The experience with Q had affected him deeply. If it hadn't been obvious in the pensive way he'd related the entire affair to the senior staff in the morning briefing, it would have been so immediately when he arrived that evening, for the first time any of them could recall, to join their weekly poker game. "You were always welcome," Deanna had told him warmly, which was the truth, though something he appeared never to have believed until then.

They were all reflective in their own ways, as his experience had shown them a possible future without any of the closeness they shared now, on nights like these. And she was troubled by the medical scan that had revealed his parietal lobe defect, the smallest indication that what he'd seen had any grounding in this timeline's reality. But they'd chosen for now to focus on enjoying the evening, and stayed up late until Deanna finally called it.

As the group split up to head back to their respective quarters, he escorted her back to her door, walking, as always, just a bit too close. He was pleasantly relaxed as they chatted amiably. And she, still glowing from the laughter and camaraderie of the evening, enjoyed the little sparks that jumped between them at the occasional brushing of their shoulders, the light touch of his hand on her back. As they exchanged an affectionate kiss goodnight, she imagined she felt him linger the smallest instant longer than could be considered chaste.

Moments like this seemed to be happening more often of late, and while she wasn't entirely sure what to make of it, she realized it didn't frighten her the way it might have a few months earlier, after Kesprytt. Then, the intimacy of being able to read each other's thoughts, with decades of carefully guarded emotions unexpectedly laid bare, had been so powerful that she simply couldn't process it all right away. She hadn't meant to hurt him by retreating so soon afterward—she'd thought she could accept the revelation of the depth of his feelings for her—but at the moment of decision she had flinched. Now, though, they seemed to be finding their way back to the way they'd been before, with the new intimacy folded into the layers of their old, very complex relationship. They were so comfortable together that her residual fear seemed to be receding, incrementally, like the tide.

That didn't mean it didn't occasionally come crashing back, though, as she tried to sort through her own feelings and what she actually wanted, because even after all this time she still felt less than certain about that….All she did know for certain was that right this second, she wasn't ready to step away from him.

"Good night, Jean-Luc." Eyes locked with his, Beverly Crusher made no move to actually pass through her open door. His hazel eyes always looked a bit darker against the red of his uniform, she reflected.

"Sleep well." Jean-Luc Picard was still smiling at her with that smile he seemed to reserve only for her. Combined with his low baritone, and his failure to move even a step away himself, her stomach was starting to flutter. She tried to tell herself to get a grip. They hadn't even had anything to drink tonight. Hmm. No, if she was still trying to sort things out in her own mind, then it would definitely be a bad idea to invite him in for a glass of wine now. Definitely.

She leaned back against the doorframe, not trusting herself right now if she were to invite him in, but also not wanting him to leave, as he obviously didn't want to either. She settled for continuing the conversation. "Thanks….You know, I'm glad you came tonight, Jean-Luc. Everyone was."

"Thank you. I am too. It's been a wonderful evening." He paused, and she caught a flicker of amusement. "I don't know if I should come back again, though."

She was confused. "Why would you not?"

"I simply wonder if there's any purpose to it, if Will Riker is going to sweep every hand like that." At her little snicker in reply, he added, "And I'm surprised you keep going back for more as well."

Beverly grinned. "It was just an off night for me," she said dismissively. "Usually I can give Will much more of a run for his money. Although me being on my game wouldn't help your position any."

"I don't believe it." She arched an eyebrow at him and he explained casually, "You're easier to read than you think, Doctor." Still with that little smile, he folded his arms across his chest, without moving back an inch. To the contrary, he was still a bit too close for plausible deniability and his nearness was becoming...distracting. She swallowed, trying to suppress the incriminating blush threatening to rise over her collar.

"Why, Captain, I do believe that's a challenge." She crossed her own arms in an unconscious mirror of his pose. "Now you definitely have to show up next week. I'll be more than happy to demonstrate the limits of your ability to read everyone's tells."

"I didn't claim to read everyone's," he corrected with a glimmer in his eyes. "Just yours."

If she had been drinking that wine she'd been thinking about, she would have choked on it. Teasing was common enough in the banter between them, but it was usually her domain, and she wasn't used to being on the receiving end. At all. Attempting too late to recapture a semblance of the poker face she was usually quite practiced at, she flashed a smile at him. "I think you're bluffing, Jean-Luc."

Picard didn't miss a nuance of her reaction, raising an eyebrow and holding her gaze with an intensity that left her feeling completely exposed. "I suppose we'll have to see next time, won't we?" He waited a beat and then suggested in a murmur, "Unless you'd like to try again before next Tuesday."

"I might be able to find some time," she managed, her voice barely above a whisper. The pull to collapse the space between them was becoming so strong she wouldn't have been surprised to discover a singularity forming there.

"I look forward to playing, then." After one more long moment, during which she fleetingly suspected he was going to lean in and actually kiss her in the open corridor, he finally relented and took a half step backward. She had to fight an almost magnetic pull to move with him. "In the meantime, Beverly, if you don't have any plans at all, would you join me for breakfast tomorrow?"

If she hadn't just been thrown off her game, she would have instinctively teased him in reply, something about being too busy with all her other breakfast dates to be sure of her schedule. After all, since when did he need to be so formal in extending an invitation to their standing custom of at least three years running now? But the best she could do at the moment was nod. "Of course."

Picard smiled with some quiet satisfaction and repeated his earlier goodbye. "Wonderful, I'll see you then. Sleep well." Now he did step away, but not without one last graze of her shoulder as he headed down the corridor.

"Good night," she finally whispered. She backed ungracefully into her quarters and let out a breath as the door slid shut in front of her. Well, damn. Whatever Q had put into their nonexistent drinks had made for a much more interesting evening than she'd expected. Jean-Luc had to have been just as affected as she was just now, but he hadn't given anything away. It appeared that playing poker with him (that was all they were talking about, right?) would prove more of a challenge than she'd thought...for reasons she'd never considered. As she ordered a glass of ice water from the replicator, she wondered what would happen tomorrow.