Beverly glanced up and was startled by the twinkling darkness seeping into her apartment.

That's going to take some getting used to, she thought as she stood and stretched. She wove between the containers scattered around the floor—their grey edges softened by moonlight—until she leaned against the bulkhead.

Wall.

Beverly wrapped her arms around herself as she looked across the bay toward the lights of a population a thousand times larger than her home.

Former home, she corrected herself wryly.

Her eyes darted toward the shadowy mess in her living room. She'd told herself she'd been too busy to unpack, but she knew there was more to it.

-P/C-

Jean-Luc sat in his quarters, staring at the same page of the report he'd begun reading nearly an hour earlier. He sipped at the wine he'd opened with dinner, and the sharp scent twisted his already bruised heart.

He sighed. His quarters were the same. Nothing had changed.

Nothing, yet everything, he thought as he stared at the doors, wishing she'd come sweeping through just one more time.

The air seemed stale and the colours lacked richness – all the vitality had been sucked out an airlock the moment she beamed down.

-P/C-

She shouldn't have done it, should have known better, but a drink to fortify her tenuous barriers had seemed like a good idea at the time. Despite the apparent chaos, she'd found the correct container on her first try and curled up on the couch with a glass of the '47. The aftertaste of oak and apples tickled her nose as she allowed self-pity to bubble to the surface.

Beverly swirled the black liquid, letting her pale fingers warm the glass. Hazel eyes and a smile he reserved only for her slipped into her thoughts as she surveyed her quarters. The darkness seemed appropriate somehow. Her lips quirked in a half-smile as she imagined opening the nearest box and watching the sights and sounds of those memories filling the room. The butterflies in her stomach gave away just how much she longed to turn the fantasy into reality.

-P/C-

He set the PADD down, leaned forward to refill his glass, and was startled by how much of the bottle remained. The memory of her mischievously grinning at him over the rim of her goblet briefly warmed the room, and he allowed his gaze to wander back to the doors. He sighed.

Face it, Johnny. She's gone.

-P/C-

Beverly hugged her knees and bit back tears. She shook her head, trying to force the emotions back into their box. She was the Surgeon General, dammit! She'd reached the pinnacle of her career.

Then why does it feel like I've lost everything?

-P/C-

He'd moved to his desk mere seconds before the call came in. The UFP logo faded and his throat closed as he took in her red-rimmed eyes and trembling lips. His soul both shattered and was made whole as he drank her in.

"Jean-Luc? It's late. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have called, but..."

"Beverly," he whispered.