They had been friends - close friends, best friends - for years and years. After nine years on the Enterprise, countless missions, thousands of breakfasts and a handful of kisses that never truly moved anything forward, they had settled into a comfortable - and occasionally tense - equilibrium.
Years ago, in passing, Beverly had told Deanna that she and Jean-Luc functioned around each other like a pair of satellites orbiting a planet. They stayed in the same general vicinity of each other, but the planet always kept them from collision. Deanna had blinked, then looked away and changed the subject.
Beverly always wondered what Deanna had thought of she and Jean-Luc.
The first time Beverly was at Medical, early on in the Enterprise's tour, she and Jean-Luc didn't speak. No messages, no viewer conversations, nothing. When she came back to the ship, she sat in his ready room while he shared convoluted words that could have been a kind, professional "welcome back" but could also have been an "I missed your presence every day and am overjoyed that you have returned."
She never did figure out what he meant. The years passed, and life on the ship moved forward. Deaths, births, the Borg, other romantic partners and the Kes Prytt experience that they never again spoke up. After the Enterprise was destroyed, she had gone directly to Medical with the wounded and never actually made it back out into the stars. As she was tending the wounded back on Earth, she ran into an admiral who had just heard about the Enterprise, and within hours Starfleet asked her to lead Medical again, since she had done so well previously, and would she be willing to fix what had broken in her absence? So with a mental shrug since she didn't have another assignment lined up at the moment, she again took on the challenge of the division.
The new Enterprise was still in dry dock, and the last she heard Jean-Luc went on leave, relocated to France and went off-planet for a dig.
They never contacted each other.
Seven months had now passed since she had stepped into Medical. She was sitting in her office in San Francisco, looking at her meeting schedule and debating whether to just get up and walk out of her office, hop a transport off of Earth and get away from this desk job, because why the hell did she not remember how much she truly, deeply detested this sort of work?
An incoming encrypted message appeared. Odd. She tapped the screen and brought it up.
INCOMING MESSAGE
From: Picard, Admiral Jean-Luc
To: Crusher, Admiral Beverly
Beverly,
I know that you are leading Medical quite ably, but the new Enterprise is going to be ready in a few days. Would you consider joining the crew as the Chief Medical Officer?
I miss you.
I look forward to hearing from you.
Yours,
JLP
She sat, motionless, perplexed and astonished. There was more to this message than a simple invitation to join the crew.
She turned in her chair and looked out the window. Her office was high up in the main skyscraper, and at eye level she could see roundabouts and transport shuttles sliding across the horizon. She looked up into the clear blue sky and in her mind's eye she could see the new Enterprise in dry dock, being prepared for its first mission.
She turned back to the screen and began to compose a resignation letter.
Of course, after sending her resignation letter to Starfleet and an affirmative response to Jean-Luc (both sent after less than an hour, because really she had made up her mind within seconds of reading his message) there was much to do. So much to do that she and Jean-Luc (once again) didn't have the opportunity to contact each other directly. At least, that's what she told herself in the few moments of silence she was able to find. The messages about her imminent transfer came through Starfleet (which was appropriate), and there was no pressing need to be in touch with Jean-Luc about her new assignment.
She stood in her bathroom in front of the mirror, realizing that her hands were actually trembling a little bit. Minutes ago she had received a message from him asking to escort her to the Medical Gala she was already planning on attending.
The function was semi-closed, limited to high-ranking medical personnel and their partners. It wasn't a large event; in fact it was small enough and private enough that she was surprised anyone outside of the medical field even knew about it. So when she had received the invitation asking to escort her, she had stopped there in the bedroom, holding her dress in her hands, startled beyond belief.
He had been researching her. And her obligations. And her schedule. This was the last event she had to attend before beaming to the Enterprise the following morning to report for duty.
Tonight was going to be the first time they would speak face to face in nearly a year.
She looked in the mirror and arched a brow at her reflection. Her hair wouldn't stay up - not the way she wanted it to, anyway. With faltering fingers she had been attempting to pin it up so that she had one of those twists that Kathryn Janeway always seemed to have on the holo images when she was talking about Starfleet. But it wasn't working for Beverly - red and silver strands were escaping every which way. She sighed and pulled out the stick holding her twist (somewhat) into place, watching the red and silver strands settle down past her shoulders. With a resigned nod she decided to just let it be.
The door chimed. She swallowed, smoothed down her black gown, and left the bathroom. "Come in," she called, carefully stepping around the containers in the hallway, packed with her belongings.
She stepped into the front room to see Jean-Luc in dress uniform, standing politely and patiently in the middle of the room, looking at the packed containers in piles against the walls. He looked up as she entered the room, and his face went from pleasantly neutral to soft, open, froze, and her stomach flipped at the expression on his face, because she confirmed in that moment that it was going to be different between them now.