Beverly Crusher roared out of the turbolift and on to the bridge like a blue-clad tornado, two startled tactical officers leaping out of her way as she stormed down the ramp towards the captain's chair.

Jean-Luc Picard, who had been waiting impatiently for her arrival, rose to his feet and tugged down sharply on the hem of his uniform.

"Doctor –"

"Captain –"

Brusquely, "My ready room –"

She was already brushing past him. "Right now."

He entered the room on her heels and the door slid shut behind them, leaving an anxious group of officers standing on the bridge in their wake. Counselor Troi stared up at Commander Riker, her dark eyes wide with worry.

He dragged his gaze away from the ready room door and gave her a smile that he hoped was reassuring. "I'm sure they'll work it out," he told her. "I hope," he added under his breath.

Her arms were crossed over her chest and her eyes bright with fury.

He strode across the room and stood behind his desk, back ramrod straight. His face was severe and forbidding as he spoke. "How was the weather down on Altarius Minor?"

She stared at him in disbelief. "What?"

His expression lightened a fraction. "We're both about to let our tempers get the better of us, so I thought it might be prudent to start with a neutral subject."

She shook her head, confounded. His unexpected question had, in fact, taken some of the edge off her anger. Jean-Luc Picard, ever the master diplomat. "You shouldn't have pulled us out," she reproached him, but not as heatedly as she would have done a moment before.

"You should have returned to the ship when I gave the order the first time," he retorted sternly, yet without rancor. She was so beautiful when she was angry – what the Norsemen of old Earth had in mind when they sang of the Valkyries. Not that he would ever dare tell her that.

"We only needed another few minutes!" she protested. Sometimes he could be so completely unreasonable.

"We lost all communication with the colony less than ninety seconds after we beamed you back aboard," he reminded her. "I'm sorry, Doctor. I stand by my decision. Under the circumstances we did the best we could."

Her shoulders slumped. "Well, it wasn't good enough, was it."

He watched in silence as she stalked from the room without waiting to be dismissed, or for that matter, even waiting for a reply.

He entered their quarters to find her at the viewport, staring at the slowly turning planet below. A slight shift in her posture told him she heard him enter, but she didn't turn to face him as he came up behind her and slid his arms loosely around her waist.

"We left people to die down there today," she murmured sadly. The returning away teams had found only nineteen survivors left on the surface. That meant that although Beverly and the rest of the Enterprise crew had evacuated over two thousand Altarians, more than eighty had died during the eruption that had buried the colony.

"You were nearly among them," he noted, his voice low and throbbing in her ear.

"You know that most Altarians never have offspring," she said, choosing for the moment to ignore the accuracy of his comment.

"Yes."

"That means almost every one of them is not just individual and unique, but literally one of a kind."

"I know."

Beverly knew she needed to let it go. Jean-Luc was hardly to blame for being unable to control the elements. The volcanic eruptions that plagued Altarius Minor were abrupt, erratic and lethal. But she still couldn't shake a lingering feeling of failure.

Maybe it was because she felt each loss as a personal affront. It had always been that way, as far back as she could remember. After losing her parents so young, and after witnessing the devastation of Arvada III – having known first-hand the misery of being helpless in the face of disaster – it was impossible for her to stand idly by when someone needed her aid. And it was always difficult to step back and gain some perspective on a situation when she believed she should have been able to do more.

Jean-Luc's arms tightened around her waist. "Do you know why Lt. Commander Daren left the Enterprise?" he asked after a moment of silence.

She shook her head, twisting to gaze curiously into his eyes, her frustration and regret at the day's events momentarily forgotten as she contemplated his seeming non sequitur. She'd often wondered why the highly regarded stellar cartographer had transferred off the ship just a few short weeks after she and Jean-Luc had initiated their romantic relationship. Unsurprisingly he hadn't volunteered the reason at the time, and even when the woman unexpectedly came up in conversation a few weeks ago she'd hardly felt in a position to ask.

This time it was Jean-Luc who turned to stare out the viewport. "Do you recall our mission to Bersallis III?"

"The firestorms," she murmured, as the name lit a spark of recollection in her mind. She seemed to remember she'd treated more than a few casualties on that particular assignment.

He nodded, his hooded eyes still gazing beyond her, and into the past. "We were studying them from orbit when we received word that a particularly large storm was threatening the Federation outpost on the surface. Lt. Commander Daren led several away teams down with orders to set up a firewall to provide sufficient time to evacuate the outpost. But although we managed to rescue all of the scientists, the storm –" he stopped, began again, "the storm breached the firewall before the last two perimeter teams could be retrieved. Lt. Commander Daren was on one of those teams."

He swallowed thickly and met her gaze. Sorrow and regret were etched in the lines on his face. "Eight crewmembers lost their lives that day. For a long, terrible time I thought I had lost her, too."

"I didn't know that. I'm sorry," Beverly offered, feeling the inadequacy of the words even as she spoke them.

He nodded anyway, grateful for the sentiment. Even though several years had passed it was still a difficult period in his life to revisit. "Although Nella did ultimately return unharmed, I found I couldn't bear the thought of ordering her on another dangerous assignment. So she decided to leave the ship rather than place me in an untenable position."

"I…I see," she said softly, at a loss to know how else to respond.

His hazel eyes were now boring into hers. He needed her to appreciate how seriously he regarded what he was about to say. "Beverly, the way I felt about Nella Daren is merely a shadow of the way I feel about you."

She felt his words warming her even as she tried to follow his train of thought. "And yet you've never tried to stop me from going on dangerous missions." Like the one today. He hadn't, not once in the eight years he'd been her commanding officer. And if it wasn't because he loved her less than he'd loved Nella… She laid one hand on his chest and waited as patiently as she could for him to explain.

After a moment he spoke, his breath stirring the fine red hairs that framed her face. "No. Do you know why?"

She mutely shook her head.

"Because, unlike the situation with Lt. Commander Daren, I've lived for years with the reality of having to place your life in danger. It's not something I've grown accustomed to, far less to accept…" His voice trailed off for a moment as he drew a pained breath. "But it is nonetheless something that I've learned to endure."

"I'm sorry, Jean-Luc," she whispered, stricken by the look of stoic resignation on his face. "I…I never realized how difficult it must be for you." To have secretly loved her all that time, and yet never to have flinched from giving orders that might directly lead to her death… That took a courage and a strength she knew very few men possessed. It was no wonder that he couldn't force himself to make the same concession for Nella Daren.

Beverly gazed at the man she loved, considering their complex past and the many decisions that had led them to where they were today. And there was one decision in particular, one that she had made over a year ago now, that she had deeply regretted ever since. She knew that he had, too, yet not once in all the time afterward had he asked her to reconsider it. Now she thought she knew why. "That's why you never came after me, that night we got back from Kesprytt – why you never tried to change my mind."

Jean-Luc nodded, his smile sad and rueful. "How could I ask you to ignore your fears when I could barely overcome my own?"

He took her hand in his, his long fingers interlacing with her own to symbolize the way he felt their hearts entwined, now completely and inextricably bound to one another. "I promise, ma cherie, that I won't ever try to prevent you from undertaking risky away missions. But I'm asking you, please, not to gamble with your life while you're on them."

She stared at him. Up until a few moments ago her immediate, reflexive response would have been to remind him that her life was her own, to risk or not to risk as she chose, and that that didn't change just because they were sharing a bed. But now she was realizing that it was a more than reasonable request. In nearly losing Nella Daren, Jean-Luc had had a foretaste of the pain, the devastation he would feel if Beverly herself were to die under his command, and yet he'd still accepted the risks and committed himself to their relationship. In light of that, how could she not do everything in her power to lighten his burden?

Besides, she wanted – needed – the same consideration from him, that he would be careful with his life because she couldn't bear to lose him on her watch. After all that had always been her worst nightmare, from long before they became lovers – that one day he would turn up in her sickbay and she wouldn't be able to save him.

Odd that she'd never imagined his fears about their relationship would be so similar to her own.

"I can't promise to never again go on a dangerous mission, Jean-Luc," she said, holding up her free hand to forestall his response, "any more than you can promise to never get injured in the line of duty again. But I do promise not to treat my life casually." She reached up to tenderly brush one thumb across the angle of his cheekbone. "So long as you do the same."

He caught her hand in his and pressed a burning kiss into the palm. His eyes were dark with the solemnity of the moment. "I promise," he vowed, and the words seemed to almost hang in the air as together they processed the significance of their pact.

For that, it was clear to them both, was what it was: an acknowledgement, an explicit agreement that, in finally choosing to join their hearts and souls as one, in making a commitment to share their days and nights and build a future together, their lives were no longer entirely their own.

"Of course, that's not the only reason why our situation is different," Jean-Luc added after a few seconds of peaceable silence had passed between them, snaking his hands around her waist to draw her closer. He knew that, in continuing to serve in Starfleet even after the death of her husband, Beverly Crusher was a woman who lived her duty in a way few other officers had ever been called upon to do. It was one of the many reasons he loved her, and doubtless part of why she in turn understood him so well. He knew without question that putting her life before his duty to the Federation would be the one thing for which she could never forgive him. "The other is because, unlike Nella, you would never permit me to place my personal feelings before my responsibilities as captain."

He tightened his hold on her hips, his love for her radiating off him like sunlight. "You would never let me send you away. You're the best medical officer in Starfleet, and you belong here on the Enterprise." He'd learned that lesson the hard way during her year back on Earth. He could never ask her to leave the ship just to spare him from having to order her into jeopardy.

Beverly reached up and slid her arms around his neck, her sapphire blue eyes sparkling with emotion. "Yes, I am –" She leaned in and kissed him gently on the lips – "And I most certainly do."

No matter what might happen, she thought, we belong here together.

FIN