Choices and Changes. Jean-Luc Picard had weathered many decisions over the years. And now, he had to accept Beverly's choice when she walked away from him after the events on KesPrytt. As he considered his choices, he remembered how it all had begun. How he had become the captain of the Enterprise. And how he had assembled the extraordinary crew for his new ship.

This story of how Captain Picard became the commanding officer of the Enterprise to the evens of KesPrytt and beyond is complete.

Though there is sex and language, none of it is too graphic.

This is definitely a/u. The first part of this story was written about 15 years ago, but was never really published other than in a small run fanzine. I have expanded the story lines as well as the plot. I have mightily revised the original and added on about another 100,000 words to the story.

This A/U has nothing to do with the universes that I created in my two novels, THE BEST LAID PLANS and THE SKY IS THE LIMIT. It is a stand alone A/U.

As always, comments would really be appreciated. Feeding the writer is one way of ensuring that we continue writing. So please, a review or two every now and then is requested.

The usual disclaimers apply. It's Paramount's property but fandom's playground.

This story has been revised as of February 8th, 2013. I mainly fixed the typos that I noticed for what else does one do during a snow day? I'm sure that there are more typos lurking…

ATTACHEDMEANT

Chapter One: Memories

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Merde.

What an ass he had been. His misjudgment of Beverly's feelings through his own self-centered idiocy, had created a troublesome situation between the lady and himself.

Jean-Luc Picard was not a happy man.

Automatically moving about his quarters, blowing out the scattered candles, he reviewed the evening's events. Jean-Luc would have sworn that Beverly had been flirting with him during their dinner. He was a Frenchman, after all. He had a certain instinctive wisdom of feminine wiles that decades of connoisseurship had refined.

Yet, afterwards, it was as if she had changed her mind. Had it been his words - or the poverty of them? He had chosen a heedful path, with the careful, bloodless words of a diplomat. He had assumed - especially after the KesPrytt bonding - that there was an understanding between them.

Why hadn't he spoken the words of his heart? Why hadn't he said the passionate phrases that could have lit a star fire burning within his beloved's soul? His brother Robert had always contended that the blood of Francois Villon ran through their veins. Why had he deliberately chosen not to use the lyrical words of romance to woo her? He certainly was capable of creating them. But he had not.

Merde.

Now, Beverly would not be comfortable around him. Oh, their professional behavior would be exemplary as always; that was a given. But what harm had he done to their friendship?

He wanted Beverly as a lover. But he needed her most as a friend. He prayed that their friendship would survive his foolishness.

Would she ever even have breakfast with him again?

He glanced about his quarters, barely noticing the remnants of the candle smoke eddying about the air currents.

He was alone. Again.

Bereft.

Every single individual on board the Enterprise saw him as captain. Even those officers he considered to be close friends still saw him as their captain first. Few needed, much less sought the man. He allowed himself a bathetic moment.

His life was so formal, predictable.

Would anyone ever love him like Eline had?

Would Beverly?

He froze. The ever-constant siren call of the stars was ignored as he looked out his star portal with eyes that did not see.

When had he started equating his feelings for Eline with his emotions for Beverly? A few moments passed before he extinguished the final candle, praying that this was not a symbolic gesture as well. Q had taught him not to regret his past mistakes, yet he had to consider his miscalculations.

Had the price of a captain's chair been too high?

He went into his bedroom and reverently picked up the unopened bottle of Château Picard champagne - the '37. His plans for this wine no longer existed. But, he still held the bottle. He studied the label. Once, he had drunk a bottle of this vintage alone. Should he do so, tonight? He recalled that other night - another night filled with introspection, anticipation and transition.

He remembered…

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