Paramount – they're like cicadas – they're everywhere. They own everything, and do a piss poor job of management. That's where I come in.

A/N: I like to pretend the movies didn't happen. Isn't it better that way?

An Apple A Day

One

Beverly Crusher groaned softly and rolled over to press the off button on her alarm chime. She always woke slowly, greeting the day in a semi-daze. The kind that lingers after a hard sleep, when reality is somewhere in between how everyone else sees it, and what you dream it is. She rolled lazily onto her back, crossing one arm over her forehead. The delicate silk of her pajamas was cool against her eyes. She lay that way for a good minute or two before flinging her arm to the side and swinging her legs over the bed. "Here we go," she remarked to no one in particular.

She stretched her arms upward and stood on her toes. She placed her hands behind her hips and reclined slowly backward, working the lactose out of her waking muscles. She bent over and placed her palms flat on the short grey carpet, holding for minute before slowly standing fully upright. This was her sacred ritual, an early morning round of basic stretches. It was a harbinger for the day – it signaled to her whether she'd pushed too hard in the past days, or not enough. Her legs, back, shoulders, and arms all gave a different report – they were sore, they were tight, or they were in harmony. Today they were just a little bit tight. Her shoulders had loosened overnight, but were still tense. Tomorrow she'd meet Troi for a thorough session on the holodeck and work out the rest of the tension.

It had been a long two days. The Enterprise was in orbit around a small M class planet with a newly developing Starfleet colony. They had stopped by on their way through the sector, as a footnote to a far more "important" scientific mission. The stopover was not routine for the medical department however. The colony was thriving, but as with any newly established population, there were a myriad of new diseases that popped up among the settlers almost monthly. The small hospitals were handling it well but they were simply running out of raw materials. Beverly's team had been in the process for the last few days not only of treating some of the ill, but also inventorying, restocking, and when necessary repairing all the clinics. Mundane work, but involved nonetheless.

To be perfectly honest, it was the type of mission Beverly preferred. The day was full and productive, but at the end there were no death certificates to make out. She was able to see patients, often children, and heal them completely. No scars of war, no one writing in agony as Beverly worked to heal mangled bodies. No surgical gowns covered in blood up to her elbows. Just simple medicine for simple people. For Beverly it dredged up memories of Arveda III, but pleasant ones – of her grandmother in their little clinic chatting amiably with parents while treating the occasional sore throat or broken bone. Creating and living in a community, with all its tranquility, petty drama, and love.

She sighed as she started the shower. Water today, and hot. Her muscles demanded it. As she aged she listened to and obeyed increasingly the demands of her body. It had always treated her well, and Beverly supposed she owed it some respect. It wasn't aging that bothered her. The fine lines, a little sag here and there. Hell, she'd earned all of it. But there was still so much Beverly wanted to do, and she was simply running out of time. She forward leaned against the cool tile and let the steaming water stream over her shoulders.

The stop at the colony reminded her that she urgently wanted to return to her roots – to be a healer. But assessing the resident's needs and helping them establish facilities also pulled her back toward Starfleet. The new medical fleet was soon to become a reality. And Beverly knew she was a fool if she didn't acknowledge that the admiralty had their eye on her to take on a significant role in its development. Which meant she would be leaving the Enterprise. As she stepped out of the shower, that thought lead her to consider the other reason she was unhappy with aging. Jean-Luc Picard. Beverly knew they were headed somewhere. They had been for months, practically years now, and it seemed inevitable that at some point soon they would become intimately involved. Inevitable only if there were no change in circumstance. She heaved a great sigh as she tugged on her uniform boots. It was time for her to go – to go on to Starfleet command, to go back to a community and set up her own practice, to do anything but remain onboard the Enterprise. She was stagnating. But whenever she considered the possibility of leaving, she could not bear to part with Jean- Luc. Above all else he was her best friend, the closest thing she still had to family now that Wes and Nana were gone. And how could she just walk away from that?

The reason for her distress was due at her door any minute. She smiled gently as she brushed her hair and finished with a touch of make-up. It was a comfort, spending mornings with Jean-Luc. But had she chosen comfort too readily over challenge? No one could deny that her career was a success – she was a full commander, an accomplished physician both in research and application, and a proud mother. But she'd stopped moving forward, hadn't she? Beverly set down her brush and turned toward the living room, only to hear it fall onto the floor behind her. She retraced her steps and placed it firmly on the counter. She returned to the living room and absent- mindedly replicated breakfast for two as she considered the year she'd spent at Starfleet medical almost a decade ago. True, she'd hated every minute of it and had been looking for a way out almost no sooner than she'd arrived. But that year, and that hard choice she'd made to leave Wes and the Enterprise at the time had paid off. She'd learned a lot, and made friends at command that could help her now if she chose to continue advancing in the ranks. If she chose to continue advancing.....

"I guess it all comes down to priorities," she said to the plate of croissants as she set them on the table. What were her priorities? Damned if she knew. But it was time to figure them out and make a decision. Deanna would surely be eager to help, and honestly it was a good question for Will Riker too. After all, he'd been on the Enterprise as long as she, and had turned down several command opportunities to remain. Part of that decision had been because he had found a mentor in Captain Picard, and part of it had been a reluctance to leave Deanna. Now there was growing chatter of yet another offer for Will in the pipeline. They would not keep coming forever. Beverly took a sip of tea and reminded herself to talk to him. They were due for a good heart to heart.

She returned to the present when her door chimed. "Come on in." She rose to greet Jean-Luc, as was now their custom. Before sitting down she would take his hands and quickly kiss his cheek. It was a platonic gesture, mostly an expression of affection stemming from a 25 year friendship. But it had only been recently that it had begun, and was just another sign that intimacy was not far off. She found they touched each other more and more frequently, never for any particular reason, but simply because each took comfort in it, and seemed unable or unwilling to resist the impulse. They were the middle-aged Vulcan version of horny teenagers.

"What?" Picard raised his eyebrow jovially as he sat down and poured a cup of Earl Grey from the pot. The current assignment had left a lull in duties for the command staff, and Jean-Luc was more rested and relaxed than he usually had opportunity to be. As a result, Beverly found him to be generally more agreeable and open. She decided she liked the change. It was always during these times their relationship had moved forward. When either or both of them became overly exhausted, they had a tendency to take it out on the other. It rarely turned into a real disagreement, but when it did it was always a whopper, and left Beverly feeling very glad they had separate quarters. In another way though, she enjoyed the arguments – they were a way to have non-physical but intense emotional intimacy. Certainly Deanna wouldn't approve, but Beverly wasn't that concerned. It was only a matter of time for the two of them.

"Beverly, are you going to answer me, or simply contemplate your lemon tea all morning?" Picard smiled faintly again as he buttered a croissant and took an aggressive bite.

"You're in an awfully good mood today." Her retort was pert, but not delivered unkindly. She was not grumpy, simply introspective.

"A fine tactic Doctor, attempting to switch the focus of the conversation." He gestured toward her with his butter knife before setting it down.

"I've learned from the best, Jean-Luc. You can be quite taciturn when the mood strikes you." Beverly primly took a bite of her own pastry.

"One would not guess it, but you can be rather secretive yourself, Beverly. Shall I continue to badger you, or simply end this inquisition and move on to another topic?" Picard spoke without meeting her eyes, but when she did not respond he looked up.

She was already gazing at him intently as he did so. He may have been uncertain of her when he arrived, but by now he had fully deduced her melancholy demeanor. It was futile to try and evade him, and he knew better than to try and fleece her. It was both endearing and frustrating the depth of knowledge each had of the other, and quite inconvenient when one was not prepared to discuss the issue at hand. He knew she would come to him with it in time though, and she knew he would wait patiently for her to bring up whatever the issue may be whenever she were ready.

She tilted her head and smiled at him, her expression both intimate and probing. During her quietude he had begun to tell her about his upcoming day, knowing full well she was not really listening to anything he said. Finally finding no more to say, he simply regarded her as she absent- mindedly sipped her tea. Picard did a mental inventory of ship's priorities for the morning, before finishing his own meal and standing.

"It's time for me to report to the bridge." He tugged at his uniform top expectantly as Beverly looked up.

"So soon?" She appeared genuinely surprised.

"I've been here for half an hour, Doctor. What was it you were saying about my taciturn nature?" He raised an eyebrow and favored her with a crooked and tight-lipped grin.

"Forgive me Jean-Luc." His heart softened at her unnecessary platitude. She was genuinely troubled this morning.

"There is nothing to forgive, Beverly." He walked over and leaned down to swiftly plant a chaste kiss on her cheek. "You know where to find me when you're ready to talk."

She reached up quickly and grabbed his hand as he turned, smiling slightly. "Thanks."

He squeezed her hand gently and met her crystal blue eyes before walking briskly out the door.