and for a moment, she was frightened by his haunted expression. "I'm serious, Beverly," he reiterated. "There's a reason I didn't want to talk about it."
She looked down at her hands in her lap. "I can't imagine anything that would tear us apart like that. What was it?"
He shook his head. "Honestly, I have no idea. The Irumodic syndrome - or maybe it was Q - prevented me from remembering much beyond what I needed to complete the mission."
Now she looked up at him and took his face in her hands, kissing him again, this time gently, sympathetically, attempting to offer comfort where no comfort was to be had. "Will it help if I promise not to divorce you?"
He didn't even crack a smile. "No. Besides, you haven't even agreed to marry me."
She grinned then. "You haven't asked."
"Oh, well in that case," he continued, then got out of the bed and knelt beside it, his hand on her leg, heedless of his naked body. "Beverly Crusher, will you marry me?"
Her eyes sparkled with tears of joy. "Yes, Jean-Luc Picard. Yes I will."
Then she continued. "But I'm cold, so get your butt back in bed. Physician's orders."
"Yes, Sir," he responded lightly, and obeyed.